He looked older than in the portrait; the stern, imposing face in the portrait looked tired now, with wrinkles around the eyes and forehead that made him seem like he shouldered the world and his dark hair was now streaked with white. But there was a look of peace in his eyes. In the portrait he looked ferocious, like a warmonger ready to fight at the draw of the sword; here he looked like a hermit, who had pondered the meaning of life and had come to answers he was satisfied with. Without his armour, he looked like a rich land owner of fiefdom days; sturdy and weather-beaten but robust and healthy. It was amazing how a change of clothes could change the temperament.
George couldn’t help it, he bowed, his right arm over his left chest; just like when he had bowed to the coat of arms. The man commanded his respect just like that.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t kneel or I would have wondered if you were one of my knights.” Came a good-natured response.
George lifted his head and looked a little embarrassed. He didn’t even bow with Master Gin, his current lord and master. Maybe he had been reminded of his previous masters in days of kingdoms past because of the castle.
“I have no idea why I did that. I hope I didn’t offend you.” His words were cautious.
“Why would anyone be offended by another person showing respect?” the man removed the wolf carcass from his shoulder and dropped in on the ground. There was a thud and it was then that George realized how heavy the dead creature was. He wondered why he had taken the trouble to haul it here.
“No, I won’t be eating it. But the hide and horn are useful materials.”
Another person who can read minds… George rolled his eyes. He shouldn’t be surprised about it anymore.
“Did you just roll your eyes?”
“… not at you sire- sir. I was just thinking that I was surrounded by mind readers.”
“Call me Zander.”
“George. Where am I?” he couldn’t contain his impatience anymore. The questions that had trickled in and floated in his mind had surged forward like an angry tsunami and it was all his courtesy could do to not let them burst forward and drown the man in front of him.
“Would you like something to eat?” the man had a smile that seemed to say ‘I can see your impatience but I will not indulge you.’ George was beginning to dislike cryptic old men when he realized that he was probably older than him. Curbing his impatience, George responded gruffly with an affirmative and stood there as he watched Zander bring some cured game from his hut to put on the spit he had prepared. Knowing that his questions would be answered eventually, he forced the raging tides in his mind to the calm tranquil he did not feel. Without realizing it, his fingers were once again on the ‘S’ on his lapel, seeking comfort as he looked unseeingly at the old man.
The crackle and hiss of the flames as the meat cooked along with the enticing scent of roasting game mixed with the aromatic smoke brought a rather hungry George back to his senses. He could just absorb the magic straight from the air like what he had been doing but why not engage his senses? Sight, sound, smell, taste, touch; after being deprived of it for so long, it was obvious that he would want to indulge in this pleasure, even if for a little while. He went and sat next to the Zander,
“This used to be a kingdom called Tharraleos.” Zander began his story while he turned the meat over. He looked into a past that George could not see, a lonely, sad smile on his lips.
“We used to be a grand kingdom. There were knights and mages, all among the best in the land. But we bordered an exit. Where the Schied lived. They’re like the creature you just killed.” He nodded his head at the dead wolf still lying on the ground, waiting to be dismantled. “The kingdom was always watching the borders. They would come when dusk fell and leave when the first light of day broke. At first, it was a tiny gap and there weren’t many, so the knights and mages could take care of them. But as the tree at the guard post grew, so did the breach. The queen planted that tree herself, you know, to commemorate the birth of her eldest son.” Zander had answered his unasked question.
With just a few sentences, George already understood a few things; Arnitikós were called Schied here and they were corporeal and could be fought against, unlike on earth. And while he couldn’t really guess the age of the man in front of him, gauging by the age of the tree, perhaps no more than a hundred years had gone by. “What happened next?” he asked like a child eagerly listening to a bedtime story.
“More of the Schied came. Each more vicious and cunning than the last. We started to get injuries, then, casualties. The kingdom couldn’t fight them alone. We started asking our neighbour Andreios for help. Andreios sent a hundred knights and mages, and when they marched through the town, everyone came out to see despite the heat. They looked so impressive, with their gleaming armour catching the rays of the noon sun and blue, white and gold robes reminiscent to the clear summer sky the day they came. There was a cheer by the people, with hopes that they could stop the creatures and bring peace back to the kingdom.” He paused to turn the meat over again.
