Lost Princess, Forgotten Emotions
Chapter Five: The Prince Sets Off
Written by: Adam Gabrieau
Authors Notes: Welcome to the continuation of "Lost Princess, Forgotten Emotions", the aptly named "Lost Princess, Forgotten Emotions. I will be dedicating this to the pen01, seeing how she came up with the idea (though I may slightly twist it). Please be kind and review.
The sun was setting below the rolling, dark green, hills, tingeing the clouds pink and gold, and making it appear that the sky was burning up in an almighty fire that consumed the very sky. The fields and hills that surrounded the large, elegant city rustled slightly as a breeze passed by them.
Outside of the castle grounds Van could hear more then see people gathering around the gates of the castle, waiting for the ceremony to commence. Even further beyond that, he could hear the constant trickle of the river that made its way through his meditation chamber. Even from where he was, Van could smell the thick, floral smell of the meadows that surrounded the castle and city walls.
Peace was beginning to mount over his body as he studied his thoughts. He had been sitting in the rather large room for what seemed like weeks, though it was only one day. His eyes were shut, and his breathing was slow and shallow. He was stripped of all his clothes except for a red robe, and he had on ceremonial jewelry; a pair of red crystal earrings that dangled from a fine, platinum thread. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts, ranging from ridiculous to meaningful; from bizarre to logical; and from wonderment to fear.
But there was one constant mainstream thought that dominated the others.
What happened to Marea?
Balgus had told him that she was nowhere to be seen, and that it was most likely that she been had returned to Palestonia, but that all communication had been cut off to the country, from some unknown reason.
His thoughts returned once more to the task that was assigned to him; his inauguration to the throne of Fanelia.
A Dragon, it just had to be a Dragon. He thought in a mix of anger and fear. How am I supposed to find a Dragon, let alone slay one? It's impossible, damn it!
He regained his posture, once more calming himself down. It seemed that the task he had been asked, no, demanded to do was impossible, and would more then likely end up with him being killed. But he would try it, and give it his all, none-the-less; it was his duty as Prince to do what would serve his people, his country, best. It did not matter if he was to kill a Dragon or capture a rabbit; it must be done. He just didn't like the idea of putting himself in peril for something so.. Trivial.
Yes, that was the word he wanted to find, trivial. The entire procedure was pointless and ridiculous. But even through the dark clouds that were his doubts, he could see the ray of light that was logic. The ceremony and task weren't just because of some ancient scripts that said it had to be done. No, that was not the reason.
The obvious reason was to appoint a strong and wise King, so that in battle he would not make foolish mistakes or prove himself to be weak and useless. Without a strong leader, other nations would see his weakness as his country's weak, and that would lead to full-scale war. And, there was one more reason.Escaflowne.
It was written in the ancient texts that he was named the Chosen One, would be able to command the legendary guymelef Escaflowne, and would be able to wield the legendary power of Atlantis. However, it did not say how they would know who the Chosen One was, pr when he would make himself known, just that he would be the King and would be able to use Escaflowne. Also, later on in The Book of Untold Shadows---a guide of future events and other prized information that was kept with the Fanelia Royal House---that the Chosen would be have a power, a magic, inside of them that was unlike any other seen before, and that they would use it to defeat an army with numbers 'like the leave in autumn'.
Could I be the Chosen One? Van thought. Could it be me.?
His thoughts were cut short as he heard a door slide open. In anger, he raised his head and looked over his shoulder and saw a maids-woman on her knees with her head bowed down as a sign of respect. "Lord Van, Master Balgus says it is time for the blessing.Are you ready?"
With silent grace, Van rose to his feet, still keeping his back to her. He walked towards a fountain that sat in the middle of the room. "Yes, tell Balgus I'll be right out."
He heard a shuffle behind him as the servant exited the room, still on her knees and with her head bowed. The door shut and he resumed in taking his robe off.
