A Prince of Aelon Read online

  “I have always wanted things in their proper place,” Marcus continued, “Everything is predictable. So now there are particular people tasked to carry out particular duties in the day-to-day running of the kingdom. Aelon’s bureaucracy is such that the citadel can run itself. And therein lay the problem. Because now, from where I stand, I can see my future and all that lies ahead. Cousins, I must tell you, what I see is so boring.”

  “Not from where I stand, cousin.” said Prince Philippy “The day-to-day workings of Aelon is no simple matter. There is always something that needs attending to and no two problems are ever quite the same.”

  “Ah cousin Philippy, where would the kingdom be without your knack for keeping things running smoothly regardless of all the shortages and delays that we perennially encounter.”

  Marcus did marvel at how Philippy managed to keep Aelon functioning for it is one thing to be aware of the problems and quite another to be the person who addresses each and every concern.

  So at that moment Marcus resolved that someday when he assumes the throne, Philippy should be kept at his post since he is not only an effective administrator but being second in line after him. Marcus thought it only right to give him a key position in the local affairs of the realm.

  The other princes were now silent. Not due to embarrassment but rather admiration. They had never thought of Aelon in terms of a well-run bureaucracy. As a matter of fact, they had not thought of administering their posts in those terms.

  For what they were used to was dealing with problems by shouting at the nearest, most convenient lackey around to handle the matter. As a result practically every day someone new would be dispatched to deal with a situation that someone else had done something about a few days earlier.

  There was a collective mental note as each prince thought that upon returning to their respective kingdoms, they would assign someone to be responsible for a particular task. After which, tell the ruling monarch that it was his idea to do so.

  The silence was broken as Prince Tranto proposed.

  “But should you not be happy then? For how few are they who can see the future with as much certainty as you.”

  Marcus replied, “You do not understand. A future so planned out, so clear and structured, is suffocating because there is no room for spontaneity. For now as princes, we only dream of what it must be like to be king, we are only looking at the appealing side of ruling. But what about the consequences of being the king?

  “I can glimpse the decades to come. There is no excitement. No mystery. Cousins, none of us has more than one life. Thus I find myself asking, is this all there is?”

  His cousins did not reply. But all were thinking the same line of thought, which was “You are possibly griping because it is Aelon you are talking about and there really is nothing of significance there to begin with.”

  As the night wore on Marcus eventually concluded, perhaps this was the price he had to pay; intestinal flu, veiled mockery, cowering advisers, narrow-minded relatives and a lifetime of either extreme heat or cold to be king. Why not? Five generations of Aelonian kings have gone through the same things when they were princes, all of them have, except the first.

  King Maxus could have chosen to remain a prince and have an easy and comfortable though meaningless existence in the Kurtushian capital. As a matter of fact, if not for Aelon, what would Maxus have been remembered for?

  As for himself, Marcus thought, what would he be remembered for? Perhaps he’ll be an outstanding king. Then, becoming mindful of the kingdom to which he was referring to, concluded that perhaps he would be an outstanding king by Aelon standards.

  Chapter 2 On Sacred Soil

  Days passed after their return to Aelon from the Kurtushian capital. As he walked through the cold, winter-swept corridors of the castle Marcus was lost in his thoughts.

  He dwelt on how, if he had the premonition that he was to be born heir-apparent to a desolate kingdom, that he would have to spend the first eighteen years of his life being tutored by strict teachers, have no real friends – just his cousins – to be followed by being stationed in a seemingly impressive but minor royal office surrounded by opinion-less minions, over-hearing his future domain being mocked at imperial gatherings, in addition to spending God knows how many more decades of his life trekking through swamps, deserts, mountains, snow and sea to get indigestion and be unwittingly insulted by the tribes he visited until the day finally arrives that he would be allowed to reign Aelon, which basically involved a monotonous daily routine of holding court, listening to complaints, settling disputes, reviewing treaties, making sure that the kingdom’s stocks and supplies were sufficient before the heavy rains and eventual draught set in, not to mention the unspoken pressure to sire a male heir before any of his cousins do so that he could have a direct descendent to pass his current fate to – if he had known all of this before hand and then asked to choose maybe he would have turned down the dubious honor.

  But alas, that was all moot and academic, thought Marcus as he resigned himself to the all too obvious fact that it was his fate to be king of Aelon – the only logical conclusion he could come up with. Then his mind was insolently welcomed back to reality by a frosty gust of wind upon his face that had all the gentleness of a slap.

  The weather does not agree with me, he thought.

  Truth is the climate never seemed to agree with Marcus. Conditions were always going through extremes. Heat was too hot, the chill was too cold. The rains were always either too little or too much.

  “How Aelon ever manage to survive through each and every year I will never know.” griped Marcus.

  He pondered about the previous kings and the choices they had made. How, when a situation arose, they acted on it and there did not appear to be much coordination between one action and the next. Nor what the different ministers had done to resolve the issues that came-up. Add to this the king who on a whim could and had unilaterally discontinued a tenet and replaced it with something else resulting in policies that mimicked Aelons weather, extreme and at times unpredictable.

