The Red Prince (1)

by Stephen Lucas Lacroix

  “Sain’triet!” Sonia casted a lightning spell and quickly took out one of the assassins. The remaining assassins dispersed into the fog and a blade suddenly struck Theodore on the chest. Sonia shrieked at the sight as she rushed to his aid when she was struck in the back by the assassin.

  Evangeline was alarmed by the sight before her eyes. She knelt to the ground in grief and held her head with both hands in despair. Her tears started to run down her cheeks. She was speechless and frozen.

  The assassin appeared in front of her and another one behind. She glared at the assassins as hate flooded her. They lifted their blades into the air. Evangeline’s hair gently turned pink and her eyes glowed bright maroon and her body turned dark violet. The princess screamed her lungs out, so loud it echoed through the entire city. A bright pink sphere surrounded around the princess and grew instantly. At the height of its size, it exploded.

  The fog cleared up and to Moselei’s surprise, they were still alive. The explosion killed the intruders. Moselei, still perplexed, got down from the carriage. He approached the unconscious princess, who was back to her old self and appearance. He called out for help.

  The head councilor came to their aid and set the princess to a comfortably on the carriage and said to Moselei, “When she awakens, tell her we will handle everything, and I will temporarily hold the position of High Wizard until her return.”

  Moselei agreed and said further communications between the kingdoms will be made.

  They were headed for a long, long journey to the meeting place inside the Empire. The princess, still slept in the carriage as tears fell down from her eyes. For what she had lost that day, a day she never thought would come would be the last time she would see her parents alive.

  End of chapter II

  III: THE GREAT TREE

  BEYOND THE NORTHERN BORDERS OF the Empire, a kingdom that was unlike the others was about to make contact once again with the Trasidian people. Another diplomat had been sent by the Archbishop of the Empire made haste towards the Mystic Realm of the Falcons and to meet its council.

  As the envoy headed for the location of the city, they saw that it – sitting on a mountain surrounded by thick clouds. They had heard that daybreak happens almost only a dozen per year. The realm of the Falcons was indeed one of the most mysterious kingdoms.

  To their surprise, a rare event began to unfold before them as the clouds were shed with sunlight. It truly was mesmerizing that the driver had put the carriage to a stop.

  “What in the name did you stop for—” said the diplomat as he saw, an enormous tree standing right on top of the mountain. “What the —“

  Towering high into the firmament, glowing orbs circled the leaves on top of the tree as sunlight hit its peak. The leaves carried a beautiful golden glow as the sun showered it with sun drops while it flowed down through the mountain.

  The diplomat finally got back to his senses and said, “Hey, what are you doing? We’re not here for sightseeing. Come on let’s go.”

  It was almost sundown when they reached the outpost town of Quasien. From there, they stopped and waited for their escort to pick them up. They decided to get out of the carriage first to stretch their tired muscles. It was also full of people of both the Falcons and the Trasidians. Children played around the streets and the market buzzed with business. Clearly this town was lively and well. The mix of races somehow created a haven for both people.

  Suddenly, six Falcon-kinds emerged from the orange sky and descended on the ground. It was their escort party that would bring them up to the nested city in the great tree, the city of Juntoreigh.

  The party landed around the carriage. One of them approached the diplomat. They knelt before him and then stood up.

  Bearing the distinctive characteristic of the Falcons, their eyes glimmered of ashen blue. They almost had the same olive skin as the Trasidians but only a shade lighter and their wings were rumored to be slightly smaller than the High Eagles.

  “It is our pleasure Imperial Diplomat Ferrier Ole, to bring you to the city of Juntoreigh. The Falcon Council is awaiting your arrival,” said the Falcon guard.

  Ferrier showed a faint smile and asked, “Okay then, pick up my things behind the carriage and we’ll go.”

  But the Falcon guard began to speak, “Your Excellence, it is not needed because we are going to lift up the carriage along with you, but your guards and escorts will remain here. They will be treated with great hospitality.”

