Chapter 3: Roland

"Baileywick!" Roland yells out. Roland hears the door to his office open and looks up from his paperwork.

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Where is she Baileywick?" Roland asks sharply.

"W-who, sire?"

"Who? What do you mean who? You know who I'm talking about! That cobbler! Now where is she?" Roland yells.

"I-I'm sure she'll be here, any minute."

"She should have been back by now! Why isn't she back yet?"

"I don't know."

"Well, find out what's taking that blasted woman so long! I want my slippers, now!"

"Yes, your majesty," Baileywick says bowing and leaving from the room.

"Insufferable woman," Roland mumbles under his breath. "She can't even get the shoes here on time," he says.

Flashback

A 10 year old Roland the second was running through the halls of the castle. In his haste, he bumped into a servant, causing the tray he was holding to clatter on the floor. The noise echoed off the walls.

"Sorry!" the young prince yelled after the servant as he scrambled to pick it up.

Roland flew through the ornately decorated halls of the castle toward the travel room. He burst through the doors and slid to a screeching halt. King Roland the first, looking as intimidating and regal as ever turned around and faced his son with a pocket watch in his hand.

"You're late," his voice boomed.

"Only by a minute," Roland mumbled.

A scowl crossed his face. "What did you say to me?" his voice elevated.

"Nothing, father." young Roland said.

Roland the first groaned. "You must learn to speak up, Junior. You'll be king one day. Kings must be heard from every corner of the room."

"Yes, father," he says a little louder.

"Much better," the king says. "Now, it's time for your kingdom lesson. "What three kingdoms make up the tri-kingdom area?"

Young Roland thinks for a moment. "Enchancia, Wei-ling, and Khaldoun."

"And for extra points?"

"The kingdom we used to trade with was Galdiz, but something happened and it was replaced with Khaldoun."

"Good, but what happened?"

"I don't know."

"Have you not learned that in school?"

"Not that I remember."

"Then pay attention now." Roland walked toward the window. "War broke out in Galdiz and someone took over their kingdom. They succeeded in killing the kingdom's king. And when the war was over, the kingdom was in shambles as the new leader took the king's place."

"What happened to the king's children, father?"

"The king had a plan in place, knowing something like this might happen. He wanted the prince and princess to go away, and return to the kingdom to take it back one day. But they were separated. The prince's location is known today only to a select few, who are sworn to secrecy to protect him. But no one knows where the princess is, to this day."

The king turns back to his son. "Let that be another lesson to you, Junior. Odin always said, 'A wise king never seeks out war, but must always be ready for it.' Remember that."

Present day

About a half hour later, there is a knock at the door. "Finally," Roland says. "Come in."

Roland sees Baileywick step into his office. "Is she here yet, Baileywick?"

"Yes sire. Would you like-"

"No. I'll go to her," he said standing up from his desk and stomping toward the door. He clenches his fists. "I'd like to give her a piece of my mind," he says with a clenched jaw.

Roland stomps out of the room and into the throne room. He sits on his throne and the cobbler curtsies to him.

Roland scoffs. "You call that a curtsy? A two year old could do better."

"Yes, hello to you too, your majesty," she says.

"You're late."

"I don't recall you setting a time for me to be here. I have a life outside of helping you, you know."

"Oh, you mean a commoner's life? That must be great."

"It is. You should try it sometime. I wonder if you'd last even an hour, let alone a day."

"Being a king is hard work, I'll have you know."

"How do you know?"

Roland scoffs again. "You don't know me. You don't know how hard it is."

"I don't like what I know of you, and I know your life can't possibly be harder than mine. I do real, hard work."

"Did you bring my slippers?" he asks gruffly, changing the subject.

"Yes."

"Well? Let's see them!"

"Do I have to stoop down to your level, or are you gracious to come up to mine?"

Roland stands up and points a finger at her. "You watch it, or I'll throw you in the dungeon faster than you can even call for help."

"You're bluffing."

"Am I? All I have to do to throw your butt in that cell, is snap my fingers."

"Well? What are you waiting for? Do it. But keep in mind, that if I go in that cell, then these slippers you wanted oh-so badly will be going in there with me. And I don't think you want your brand new slippers, freshly made, to smell like rotting flesh and lost hopes, do you?"

Roland freezes in place. She has him, and he knows it. He glares at her and she seems to return it. Roland groans and descends down the steps, meeting her at the bottom. He crosses his arms and huffs quietly. He's hoping it's enough to get the point across.

"Good, now we can have a civilized conversation." She sets the briefcase down and opens it. Roland uncrosses his arms and tries to peek over the lid. He waits as she pulls them out of the briefcase and hands them to him. "Here you are. A pair of brand new slippers, made just for you," she says.

He takes them and sits down on the steps he descended. He kicks off his boots and looks up at her expectantly. "Well, aren't you going to put them on my feet?"

"I most certainly will not. You can do it yourself. I made them with my own bare hands. I shouldn't have to put them on your feet too."

"Fine, then I won't pay you as much."

"You're getting a discount anyway."

Roland growls at her and she just crosses her arms. He slips the shoes on both feet and stands up. He walks around the throne room, all while she just stands there. She bends down and closes her briefcase, picking it up. She remains at a stand still.

"Do they fit well?" she asks

Roland stands in front of her again. "Perfectly," he says.

"So no adjustments are needed?"

"No. Everything seems to be in order."

"Great. Now can you pay me what you owe me so I never have to see your sour face again?"

Roland growls. "Fine."

He walks up to his throne and takes a minute to gather the sack of coins. He can almost hear her impatient foot tapping on the carpet below him. He descends down the steps that he can barely feel beneath his feet, trying desperately to conceal his emotions. He stretches his hand out to her with the sack of coins in it. She looks at him, then down at the coins. She takes them from his hands and puts them in her briefcase quickly. She dips into a curtsy and stands upright once more.

"My business is complete. Now, I no longer have to see your face."

"And I no longer have to see your sickening one," she replies.

"Fine."

"Fine. I'm leaving."

"Good."

"Good."

The cobbler turns on her heel and departs from the room with her head held high and her shoulders back. She slams the door behind her and Roland winces again. This time, because of the noise. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Roland picks up his boots and shakes his head at the door. He throws his boots into the closet and goes back to his office. Upon starting to walk that way, he quickly realizes he can't stomp like he usually does.

"Argh!" he grunts.

When he gets to his office, he takes one slipper off, immediately feeling the cold surround his feet. He examines the slipper closer, realizing only now that she took the time to sew a small little yellow crown on the top of each one. Roland can't help but smile, now wishing that he had been nicer. I'll make it up to her someday, he thinks to himself.

A/N: Third revised chapter guys! Tell me what you think in your reviews!