“The queen was a princess of Andreios. She personally led her father’s soldiers with her husband’s own to the front, against her lord’s wishes. She had been scouring the spellbooks and was certain that she had found a spell that could seal the rift; that would stop the Schied from coming through. When she left, she wore a robe of deep emerald green, with her gold crown of woven vines and magic staff; some would have said that she was a fey of the woods, not human. She kissed her two sons on the forehead, promising to return before her youngest son’s tenth birthday in the autumn and rode to the battlefield. They said that she stood in the front at twilight, not faltering even when a dirge dragon appeared, its howls like a mournful requiem as it led other shadowy creatures to attack. She began her chant, standing firm as all around her were the roars of battle and screams of the fallen. She closed her eyes in concentration, trusting that the loyal warriors around her would protect her and the mages while they channelled their life to sealing the creatures away. And then, she and the mages let loose the spell. Those who saw it said that it was like the heavens had opened the barriers of the skies, allowing night to meet day. It was amazing. They could see chains of light reaching and dragging each and every shadowy Schied back into the gap between worlds. Could hear the unwilling roars of those creatures as they were forced reluctantly back from where they came. The queen had succeeded. But…” the man seemed to falter, as if he could see the tragedy that had happened all over again.
“The queen kept her promise. She returned when all the leaves were beginning to flame, as the winds were starting their song of frost and chased away birdsong to warmer climes. Her sons were so excited to see the soldiers marching back into the city. But they couldn’t understand the lack of fanfare or why it grew increasingly silent as they came to the castle save the clip-clop of hooves. It was only when they saw her smile did they understand. Her eyes were closed, and she looked so serene, as if asleep, dreaming of happy tidings for her family and people. If there was anything different, it was that her hair copper brown hair had faded, as if the colour that was leeched from her hair was her very life. She lay in that crystal coffin, surrounded by the summer flowers that her knights knew she loved, three red roses grasped in her hands at her bosom, her crown replaced by a wreath of black and white roses. The elder prince had turned thirteen and he stood silently by his father’s side unwilling to cry even as his eyes stung and his nose soured. He did his best to maintain the dignity that he thought the heir to the throne should have, even as his younger brother had rushed to the crystal that had entombed his mother, refusing to accept that his mother would not open her eyes anymore. His calls became more and more anguished as the tears started to roll down his eyes, entreating his beloved mother to wake up. Finally, the king had no choice but to knock his son out and have him taken away. His own grief could not be contained but he had to declare a period of mourning for his queen, thank her for her sacrifice and have her placed in her final resting place in the royal cemetery…”
George watched the old man, his gaze peaceful, even if his eyes were a little red. He had made his peace and time had slowly closed the raw wound of death; the pain no longer as vivid as the imagery he had painted. But the loss had not been a small one since George felt like he had been there, watching the princes watch their mother’s cortege arrive in what they had thought to be a joyful occasion. Their joy slowly drain away when they realized the meaning of it, the desolation felt by everyone there as the younger prince’s cries were the only thing in the silent, sombre air.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“That happened about a hundred years ago, time has been kind to me here, even if he has been cruel elsewhere. The- my queen’s spell granted us ten years of peace. I watched my sons overcome their grief and grow up. My elder son became a knight, training day and night, in hopes of becoming stronger, so that he could protect everyone. He looked a lot like me and because he was always frowning, with a sour countenance, he scared the hell out of everyone. They called him blood prince behind his back, because he would forever be hunting in the woods and was always covered in blood when he came home. And he never smiled after that either, not unless it was for his brother Aiden.” There was a small smile of recollection, the one you see on doting parents.
“But after ten years, the seal broke… and the crack in the space just grew, as if all the years of suppression had broken the dam. Beasts of the shadows just poured in and again, my knights and I were unable to cope. I sent another plea for help to Andreios and even Gennaios. Aida’s brother was the king by then. But he still sent some knights and mages along with his younger brother to help. As for Gennaios, Gennaios sent their second prince and youngest princess to lead their troops to us. If we managed to supress the creatures this time, their princess was to be the queen or crown princess of Tharraleos.” There was another pause.
“Unfortunately, the princess fell for Aiden. It was fine, since we soon realized that it was mutual. But the second prince was adamant that his sister was to be the future queen of the kingdom or he would take his soldiers back. My eldest son happened to have rushed back from the rift front, ready to greet his uncle and the entourage from Gennaios. If my elder son looks like me then my younger one looks like his mother. With curling brown hair and wide hazel eyes. A blood prince against a wood elf. It’s no surprise which a soft, sheltered princess would prefer. She screamed when she saw my son, with his black armour, black hair and black face. Aiden was rather insulted on behalf of his older brother and was about to launch into a tirade at her weak-heartedness. His brother instead just grabbed him by the shoulder and clamped a hand over his mouth. He calmly told them that for the sake of the kingdom, he was willing to step down and make way for Aiden. But only if the help was given and the Schied were successfully repelled. Or else it would make no difference who was king in a ruined kingdom.”
George could feel his respect rise for the elder prince. “And then what happened?”