The air was hot and humid, and full of thick, floral aromas. Sweat rolled down his back as he pulled on his black under shirt, and over that, a red shirt that showed his arms. He idly searched for his black pants as he sat down. As he quickly got dressed, and put on his black shoes. He thought it strange, that he was to wear only black when he was going out to slay a Dragon, seeing as how that red and black were the royal colors. Shouldn't he be wearing some kind of armor? Would armor even make a difference against a Dragon?
As he walked by the door, he grabbed his sword and it's sheath, idly tying them to his waist-belt. He rather fancied the way his blade looked around his waste. As he walked down the hall, he looked down at his new clothing, admiring the perfect fit and fine details that he had not been able to see in the darkness of his meditation room.
The tight, black shirt was made of a silky fabric that made a soft noise as he ran his hand down the Fanelia Royal Crest---a figure of a person with a dazzling white wings spread out, accompanied by small animals such as squirrels, voles and rabbits, symbolizing the country's beauty. A creature, too, accompanied these; a Dragon, symbolizing Fanelia's strength and ferocity---that was stitched on with an elegant gold thread. It was placed in the center of the shirt, where the people of the land believed that their mana, their soul, their magic, their very being, was. His pants were made of the same fabric, and were a bit baggy at the legs, but they still managed to give away the muscles in his legs.
Van walked down corridors that were beginning to darken. Every once and a while he would walk past a guard or servant who was lighting the torches that were placed in ten foot intervals. The air was cooling down slightly, but it was still warm with the heat that had been left in the wake of the heavy warmth of a spring day. At last, he reached the doors that lead to the courtyard, where he was to go for the ceremonial feast, and then leave to go and slay a Dragon.
When he opened the door, a slight breeze ruffled his dark hair, and he could see a mass of people standing off in the distance. The magnitude of people who had come to see him off astounded him; there had to be at least twenty-thousand people outside of the castle, standing in neat rows, and then to the right and left of them, the Fanelian Royal Guard. The total had to be at least, he mused, well above twenty-four thousand.
He quickly walked through the main courtyard, noticing the large mass of tables that had been set up for the feast afterwards. There were rose bushes that were freshly planted by each entrance to the lawn, and he could smell fresh bread, fish and other foods that were prepared for the feast.
As Van exited the main courtyard and entered the smaller courtyard, which was still big enough to fit a small city into, an expectant hush fell over the crowd. The band, which consisted of at least three hundred people and sat on a balcony off to the side, picked up the silence with the Fanelian national anthem. Van listened intently on the violins, focusing on what he was about to set out and do.
He stopped at a platform, standing between two sections of the audience, which had parted as he made his way towards the platform. He dropped to a knee and bowed his head, as Balgus, his bodyguard, unsheathed the royal blade of Fanelia; the Sword of Spirits. With a flashy movement, he handed it to Van, handle first.
Van raised his head slightly at first, as he saw the blade being offered to him. He had to accept it, to please the spirits of past kings, so he would have good fortune on his expedition. With his right hand, he accepted the blade, and then offered his praise to the good spirits. He rose to his feet, untied his sword from his side and handed it to Balgus, and then tied the sheath to right side, by his hip. He put his arm hand on the hilt of the sword, and was about to unsheathe it and see what it felt like, when Balgus covered his hand over Van's and leaned in towards him.
"Not here, Lord Van. It is said that if you bring out the blade here, during this ceremony, you will bring death to your loved ones."
Van really didn't believe in such superstitions, but kept his hand away from the blade none-the-less.
The crowds cheered as Van faced them and held his hand over his heart as he gave a silent pledge to them, that he would do his best to slay a Dragon so he could become their King. As he looked out into the sea of people, he noticed that even peasants that he had seen before on the streets now stood in front of him in clothes that ambassadors could barely afford, and wearing jewelry that was fit for the most important of rulers. Was the ceremony so important? Did the Palace hand out gold to the peasants so that even they could be well dressed for this?
