Chester felt himself falling, but with his hands bound behind him was helpless to catch himself.  He hit the cobblestones painfully, pulling something in his shoulders in the process.  All around him he could smell dead fish in the moist air, but his blindfold kept him from seeing where he was.  He was already battered and bruised and could taste the salty tang of blood in his mouth, despite the twisted gag.<br/><br/>"Get him up again!  We have to keep moving."  Rough hands righted him and shoved him forward again.  The fools!  Did they believe that they would get away with this?  Already the palace guards would have noted his absence and be searching for him.  One did not kidnap the crowned prince and not have his absence noted!  His every moment was planned and plotted for him now, and any deviation had consequences.<br/><br/>Ever since his brother's death, a year ago, Chester has been primed, prodded and prepared, trying to mold him into kingly material.  He had never thought he would have to be king.  That was Roger's burden.  Chester had been free to pursue his horticulture and scientific studies, while Roger had spent his time being the perfect heir.  Even now, Chester was torn between missing his brother, and being angry at him for dieing such a stupid and pointless death.  Bore hunting would be outlawed when he was king!<br/><br/>Roger has always been the golden haired, goddess given son of his parents dreams.  He had been tall, handsome and muscular.  He rode well, fought well and love the kingly sport of hunting.   By contrast Chester slender and shorter, with dark brown hair and eyes.  He was always fiddling with his plants, or writing in his journal, or poring over dusty old books.  His parents had indulged him somewhat, since he was the redundant son, but he had still been forced to enduring lessons in riding, wrestling and swordsmanship until he was a decent hand at them all.  He had developed a strength of body, despite being smaller and a quickness which often surprised his opponents, who assumed their superior size would win the day.<br/><br/>They were moving again, shoving him toward an unknown fate.  It had to be the rebels!  Who else would kidnap him?  What did they hope to accomplish though?  Were they after a ransom?  He supposed that they would get it, but he knew that his father would not loosen up politically.  The rebels were a horrid lot of traitors, who used the common villagers for cover and got many of them killed in the process.  They were funded by the goddess only knew and were bent on overthrowing the monarch and casting the kingdom of Renwald into chaos.<br/><br/>There had been rumors of a terrible dark hand, a band of evil Warlocks, who held an ancient animosity toward the Tucker line, and wished to see the line end.  Chester was a product of that line, and feared them.  He had seen the results of evil magics used by some of the rebels, which could only have been obtained by contact with these Warlocks.  Were they behind the kidnapping?  Would they try to possess him, or twist him?  He felt fear course through him, though tapped down by his remaining anger.