A Prince of Aelon Read online

  Copyright © Michael E. Villanueva 2011

  Cover art by Michael E. Villanueva

  ePub design and production by Flipside team

  eISBN 978-971-9922-69-8

  This e-book edition published 2011

  by Flipside Digital Content Company, Inc.

  Quezon City, Philippines

  www.flipsidecontent.com

  Michael Villanueva wishes to thank:

  Aileen Santos

  My writing coach

  John Gerongay

  Who inspired the traits of several characters

  Last but the most:

  The Universe for all the wit and wisdom that was poured forth into this work – It was a blast.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  The Kingdom of Aelon

  Chapter 2

  On Sacred Soil

  Chapter 3

  A Play

  Chapter 4

  The Departure

  Chapter 5

  Mud

  Chapter 6

  Journeying

  Chapter 7

  Destiny

  Chapter 8

  Wisdom

  Chapter 9

  Emptiness

  Chapter 10

  Realizations

  Chapter 11

  A Thousand Kisses

  Chapter 12

  The Rude Awakening

  Chapter 13

  Return To The Gates

  Chapter 14

  Being Home

  Prologue

  “There are times when it seems as though the entire universe halts to focus on an individual, and for that one intense moment, something simple yields immensely profound wisdom. Such moments can be extremely distressing.”

  ~ J.G.~

  The Prince noted movement all around.

  Nobles on the balcony backed away from the king as others came forward to take their place. The former monarch peered from their shoulders, but as the royals made room for him, he swiftly retreated.

  Below them, the crowd seemed to be deciding on their loyalties as well. Some moved towards the balcony wall and faced the Prince in defiance, while others stood beside or behind him. As more switched sides, mothers with children scurried away from the scene possibly pondering: How could events have taken such a turn?

  Soldiers meant to keep the peace positioned themselves between, beside and behind both groups in a curious stance that hinted whose side they may be on, but not clear enough so that conclusions could be drawn. The two factions swung their gaze in three directions; to the group they were against, the one who they were loyal to, and the person whom the other group gave their allegiance to.

  The Prince revelled in the knowledge that he was in control of the situation…and that no one else knew this. The thought that the outcome would be a surprise to all except him elicited a smile which was instantly contained, for it would be his will that would determine the day.

  Yes, his free will alone.

  Destiny had made him next in line to the throne, and the fates bestowed upon him the power to touch others with his gift. And if they refused, he knew this very same power would make them yield, for as easily as he could touch lives he too could torture them. He possessed the power, and he could not be denied. He was the only one there who truly had a choice.

  All of a sudden, this realization disturbed him.

  To You who happen upon this book, greetings! It is understandable if you think this encounter mere coincidence, yet I assure you, this is Destiny.

  I am John-Gerry. In my youth I was a scribe at the royal court of Aelon, one of many. You may have even encountered my works since I have penned numerous statutes, proclamations, and decrees. However, since these were to be attributed to nobles and even sealed with the crest of the king, my compositions remain anonymous.

  As such what you hold before you now is but one of the few existing works that bear my name.

  I would have been content to remain in obscurity and eventually fade from all memory. If not for a promise I made – more to myself than to the prince – a promise to tell his tale, for if I do not, perhaps no one else would.

  His was a simple story, but one which illuminated the mystical instances in life when, at a proper time and under the proper circumstance, the heavens align and in those intense moments, it is as though the entire universe pauses to focus solely on you.

  In that one intense moment, simple, seemingly all too obvious yet profound wisdom pours forth. These moments bring that which was beyond grasp within reach, and mysteries become unveiled. Insights of this magnitude can be life changing, such that who you are as a person is never quite the same after.

  As true as life, we encounter twists and turns that lead to unexpected directions and unforeseen outcomes and often living can only truly begin after preconceived designs are set aside. After all, nothing and no one stays exactly the same forever.

  The essence of this tale happens often enough that it can be overlooked and taken for granted, save for the ones who find themselves in the midst of events unfolding with the subtlety of a flower’s opening, or the sun’s trek from dawn to dusk.

  The prince’s story was of life as it most commonly happened. If one took the time to observe, one may realize that it is the way things are and have always been, a rhythm as true as the changing of the seasons or the dance of the sun and the moon.

  So we commence our narrative which is essentially common but not unimportant; for it could happen at any time, anywhere, and to anyone.

  And though these events might have occurred in the distant past, the same realizations and responses could reverberate into the future. Hence, even if this tale took place in a land that time may render all but forgotten, the story shall remain distinctly familiar, and though it occurred to characters who some may not find significant, they are characters most could probably relate to.

  And now our story begins, in the uneventful land of Aelon ...

