Honour and Blood

There are 6 Kingdoms of men, and a ruler is decided differently in each. Way up in the snowy mountains sits Rowe. They pride themselves on their ships and battles. Naturally, a king is crowned when the new defeats the old. And across the world, in Vardar, Kings are a foreign concept. Clans face clans, and peace is never accepted.

But for the rest, in the Hidden Kingdom of Ezo and the ancient cities of Phaxi, even for Alden’s greatest enemy, Regalia. Families rule, and blood is power. For the Weiss, the Jin and the Amenti families, when a king dies, his firstborn son will take his place.

To hang the crown in the balance of the retrieval of steel was unheard of. First son of Vulcan, Aurelio Skye showed more emotion now than he had done since Robin first saw him. His eyes were hellfire, searing a hole through Chancellor Oswyn’s. “I am to be forced into fighting for what is rightfully mine because you fear war?” He asked as his teeth grinding against one another filled the room with noise.

Oswyn sighed, “The kingdom cannot handle it, not again.” This time, he explained it, carefully annunciating it to get his point across. But it did nought to dampen the fire of his fury.

“The Kingdom and its people live and die for its king. They exist to fight in my armies, fighting, killing, and dying so that I can conquer the world. In return, they have purpose, law, and protection. I value you, Oswyn, because you are intelligent. Intelligent enough that you know what I say is correct. Therefore, it is indeed fear that freezes you… I had not known our Chancellor was a eunuch.” He mocked with anger in his voice.

That at least got a chuckle from the aged gentleman. “King’s blood indeed. Perhaps you could lead them to their doom then, wearing your bone crown.”

“I don’t fear death, Oswyn. Arian’s pissant army, Rowe, Regalia, reincarnate the gods and send them my way; it matters not. I will still stand above them all while they rot.”

Oswyn found more entertainment in the princeling, acting as a man at the tender age of 19. “Such confidence. Sadly, I can’t simply hand over the Kingdom. Your options now, Aurelio, are to either walk away or fight. There is no getting around it.” Oswyn reiterated with a smile on his face that irritated the firstborn. He dared not turn away, but what else was there?

“Fine, Chancellor, I’ll play your game, I’ll dance to your tune. But when I win, I’ll have you drawn and quartered…” Aurelio assured the old man and took his leave, storming out with one final thought, “…you will all fall before me. And when you do, I’ll make sure you beg for my forgiveness.” He stormed down the corridor, calling his personal aide “Reina” to follow him.

And now, the Chancellor’s attention fell to the outlier, the peasant who did not want to be there. But Robin had had his fill of grand schemes and battles of words; battles of the body were last on his to-do list. It wasn’t exactly his forte. “Chancellor, I appreciate being thought of here…”

“You do, do you?” He asked sarcastically.

“But I’m not willing to die for a bit of gold around my head.” He was urging with him, each word a plea to let him leave.

“I understand. I can accept your forfeit, but all but the winner must renounce their claim to the throne. If you forfeit, you will never be king no matter what happens… can you accept that?” He asked.

“It’s not for me. And it’s not worth dying for.”

Oswyn looked disappointed; he nodded as he ran his fingers through his thin hair. “Very well. I can renounce you. However, I’d ask that you think on it until the morning. I will visit your quarters at midday. If you still feel the same, I will have the guard escort you back to the Reaver’s.”

The proposition was fair, but Robin was caught on it. “My quarters?”

Oswyn looked as if he had just been asked if water was wet. “Of course. You’re still a prince of Alden for now. We can’t have you sleeping in such a place. Who knows what might happen.”

“But it’s my home.”

“Was” Oswyn corrected him. “It was your home. You were just an insignificant boy to them; now you are a son of a dead king. You think pickpockets and murderers care that you USED to be lowborn?”

Robin hadn’t thought of it. He’d seen it so many times before on those streets. They were so glum and broken because everyone was struggling. It was much like drowning. As soon as someone started to get control and catch their breath, others would pull them down to survive a second more. It wouldn’t matter if his pockets were empty; there were ways to take another step up the ladder by using him. And, much like him, many people hated the royals. Being announced as a prince, he’d be a sheep putting himself on the wolf’s plate… maybe going back wasn’t a good idea. Robin couldn’t convince himself otherwise once he started seeing what might happen.

“That reminds me, actually.” Oswyn said suddenly. “I felt it a bit unfair to pit you against your brothers, who have been trained by the best swordsmen in the Kingdom since childhood. So I had assigned a knight to be your teacher.”

“But, chancellor, I’m not going to compete…”

“Be that as it may. I’ll bring him to you this evening, you can discuss it and in the morning, I will ask for your answer. For now, I think a bath and a rest would be advisable.” He signalled the guards outside, and they gathered the peasant prince. This time, he was a little less hesitant to go with them. Arian, Coryn and the Chancellor continued their conversation as he moved away, unable to hear them anymore.

