The Red Prince (1) Read online

  THE RED PRINCE

  Stephen Lucas Lacroix

  ¶

  PRONOUN

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  Copyright © 2017 by Stephen Lucas Lacroix

  Cover design by Sofie de Rueda

  Interior design by Pronoun

  Edited by Jieo Lobrio

  Proofreading by Jieo Lobrio

  Distribution by Pronoun

  ISBN: 9781537862736

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue

  I: The Verdict

  II: The Orderian

  III: The Great Tree

  IV: Spring

  V: Autumn

  VI: The Wall

  VII: Coming and Going

  VIII: Hurricane of the North

  IX: Heaven’s Mercy

  X: Heaven’s Ruins

  XI: Unforgiving Gust

  XII: Teacher

  XIII: Of Lunaflares Glow

  XIV: Blades & Feathers

  XV: Clouded Heart

  XVI: Illumination

  XVII : Blood, Daggers, and Stones

  XVIII: The World’s Reflection

  XIX: Vague Shards

  XX: Vision of the Plains

  XXI: The Red Juggernaut

  XXII: The Tombstone

  XXIII: Rise, Fall and Emerge

  XXIV: The Eldemensters

  Epilogue

  Authors Note:

  The Word “Kra’en” that you will encounter in this book will be pronounced as “Crane.”

  PROLOGUE

  THE SOLDIERS RUSHED TO THE sound of war horns that echoed throughout the city of Tamara, capital of the Trasidar-kind. Trasidar soldiers rush outside the eastern walls to defend the city from an ancient foe, the Xerxecia. The Imperial General, and heir to the Trasidar Throne, Prince Tamiron Lluch, rides on his taranos. Relative of the tamaraw, the taranos had majestic horns that signified only royals have the right to ride such a beast. Prince Tamiron wore a dark and heavy armor topped with a horned helmet. He rushed outside the gates to defeat the greatest army to stand before the imperial army. He bore the gauntlets of the Trasidars that was passed unto him by his father, held his head as he rode out into the ever drawing battle. The prince races towards the gates as sweat ran down his olive skin and the wind brushes wildly through his long, black hair. His green gem eyes fixated at the gates as it slowly opened for his arrival. There he saw them – the enemy that stared down on his beloved city.

  “Prepare the spears in front,” the prince commanded, “Line up the cavalry to cover the flanks of each side, and prepare the archers just behind them. This battle could be bloodier than I have originally perceived,” he added in his slightly thick voice.

  “Cover the flanks on both sides, every part of the formation must be secured and defendable, we cannot let them win or even gain the slightest of advantage,” he pointed out with his metal-covered arms.

  “Take command of each side, the phalanx will be under my sole command and my command alone. Prepare the cavalry for a mighty charge.” He laid the final orders, preparing everything and placing everyone in their posts.

  Seas of soldiers moved to formation as the prince commanded. The sight of the enemy army began to dawn on the soldiers. Slowly, the battlefield began to settle down and loomed in the east plains of Tamara. The minutes grew longer and longer while tension brewed between the defending army and the attacking army. The Prince raised his iron fist and shouted a war cry to whip his men back to mental shape.

  “Soldiers of the Empire!” he bellowed. “We have been preparing for this day for years! Our fathers and our father’s fathers prepared for this very moment! This day will determine the survival of the Empire, the empire that not only my father built and raised from the ashes of the old war, but has been built by the loyal people of the Trasidar Empire!” The soldiers exploded chants of the Prince’s name, “This day, this dire day will dictate the future, not only of the empire, but also the future of our children and our children’s children! So are you with me?”

  The soldiers roared into the air, the name of the Prince, the name of the king and the empire that is precious to them,

  “Then prepare for glory! For the Trasidar Empire!”

  The Armedigors, the hideous looking beasts of xerxecia broke their lines and charge on for the imperial army. The prince rushed towards the enemy along with his men ready to die for their fatherland. Thundering steps reverberated in the air as the two opposing forces neared head-on. The Prince let out a war cry and both his iron gloves enlarged and turned into mighty iron fists the size of a small shield. He jumped from his taranos and slammed the ground in front of him, rupturing the earth towards the enemy. The enemy stopped as they saw the cracking earth heading their direction. It caught them and exploded right from under, leaving behind a crater that destroyed the enemy line. The imperial army now had an opening.

  The two opposing forces clashed and the deadly bloodbath started. Screams of pain and clanging of swords and spears, hurling arrows and the raging charge of horses filled the air, giving the Prince an impression that the battle was turning in their favor. Unfortunate to him, it was the enemy who was winning. The Prince jumped high into the air and slammed the ground once more, cracking the earth upon his landing. He signaled his cavalry to join the fray and run down the enemy. They charged into the enemy and rolled down the plain like thunder, parting a gap for the army to fill. The battle raged on and the Trasidars finally had the upper hand.

  Dusk moved closer. The battle is almost over.

