The Next Prince, Chapter 1 pg1
The Next Prince, Chapter 1 pg1
Chapter 01: The Fencing Association Tensions.
‘The sword is a symbol of power, meaning the authority to judge, enforce the law, and make responsible decisions. It is a weapon used to decide the fate of others. Therefore, the sword in the hand of Lady Justice is a double-edged sword, which symbolizes the law that can be used to punish wrongdoers and protect the innocent at the same time.
However, this power can also lead to injustice. If the sword bearer does not weigh the evidence and consider it carefully, the sword must be lower than the scales, to show that it is subject to scrutiny.’
The soft voice of the female narrator from the documentary “The Sword of Justice” on the iPad continues to play, even though the person who opened it is not paying attention to it.
The small, thin frame inside the medium-sized bedroom, he was still pays attention to the favorite saber in hand.
He wiped it slowly and carefully, examining the slender shape and handle that fit his hand perfectly before putting a sheath on the sword and placing it in his bag along with a new pair of gloves he had just gotten yesterday evening.
Khanin turned to close the case and stood up to his full height, taking the black backpack with the Fencing equipment inside and slinging it over his shoulder.
He had to hurry a bit today as he had a training session scheduled for the new kids at the Fencing association, so he needed to move faster than usual.
The young boy stepped out of the bedroom and, as he was about to close the door, his eyes caught sight of the neatly arranged display of his own achievements on the shelf.
Khanin's room was filled with various types of swords that he had won from innocent bet win with his friends. He looked at them with pride before closing the door and walking down the stairs with a happy mood.
“You have arrived late, five minutes after the agreed time. You will make adjustments next time.”
Khanin's feet immediately stopped when he heard a loud noise from someone else, who turned out to be his own father, Tattanai.
“Yes sir, I'm aware of that.”
Khanin shrugged his shoulders and sat down at the dining table, ignoring his father who was standing lazily in front of the stove.
He picked up his mobile phone to read a message from his close friend, Paul, who was a member of the Tex fencing club they had arranged to meet since morning. However, before he could reply, breakfast served by his father was placed in front of him.
“I already said it. If you're in the house, use our native language.” Tattanai said sternly, while his expression remained unchanged as usual.
Our native language made the young man laugh inwardly. The language spoken about was probably the Emmaly language, as his father came from a small country in the SouthEast region named Emmaly.
Tattanai is from there and has strong ties to the country, but Khanin is not.
He was born and raised in England.
He was unclear how his father could speak the language of “their” so fluently. The young man thinks it should be his father's language. It's worse when his father says he was born and raised here. So, his language should be English, not Emalese.
Although Khanin wanted to back out, he decided to remain indifferent and keep those words he heard from his father, as he observed the tension on his face.
“Khao Soi again.” Khanin grumbled about the food in front of him instead.
He used a fork to separate the noodles in the curry with prominent orange oil. He rolled the yellow noodles and furrowed his brow at his father who had just sat down across from him.
“Dad, you know that I don't like to eat Khao Soi because it stains my shirt.”
The young man said of himself eating Khao Soi like his father, and the broth spilling onto his shirt… it was messy
In reality, he doesn't like any kind of noodle dishes because every time Khanin eats, there is a problem with his clothes getting dirty with soup or sauce. Everyone knows and tries to avoid serving this kinda food, but it seems like his father is an exception.
His father not only never avoids things his son doesn't like but also likes to serve noodle dishes every morning.
“Just get used to it. You can eat it without staining your clothes.” Tattanai replied calmly, squinting at his son's use of the utensils.
“Just practice using chopsticks until you're comfortable with them. You can eat national dishes without getting dirty.” Tattanai replied calmly, watching his son use a fork to eat instead of chopsticks as he had been taught. “Practice using chopsticks with a spoon until you're comfortable with them. You won't be able to use a fork to eat everything like you're used to doing here, Nin.”
“Hmm.” Khanin sighed when he heard his father speak like that.
The young man knew that arguing would not be helpful.
If he argued, his father would just repeat the same things like a programmed robot. Realizing this, he took the spoon out of the cup and picked up the chopsticks next to him, clamped a few strands of noodles into his mouth, and then quickly drank some water and stood up.
“Nin, you've only eaten this much. You're not full yet.”
“Hmm.” Tattanai lifted his coffee cup and sipped it, pretending not to notice his son's clear dissatisfaction every time he complained.
On the child's side, seeing his father's indifferent attitude, he turned and grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
Khanin was about to leave the dining room through the elderly person's path. However, before he could take a step, his tender heart gnawed at his mind until he finally gave in and became understanding to his father again because he couldn't bear things being sour.
If they had to avoid talking just because he didn't care about eating KhaoSoi it would sound just stupid, so he could agree to lower himself again.
“Well then...I am going ahead, Dad.”
Khanin spoke softly to the broad back, looking from this angle as if Tattanai didn't care to argue with his son at all. The tall man in the blue protective clothing didn't even bother turning around to look at him with disdain.
Khanin's father just calmly placed the coffee cup down and then uttered a stern voice.
“Don't forget that we have a rehearsal tonight - don't be late.”
His eyes glanced nervously around before Khanin paused in his tracks, thinking to leave quietly from this spot.
“But I am going to practice at the Association, and what else will I practice at night for, Dad? Let's discuss whether we should give me some time to have fun.”
The association that Khanin referred to was the Fencing Association, and what he talked to his father about the training was the international sport of Fencing.
His grandfather dreamed of his father becoming a representative of his own country in sports, but Tanattai couldn't because of an accident when he was young. He had to give up his dream and accept job offers in other areas while moving to England and establishing himself here...
“I changed my mind. Training like that and ‘our’ training are not the same.” Tattanai lowered his voice, emphasizing the phrase “our” in particular.
“What are you holding on to father? I won the awards in the association, but it still doesn't satisfy you?”
“Not enough. Come and practice tonight - you have still many flaws that I needs to point out and show you.” Tattanai finished speaking and lifted his coffee cup to his lips again.
The middle-aged man showed an indifferent attitude to what his son was doing, something that Khanin opposed. His orders had to be obeyed, and Khanin prohibited any refusal.
“Then it's up to you, Dad. Whatever you want I will do. Either way, I must be obedient because I am living with Asian Parents.”
The childish argument of the only son echoed along with the sound of the door slamming shut.
Bang!
For several minutes, Tattanai remained motionless, his once calm eyes trembling. His gaze, which used to look outward, now rested on the bowl of Khao Soi, the food that his son had left over.
…
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