  Chapter 1 The Kingdom of Aelon

  Aelon was established nearly two-hundred years ago by King Maxus Sarmenti, a distant half-cousin twice removed of Emperor Gregor of the Kurtush Empire.

  It is said that Aelon was born of a conversation between Gregor and Maxus. That the Emperor spoke in private to the then prince Maxus and suggested that he, being 37th in line to the Imperial throne and with the birth of each new direct descendant moving him further down the line, that he might want to consider having his own, ahem, “kingdom.”

  That is if he could withstand the heat as well as the cold, tame the vermin, avoid the rattle snakes as well as the scorpions and establish a viable presence for the empire in a territory which the Emperor perceived at some point in the distant future could be of great value to the domain.

  Maxus thought about it. His choices were either to remain an obscure prince or become an insignificant king, but at least in his lifetime he would have become a ruler.

  After a few days Maxus talked to the emperor and said that he had decided to accept his…generous offer. He only asked that the emperor guarantee his rank from relatives who might get envious of him being bestowed his own domain.

  This request Emperor Gregor knew he could grant, for earlier on he had discreetly made the same offer and was politely turned down by the thirty-plus princes who preceded Marcus.

  And so, after displacing assorted desert fauna and laying siege on the territories of various hostile species of rodents, insects and reptiles, the Kingdom of Aelon was born.

  The name of the kingdom was a merger of the names of Maxus’ Mother Princess Aeora and his wife, the now Queen Loneora. The naming of the kingdom elicited a mild protest from its queen to which Maxus was said to have replied.


  “It was either that or we dub the realm Lonaeora.”

  Grudgingly, the queen acceded.

  It is a domain that could best be described as . . . mundane. A land that exists as a way-point between travellers’ comings and goings, a land that others go to more out of need rather than want, and not that many people even need to go there.

  Mind you, its citizens are not unaccommodating. It is just that the land is harsh and nothing of commercial quantity actually grows in its domain nor is anything unique produced within its borders.

  The very nature and lifeblood of the kingdom is that of a trading post wherein most of the revenue which flows its way comes from buying and selling of commodities, mainly nut products. As a trading post its revenues are limited, quite fluid and for all intents and purposes visible to all who would take the time to understand its commerce.

  Aelon was constructed with the purposes of any other Kurtushian castle in mind, which was to be ready to launch campaigns should the Emperor decide and be fortified to withstand and repel the onslaught of an attacking enemy.

  Happily, neither has happened because sadly Emperor Gregors’ hopes for the territory did not materialize.

  Therefore, the fortress built to resist a hundred year siege has thus far stood intact for two since none of the perceived attacks occurred.

  Thus the only reconstruction work carried out involved greasing the gates and applying mortar to the sandblasted walls.

  Aelon had sufficient soldiers to keep the peace among its citizens, but had no great armies and no legions to repel hordes which have ever (and by all estimates, would never) arrive at its gates.

  Further, the other use of a great army which is to wage war is laughable. It is tantamount to leaving one’s shack to lay claim to a manor with the intent to ransack the same in order to beautify the former – it just does not make sense.

  Not to mention, should the outside merchants ever suspect the rulers of Aelon were up to something dubious all they need do is cease either bringing or buying goods and for all intents and purposes Aelons economy would come to a grinding halt.

  Nearly two centuries later the kingdom continues with little change from its original form. In essence majority of the population lived, worked, and had been contained within the castle walls since an absence of sufficient arable lands upon which agriculture could be carried out in commercial quantities leaves no valid reason for any of the citizens – save for a few determined farmers – to live outside.

  As for those who managed to develop their skills and talents there was no valid reason for them to stay within. This led to the heavy migration of the inhabitants which meant there was always adequate space within the walls of the kingdom.

  Currently, Aelon is ruled by the aging and childless King Artimus who was a 5th generation descendent of King Maxus. Though he had no children the royal succession was assured by more than a sufficient number of princes in court. The order of progression had been set such that the eldest male of the next generation would be the one to ascend to the throne upon its availability. This was the terminology used since abdication was not an unusual event.

  As a matter of fact, King Artimus ascended the throne after his cousin (then Crown-Prince Wilmer) decided not to return from studying in Gregoropolis, the capital city of the Kurtushian Empire.

  Prince Wilmer, unlike his great-great grandfather Maxus, saw nothing wrong about becoming an obscure prince in the capital rather than ascending the flea-bitten throne of Aelon.

  His father, then King Lentro, was overheard saying to his Queen:

  “I told you letting him see the outside world was a bad idea.”

  To which the Queen retorted “You’re just jealous because our son did what you wanted but could not bring yourself to do.”

  Such was the way by which Artimus ascended the throne, and his successor, having met the two qualifications that of being male and the first born of his generation, had since birth been determined. This being the case, the identified heir is accorded all the respect, training and preparation due his post.

