by Sam Sea
Harsh words knocked him down to the floor again. “Who are you?” Les whispered his last words as the shadow put a damp cloth on his blood-dried mouth and nostrils. He didn’t like its smell so he fought and struggled not to take his next breath through it, but then he had to gasp for more air and his mind suddenly was not his own any more.
Ch
apter 1 – The Learning Lessons
“Do you know what this is?”
“Uncle, it’s a short sword, of course!” Satorius, a ten-year old prince and the only living child of King Tormar, became sincerely upset with his uncle asking him such a simple, trivial question. Did his uncle, just like so many other adults, think of him as being stupid, of not knowing anything?
“Yes, you are right.” The calming, affirmative voice tried to smooth wrinkles on young boy’s forehead. “But not any kind of a short sword it is…”
His uncle, Ser Nanob, a tall, slender man with a carefully trimmed beard, turned the sword he picked from the wall from one side to another, then made it dance in his hands really fast, moving it so swiftly that the little boy could hardly see it as the swooshing and hissing air was being sliced countless ways by its silvery blade. “Do you know that this little sword is the very sword used by your great grandfather, Tormar the First, to slay Fathiz, one of the greatest lords wildmen ever had, during their invasion some hundred years ago?” He made the sword dance again, changing his hands, above his head, behind the back.
Then he suddenly stopped, and pointed the sword toward him. “Did you know that?”
The boy’s wide-opened eyes were immediately lowered, the silence being offered as an answer.
“Do you know how I knew?” He continued swiftly not ready to see into boy’s teary eyes.
“Somebody told you?”
“No, not really…” his uncle grunted.
“So how did you know?” The Little Prince was confused.
“Because it says so here…” Ser Nanob then pulled out an over-sized, leather-covered book out of the library nearby shelves. It was the size of his extended arm and needed both of his hands to hold until he placed it on a desk and opened its cover.
On its very first page was a drawing of a man with a long gray hair almost covering the glowing eyes that stared straight at the little prince. His whole body was all mailed up with one hand leaning on a waste-high shield showing his family’s seal of a two headed eagle, while the other hand held the familiar looking short sword. Vivid colors of the drawing drew boy’s eyes just as much as the dancing sword did a moment ago.
“See, this is your grandfather. And here is the sword at his side… You see, he was not the king at that time. And how it all happened that he defeated foes which outnumbered his ten to one, and became a king himself? Well... it all says here in this book. That’s how I know. I read it when I was your age.” His uncle let those words simmer for a while as the boy stared at the page, his small finger ever so slightly touching the drawing of his long gone grandfather that he never had a chance to meet.
“You see, we might have not known any of that if it was not written down. These books you see all around… they are here to transfer the knowledge of the things past to us, to you, so we know, so we don’t forget… And if are so lucky for our family line to continue, so that the knowledge of your grandfather, of you and me is passed on to those that come after…”
“Are they going to write about my brother and sister?”
“Your brother and sister… their names are already inside one of the books. But since they died very young, they have not written much about them…”
“So they will write a book about me too if I live long enough?”
“Certainly…it may be just a name in a book, or it may be a whole bundle of them…But that depends more on how many great things you do in your lifetime. That is exactly what books are here for. Do you understand?”
The boy nodded his head.
“That might be the only thing what separates us from the wildmen…”
“That is not true!“ Little Satorius suddenly protested. “The wildmen are monsters! They are not even men - they eat their own babies, and-”
“Yes, and how do you know that?”
“Everybody knows that…” suddenly he stopped to search for answers. “Old Wilma says so…”
The uncle chuckled. “So, you rather believe what someone else tells you rather than read books about what really is and find out the truth for yourself? This is not to say that sometimes they do not say all the truth in the books, and that sometimes old people know storied that are still not written in the books. But… the written word is generally thought of being worth more than hundred of those whispered in the wind. The books might miss to say the whole truth, but if you know how to read them, there is more truth in them than not… So, don’t you want to know the truth?”
The boy seemed confused, turned his head down again, not ready to say anything.
“I think you do. I think you are a smart little boy who do not like to be lied to.” The boy looked up at him, saw a welcoming and soothing smile on his uncle’s face and instantly felt a whole lot better.
Everyone in the court of the great King Tormar knew that the little prince would have rather be playing outside than studying from the old books. He just hated to be forced to learn customs and how to behave properly, among other things. His best friend, little Sima from the kitchen, was perfectly fine and she didn’t need to know the language of old or how to hold a fork and a wine glass. Why would he need any of that? The lessons were so long and boring, and his free spirit just could not take it. He’d rather be playing soldiers outside with other kids or keep the company to Old Erk while he was forging a new sword. Even watching king’s guards in their fancy golden uniforms drilling different formations for hours on end was better than sitting still and trying to learn something he cared little about.
