James

Eleven years ago.

The carriage rattled along the road, jostling at every bump and ditch they rode over. James sat with his head in his hand, leaning against the window frame, watching as the world passed him by in a blanket of green. His father sat opposite him, paying more attention to the book he had in his hand than his son.

It had always been like that. James hadn't used to mind it much. He'd only started to get annoyed at it when his mother had passed, almost a year ago. He thought his father would step up, and try to be there for him.

But, no. His father had remained stubbornly closed off and aloof, as he always had been.

However, James was not going to let his Father ruin his day. He had been looking forward to today for a good long while.

The day he finally went to school.

He was to attend Ashburne School, the same as his father, and his father before that. He would be just one of the Thorne's to grace its ancient halls. But really, James just wanted to be away from home.

He had been stuck there, especially for the past year. Ever since his mother had died, there had been nothing to do. He'd had a tutor, which he didn't particularly like, but other than that, there was no one he could talk to, could play with. He'd been an only child, so he had no siblings.

Only his father, and he didn't seem to care what James did, so long as he stayed out of his way.

But today, finally, he was going to school. To meet other young boys his age. He would be sleeping in the same dormitory as them, eating in the large dining hall, and playing sports outside on the green. James had never looked forward to a day more in his life.

He was only twelve, but today, he felt like a man.

The forest around them seemed to go on and on for miles, never ending. He knew that his father had told him that the school was quite a way away, but James was anxious to get there. He didn't want to have to endure another moment of his father's company than he absolutely had to.

James had learned all the basics from his tutor. He knew enough literature to get by and he was quite skilled at science. Philosophy he always had struggled at, but he excelled in maths. He knew already how to balance the books for his household, his tutor letting him sneak a peek at them on occasion. But the one thing he wanted more than anything else, was simply a friend.

He hadn't really ever had a friend before. His father had refused to let anyone of lower rank than himself into the house, unless they were servants. He only wanted his son mixing with Lords and Dukes, not commoners. As a result, James had been fairly isolated his entire life. His mother had played with him, and so had his tutor. But he had never had anyone his own age to really interact with. He'd briefly become friends with a boy from the village who had accidentally wandered too far up the path, but his father had put an abrupt stop to that only hours their acquaintance.

No, James was both excited and terrified at the notion of meeting other boys who he had to become friends with. His father had told him on no uncertain terms that it would be in his best interest, and the family's best interest, if he mixed with boys who were one day going to become Sirs, and Lords, and Dukes. There were no royal children, so he couldn't climb quite that far, but the thought had crossed his father's mind, however briefly.

So James sat, several hours into the long carriage ride, just staring out of the window, dreaming of what school would be like.

'Is it clear what you have to do?' His father asked, breaking the long silence that had descended over the carriage.

'Yes, father.' James replied, in a sulky tone. If his father had ever bothered to spend time with him, he would have known that his tone of voice was one of defiance and rudeness. But his father didn't seem to notice.

'When we get there, I'm going to speak to the headmaster. You need to introduce yourself to the other boys. Look for the ones in the fanciest clothes first, they're probably the higher born ones. You need to make them like you. Don't be smart with them. You're climbing your way up so you need to be as pleasant and deferential as possible. They are your social superiors, so they will be the leaders of the group. Don't get ahead of yourself!' His father told him.

James continued to look out of the window and nod. He had already been told this many time before they even got into the carriage.

The silence fell over the carriage again, and the two of them went the rest of the journey without speaking.

Eventually, the trees began to thin out, and a large building rose before them.

Ashburne school.

The entire thing was made of dark brown bricks, with a slanting slate roof. A massive rectangular shaped hall stood proudly in the centre, with two floors. A library on the bottom floor that could just be seen through the large windows, and the dining hall above it. The building stretched around both sides of the hall in a sort of angular U shape, with three floors of window; the dormitories and classrooms. There was a large green in front of the dormitories, large enough to play sports on, but his father had already told him that there was a bigger field behind the building where sports were played, where there was less danger of the boys breaking a window.

Several other carriages were already pulled up to the front door, and there were quite a few other boys around James's age stood outside, bidding their parents farewell, and greeting each other.

The school provided education up until the age of eighteen, but today there were only the first years. They moved in a week before everyone else, so they would have time to get used to being away from home and find their way around.

James's father gave him a short nod, and then opened the carriage door and instantly made for the building, determined to find the headmaster.

James remained sitting, a little nervous. But he knew he had to go. There were other boys his age, he could make a friend. But there was one thing he was determined to do.

Completely ignore his father's command.

All his life, his father had kept him isolated, told him what to do. Now, James was no longer at home, so he was going to make his own decisions, purely to annoy his father. He didn't want to have to talk to the proud and pompous sons of the highest rank of nobility, he didn't want to have to stand there and just say yes to whatever they said.

No, he wanted to be the leader of his own group. He wanted to choose his own friends, boys he liked instead of boys who had the highest status. He knew his father would kill him if he knew, but he was leaving him here, unsupervised. His father wouldn't know until it was too late, and by then the damage would be done.

After being locked away for so long, James wanted to shine.

And shine he would.

He took a deep breath and hopped out of the carriage. There were several sets of parents talking quietly to their sons, mothers kissing them on the head and telling them to be good. James walked right past them all. There were certainly some families who looked more well off than others, some mothers were almost dripping with jewels.

James made his way onto the large lawn of grass that sat in front of the dormitories.

Sat on the bench, on the far side, was a small boy. He was too far away for James to make out clearly, but he had his head down, his dark brown hair clearly visible.

James felt bad for the boy. His parents were nowhere to be found, and he looked upset. Not at all like James, who couldn't wait to get away from his home.