Time seemed to whirl together as he stood there, looking at the people as he made his vows to his country, and then again as he faced Balgus to receive his instructions for what he was supposed to do. Balgus' words seemed sewn together as they flowed from his mouth in a soft whisper that seemed to fill the night air with his words. Van nodded absent-mindedly when Balgus finished. The crowd cheered and then followed as Van, Balgus, and other important people of the country walked into the main courtyard.
The tables were already set with the finest plates and silverware, and each had a glowing candle burning brilliantly between each dish. The air was full of scents of aromas, and servants were constantly bringing new dishes to tables.
In front of Van were several different kinds of breads, and on his plate there was a more-then-generous helping of veil. Off to his right he could see Balgus setting into his spice soup and to his left an advisor drinking from a large glass of wine. He could see more dishes then he could name.
The night air was filled with laughter as people told stories, and off into the distance, he could hear crickets chirping merrily in fields, and closer by, just beyond the rose bushes, children playing. He took a sip of some wine that was in a glass that was in front of him, and discovered that it's sweet flavour was to his liking, so he took another swallow of it, and then another, and before he knew it, it was gone. He was going to order some more when something caught his eyes; an apple pie. He looked over to Balgus, who smiled and nodded, and then called the servant who had over.
As he watched on, the sky got darker and darker, and stars could be seen. Behind him, he knew that the Mystic Moon and the smaller one framed the head table in shafts of white light, some glinting off his sword. Balgus leaned over to him and whispered. "Lord Van, I believe it is about time for you to leave."
Van didn't want to leave; he wanted to stay and talk to the villagers. He wished he could talk to them and laugh with them. But he couldn't.
He looked over to Balgus, and then around the yard, and then back to Balgus and gave him a small nod.
Nobody noticed his as he slipped into the darkness behind the main table, and headed towards the castle. It took him no time to run to the castle. Once more, he went through the hallways, running by rooms and leaping past steps at a time. Before long, he came to his room, and found Merle, his cat-like companion, sitting at the foot of his bed. As he entered, she looked up and wiped away tears that stained her face. She stood up and hugged Van.
"Oh, Van, please let me go with you. I won't get in the way.. Please?"
Van looked down at her and smiled. She was his true friend.
"No," he answered simply, as if it were obvious.
Merle looked up at him and gave him another hug. "Your.Your.Your pack is on your bed." She sobbed.
Van gave her a nod and walked out of the room. He didn't want to leave merle---it broke his heat to see her crying, and there was nothing he wanted more then to stay with her---but he would not risk her life for the tradition. And, as the Book of Untold Shadows declared, Van was supposed to go out on his own, with no more then what was needed, and alone.
He walked down the halls once more, his footsteps mixing in with the weeping of Merle. Unlike last time, he walked towards one of the back entrances of the castle, so he could leave away from the city and towards the forests and mountains that dotted are and made up the landscape.
As he walked down it, he idly looked at all of past Kings, the ones who had held the Sword of Spirits, the very sword he had in his scabbard. They were all big men, and had large muscles. He felt small as he walked down the hall, like a child surrounded by soldiers. Their eyes stared at him as he exited the castle.
The air outside was definitely cooler then it had been before, but he could still hear people laughing.
The grounds behind the castle were lightened up by the Mystic Moon. He slowly walked towards the wall of the castle, still listening to people celebrate. As he walked along the base of the wall, searching for a door, he saw sentries on the tops. They smiled at him and spoke their wishes for his well being and safe return. He thanked them. When he reached the door he was looking for, he found two massive guards, both standing rock-still with their arms crossed, each hand holding a massive blade. They, too, gave him a nod, and opened the massive wooden doors for him.
He walked out of his home.
The forest stood in front of him, leering at him with its size. The Mystic Moon had no affect on it, as the thick canopy of branches allowed no light to enter. Van stepped into the darkness..
