KK
3. MY FATHER

The sea is like glass under the heat of the sun. Shimmering exposed to light. Clarify the scenery that lies beneath the ship. While Bill rested on the deck, Vasco leaned his chest on the edge of the ship and propped his hands there. His eyes followed the waves that moved as the wind carried him to the shoreline. Sweep sand grains and return them wet.

His brown hair was waving to the curious fish with a net in the water. A second later, Bill peeked out from behind his eyelids and closed them again.

"Don't think too much."

"Is dad that cruel? Is dad that bad? Is dad that scary?"

"You've got too many questions, son."

"I'm not sure you're okay."

"You're approaching him again?" This time Bill opened his eyes to simply glance at Vasco's back.

"No. He said he'd be fine if I came home from there."

"Well, you just said that."

"Say what?" vasco asked, twisting the bodies until they faced each other.

"Your father will be fine."

"Of course."

Vasco looked back at the dozens of fish that had started to get into the trap. His hand threw a piece of wood from the edge of a ship that had aged.

"Uncle Bill?"

"Hm?"

"What would uncle do if Uncle had a son like me and the boy wasn't sure that Uncle was okay?"

Bill shuddered. He was a little amused when he heard the question. Somewhat annoyed, because until now he is still single. Just like the late Cornelis I.

"How should I answer?"

"I asked, Uncle Bill."

"Alright," he answered while thinking. "Maybe Uncle will say that I'll buy you a gulali and as long as you eat it, I'll be fine."

"By the way I want a gulali."

Again Bill shuddered with laughter.

"If our income today is good enough, Uncle will buy you a gulali."

The eight-year-old boy looked over with a happy smile. Her lips became as red as an apple.

***

"Thank you, Uncle Bill!"

There was also a desire to buy gulali. Without heeding his surroundings, he sucked the gulali cheerfully.

"Now bring this bag. Help your mother sell the fish and you'll be a real captain."

Vasco saluted using his left hand, while the other hand was still holding the handle of the candy. Not yet Vasco had time to pull the bag containing the fish, Bill held it.

"Please promise me that you'll be fine when your dad says he's okay."

"You're a long sentence, Uncle," Vasco said, sounding like he tasted something in his mouth.

Bill ruffled the boy's hair while slightly bending down to equalize his face.

"As long as you understand what I just said."

"Ready, go!" vasco again saluted and then left the bearded man with the other fishermen.

But not long ago Vasco walked home, he saw an object that made him remember one story last night. The princess seems. Because when you look at it, the girl is just like the one she found yesterday. It's just that the princess is alone now. In the middle of the field he squatted while stroking the mound of land where a wreath was laid out.

Rosalina looked up as Vasco's feet rested nearby.

"Who are you?" asked Rosalina who finally stood up to the gloomy-clothed boy.

"What do you mean?"

"You're Lady Rosalina?"

"You must call me Your Highness Lady Rosalina."

Vasco. "What difference?"

"That's what the nobility calls."

"Should it?"

"Of course," answered the princess a little haughty. "It's an obligation, my father said."

"Who's your father?"

"His Majesty King Cornelis d'Carruso."

"Oh, is he a king?"

"You can't say that!" sergeant Rosalina brought her face closer, so that the strands of blonde hair fell into the skin of Vasco's face.

"Why? He's human too. Just like me."

The girl who was the same age as him growled with anger. His face was red, but his beauty was not lost.

"Oh. You're getting brave apparently." For a moment Rosalina looked towards the money bag hanging on Vasco's waist. "Give me your money!"

"No!!!"

"Argh..."

The princess groaned as soon as the blade hit her wrist. Not always a blue-blooded man will always bring out his blue color. When injured, the liquid becomes as red as fire.

Vasco gasped at what he had just done. It's really spontaneity. It just so happened that the knife was hanging inside its sheath and side by side with its coin pouch.

In addition to Rosalina's hands spilling blood, her eyes also shed heartbreaking tears. Exactly when he saw the skin of his torn hands. The girl immediately ran to the castle to seek help and complaints.

At the starting point, Vasco stared at his dagger. Sparks of blood hit some of his hands. As if knowing who was residing in the ground, he suddenly trembled. Remembering that story almost repeated itself.

***

Justright. Vasco now had to be confined in a cage right next to his father's. A cruel prison that never knew the age of its inhabitants.

"Now I don't feel well" said Jean Devisser, with one shoulder against the wall where Vasco did the same.

"I'm sorry Vasco, Dad. It was an accident."

"So, you still call it an accident after a soldier showed evidence of a dagger in front of dad's eyes?"

"But Vasco was not intentional. The girl was about to take my money and I-"

The boy was no longer able to tell the truth. After all, it would only blame itself. But that's how he should reflect on his bad actions.

"Dad disappointed in you, Vasco. You're putting more and more burden on me if this prison is filled with children like you," Jean said, continuing with a sigh. "You're a good boy. Why should a child like you be stained with the sin that your parents will bear? Enough father to hurt someone else. No more casualties at the hands of our families. Vasco is the only treasure your mother now has. You want to worry about her?"

"Dad did the killing too!" says annoyed. "Vasco did this too because of dad! Vasco feels this is unfair!"

"SUFFICIENT, VASCO! You little boy, don't know anything about any of this! You shouldn't interfere in our affairs!"

"Who is noisy?!" other criminal nara protests.

"SILENCE!!!" protest Jean who seemed to have lost consciousness. His heavy voice was thunderous and trembling.

Vasco, who heard his father speak with rage at every intonation, curled up in fear as he wept incessantly. It was also Jean Devisser who was unable to interpret these seeds of tears. No more sentences to be able to say harsh words to his son after he himself realized his words that might have cut the heart of the little Vasco.

"I'm sorry, son. I shouldn't have been rude to you."

***