And so, James walked over to the boy slowly, nervous anticipation rising in his chest.

The boy got closer and closer, until James could see his clothes and face. His clothes looked well made, but not overly fancy, like James's. He had large blue eyes, which looked a little red rimmed, as if he had just been crying.

'Are you alright?' James asked cautiously. The small boy's head whipped up to look at him, sniffing a little and rubbing his eyes.

'Yes, I'm fine.' He said. 'I got some dust in my eye.'

'Really?' James asked, not believing a word.

The boy nodded.

James reached into his pocket, and pulled out the small paper bag he had hidden there. He hadn't dared pull it out in front of his father. The cook had sneaked them to him for the journey.

'Sweet?' James asked, offering the open paper bag to the boy.

The boy's face perked up considerably when he saw them.

'Where did you get those?' He asked.

'Smuggled them from home. Don't tell my father.' James said with a smile.

'They won't let you keep them. We're not supposed to have sweets here.' The boy told him.

'Well, I won't tell if you won't.' James said, extending the bag.

The boy smiled and reached in to grab a handful.

'I'm James, by the way, James Thorne,' He told the small boy.

'Christopher.' They boy offered.

'So, why are you out here all by yourself?' James asked.

'My parents left, about half an hour ago. I don't know anyone else.' Christopher told him.

James considered this for a moment.

'Well, now you know me.' He said, rather shyly.

'Yes, the guy who secretly smuggles sweets.' Christopher said.

James only looked half offended.

'Excuse me, but I am the best sweet smuggler here!' He said, with a large smile on his face.

Christopher gave him a small sideways smile.

'I'm sorry, the best sweet smuggler.' He said.

'Thank you!' James told him, taking the seat next to him on the bench.

They both sat in silence for a little while, neither of them really sure what to say next.

'So, where are you from?' James asked.

'Howards county.' Christopher told him, looking down to the ground.

'Where about? That's not far from my house. Thorne manor, near Arton.'

Christopher mumbled something that James could not make out.

'I didn't quite catch that.' James said.

Christopher mumbled something again, but still it was inaudible to James.

'Pardon?' He asked.

'The duke's palace.' Christopher finally said.

James took a deep breath, and averted his gaze, cursing himself internally.

Of course. The one and only time he had ever been given freedom and he had worked up the courage to disobey his father's command, and he instantly managed to find one of the highest born students at the school. Why did he ever think he could find a way to stand out and do his own thing.

'So, your father is Duke Howards?' James asked for clarification.

Christopher nodded slowly, not looking up from the floor.

'But please don't tell everyone. I don't want the other boys to want to only know me because of my father. I want to be Christopher, not Lord Howards.'

James's head snapped up when he heard that.

This boy was just like him, wanted this school to be a new start. One where their father's didn't dictate their entire lives.

'I don't want people bowing and saying 'yes sir.' Do everything I say just because I will be a Duke one day. I want to be normal.' Christopher said.

'Me too.' James told him.

Christopher looked up to him, his blue eyes wide.

'My father wants me to be a great man of the world. And only interact with the highest of the high. Hence, I'm here.' James told him. 'I don't want to have to trail behind all the spoiled boys.'

Christopher looked down. 'Oh.' Was all he said.

James realised what he had just said, and placed his hand gently on the small boy's shoulder.

'Sorry, I didn't mean that. You know the boys, the ones who always look like they've just swallowed sour milk.' He joked.

'I do.' Christopher said. 'There was a boy getting dropped off about an hour ago who had that exact look. I think he said his name was Adam.'

'Well, I'll be sure to avoid him.' James said. 'But, you're not pompous, or pig headed. So maybe, we could be friends.'

'As long as you bring me more sweets, I'll do anything you ask.' Christopher told him, smiling.

Suddenly, a movement out of the corner of James's eye caught his attention. His gaze lifted to see his father stood there, with a proud expression on his face.

'Father.' James said, without any joy in the word.

'And who is this young man?' His father asked, gesturing to Christopher.

A very large and smug smile spread over James's face.

'This is Christopher Howards, son of Duke Howards.' James said proudly.

His father beamed, cruel and viciously.

'Good. You've already met your new roommate then.' He said. 'I talked to the headmaster, and it turns out you two are sharing a room with two other boys.'

Christopher's face lit up.

'Really?' He asked excitedly.

James's father nodded.

'Yes, you two, another heir to a knighthood, and another Duke's son. I'm thrilled.'

'Of course you are.' James muttered under his breath.

Christopher's gaze seemed to flutter between the father and son, as if trying to work out who to address next.

'I know where our room is, if you'd like me to show you.' Christopher told James.

James instantly stood from the bench, nodding, and Christopher hurried on ahead of them.

James was about to follow when he felt his father's hand close around the top of his arm.

'Don't mess this up. You need to keep that boy liking you. Make the other duke's son like you too, I don't care about the other boy.' His father snarled in his ear.

James gritted his teeth, but did not respond to the order.

'Do you hear me?' His father asked.

'I hear you.' James snapped, trying to drag his arm out of his father's grasp.

'Then, you will do as I say.'

James swallowed. His courage was rising up, from somewhere far within him. It was practically clawing at this throat, begging to be released.

'I will be friends with Christopher, but because he is nice. Not for his title. You will not be here to order me about, so I will not listen to you.' James forcefully told his father.

The shock of what his son had just said to him hit his father like a blow. The hand he had grasped around James's arm slackened just enough for James to break free.

'This is my life now, and I will do with it as I please. Go home, and leave me be.' James told his father, watching the colour drain from his face. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and followed Christopher into the main building, leaving his father staring after him in pure shock.

And James had never felt more free in his entire life.