But, his mother insisted his studying had to be done. He did not approve, and ran from studying through any means possible. So the windows had to locked, the guards posted at the door, yet little prince still found the way to skip it. He would go as far as spill the hot tea on his tutor, pretend he was chocking, faked fevers and any other illness he knew off, even faked his father’s signature giving a signed letter to the tutor stating that he was dismissed of his service.
It all got so bad to the point that the attention concerning his behavior was yet again brought upon the king. Luckily, for the little prince at that time, his uncle, queen’s younger brother, was there.
“Do not worry about this matter. Let me speak to him. I bet I can convince him to… see things differently.”
“Be my guest…” The king approved readily as he was not quite sure himself what to do with the matter.
That was a day ago, and even though Ser Nanob had other urgent matters to attend, he decided to spend a few hours with his youngest nephew.
“If you want to be lied to,” He told him, looking overly serious “I could tell you that I’m a great magician who can move mountains, and turn people to dust, and that I order you to give me your serving of today’s apple pie, or else I would turn you into a worm…” His uncle face turned comically evil, eyes popped out ready to cast fire, his mouth turned into a stiff grim as he clouded with both hands over little boy. The boy giggled.
“You’re scary.”
“Would you like to be lied to?”
“No.” The boy wouldn’t stop giggling.
“Would you believe me if I told you so?”
“No…”
“Why not?”
“Because you are my uncle, and I know it’s not true.”
“Yes, you see, you know it… You learned it who I am, and it’s part of your knowledge. It’s what you know. So tell me now…” His uncle stepped away from him, moved to the window five paces away, and then suddenly jumped around at him, scarring him to jerk back and then spoke in overly deep, and dramatically solemn voice “How about a form shifter?!” Hi
s uncle threw his robe around himself, leaving only his eyes “What would you say if someone came to you one day and said that they saw me… turn into a Silthan wolf who just killed a horseman and ate him and his horse in a single bite?”
Boy’s laughter echoed far out across the castle.
“I would tell them that they are lying!”
“Yes, you could talk to them, or else… You could write a book about me, write down who I am and so anyone who wants to know about it, could read and learn, and don’t think that I was some kind of a monster.” His uncle smiled again. “That’s what books serve for… they are here to teach you something, so you don’t… ” He pointed his finger at him, expecting the boy to finish the sentence.
“Believe that you are the monster… I mean, believe in everything I hear people say.”
“Yes, I knew you would get it.”
The boy’s eyes glittered with excitement as he looked at the book laid at the table.
“Let’s go outside. I want to show you something.” His uncle took the old book, closed it carefully before placing it back into the shelves. “Race you to the stables…” he called it suddenly as he already made few striding steps toward the door.
“It’s not fair!” The boy screamed, already running after him, readily accepting the race challenge.
In less than five minutes, they were already riding horses, clanking along the stone-covered street out of the castle. They made it through two gates almost knocking down the cart packed with apples, scaring a nearby donkey and making traders eager to enter the town jump out of their way. His uncle lead, but only by the length of his horse’s tail.
Outside of the castle, they followed the dirt road only for a while, but then cut across the grazing fields and pushed through the wall of tree, entering the nearby forest.
After a while of racing between the goliath tree trunks, they picked a trial, but then his uncle slowed their mad run, and pointed to the young prince to slow down the race.
“You are pretty good on that horse! I don’t think when I was your age, I could ride so well.”
The little prince shrugged his shoulders. His parents never really let him ride as often as he wanted to, certainly not allowing him to race like that.
“But tell me something else, do you know what is the biggest kingdom of them all?”
“Vartira!” The boy answered, happy with himself of knowing the answer.
“Yes, you are right. You are so smart… It takes a man riding all day long for thirty days to go from one side of Vartira to another. Imagine how big that is. Our kingdom is only half that size. So tell me then, how long would it take a rider to go through our kingdom from one side to the next, if he could ride all day long…”
“That’s easy, that’s half of thirty, which is… fifteen days!”
“You are right! Yet again.” His uncle jumped up in the saddle with joy. “And they said you didn’t know how to work with numbers! What do they know?”
The boy giggled all happy and proud of himself.
“Now, if I was to ask you, which is the kingdom we never ever went to war with, what would you say…”
“Kartar?”
“No…” His uncle shook his head. “We fought a war with them before your uncle was even born.”
“Let me give you a hint… It’s the smallest of them all, seagulls and a mighty ship fly on its banners…”
“Sarta.”
“That’s right…You see, that what I am asking you is all part of history, things you can learn from those books… Just like about your grandfather. It’s all recorded in those beautifully crafted books you have. Do you know one of those books is worth more than both horses we ride on?”
“No?!” the boy said in an outmost disbelief.