  Out of nowhere, a bright red light flashed throughout the field momentarily blinding the soldiers. A soldier approached the Prince, who was now on his knees. The Prince suddenly screamed and attacked his remaining forces, destroying his imperial army. The soldiers were in shock and had completely lost morale. Some tried to flee the field while others still tried to reason with the Prince, only to pay with their life. The others try to escape as well, but it was no use as the Prince caught on each one. The Prince crippled the earth beneath their feet and killed to the last man.

  With their own blood spilled upon their lands, the battle was lost and the sun sets behind the city.

  I: THE VERDICT

  THE IMPERIAL GUARDS ARRIVED TO help the wounded and collect the remains of the dead. All they saw was the grave brutality of the battle — the aftermath of the clash that would forever haunt their history.

  They stumbled on a survivor and asked him what happened. The survivor could barely speak but tried to tell them what happened. His last words were dreadful. The guards sent one of them to the Imperial Palace to deliver the alarming message.

  The Imperial Council along with the Archbishop, the advisor of the King, had been discussing the battle that raged beyond their walls that afternoon.

  “My Liege, we should prepare the eastern part of the city for the influx of the dead,” said one of the councilors.

  “I suggest we deploy our reserves for these kinds of situation, my King,” said the Archbishop.

  “Will it be enough? I’m not too confident that it will be,” another councilor aired his concern.

  “With Prince Tamiron on the army’s helm, we might have more than what we will need, councilor,” the Archbishop said and the room chuckled. He noticed that the King did not look well, but paid no attention to it.

  “Now, now, the councilor is right. Menoich, prepare our war reserves
on the eastern walls and have someone go to the eastern walls to see the status of the battle. It should be over by now,” ordered the King.

  “At once, your Grace,” said the councilor as he wrote it down on his piece of paper.

  The Archbishop was about to give the command to check on the battle when the doors of the throne room opened and a guard rushed to the King. He was stopped by the palace guards but the King gestured for him to approach.

  “My King, my King!” yelled the guard before falling to the floor, tired and breathless. King Madarick approached the guard and helped him up.

  “What is it? Speak,” said the king as he returned to his throne and the guard spoke.

  “The Prince! The Prince has betrayed us! He has joined the remaining Xerxecian army upon their retreat. Sire, a survivor told me that he attacked the imperial army just when our forces were at the height of victory,” said the guard and the room went to entire disarray.

  The King was dumbfounded and heartbroken of what the guard has reported.

  “This is absolutely unacceptable,” the Archbishop said in complete frustration. “How dare you question the loyalty of the Crown Prince!” Menoich shouted at the guard.

  “My Liege, I would never!” the guard protested. “I saw the devastation with my own two eyes, Your Highness! He ruptured the very earth beneath the Imperial Army’s feet. He made the ground buckle as they retreat back to the city. The survivor said they never stood a chance against him.”

  “Just him? This is outrageous! We know the Prince is strong even without the Tamiron Stone, but to cripple an entire army alone is beyond madness,” one of the councilor’s contested.

  “But it’s true! Ask the Wall Guards who were watching from the eastern walls!” the guard again protested.

  “Where is the Prince now?” one of the councilors asked.

  “The survivor said he retreated with the Xerxecian Army.” The room echoed murmurs from the servants and various members of the Imperial Council.

  Menoich could not believe what he just heard. He did not know what to do. He turned to the King quickly, “My King, if this is in fact true, then the Prince must be found at all cost. He knows into much of the empire! He could launch another attack and maybe this time—”

  The King tried to stand up from his throne but collapsed, startling everyone in the room. The guards scrambled and rushed the King to his chambers. Some follow the guards as they carry the stricken King. The Archbishop remained in the throne room with disgust in his face along with some members of the council.

  “This is unacceptable,” said the Archbishop in a pent-up voice, his fists clamped up.

  “What do we do now, Archbishop?” asked one of the councilors.

  “We must decide now. The King is stricken right at his very heart because of his son. No one is left to temporarily take his place,” he said, looking at the councilors.

  “What do you have in mind, Menoich?” another asked.

  “The daughter of the King is currently in the Remolussium region for her studies.” The room and the people thought of what to do, and then Menoich continued. He calmly sat on his chair, a couple of inches lower than the throne that was beside it. Menoich took a deep breath and held the chair lightly. “We either break the law to call on the Princess to become the new Crown Princess—”

  “Are you mad?” said one of the councilors as the council gasped just with the idea of it, “We haven’t had a Crown Princess since the beginning of the Old War. Now you bring that up?”

  “This is not the time for bickering. We have to keep the Crown Family intact. We, the Imperial Council, are here not only to preserve and uphold the law of the Trasidar Empire, but to preserve and make sure that the royal bloodline of the Lluch continues to live on,” one councilor explained.

  “Then we might as well turn back to being a United Kingdoms,” shouted one of the councilors.

  “That kind of thinking is the very thing we are trying to avoid! You start this yet again, I will make sure that you will not be here again,” retaliated one of the councilors to the others.