To finish what his brother could not.
Chapter Five: The Prince Sets Off
Written by: Adam Gabrieau
Authors Notes: Welcome to the continuation of "Lost Princess, Forgotten Emotions", the aptly named "Lost Princess, Forgotten Emotions. I will be dedicating this to the pen01, seeing how she came up with the idea (though I may slightly twist it). Please be kind and review.
The sun was setting below the rolling, dark green, hills, tingeing the clouds pink and gold, and making it appear that the sky was burning up in an almighty fire that consumed the very sky. The fields and hills that surrounded the large, elegant city rustled slightly as a breeze passed by them.
Outside of the castle grounds Van could hear more then see people gathering around the gates of the castle, waiting for the ceremony to commence. Even further beyond that, he could hear the constant trickle of the river that made its way through his meditation chamber. Even from where he was, Van could smell the thick, floral smell of the meadows that surrounded the castle and city walls.
Peace was beginning to mount over his body as he studied his thoughts. He had been sitting in the rather large room for what seemed like weeks, though it was only one day. His eyes were shut, and his breathing was slow and shallow. He was stripped of all his clothes except for a red robe, and he had on ceremonial jewelry; a pair of red crystal earrings that dangled from a fine, platinum thread. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts, ranging from ridiculous to meaningful; from bizarre to logical; and from wonderment to fear.
But there was one constant mainstream thought that dominated the others.
What happened to Marea?
Balgus had told him that she was nowhere to be seen, and that it was most likely that she been had returned to Palestonia, but that all communication had been cut off to the country, from some unknown reason.
His thoughts returned once more to the task that was assigned to him; his inauguration to the throne of Fanelia.
A Dragon, it just had to be a Dragon. He thought in a mix of anger and fear. How am I supposed to find a Dragon, let alone slay one? It's impossible, damn it!
He regained his posture, once more calming himself down. It seemed that the task he had been asked, no, demanded to do was impossible, and would more then likely end up with him being killed. But he would try it, and give it his all, none-the-less; it was his duty as Prince to do what would serve his people, his country, best. It did not matter if he was to kill a Dragon or capture a rabbit; it must be done. He just didn't like the idea of putting himself in peril for something so.. Trivial.
Yes, that was the word he wanted to find, trivial. The entire procedure was pointless and ridiculous. But even through the dark clouds that were his doubts, he could see the ray of light that was logic. The ceremony and task weren't just because of some ancient scripts that said it had to be done. No, that was not the reason.
The obvious reason was to appoint a strong and wise King, so that in battle he would not make foolish mistakes or prove himself to be weak and useless. Without a strong leader, other nations would see his weakness as his country's weak, and that would lead to full-scale war. And, there was one more reason.Escaflowne.
It was written in the ancient texts that he was named the Chosen One, would be able to command the legendary guymelef Escaflowne, and would be able to wield the legendary power of Atlantis. However, it did not say how they would know who the Chosen One was, pr when he would make himself known, just that he would be the King and would be able to use Escaflowne. Also, later on in The Book of Untold Shadows---a guide of future events and other prized information that was kept with the Fanelia Royal House---that the Chosen would be have a power, a magic, inside of them that was unlike any other seen before, and that they would use it to defeat an army with numbers 'like the leave in autumn'.
Could I be the Chosen One? Van thought. Could it be me.?
His thoughts were cut short as he heard a door slide open. In anger, he raised his head and looked over his shoulder and saw a maids-woman on her knees with her head bowed down as a sign of respect. "Lord Van, Master Balgus says it is time for the blessing.Are you ready?"
With silent grace, Van rose to his feet, still keeping his back to her. He walked towards a fountain that sat in the middle of the room. "Yes, tell Balgus I'll be right out."
He heard a shuffle behind him as the servant exited the room, still on her knees and with her head bowed. The door shut and he resumed in taking his robe off.