“Yes, it’s true. It takes more hours and more skills to make a book than to train a horse. Some say that knowledge is the most important thing you can have… worth more than all the gold and iron. It is what separates us from… from?”
“The wildmen.”
His uncle nodded his head with satisfaction.
The forest path split up ahead of them, and his uncle decided to take the path to the left, which started to curve upward.
Suddenly, the little prince knew where they were going. The ruins of the old castle, one of his most favorite place, and the one he was not allowed to go to. They pushed their horses hard, going up swiftly and ducking in front of low branches, racing again forward until they made the clearance and run into the old, scattered ruins.
Huge pieces of scattered stones and remains of the wall and guard towers covered the plateau around them.
“Uncle tell me, why was this castle never rebuild?”
“I do not know for sure… Some like to say that it was cursed. But then, the men of books, like I am, do not believe in that nonsense. I just don’t believe in it. But I brought you here not because of the castle, but because of that…” He pointed his finger to a pyramid of hundred of white stone stairs that rose in the distance toward the sky.
“The Pyramid of Vazghar?”
“Yes… Also called the Pyramid of the First Men.”
“My mom said never to go here…”
“I know… But you are with me, and you are safe… And I want to show you something.” They rode toward the stairs in silence with the air filled with strange suspension and peace as is often the case of many grave yards.
“We’ll tie the horses here, and make those steps on foot. Do you think you can do it?”
“Yes,” the boy answered readily.
Half way through the stairs, his uncle took a bottle of water out and stopped to offer the boy a drink.
“In order to make a good decision, you need not only be smart. Being smart is like the capacity, like how fast you can run, do you understand?”
The boy nodded his head, pretending that all made sense even though he was still only fighting to catch up with his breathing.
“But you also need to have a valid information… the best, the most current information… to know what is going on… that is like knowing where you need to run. Just imagine, who gets to the target first, the fastest runner who does not know where to run, the slow runner who knows where to run to, or the fastest runner who knows exactly where to run to?”
It all almost started to make sense to the boy. “That is who you want to be, you want to be smart, really smart, as smart as you can be…meaning fast as wind, and you want to be informed,…so you know exactly where your target is. And you don’t need to be lost, running around like a chicken with its head.” He hugged the boy as they made the final few steps.
“Have you ever seen a chicken running without its head?”
“Yes…” the boy giggled.
Making the last few step took almost all the air that both of them could muster as they plodded to the top. The top was straight as a glass window, all covered in stones, overgrown slowly by grasses and shrubs. Once, thousands of people could stand on it without ever touching each other, but now, it’s north side seemed to have crumbled and the rest seemed ready to be lost to the plants of the forest.
The view from there was without equal. Nothing, nothing around them was taller than them. Valleys, forests, the town - it all laid around below them covering the distance. They could see it all.
“This used to be one very special place. Some say it was nothing more than a watch tower, but it seems awful lot of trouble to build something so colossal just to serve as a way to see people coming and going.”
Wearily, they set down on a scattered grass growing over gray stones, shared more water and took it slowly all in. With no hurry his uncle then pulled out a whole loaf of freshly baked bread and smoked ham from his backpack. With his blade, he sliced the ham so thin you could see through it, and threw it toward his nephew. His mood got even better.
“You see, long time ago, it was generally thought that it was enough to build a castle high up… So if the army came to invade, they had
to fight going up, which makes it much harder, right? See how hard it was coming here?” he said still eagerly breathing in new air.
”There was another reason… High up, you could easily see far away, so you could see your enemy coming from the distance… That was supposed to give you an edge, to prepare defenses…” His uncle’s voice slowly trailed off just like his gaze that was lost somewhere in the distance, where the river carved through the golden fields, ready to be harvested for the last time that year.
“As you can see, this castle was ruined, destroyed, overrun by the mad Vartiran king Selur. That kind of thinking proved that it was not enough. Now, you need to know about your enemies before they even start forming, before they attack.”
“How?”
“You get to know, you get information… you employ spies, you send ambassadors, you try to form alliances…for what you can see here with the ruin of this castle, once you see a threat already at your door, it may be way too late. You need to be smart, and studying about anything helps become that. If that is not true, the world would be run not by kings but by peasants who cannot even read.”
“And you also need information…” the boy said.
“That’s right…So you know what your target is.”
“Uncle, does that mean we have spies?”
His uncle took a deep breath before he decided to take another slice of ham he started to carve.
“Of course we have spies, a whole army of them…and ambassadors, and people who share the same interests with us… You will learn… Another good example, do you know who really runs all the kingdoms?”
“I thought all of them were run by their own kings…isn’t my father running Pehrezia?”
“Yes, in a way that is true…” his uncle shook his head, obviously not satisfied with the answer.