*-*-*

The Gallant Tower looked big from the outside, but it was jaw-dropping inside. He was first taken to the bathhouse, stone layered with pale marble floors that dipped down into clear, inviting waters. Statues stood on the edges, pouring the clear water from their ewers. Every wall he looked upon was plastered with either paintings of wars or kings or banners of Alden’s sigil, the howling wolf on a field of red.

After an hour of enjoying the water, he clambered out and was escorted to the castle’s many rooms. There wasn’t much to change into unless he fancied embracing the red wolf. Luckily, he had a white robe handed to him, still warm from the dry. Eventually, they reached the throne room. It was beyond anything Robin had ever seen. The ground was a crystal native to Alden that had a mirror shine, stand in the centre and you’d feel as if you were standing on the air itself. White marble pillars reached up and held the stonework above. And stood guarding 4 pillars were sculpted marble statues depicting the former kings of Alden, each bearing the legendary blade Grannus. The floor raised up, jagged and worn. At the very top, the seat of champions. It was named the Eclipse Throne, the people of Alden were wolves they said, and they bowed before the moon-shaped throne. It was grey and circular, with the centre cut out and coloured the Alden red. Behind was the mural, the red wolf and the hellfire blade itself. It was thick, chipped and dangerous. Any sword that survived the same years as it was rusted away, but even rust feared to form upon it.

“They say any that touches it and is unburnt is worthy of it, worthy to be king. The blade loved the first and second kings, but the third was deemed unfit. When its fires touched his skin, he burned. The Chancellor back then tried to find he who deserved the blade, trying the king’s relatives, knights and even common folk. Ultimately, it did not choose anyone; the king they had tried to put on the throne originally took the seat anyway. Since then, no king has held Grannus. The fifth thought he could bind it to his will… but not long after, his entire arm turned to ash, and his rule ended, as did his life. Even King Vulcan couldn’t wield it. Instead, he kept it watching over his throne, fearing its power.” Robin muttered alone, eyes glued to the evil blade. The more he looked to it, the more it felt like it was looking back at him, and he quivered.

By the time he had reached the room chosen for him, night had come and the most confusing day of his life drew to a close.

Before he had even known of his lineage, a room was being prepared for him, and much like the entirety of the castle, it was overkill. Red dominated the walls and floors, broken up on the northern side by giant windows. The centre most was circular and golden, looking out to the slums below. Just visible was the beginning of the broken bridge that had once connected Alden to Rowe, it didn’t survive the wars and now the remnants lay buried in the bed beneath the lake.

The moonlight flooded through the windows and onto the floors, helping Robin make out the rest of his room. He estimated that his bed was big enough to fit five, maybe more if they removed the pillows. It was soft as a feather, gently caressing his skin and practically singing him a lullaby as he felt the fatigue fall away…

Then, a knock at the door. Three strong bangs made him shoot out of the bed and almost out of his skin. Still half asleep, he opened the door.

It was Oswyn and another he did not recognise. He was darker in complexion and had black curled hair. His hides were a dark orange embroidered with a roaring lion and crossed spears, a sign of a faraway land Robin had only ever heard stories of.

Far to the east, beyond the mountains that touch the stars is the vast Kingdom of Vardar. It’s wildly hot and dry, crawling with deadly scorpions and falcons the size of bears and lions, wild and proud. They say the runic stones that gift magic are made there by shaman that read the future. No kings rule the country; men have tried and failed. Each time one stood atop the rest, another would rise and defeat them. They are a powerful, intelligent people.

Tara once told him that Alden looked to Vardar for aid. They formed an alliance only a short time later. It was no surprise why.

“Robin, this is Ser Kamau Alasa. He is a former imperial knight of one of Vardar’s more civilised clans and a warrior of great talents. I would go as far as to say he could give even Ser Payne a run for his money. He has agreed to be your trainer and aide for the trials.” Oswyn announced.

“You flatter me, Chancellor. I am still a fledgling to Ser Payne.” The knight refuted. He took a knee to Robin, which caught him off guard. He clasped his hands together and bowed. “It is a great honour, Prince Robin. It would be my greatest achievement to train you, should you choose to take on the trials.”

What does a peasant boy say to a knight in this situation? It’s the same thing Robin thought.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Oswyn said, halfway out of the door already. “I have some errands to run before the trials are announced. Remember, I will expect your answer on the morn.” And off he went, leaving two strangers in an awkward situation. Robin thought he saw a smile on Oswyn’s face as he left, enjoying their torment.