The air was hot and humid, and full of thick, floral aromas. Sweat rolled down his back as he pulled on his black under shirt, and over that, a red shirt that showed his arms. He idly searched for his black pants as he sat down. As he quickly got dressed, and put on his black shoes. He thought it strange, that he was to wear only black when he was going out to slay a Dragon, seeing as how that red and black were the royal colors. Shouldn't he be wearing some kind of armor? Would armor even make a difference against a Dragon?
As he walked by the door, he grabbed his sword and it's sheath, idly tying them to his waist-belt. He rather fancied the way his blade looked around his waste. As he walked down the hall, he looked down at his new clothing, admiring the perfect fit and fine details that he had not been able to see in the darkness of his meditation room.
The tight, black shirt was made of a silky fabric that made a soft noise as he ran his hand down the Fanelia Royal Crest---a figure of a person with a dazzling white wings spread out, accompanied by small animals such as squirrels, voles and rabbits, symbolizing the country's beauty. A creature, too, accompanied these; a Dragon, symbolizing Fanelia's strength and ferocity---that was stitched on with an elegant gold thread. It was placed in the center of the shirt, where the people of the land believed that their mana, their soul, their magic, their very being, was. His pants were made of the same fabric, and were a bit baggy at the legs, but they still managed to give away the muscles in his legs.
Van walked down corridors that were beginning to darken. Every once and a while he would walk past a guard or servant who was lighting the torches that were placed in ten foot intervals. The air was cooling down slightly, but it was still warm with the heat that had been left in the wake of the heavy warmth of a spring day. At last, he reached the doors that lead to the courtyard, where he was to go for the ceremonial feast, and then leave to go and slay a Dragon.
When he opened the door, a slight breeze ruffled his dark hair, and he could see a mass of people standing off in the distance. The magnitude of people who had come to see him off astounded him; there had to be at least twenty-thousand people outside of the castle, standing in neat rows, and then to the right and left of them, the Fanelian Royal Guard. The total had to be at least, he mused, well above twenty-four thousand.
He quickly walked through the main courtyard, noticing the large mass of tables that had been set up for the feast afterwards. There were rose bushes that were freshly planted by each entrance to the lawn, and he could smell fresh bread, fish and other foods that were prepared for the feast.
As Van exited the main courtyard and entered the smaller courtyard, which was still big enough to fit a small city into, an expectant hush fell over the crowd. The band, which consisted of at least three hundred people and sat on a balcony off to the side, picked up the silence with the Fanelian national anthem. Van listened intently on the violins, focusing on what he was about to set out and do.
He stopped at a platform, standing between two sections of the audience, which had parted as he made his way towards the platform. He dropped to a knee and bowed his head, as Balgus, his bodyguard, unsheathed the royal blade of Fanelia; the Sword of Spirits. With a flashy movement, he handed it to Van, handle first.
Van raised his head slightly at first, as he saw the blade being offered to him. He had to accept it, to please the spirits of past kings, so he would have good fortune on his expedition. With his right hand, he accepted the blade, and then offered his praise to the good spirits. He rose to his feet, untied his sword from his side and handed it to Balgus, and then tied the sheath to right side, by his hip. He put his arm hand on the hilt of the sword, and was about to unsheathe it and see what it felt like, when Balgus covered his hand over Van's and leaned in towards him.
"Not here, Lord Van. It is said that if you bring out the blade here, during this ceremony, you will bring death to your loved ones."
Van really didn't believe in such superstitions, but kept his hand away from the blade none-the-less.
The crowds cheered as Van faced them and held his hand over his heart as he gave a silent pledge to them, that he would do his best to slay a Dragon so he could become their King. As he looked out into the sea of people, he noticed that even peasants that he had seen before on the streets now stood in front of him in clothes that ambassadors could barely afford, and wearing jewelry that was fit for the most important of rulers. Was the ceremony so important? Did the Palace hand out gold to the peasants so that even they could be well dressed for this?
