The Swords of the Ancients

This week’s Trifecta Challenge gave us the “companion” as our word. The definition we had to use can refer to one who is employed to live with and serve another. So, here’s “Companion.”

Confession time. I hated Royce. Loathed, even. Everything about him drove me insane, from the pretentiousness of his name to the stupid coat he wore year round. It wouldn’t have been so bad had there been any other kids our age for us to interact with, but we didn’t have that luxury. Growing up in the labs, we were lucky just to have another civilian family around. Of course, the worst part wasn’t anything that I had any real control over. My parents had been hired years ago that Royce might have another child to serve as a companion.

I guess there were a lot of reasons for me to have resented him. I was eight when I first met Royce and his parents, and Armstrong Base was full of scientists conducting research. Royce was the only child of the sole civilian team there, and he was spoiled rotten from day one. I mean, he grew up with the goddamn moon for his back yard. I grew up in Cleveland. Not exactly comparable.

Then my parents were contacted. “Our son is lonely. Can you help?” I know that the money Royce’s parents offered up wasn’t the only reason they shipped me off. I was going to get an education, the best learning environment in the solar system. Only one catch. I was stuck with Royce for life.

“It’ll be okay, Hans,” they said on my arrival. “Your parents are only a call away.” For the first few years, things went well enough. Then Royce started to realize that he could order me around, and thanks to the surveillance around Armstrong, I had to comply. Fifteen more years of that, day and night. “Hans, fetch a water. Hans, I dropped my fork. Hans, I have more money than your pitiful family could ever make in a lifetime.”

I mean, you can’t say it wasn’t pre-meditated. Just cliché as hell. I mean, honestly. It boils down to “the butler did it,” only on the moon.