They sat silently for a few moments, broken occasionally by Robin tapping his legs to a tune he made up while searching for what to say. “So… you’re from Vardar?” He asked meekly.

“Yes sir. As a boy, I travelled from city to city until I became one of the Maneli tribe’s three swords. Sir Oswyn spoke with our leader and suggested an excursion to better the bonds between the Maneli and Alden.” Kamau answered with great pride. But Robin did not respond. Kamau examined the young boy. “Sir, may I stand?” He asked, and Robin nodded awkwardly. “Forgive me if I am mistaken, but something is troubling you. Perhaps I could help?”

“Ah, sorry, it’s just… The Chancellor’s right, isn’t he?” Robin muttered, his head hung low between his hands. “Even if I refuse and go back home, I’ll be targeted. And if I don’t have gold to give them, they’ll take what I can’t afford to lose. My life… Tara’s…”

“Tara? Your beloved, sir?”

“What? No! What are you talking about?!” Robin responded. His face was red, and he fell over his own words. Kamau realised rather quickly that his new student was not a good liar… and making him flustered was fun.

“I will not lie to you, sir. It’s likely. If you give up your claim, you are no longer a prince but a commoner again. The crown will not protect you.” Kamau explained.

Robin desperately tried to see the paths ahead and where they led. If he did renounce his claim and elected to concede, the chances were as Kamau said. Sure, he could survive for a while, but he didn’t want to live like that. It was difficult enough surviving as a nobody. You can avoid a blade that’s not aiming for you easily. But when you’re the target, it will soon find you. The other road was paved in gold but thinner the further you went. He could take on the trials, do well, defeat his older “brothers”, and become a king. Though, even just considering it felt stupid.

“Either way, I’ll be dead.” He muttered.

Kamau sat beside him and placed his hand on Robin’s back. “When I was a boy, not much older than you, my father was challenged by a warrior from the east. That warrior killed my father and took his land as his own. My father’s body was thrown to the lions, and my mother was forced to wed her husband’s killer. He did me a mercy. He could have killed me where I stood, but he exiled me instead. Maybe he thought I would be picked off by the lions or the wyrms… instead, I fought and ran. Eventually, I fought so much I had gotten strong enough to win back my home and mother.” Kamau explained. “I too had nothing once and felt hopeless, but I didn’t give in; I put myself to the sword and became what I believed impossible.”

“Oswyn asked you to talk me into taking the trials, didn’t he?”

“It was mentioned. But should it not suit you, you are welcome to walk away. Do you truly not want the throne?” Kamau asked.

Robin stood and stared out at the city below. “I won’t win it. I’ll either get killed out there or come home and get killed there. Even if I somehow won, I can’t lead people; I wouldn’t know the first thing about it.”

“You seem to have misunderstood, sir. I didn’t ask if you thought you could; I asked if you wanted.”

“Does it matter?” Robin responded.

“Yes.” Kamau whipped back with power. “Prince, I can teach you the way of the blade. Sir Oswyn can teach you tactics and how to rule. Only you can teach yourself your desires. Only you can break through your own walls to become great.”

Robin moved back to the bed and sat beside Kamau. He took hold of the amulet around his neck, felt the grooves and saw his mother again. Saw her suffer, saw himself, and felt that same anger. Will it all happen again? Aurelio, Arian, Coryn, Oswyn… are any of them different from him?

He searched deep within himself, seeking out the answers he needed. Finding what you truly desire when you’ve never really wanted, it’s a task more difficult than expected. He thought he could just visualise it all and figure it out. But all he saw were the people he loved, the people that mattered most to him. He understood then what it all meant. It brought him strength enough to face Kamau. “I want to protect them. I want them to not have to worry about surviving to the next dawn or go to bed hungry. If I can only do that by becoming king… even if it’s impossible, I want to try.”

Kamau looked satisfied. His smile was different than the ones he had seen on the faces at the castle; there was warmth and kindness that felt so much like those important people. “Do you think I can do it?” Robin sheepishly asked, and Kamau bounced to his feet.

“We are children of immortals, sir. Nothing is impossible.” He held out his hand, and the two connected, hand to hand, arm to arm. “I swear on my life, I will make you a warrior. So that when you need to fight, you will see victory.”

*-*-*

The dawn came. Oswyn was sifting through the reports on his desk when Robin entered. The Chancellor gave him a stare. “Prince Robin. I assume you have an answer for me?” He asked. “Shall I have the guards escort you back to the Reaver’s?”

But Robin looked determined; new fire burned away in him. “No. I won’t go back.” He replied. Though he wanted to give up, he wanted to go home so eagerly; there was a voice deep in him telling him that this was something he needed to do.

“I see. So, are you ready to take on the trials?”

“No. But, I will be.”