Windasell Centreport: Old George's House
"What!" Richard and George yelled in unison, their voices casting a tense silence into the air.
"That just cannot be," Richard denied, shaking his head. "The council wouldn't have let it pass. Even they resented the imperial family!" How could he not deny it? The last emperor was famously known for his blatant disregard for the empire's well-being.
"Doubt as you may, but our business remains true: the boy is to come with us to the castle, as the king's death wish," the knight leader proclaimed, not moving an inch from where he had staked his sword. His resolution was as unyielding as a castle wall.
"Even you would understand that we have no say in this. I beg of you, once a brother-in-arms, may there not be bloodshed today. We will be on our way with the boy," the second knight pleaded.
George looked at his friend's face, understanding that Richard did not wish to part with his own son. As his hand rubbed his beard, an idea came to his mind.
"Would it not be wise to let the boy go, but accompanied by you, Rick?" George suggested. "The knights have no choice either. I also wish for no bloodshed in front of my homestead. As a friend, would you listen to this old man?"
The group of knights held their breath, anticipating an answer from the man in front of them. Each of them wished no harm to the man who was once one of their own. If it came to a battle, some would undoubtedly meet their end today. Standing before them were two knights once honored by His Majesty: Sir George the Boar and Sir Richard of the Black Armor. They had left the order of their own accord, though the reason for Sir Richard remained elusive.
"Very well," Richard said, his voice deepening with determination. "But we will remain only for a moment. Once the matter with the king is done, I will leave with my son." He was determined not to let his son remain in a place the late king had forced upon him.
"We will depart at once!" the knight leader proclaimed, pulling the staked sword from the ground and sliding the blade back into its sheath.
"You know well what could become of this, don't you?" George asked, looking from Richard's eyes to his son's.
"Whatever's on your mind, it will not become true," Richard said, turning his back to George. He held his son's hand, a shadow falling over them both, such was the word of a fallen one.
Windasell Capital: Reselden
Sir Richard and his son, Adrian, departed from Windasell Centreport and set off for the capital, Reselden. The journey to the outskirts of the port city alone took half a day, as Richard had isolated himself at its furthest edge. From there, it was another two-day ride to Reselden—a city that was home to both commoners and powerful nobility, many of whom served the imperial family.
Finally, they reached their destination.
The curious child peered out the glass window of the carriage, his head swiveling to take in the surrounding world he had known so little of. He looked up, and towering buildings cast shadows over him as a sea of people went about their day. Some sold goods by the roadside while children ran in and out of shops with their parents. They passed a bustling market where sellers traded everything from fresh bread to the biggest of furniture pieces.
The child's eyes glowed with curiosity as the carriage moved past a variety of shops: a cloth merchant, a painter's studio, a bookseller, a silver and gold trader. The streets were filled with life—with people earning a living, spending their hard-earned money, and even those begging on the street. It was a rich and vibrant world, filled with life itself.
"Father! Look outside! There are so many people here," the child said, his eyes glowing with joy.
"Yes, there are, Adrian," Richard replied, forcing a smile. In his heart, a hidden worry gnawed at him. His son was still just a small boy. All his life had been protected by him, and now he knew so little of the world that there were bound to be those who would use it to their advantage.
It seems I need to at least think of how to teach him to fend for himself, Richard thought, just enough until I manage to return him to a safe life.
After passing through three more districts, the carriage finally stopped at its destination.
"PREPARE FOR THE PRINCE'S LANDING!" A knight's voice pierced through the carriage door. Slowly, the door separating father and son from the outside opened.
Windasell Capital Palace: Aethelgard
Adrian craned his neck and looked up. Towering above him were five colossal statues of knights. One held a bow, another a staff, a third an axe, and a fourth a shield. The final statue stood in the center, a sword pointed toward the sun, almost as if it were touching it.
Behind the statues was a palace, its height reaching only the statues' waists. Gardens enveloped the palace, decorating the exterior as if they were part of the structure itself.
Before the door stood two lines of kneeling knights, their swords staked before them like staffs, heads bowed in deference.
"We welcome the heir to the throne, the named prince," they said in unison, their voices filled with unwavering loyalty. Yet, Richard remained stern, his face showing no sign of easing.
"Where are the council at?" he asked.
"Dear Sir, they await you in the conference room inside. May we guide you?" One of them, the foremost, answered. A golden crest adorned his chest armor—a sigil of a tiger and a sword carved upon it.
Richard recognized the knight standing before him: Grand Marshall of the Imperial Army, Gerald of House Tigris, his father's friend. The armor Gerald wore was reserved for high-ranking knights; Richard himself had once worn the same, back when he was so proud and foolish.
"No need…" Richard rejected the offer coldly.
"Papa, why do the knights kneel?" asked the little Adrian, standing beside his father and holding on to his towering leg.