  Nonetheless, due to the recent Wilmer incident, whether the identified prince will accede is not necessarily for certain. That being the case, the respect, training and preparation bestowed to the would-be king is at times done so in a half-hearted manner with courtiers being careful not to displease the second and third in line, should the not-so unthinkable happen, in which case they would find themselves out of favor.

  Prince Marcus, currently the heir-apparent, was a working royal who exerted prudence and care in his decisions. As he worked he found it annoying, as well as disturbing, that no one in his circle ever questioned his choices nor challenged his pronouncements. This meant that in his station there were no lively debates, and therefore no other opinions were ever considered.

  As a youth it pleased him to always be applauded. He felt that he was brilliant and admired. Now in his twenties and having experienced enough failures as well as false starts, he wondered how much of the praises bestowed on him was genuine and how much was just poppy-cock.

  For all his life everyone around him had been exasperatingly patronizing. When something went wrong there were just big smiles and assurances that it was, is, or shall be taken care of. Followed by ‘your majesty.’

  This was now also becoming an annoyance to him because since childhood everyone who was not family ended their statements to him with your majesty, your grace, my lord, or sire.

  He once asked an adviser for his honest opinion; the response he received was:

  “Thy opinion is mine, majesty.”

  In frustration he jokingly said to another adviser, “What if I had him beheaded?”

  The man blinked, then replied, “By your word, your majesty.”

  “No! No! No! I was only joking!” said Marcus in annoyed panic.

  “Most amusing, your majesty,” replied the one who blinked.

  “Witty too, your grace,” chimed the nearly beheaded adviser.

  As one might have noticed, unlike the Kurtushian Imperial throne, the princes of Aelon are not as enthusiastic to inherit this particular seat. Actually during royal gatherings at the Imperial capital the princes of Aelon would at times notice the muffled snickering of the royals from other lands when the king of Aelon’s name was announced upon their arrival.

  Marcus never really enjoyed these gatherings, but being the king-in-waiting it was one of the token events he was cordially-obliged to accompany his uncle, King Artimus to attend. At least the food was better compared to some of the diplomatic missions that he had been sent to as the kings’ representative.

  Marcus then recalled his first sortie when he was an excited youth who wondered how anyone could not look forward to being honoured in a new land, thinking that the stories he heard from his uncles were probably just balderdash. This was before he had his first taste of freshly plucked goats-eye that was washed down by ground elephants’ tusk.

  Then there were the other tribes that Marcus was sent to who had the tradition of serving their honoured guests meals that represented virtues that they believed their visitor lacked.

  So through the years Marcus had been served giraffe neck for height, minks kidneys for beauty, elixir of tree bark to darken his pale skin, aloe plant soup to straighten his curly blond hair, owls heads for wisdom, lions tongue for courage, gorilla liver for strength, seared bulls testicles for virility, bears heart for masculinity, and hyena intestines for humor.

  Once, there was a tribal banquet where out of the blue Marcus asked his hosts who traded in fowl.

  “Why are we not having some of your kingdom’s glorious chicken?”

  His question seemed to have quieted down the hall and elicited blank stares from the people who heard him until the uncomfortable moment of silence was broken by the chieftains’ laughter followed by the comment.

  “You’ve probably had too much of that already.”

  Such was the life of someone in the precipitous position
of almost-ruler, nearly-king, or the someday-sovereign. Until the day that, shall we say, an opening presents itself Marcus would have to be contented with his lot.

  However, he still questioned the basic ethics of it all when obstacles are removed and all circumstances were aimed towards the direction of ascendency to the throne.

  Others say fate, I say luck, thought Marcus.

  Fate is a neutral concept, neither positive nor negative, it just simply is. Luck on the other hand, has the distinction of being either good or bad.

  “Now then, which kind of luck do I currently have?” he wondered.

  During a gala dinner with his cousins, princes from other kingdoms of the empire, Marcus broached the topic of what would it be like to actually rule.

  “Well…we would have our way!” answered Prince Tranto of Olingo.

  “Yes, what do you think ministers and the other princes are for, cousin? You worry too much. Besides, if I may be a tad impertinent, you are talking about Aelon. The most err…umm…predictable, that’s the word, the most predictable domain in the empire whose ruler is almost certain to remain uh…unchallenged,” said Prince Devan of Marsou.

  With a deep sigh, Marcus said, “Cousin, I believe the word you were looking for is ‘boring.’ And instead of unchallenged, I think you meant the position is practically unwanted.”

  At that the princes at the table all felt awkward. For that which they have alluded to in jest for years was brought out in public by no less than the heir-apparent of Aelon and there was nothing funny about that.

  Marcus continued, “But you know, Prince Devan, you are not entirely off the mark.”

  At this Prince Devan stared at Marcus in surprise.