"Mother, where are we going?" A small boy asked his mother. She was trembling. From her hands, to her fingers, to her knees. And the boy started to worry. Is she sick? Are we going the wrong way? He firmly placed his hands on his knees to prevent them from trembling too. How awfully cautious he was. For all he knew, it could just be the movements of the carriage they were riding on.

He looked to his right. The scenery was unfamiliar, though it had a slight resemblance to his home back in Norway. The carriage drove through a smooth road with orange, yellow and brown trees on each side - a sign that summer had ended and was the start of autumn. A brown leaf fell from one of the trees, as was the custom of the season, and the boy reached out to grab it. He marvelled at the leaf, and a surge of ideas sprang to his mind, wondering about how its life began and how it will end when winter arrives.

Suddenly the carriage stopped. Alarmed, the boy's hand shook and the leaf fell spiralling down to the ground. When he got off the carriage, he was about to bend down to reach the leaf when the butler held his hand and directed him to face his mother, who was still sitting in her seat.

"Are you not coming mother?" The boy asked.

His pale mother gave a half-hearted smile, and then leaned over to plant a kiss on her son's forehead. "The King is a good man. Please listen to everything he has to say."

He didn't understand.

The butler led the boy to the front door of the palace, where the door opened to reveal a middle-aged man. The man smiled and dropped on one knee, held the boy by his side and enveloped him in a hug. The boy had a confused look plastered on his face. Why is this man hugging him?

The clatter of horses walking surprised the boy and he turned around to look at the carriage. The carriage was no longer there but already far away in the distance.

"Mother!" called out the boy. He freed himself from the man's grasp to run after the carriage, although, his actions were ceased when a firm grip enveloped one of his wrists.

"Lukas Bondevik."

The boy turned back around. How did this man know his name? "I have to go! Mother left me!" he exclaimed.

"She will be back," the man reassured and he placed his hand on the boy's golden locks. "She will be back. Trust me."

Lukas reflected on his mother's words: 'The King is a good man. Please listen to everything he has to say'

Remembering this, Lukas nodded in agreement.

"Now, I have to ask you some questions."

"Yes, sir?"

"How old are you?"

"Four, sir."

The king nodded as well. "Tell me, what is your father's name?"

Lukas swallowed. "I don't know, sir." He glanced aside, hurt laced in his words. "I've never met him."

"I see." The king said getting up.

Lukas looked up at the king, curious as to why he would ask about his father. Even mother avoided such a topic. He had no idea why he wasn't allowed any information on his father. He asked countless times and tried discreetly hinting on the subject but to no avail. To see the anger and annoyance his mother felt everytime he mentioned the topic hurt him, and so Lukas stopped asking.

The king softly released Lukas' wrist, placed his hand onto his and lead him inside the palace. "Do you know why you are here?"

Lukas shook his head as he walked. The palace was definitely much grander inside. Upon entering, his eyes wandered at the gold ceilings in complete amazement. They were ardorned with a wide array of jewels and expensive stones. Some were covered in emeralds and amethysts which shone like the lustre of the Northern Lights. This place was nothing like his home back in Norway. Nothing compared to the small, white bricked house he and his mother lived in.

"Ah. But do you know what a butler is?"

Lukas took a quick glimpse at the king and nodded only to feign interest. He then diverted his eyes on the fine antiques that stood on top white pillars and realistic oil portraits that decorated the walls. He was much too interested in the interior decorations; it is only once in a while that one can visit such a picturesque place.

"It's good that you know." The king stopped walking and this caused Lukas to do the same.

"Father! You must come and see this, I just... I just..." a boy roughly Lukas' age came speedily down the stairs. He wore a red shirt with its sleeves folded half way up his arm, black trousers, and a black tie. After witnessing another boy beside his father, his wide grin faded from his face and his voice then trailed off. "Uh..."

"Oh! Good timing. I have news to inform concerning the both of you."

Mathias approached his father and looked up at him. "What is it, father?"

"Mr. Bondevik." The king looked at Lukas and then gestured to the boy beside him. "This is my son, Mathias." Afterwards, the king faced the boy beside him and gestured to Lukas. "Son. This is Mr. Bondevik."

Mathias stepped forward so that he faced Lukas. He was a head taller than him. His hair wasn't neatly combed like he expected it to be of high class people, but it wasn't in a mess either; it was sort of in the middle, short and spiked up to the side. He stretched his hand out and the smile he wore earlier appeared once again. "Hej med jer," he greeted.

Lukas blinked. Hesitantly, he shook the boy's hand. Did he just speak in a different language?

"I forgot to mention, sorry, Lukas is Norweigan." The king apologised to his son.

"Oh, okay." Mathias gave a quick glare to his father and, looking rather embarrassed, turned back to Lukas. "I meant 'hallo'."

In return, Lukas nodded in understanding. "Nice to meet you."

After the introduction, the king held the two newly aquainted boys by the shoulders. "Mr. Bondevik, remember when I asked if you knew what a butler was?"

Lukas nodded again. Of course he knew. Who doesn't know? However, what Lukas didn't know was that the words he was about to hear next would inevitably change his life...

"That is because your purpose in coming here... is to become one," The king continued, "to become my son's personal butler."