  Ferrier agreed and told his guards and escorts to remain until his return. His escorts removed the bolts that attached the horses to the carriage. He entered the carriage and the falcon guards tied ropes unto the carriage and tied it to a U-shaped beam.

  The head falcon guard ordered for takeoff and they slowly lifted the carriage off the ground. They began to ascend for the nested city. They slowly gained speed until they reached full height. From afar, the carriage seemed to be lifted by giant birds as they began to disappear into the orange horizon. The diplomat was enjoying the spectacular view of the mountains and the forest under them. One of the falcon guards knocked on the window, prompting Ferrier to open it.

  “Are you enjoying the ride, Your Highness?” asked the curious Falcon guard.

  “I’m enjoying it very much. Thank you for asking,” he answered with a smile on his face.

  “Enjoy it for a long time, Your Liege, because we are still a long way from the city. I believe you have food there? You should eat up first. We will arrive there by moonrise,” said the Falcon guard.

  “Very well. Thank you for the advice,” he answered back. The Falcon guard returned to his position in the sky and they continued to fly to their destination.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  “My King, let’s take a break. We’ve been training the whole day now,” shouted a Falcon trainer.

  Two Falcons were training, clanging swords and fluttering wings down by the battlegrounds.

  The King stood up and pushed the other one away from him.

  “Don’t call me that. I don’t even control the realm or even wear the crown,” he said as he charged towards his training partner and blocked him with his sword.

  The trainer pushed the other man, “But King Ravaen, you only need to accept the crown so you can control it fully.”

  King Ravaen Adevok was the son of the late King Razeldon Adevok. He was one of the finest warriors in the Mystic Falcon fleet. He had ash black hair and eyes like those of a preying falcon. But what made him different among his men was his unchallenged Far Sight. He could spot a small rothma, a small rodent-like creature, from miles away. He was also faster than their counterparts, the High Eagles. His focus was unmatched, especially if the situation called for it. He knew how to manipulate his enemies to their most vulnerable point and use their weakness against them. But despite these advantages, he was one stubborn prince. He refused almost everything he was told to do and refused the crown, preferring to be addressed as prince.

  As they continued their sparring match, he saw the approaching party of the Falcon guards. He stopped to take a closer look.

  “What is it, Your Highness?” he curiously asked.

  Ravaen breathed heavily as a smile slowly drew on his face. He could see the guards transporting a carriage bearing the insignia of the Trasidar Empire.

  “Our guest is here.” Ravaen immediately dropped his sparring sword.

  “Where are you going, My Liege?” the soldier asked.

  Ravaen only giggled as he put on his armor, “To greet our guest, of course. Clean this up. We will continue tomorrow.” He summoned his wings and flew straight to the citadel.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  As the party that carried Ferrier’s carriage approached the city, more guards rallied to mark their path in the air. They raised their spears to form an arch. The people of the city walked on the enormous branches of the great tree, awaiting the arrival of their guest. With the moon fully raised, the night shrouded the sky with star
s. The city posts lit up and prepared for the arrival of the imperial diplomat. They arrived and the people applauded as the carriage entered the city. Ferrier was glad by the warm welcome from the people.

  They made their way to the top of the tree. He stuck out his head along with his arm and waved to the people in acknowledgement. Ferrier got his head and arms back inside, checking if he still had the scrolls that he brought along the trip. He sighed deeply as he recalled that the King of the Falcons was not that easy to convince. But still, he knew the King would answer their call for aid because they had been allies for so long that the King should acknowledge their rare request.

  They arrived at the Prest, the sacred citadel on top of the tree which was covered with leaves. The council went out of the Prest to welcome the imperial diplomat. The Falcon guards slowly put down the carriage and it touched the floor smoothly. The Falcon guards made a path from the carriage and another arch for Ferrier to walk under. The door opened and Ferrier walked out.

  One of the council men approached and hugged him, “Welcome, old friend. It has been a long time. What brings you to our humble tree city?”

  They both laughed and it slowly faded as Ferrier’s face turned serious.

  “Is something wrong?” the council member asked.

  Ferrier sighed deeply, “I’m going to tell you all inside the council chamber. It is a matter of security, not only for both our people but the whole west continent.”