Time seemed to whirl together as he stood there, looking at the people as he made his vows to his country, and then again as he faced Balgus to receive his instructions for what he was supposed to do. Balgus' words seemed sewn together as they flowed from his mouth in a soft whisper that seemed to fill the night air with his words. Van nodded absent-mindedly when Balgus finished. The crowd cheered and then followed as Van, Balgus, and other important people of the country walked into the main courtyard.
The tables were already set with the finest plates and silverware, and each had a glowing candle burning brilliantly between each dish. The air was full of scents of aromas, and servants were constantly bringing new dishes to tables.
In front of Van were several different kinds of breads, and on his plate there was a more-then-generous helping of veil. Off to his right he could see Balgus setting into his spice soup and to his left an advisor drinking from a large glass of wine. He could see more dishes then he could name.
The night air was filled with laughter as people told stories, and off into the distance, he could hear crickets chirping merrily in fields, and closer by, just beyond the rose bushes, children playing. He took a sip of some wine that was in a glass that was in front of him, and discovered that it's sweet flavour was to his liking, so he took another swallow of it, and then another, and before he knew it, it was gone. He was going to order some more when something caught his eyes; an apple pie. He looked over to Balgus, who smiled and nodded, and then called the servant who had over.
As he watched on, the sky got darker and darker, and stars could be seen. Behind him, he knew that the Mystic Moon and the smaller one framed the head table in shafts of white light, some glinting off his sword. Balgus leaned over to him and whispered. "Lord Van, I believe it is about time for you to leave."
Van didn't want to leave; he wanted to stay and talk to the villagers. He wished he could talk to them and laugh with them. But he couldn't.
He looked over to Balgus, and then around the yard, and then back to Balgus and gave him a small nod.
Nobody noticed his as he slipped into the darkness behind the main table, and headed towards the castle. It took him no time to run to the castle. Once more, he went through the hallways, running by rooms and leaping past steps at a time. Before long, he came to his room, and found Merle, his cat-like companion, sitting at the foot of his bed. As he entered, she looked up and wiped away tears that stained her face. She stood up and hugged Van.
"Oh, Van, please let me go with you. I won't get in the way.. Please?"
Van looked down at her and smiled. She was his true friend.
"No," he answered simply, as if it were obvious.
Merle looked up at him and gave him another hug. "Your.Your.Your pack is on your bed." She sobbed.
Van gave her a nod and walked out of the room. He didn't want to leave merle---it broke his heat to see her crying, and there was nothing he wanted more then to stay with her---but he would not risk her life for the tradition. And, as the Book of Untold Shadows declared, Van was supposed to go out on his own, with no more then what was needed, and alone.
He walked down the halls once more, his footsteps mixing in with the weeping of Merle. Unlike last time, he walked towards one of the back entrances of the castle, so he could leave away from the city and towards the forests and mountains that dotted are and made up the landscape.
As he walked down it, he idly looked at all of past Kings, the ones who had held the Sword of Spirits, the very sword he had in his scabbard. They were all big men, and had large muscles. He felt small as he walked down the hall, like a child surrounded by soldiers. Their eyes stared at him as he exited the castle.
The air outside was definitely cooler then it had been before, but he could still hear people laughing.
The grounds behind the castle were lightened up by the Mystic Moon. He slowly walked towards the wall of the castle, still listening to people celebrate. As he walked along the base of the wall, searching for a door, he saw sentries on the tops. They smiled at him and spoke their wishes for his well being and safe return. He thanked them. When he reached the door he was looking for, he found two massive guards, both standing rock-still with their arms crossed, each hand holding a massive blade. They, too, gave him a nod, and opened the massive wooden doors for him.
He walked out of his home.
The forest stood in front of him, leering at him with its size. The Mystic Moon had no affect on it, as the thick canopy of branches allowed no light to enter. Van stepped into the darkness..
To finish what his brother could not.