"I myself don't know, son. Perhaps the esteemed elders inside can enlighten us," Richard replied. He crouched down to Adrian's height and caressed his head. "Will you be a good boy and wait? I have people to meet."
"I'm always a good boy, though," Adrian replied, pouting.
"Yes, I know," Richard replied, smiling before turning to face Sir Gerald. With a serious look, he said, "I leave my son in your care." Richard then walked to the conference room, leaving his son behind in the care of the Grand Marshall.
"Alright, little one, how would you like to see the palace?" Sir Gerald invited, waiting for Adrian's answer.
"YES!" Adrian answered with a growing smile and excitement.
"Where should we go first? Hmm, perhaps the Imperial Garden?" Sir Gerald proposed.
"I'm okay with anywhere. We rarely get a chance to explore our hometown," Adrian said. Back in their hometown of Centreport, his father always went out cautiously. They wouldn't spend long outside, and they would always rush home at sunset. The only place they frequented was Old George's House.
---
Imperial Garden
A child, his eyes wide with excitement, wandered around the garden, his fingers gently probing the colorful flowers that adorned every corner. He was utterly captivated by the garden's vibrant beauty, which resembled a rainbow of diverse blooms across its expansive spaces.
"Mister Knight! What's that?" he exclaimed, pointing toward the statue in the center of a large pond. It depicted a young man, strikingly similar to the one standing before the palace, holding a sword.
"That's a statue of the founder," Sir Gerald replied calmly, picking up the boy to offer him a better view. "You might have already seen it. It's the same figure from the palace."
"The Founder? Who is he?" Adrian inquired.
"It would take a long time to explain," Sir Gerald said. "How about a story?"
"Yay! Just like Father!" Adrian eagerly approved.
Sir Gerald approached a bench in front of the statue and gently placed the child beside him.
In the primordial era, before anything else existed, the world was a vast, empty canvas, devoid of life and soul. From this silence, a creator emerged from the distant cosmos. Burdened by loneliness and the emptiness of the world, the creator gazed upon the void and embarked on a dream. From this dream, the world was born, a realm filled with five distinct species: elves, dwarves, dragons, and humans. The creator nurtured and cherished their creation, establishing order and harmony among them. They also created angels, radiant beings who embodied the creator's goodness.
However, as in the universe, everything exists in balance. The universe demanded the birth of another being, a species that mirrored the darkness within the creator. These races were known as demons. Consumed by their nature, the demons waged war against the world, corrupting everything in their path and devouring countless beasts. As a last act of pity to save his beloved creation, the creator awoke from his slumber and pierced his own body, scattering shards upon his creation. This act granted his creation immense power, enabling them to eventually vanquish the demons from the world.
The strongest human at that time led the assembled races in a collective effort to drive the demons to the edge of the world, scattering them. Soon, the angels departed the world, leaving it to the other races, as they had no understanding of love and realized they were not meant to lead. The strongest human then established a kingdom for his people, which expanded and branched into numerous continents, eventually becoming an empire that spread across the world. As the days passed, the branches themselves departed from the empire, leading to the creation of numerous kingdoms and empires scattered across the continent.
"Mister Knight, if the creator spread his shards everywhere, do I have power too?" Adrian questioned.
"Of course. You're Richard's child. He is strong, you know," Sir Gerald replied, extending his palm to caress the child.
"Ooh… is that why those people want to meet him?" Adrian asked again.
"Well, that only he knows," Gerald said, deflecting the question. He picked up the child again and walked toward the flowers planted beside the pond. "Tell you what, how about we make him a surprise? I bet he would love it."
"Aye Aye, captain!" Adrian shouted.
---
Meanwhile, in the Imperial Conference Room
Richard sat at the council table. Numerous faces around him showed dissatisfaction, yet none of them raised their voice.
"Such impudence showed before the council itself!" a voice pierced the silence as one of the council members rose from his seat.
"New faces, huh? Don't remember seeing you before," Richard said.
"Lord Blesik! Contain yourself," another member said—the one who sat in the middle of the table, opposite Richard.
"This is but a commoner! Why are you gentlemen tolerating this?" Lord Blesik questioned the council elders.
"That man served his majesty longer than you have been warming those chairs," the Elder answered the lord.
"It's funny that the council cares about dignity but has no problem putting a seven-year-old boy in the most dangerous seat of the empire," Richard raised his voice, which was met with the council's silence.
The elder thus spoke again: "That is his majesty's death wish. We had no say in it."
"Didn't have any say? Wasn't it you lot that ordered the imperial force to retreat years ago, even though his majesty himself opposed it?" Richard said before sighing. "I've stayed long enough to know that the council's decision is determined by its benefit, so I ask again."
The air felt heavy, almost as if a predator were gazing down on the council members. Richard continued, "WHY!"
"It is a prophecy!" one of them quickly shouted, and the air became lighter in an instant.
"What prophecy!"