  With that, the councilors murmured for a while before they entered the chamber. The council members sat in their places while Ferrier stood before them.

  Ferrier looked at the council and asked, “Where is King Razolden? I request the King to be here for this message is of grave importance.”

  The council murmured again and his friend then stood and said, “We regret to inform you but King Razolden died several days ago. We already dispatched a messenger to tell you days ago but it appears that the news hasn’t reached the Imperial Council yet.”

  Ferrier was confused about the varied statement that had been given to him.

  “But rest assured the Mystic Realm is in good hands,” the councilor confirmed Ferrier, who was clearly not happy about the news.

  Ferrier’s face showed mixed emotions. “When exactly did you send out this messenger you speak of?”

  “About five days ago, Your Highness,” answered one of the councilors.

  Ferrier couldn’t do anything but sighed and said, “We are not prepared for this.” He looked at the councilors, “have you not tried using the messenger owls that the Orderian is providing us? That would’ve been faster.”

  A councilor stood up to explain, “Yes, we have received them but they are proving difficult to use because the owl is always getting lost. It might have something to do with the Great Tree’s own energy.”

  “We thought so as well. Our own arcanists are trying to confirm that as we speak,” another councilor said.

  Ferrier did not expect this. The council room echoed in the murmurs of the councilors as they waited for Ferrier to speak. After several moments, the diplomat asked calmly. “Where is the King’s son? Where is the Prince? I believe he is the new King of the Falcons.”

  Another councilor answered, “The prince refuses the crown but we always consider his opinion before we make a decision.”

  “Very well then, I request that the prince be present in this meeting right now,” Ferrier demanded firmly.

  “He can’t. He’s still training in the battlegrounds,” said another.

  “I will only tell the Prime Minister’s message in the presence of the—”

  “Forgive me, Imperial Diplomat for my tardiness. I fixed myself up for I immediately flew back to the Citadel to clean myself,” he said as he flew past Ferrier who was surprised by the Prince’s, or King’s lack of royal manners.

  “It is fine, Your Highness,” he said slowly as he waited for the Prince to sit on his throne.

  “A Prince cannot meet up with an important friend smelling sweaty and whatnot. Don’t I have a point, Diplomat?”

  “Ferrier. Imperial Diplomat Ferrier Ole, your Majesty,” Ferrier answered and bowed to the Prince to show respect.

  “Ah! Diplomat Ferrier. So what brings you to Juntoreigh? Getting that message from the owl in such short notice really startled the council. Even I myself am a bit surprised because this is my first time meeting a foreign diplomat with the current status of the Mystic Realm,” Ravaen said then took a bite of his apple.

  “I do understand the burden of ruling the land on a day to day basis, My Liege,” Ferrier said as he closely observed the Prince.

  “So what brings you here, exactly? You being one of the most respected Trasidian of the northern regions, I came to ask myself, why you? It must be pretty big news to have you sent by the Imperial King,” said Ravaen.

  Ferrier did not answer quickly. He knew the Prince enough to realize that he was being manipulated. “I’m afraid even I do not know why I was chosen to be an emissary, your Grace. But I believe it’s because of my familiarity of the northern region of Arumar and that was enough for the Prime Minister to send me here,” Ferrier answered calmly, prompting small chatter among the council and Ravaen.

  “Prime Minister? Who is this Prime Minister you speak of?” Ravaen asked quickly, “and why was the Mystic Falcons not informed of such a new post? We could’ve sent gifts, you know.”

  “The same reason why we weren’t informed about the death of the King Razolden I suppose, Your Highness,” Ferrier smirked.

  A silence briefly enveloped the room.

  “Touché,” he said.

  “Who is this Prime Minister anyway? Shouldn’t the Imperial King be the one who sent us the message? Every message the Empire sent has always come from the Imperial King.”

  They continued to discuss the matter on why it was not under the Imperial King. He calmly cleared his throat and proceeded to talk, “Well, actually I was sent here by the Prime Minister. Prime Minister Menoich Anarchu to deliver a news,” he said, prompting a small chatter inside.