  Another stood up and pointed at the councilor, “Are you even sure we will still be here until that time? Tamiron is leading the Xerxecian Army now—”

  “You are talking about the Crown Prince of the Imperial Trasidar. Watch your mouth and show respect!”

  “Enough!” Menoich shouted, silencing the squabbling councilors, “I will not have such behavior continue in this council. Do you understand?” said Menoich as he looked down on both of the councilors who averted to make eye contact.

  “For the Empire as a whole, we need to make a decision,” he continued and the throne room became silent. Everyone whispered to one another while Menoich watched them.“My fellow Councilors of the Imperial Trasidar, it seems that we are facing a dead end, we are left but with only two choices. One, we make the Princess the new Crown Princess, hence securing the Empire for good, regardless of the outcome of the current dilemma. Or two, we elect someone to a post of Prime Minister, to hold and control the interests of the Empire and the entire fatherland. I now give you time to decide on those two options,” Menoich said calmly as he sat back down.

  One of the councilors stood up, “We can never return to the old days of the Eastern United Kingdoms. Too much controversy and old wounds might open up again.”

  “I suggest we go with the latter point. Everyone who agrees say ‘Aye,’” initiated one of the councilors. In a matter of moments, the councilors looked at one another and one by one said Aye—”

  “Then it is decided. We shall now move to electing a Prime Minister. Anyone may start nominating their respective candidates who are worthy of the title,” the councilor said.

  “I nominate Archbishop Menoich Anarchu for the post of the Prime Minister,” said one of the councilors. Menoich stood upon hearing his own name and before he could even react, several of the councilors seemed to agree with the decision.

  The councilor who suggested the Archbishop looked around and seeing that no one seemed to want to nominate anyone else, he immediately moved to finalizing it, “Those who agree, say ‘Aye’.”

  “Wait,” Menoich held up his arms in protest. “Are you even sure I am qualified? I am not confident I can rule the empire, even if it’s only temporary.”

  “But Archbishop, you are the closest advisor to the Imperial King himself. You have been here the longest time. Your experience is enough for the post. If the King were okay right now, he wouldn’t disagree to it,” said one of the councilors which seemed to be agreed on by the entire of the council.

  Menoich was speechless to what was unfolding as he sat down.

  “I hereby declare Menoich Anarchu, the new Prime Minister of the Trasidar Empire,” the councilor announced, which brought upon a round of applause from the other councilors.

  Menoich was left speechless as the applause echoed throughout the throne room. He slowly raised his hand to quiet everyone down. “There is nothing left to do but for me to accept the responsibility of leading the Empire out of this impending storm. The king needs rest. His heir deserted his fatherland and his daughter is still unfit to rule. I, Archbishop Menoich Anarchu, accept the decision of the Royal Imperial Council to be the temporary Prime Minister of the Trasidar Empire. To hold and control the interests of the Empire, the fatherland,” he said it with much confidence he could muster and paint on his face.

  The council cheered again as Menoich paused to gather his thoughts in his sudden appointment as the Prime Minister.

  “Now everyone, we must settle two things. First off, after the storm has passed, who will we declare the new Crown Prince?” Menoich said, assuring himself that he could clear this issue immediately.

  “The lesser royalties of the Empire have sons. Why not choose from them?” suggested one of the councilors.

  “No. We are not going to do that. We have already broken a law just by suddenly electing Menoich as the Prime Minister. We might as well abandon that
law that prohibits the Princess from ruling as well,” answered one of them.

  “There you go again. You and your nonsense—”

  “Well what do you expect? My loyalty lies with the Lluch name. We cannot let the name die. Either let her keep the name and the prince changes his or don’t,” answered back by the councilor.

  The council then boiled up at that point and Menoich realized this immediately.

  “Okay, we shall summon the Princess here to discuss this matter with us. For now let us pause this decision until she comes back from her studies,” Menoich said as he waived to one of the guards to give that very command.

  “Now, the second and most important problem we need to face - what to do with Prince Tamiron?” he asked.

  Everyone was hesitant to even think of a way as Menoich could see. Some of his fellow councilors whispered to one another but came with no resolve.

  One of the most unruly councilors from before looked around him and sighed. He stood up and said, “Our law states that treason is punishable by death. I do believe you are all aware of this.”

  Menoich was surprised with his the suggestion.

  “Are you mad? He is the Crown Prince!”

  “He threw his right to rule this Empire the moment he demolished the Imperial Army, right outside the Plains of Tamara!” answered back by the rowdy councilor.

  “A trial must occur then,” debated one.

  “Ha! A trial you say? That is absurd! Behead the Prince! His title bears no excuse!” said one of the councilors yet again.

  “How dare you! We will not behead the Prince it is in the law—”

  “Treachery does not exempt those with royal blood. This is my final warning. We have broken too many laws already. If we break one more, then Malatur’Aren will withdraw from the empire!” then he looked at the new appointed Prime Minister Menoich, conflicted by his duty to the Empire and to the Family Lluch.

  “You have to decide now, Prime Minister. It’s the traitors head, or the ore industry of this Empire. Choose.”