  Balance, thought Marcus.

  However this notion for balance was an assessment about himself as much as it was about the weather and the kingdom.

  He deliberated these thoughts as he swiftly moved through the nippy halls of the castle towards the library and its warm fireplace that was continuously kept blazing during the winter months to protect the book collection from the extreme cold.

  Marcus entered the semicircular concrete and marble chamber with vaulted ceiling and numerous windows all around that were shut. It was designed this way so that during the scorching summers they would be opened and the room would be a bit cooler. But in winter the glass seemed to magnify the cold so upon entry Marcus headed for the blazing fireplace at the arch of the semicircled room to warm himself.

  No one else was there so he felt safe to let down his guard and spent an inordinate amount of time in front of the fire rubbing his hands together as well as his legs and jumping around until he felt comfortable enough to head for the shelves and reach for the book he was currently reading.

  He positioned himself in one of the velvet arm-chairs that were placed around the hearth, opened the leather-bound rust colored book and proceeded to the page where he had left-off before their trip to Gregoropolis.

  Virtues of the Competent Ones was a fairly new book and it espoused a way of thinking that Marcus agreed with, as a matter of fact, what he learned contributed greatly to his current way of thinking. Its author had suggested that it might be good for one to attempt to forecast in what direction ones’ life was headed so as to avoid unpleasant events as much as possible as well as regrets which may arise as a result of simply following without deliberating where one might be headed for.

  “What to do next?” Marcus thought as he thumbed through the pages.

  He also wondered if his encounter with this book was more a curse rather than a blessing. Would he have been better-off
not weighing the possible repercussions of his actions? Was blissful ignorance the life for him? Those thoughts were irrelevant now and he hoped that within the remaining pages of this book a way through could also be found or at least suggested.

  Towards the end a passage struck him. It said:

  ‘The toll required to tread upon sacred soil, is that one touch other souls.’

  This had a profound impact on Marcus as he felt sure it was what was missing in his life. For nothing felt sacred. Perhaps intricate, expensive and even important but nothing felt sacred. But how could he do this? How could he touch other souls so that he may tread upon sacred soil?

  Did the author simply have ingenious thoughts but no viable way to see them through? How many others were like him who as they read had their expectations buoyed only to be left hanging in the end?

  Serves him right for believing in philosophy, he thought. For relying on intangible shadows that merely stimulated his mind but immediately vanished in the light of reality.

  He wanted to hurl the book into the blazing fire but; was it really the books fault that he was in his current situation?

  That he had always been Prince Marcus heir-apparent to the throne of Aelon, ordained by the fates therefore can do no wrong. That he was not so much an individual but an extension of the monarchy.

  This realization saddened him, the thought that he was never simply ‘Marcus’ but what could he do since this was all he knew.

  As he began to resign himself to his fate and that perhaps it was time that he fully embraced his destiny which in essence meant being waited-on, giving orders or being instructed by the king. The library door opened and a man holding a book entered.

  He looked at Marcus, nodded respectfully enough and said,

  “Your highness.”

  “General Remwold,” replied Marcus.

  The general proceeded inside. He was a guest of the king who accompanied them back from the imperial capital. Although advanced in age he walked with the pace and stature of a young soldier. His face bore the marks of old wounds, blemishes and a scar, evidence of the battles he had been through for the progress and glory of the empire.

  An old warhorse who was too aged to be sent out on campaigns yet too strong and brilliant to be simply allowed to retire. Thus his duties were relegated to mostly ceremonial functions and goodwill representations.

  He proceeded to the far side of the library and took a seat as distant as politely possible from Marcus. It was obvious that he did not want to be disturbed, and having spent weeks out in open snow with strong winds blowing during several campaigns, the cold did not bother him. Unlike the prince.

  Marcus gathered as much self-confidence as he could muster and approached the general. The sigh that the old man let out as he walked towards him almost made Marcus retreat, but he was determined to have a conversation with this self-made man who had seen the world and life in ways unimaginable to him. A man who had earned his place and the respect that he enjoys.

  “General...”

  “Yes, your highness,” replied Remwold patronizingly without even bothering to stand up from his seat or take his eyes off the page of his book.

  “You are a man who has accomplished much and earned all that you have.”

  The general did not speak but at least he looked at Marcus, who was now sweating so profusely that it seemed he no longer needed the heat of the fireplace to make him feel warm.

  Marcus cleared his throat. “In…‘ahem’…excuse me, in all your exploits, victories and conquests. Was it all planned? Did you, since your youth, chart your destiny so that you would achieve such a glorious career?”

  In the moment of silence that followed the general closed his book, set it down on the table beside him and gestured for Marcus to take the nearby chair. Then he spoke.

  “Your highness, the story I am about to share to you now I may freely do so since my career is for all intents and purposes, over.”

  “Oh no, of course not…”

  The general raised his hand, and Marcus was silent.