  The Prince was surprised, “Why is the Archbishop currently in power? Where is King Madarick? Prince Tamiron? How about his sister? Is something wrong with the Lluch?”

  “I’m afraid to inform you that the King is ill,” Ferrier answered right away. The Prince suddenly stood up while the councilors were shocked by the news. “News does travel slow in and out of the Mystic Realm for I can see that you haven’t heard of the news,” Ferried added.

  “I do apologize for us not knowing it much sooner, Diplomat. We give you our deepest sympathies for the events unfolding within the Empire,” said Ravaen. Given the circumstances, he knew where and when to be polite.

  “Yes, yes. We extend our condolences to the Mystic Realms as well for we are not aware of the death of King Razolden,” Ferrier answered back and bowed, raising his left hand to show respect – a Trasidian custom to show respect for a death of someone considered as friend or family. “I believe the funeral has already been concluded?”

  Ravaen breathed deeply, “Yes. You know us Falcons. We must burn our dead on top of one of the highest temples within the realm within two days. He was burned and given an honorary mourning at Mt. Mjior’s temple of Aduceron, The Falcon God.”

  “Again our condolences.” It was the only words that Ferrier could offer. He could see the pain in the Prince’s face.

  “So, this is not about us,” Ravaen suddenly said. “About your message, why did the Prince rebel? This is completely out of his character.”

  “The reason is unknown to us, Your Highness,” Ferrier answered. “But there is the fact that we were attacked one day by a very old enemy, the Xerxecians.”

  The Prince stood up and walked towards the window while the rest of the people inside the room started a loud chatter.

  Ravaen said to Ferrier, “So it’s true. Xerxecia is deemed to come back. What truly surprises me is that one of the Lluch monarchs betrayed you. The fact
that the Prince rebelled is not only a threat to you but the west kingdoms as well. This is a grave problem indeed.”

  “Yes indeed, your Majesty.”

  “What is the Prime Minister’s plan for this?” one of the councilors asked Ferrier.

  Ferrier looked at the one who asked him while the Prince sat down again.

  “The Prime Minister dispatched a group of diplomats to the seven kingdoms. The Prime Minister wants to unite the mightiest warriors of the land to bring the Prince back. Dead or alive.”

  The councilor was stunned from the answer he got and drank his glass of wine to keep his composure. Ravaen, looking rather disappointed said, “You want me to join in his assassination, is that it?”

  The diplomat took a deep breath first, then answered, “Yes, Your Highness. I’m afraid so.”

  “What your Prime Minister wants is too steep. Killing one of the Lluch, or any royal ruler of any kingdom, is strictly a crime,” one of the councilmen said as he pointed at Ferrier.

  “The hand of the Prime Minister has been forced by the Imperial Council. He can’t do anything about it. The council deemed the Prince as a great threat to the Trasidar Empire. He can bypass every defense we have. We know that because he himself designed them. He can literally walk in our lands and into your own undetected. Add to the fact that he is leading the very army that attacked Tamara,” the diplomat spat back.

  Then the council men shouted one by one.

  “This is absurd! Where is the Imperial Princess?”

  “This cannot pass to the other Kingdoms!”

  “This is not right!”

  “A trial must occur on why he did that!”

  “I apologize, Council of Juntoreigh and the Mystic Realm. But the Imperial Council and the Prime Minister himself already made up their minds. With a great threat bearing down on us, we will do anything to secure not only our lands, but yours as well,” Ferrier shouted and then looked at the Prince. “Please understand. This is a great sacrifice on our end as well.”

  Ravaen silenced his council then spoke, “Killing him so instantly is something all of our kingdoms will find unsettling. For you see, any act against the kingdom should come to a trial first. What you want to happen is far too heavy.” Ferrier was about to answer but Ravaen stood up and continued.“Do you want me to kill a Trasidian Prince in cold blood without even hearing why he did it? Is that what you want? Is that what you really want?” he calmly said as he coldly stared the diplomat down, hushing everyone in the room. Ferrier was taken aback but answered calmly.