There was silence for a few minutes, then a face peered out of a nearby window.
“Who goes there?” croaked the gatekeeper.
“We do,” answered Zac pompously.
“And you are?”
“Isaac, Taylor and Zac Hanson. Oh, and Fred.”
“What’s your business?”
“We want to know what’s on the other side of this wall,” Isaac replied.
“You may only pass through this gate if you’re willing to show the world who you really are.”
“The world already knows who we are,” Taylor replied, dismissing this.
“Do they?” asked the gatekeeper knowingly. “Very well, come in, come in.”
The double doors of the gate creaked open and the four boys walked through.
It is first necessary to say what they saw. It was a sort of marketplace, but the things that were being bought and sold, and the clothes everyone wore, the buildings and tents all told the brothers that this was no ordinary marketplace.
Flat-healed boots appeared to be the primary footwear, although some people went barefoot and other wore a kind of sandal. Pants, skirts, dresses and shirts were not made of any familiar material. Some people wore different kinds of armour and carried weapons and shields.
And in all that they saw there was nothing that reminded them of the modern world. It was as if they had stepped into a completely different world altogether.
After taking in all this, they looked at each other, only to discover they too, had changed. They were all wearing these odd boots, pants and shirts. Zac had a fine metal shield and a sword to match sitting in his sheath. Taylor was equipped with a dagger in one of his boots, a bow and a quiver of arrows at his back. Isaac had a staff that one may suppose was magical.
Fred also had sword and shield, but these somehow seemed finer than Zac’s. He also wore a beautiful red robe. Perhaps the strangest thing of all was the way his face had changed. And yet, it hadn’t changed. It was still as plain as ever, but there was a certain… aura or beauty or something about it. There didn’t seem to be the right word.
They hadn’t had enough time to swallow all this when a nearby young boy noticed them and stared. Then he edged nearer, his eyes fixed on Fred.
“Your Majesty?” whispered the boy.
The brothers stared at the boy and an astonished expression crossed Fred’s face.
“I’m sorry,” said Fred. “You must have the wrong person.”
But it was at these words that more people glanced in their direction, and in a matter of seconds there was silence in the marketplace, and the people were bowing and curtsying, and called Fred “Your Majesty”.
It was then, to his horror, Fred realised what the odd weight on his head had been. It was a crown.