  “I am now free to be a man and shed off the myth. You see my parents were humble peasants and my only ambition was to better our standing in life. That is why I chose to be a soldier. As a young soldier often times we were just cannon fodder. But I had one burning motivation which kept me going from those early years until my last battle. And that was to stay alive.”

  Marcus looked confused and bewildered. The general allowed a faint smile then he continued,

  “I wanted to stay alive, that was my only purpose. No dreams of grandeur or rank and honor, my only ambition was to make it back from the field of battle. My successes in doing so contributed greatly to me being made an officer, this also made my task so much more difficult. It was hard enough to be responsible for my life and now they added others.

  “With each promotion the yoke grew heavier. I insisted on going out into the battlefields for that was the only way I knew I could best safeguard those under my charge. It is said I lost the least number of soldiers in recorded history and it was attributed to careful planning and strategy. But the underlying reason for the planning and strategy was my basic desire to stay alive as well as keep my men alive also.

  “Least number of losses…they were three-hundred-forty-seven men during the course of my twenty years as an officer. I mourned each in private for I the general cannot be seen to have any semblance of weakness.

  “So you see, your highness, staying alive was the full extent of my true plan throughout my career nothing more. For in my opinion those who are motivated by honor and glory receive theirs in the form of statues, monuments and medals posthumously bestowed to their grieving families.”

  “What about fulfillment?” asked Marcus mindlessly gesturing with the hand that bore the book that he forgot he held.

  The general noticed the book, motioned to borrow it, then proceeded to read the title and thumbed through the pages.

  “Fulfillment… I had not thought of that as a youth and never had the opportunity to do so thereafter. As a soldier my fulfillment was to carry-out the orders given to me. As an officer it was to please my superiors. Finally, as a general, my fulfillment came from being able to do the will of the emperor. However, as a person, an ordinary citizen of the realm I must confess I cannot really point to anything that truly gave me fulfillment.”

  “But your exploits, your daring battles…”

  “There is a difference, dear prince, between living and existing. In my case it was mostly surviving. And I was greatly acknowledged for all the surviving that I had done, of course not before the various ministers saw to it that I had been recast from mere survivor to hero, someone that they could raise-up as a benchmark to be emulated by our warriors.”

  “And you agreed to all that?”

  “I did not agree. However, through my lack of protest I inadvertently allowed them to.”

  The general noticed Marcus’ blank stare, thus he added,

  “Your highness, I am a soldier, as such I am subject to the chain of command. And the command was be an inspiration to the troops. There was no lie. I just never revealed my true motives, thoughts and feelings on the matter.”

  “You make it seem like you had no real choice.”

  “Hmm…no choice, the most convenient excuse to brush away responsibility. In active service I frequently said those words to console myself – ‘I had no choice.’ Truth is, your highness, we will always have a choice.

  “It is just that we perceive the alternative as so appalling, so unacceptable that we banish it’s very thought from our minds and declare that there is no alternative. Afterwards when the consequences of our decision come forth we clear our conscience by once again declaring we had no choice.”

  The general again thumbed through the book, paused to read intently the last few pages, smiled and said as he handed it back.

  “You have found a kernel of knowledge – a rather challenging one for you, I see. Now wh
at are you going to do about it? Every life has its positive and negative aspects, at least mine had the benefit of always being clear, being either or. Such is not the case for you, is it, your grace?”

  At that the general stood, nodded more respectfully this time and walked out the library.

  Marcus then looked at the book, caressed the leather spine and said to it:

  “My apologies, you had imparted knowledge but now I pressed you to give me the understanding that would have lead to wisdom. How foolish of me to neglect that understanding was my share in the bargain, not yours, and unless I do my part wisdom shall not be forthcoming.”

  With that Marcus stood up from the armchair, proceeded to the shelves and returned the book in its rightful place. The cold had not abated but Marcus was too deep in thought to be bothered with it as he walked out of the empty library.

  As he strode down the chilled corridors he thought about how it made no sense to dwell on that which he could not do anything about.

  He was heir-apparent, end of discussion. But he was also torn with what he learned and how he felt. No matter how lofty, idealistic and vague the knowledge was. Would he allow what he learned go to waste? Could he also simply ignore the yearnings he felt?

  Touch other souls…

  As king he would have the chance to touch many lives, but how different was that from all the kings he knew who made great impact in the lives of their subjects yet did not strike him as persons who tread upon holy ground.

  The only connection he saw between the crown and holiness is that kings are supposedly the representatives of God on earth. Something he used to believe strongly in his youth, but now, although he would not publicly admit it, he had some doubts about the divine origins of kingly authority. After all, if he were truly the anointed one why did he have doubts?

  Then a fearful thought crossed his mind.

  What if I am not meant to be king? What if like Uncle Wilmer, I am supposed to do something else?

  Marcus swiftly proclaimed:

  “No! I’m going to be king and that is the last word on the matter! Granted Aelon is not the centerpiece of the Kurtushian Empire but other people end up with worse in life.”