Читать книгу Story of Raidarian Peace - - Страница 4

From my earliest years, I understood that I wasn’t quite a prince, although that’s exactly what they called me. It felt like mockery. Every time I asked about my parents, I was told they had died, and now I was under the care of Emperor Megal – my uncle. If I inquired further about how… Well… Then, I was told they perished in battle, heroically fighting for what they believed in.

This continued for quite some time until, at the age of nine, I requested an audience with my uncle. It was so nerve-wracking. Until that moment, I had only seen him once when he was being celebrated by all the residents of Illyrion. No wonder. The war that lasted five years after the great schism had ended, as he reunited the empire. He swayed the neutral kingdoms to his side and regained control of the ancestral kingdom – Reyneia. Unfortunately, at that time, I could only observe it from the castle balcony. I was never allowed close to him. The national celebration in honor of the reunification lasted three days. I only know that many important figures arrived in Illyrion because I spent the entire festivity locked in a room in the castle. After the celebration, my uncle went to war again, this time for four years. And now he’s finally back in the capital. Another victory, but not another conquered kingdom. More precisely, after looting it, he simply leveled the overseas kingdom to the ground, seemingly leaving no trace. Like Emperor Zhol did with Forsia once. When he returned after this war, the people in Illyrion greeted him again with cheers, but I’m not sure if they were the same cheers and ovations for victory as four years ago. Still, everyone unquestionably feared and respected him. This time, there was no festive celebration. And now, I am finally approaching my uncle, accompanied by guards, a couple of servants, and my chief teacher – Magister Lemna.

As I reach the gates, my teacher tells me not to contradict him under any circumstances, and the guards open the doors to the throne room. Before us stood military commanders and some wealthy citizens of the city. Perhaps they were engaged in an active dialogue with my uncle, but as soon as I entered, everyone fell silent. My uncle, the emperor, with a serious expression, surveyed these people, me, and those who came with me, and said, “Leave us!” It was amusing; everyone immediately disappeared, closing all doors behind them. Then I became a little scared and bewildered. There were too many thoughts in my head. And then he said, “What have they taught you while I was busy? Have you become strong?”

And I replied, “I was taught the art of war, sciences, and the basics of magic.”

He asked, “In what have you excelled?”

And I said, “I enjoy history and astrology.”

He responded, “I didn’t ask what you like. I asked, ‘What are you good at?’ ‘What are your accomplishments?’”

Out of confusion, all I could blurt out was, “Why did my parents die?” This question had haunted me for too long.

“Well, I see you were taught nothing, or you learned nothing,” he replied with a menacing tone, then rose from the throne and said, “I killed your father right here. And your mother… It seems she’s also dead, as there has been no news of her for a long time. But I didn’t see her corpse… Anyway, by my order, enough people throughout the empire were killed who could have helped her. They all went against the empire, against their own people – and paid for it with their lives. The entire empire was horrified. It’s a pity I personally couldn’t enjoy all those moments – I was busy with the war.”

By that moment, being a young boy, I was almost in tears. I knew the “great schism” didn’t happen for no reason, but part of me, due to my young age, tried to deny it. My worst suspicions turned out to be true. Emperor Megal, my uncle, was the murderer of my parents. It literally blinded my eyes. And rage overwhelmed me.

In anger, I grabbed the smallest sword from those displayed in the throne room for decoration. This sword was as long as my height. It was monstrously heavy to lift. Despite being a royal Raidarian and training with a sword since the age of five, swinging the sword towards my uncle was the most challenging sword swing of my life. I swung, and he drew his sword from the sheath behind his back, effortlessly parrying my strike. By that time, I had already heard about his excellent swordsmanship and his legendary sword – Dark Harvester. I never understood the point of naming swords. Childish amusement. Even in my childhood, I didn’t give them names. But some people do… Royals and nobles especially love it. I never understood that.

So, what am I talking about?.. He parried my strike and said, “They did teach you something after all…”

This only infuriated me more. I swung, trying to reach him with the sword somehow. Doing everything my combat mastery teacher – Master Chiron – taught me. But the Emperor-uncle again blocked my strike. I was nine, but I believed and desperately hoped that I could defeat a man who crushed kingdoms.

“I understand you; like no one else, you have the right to be angry with me, but I would recommend you to conserve your strength. You will have a chance to seek revenge…”

When he said that, I froze. Just stopped.

“I’ll tell you like it is… I wanted to kill you even in your infancy, but your father, with his last wish, decided to spare your life. Could I go against my brother’s last wish? I could! But I didn’t. Because it was the right thing to do. But I couldn’t just let you live… I still have many enemies. And these… enemies… crave to put someone else in my place as the ruler. I can understand them… but I won’t hand over my empire to them because they are not worthy of this empire, and if they are worthy, they’ll prove it… But they won’t, because the ruler of this empire is me. I will fight with you on the day you turn sixteen. You will be full of strength and energy, like me when I defeated my brother – your father. And if you study and train well, you will have a chance to defeat me. And if you win, you will seek revenge and become the ruler of all Raidarian lands, rightfully.”

“And what if I lose?” I asked, but he remained silent. I asked again, but he stayed silent again. With each new question about my potential defeat, I raised the tone of my speech until I started shouting, but he remained silent. In rage, I ran, took the sword with one hand by the hilt and with the other by the blade. The blade cut my hand to the bone, but I was too angry, and this anger extinguished all the physical pain I felt. I ran straight at him, the man who killed my mother and my father. In a leap, I tried to thrust the sword into his heart, as if it were a spear…

But he simply struck the nine-year-old boy with the blunt side of the sword, and I probably just flew in an unknown direction. And I woke up in the infirmary with a head injury and a white cloth bandage wrapped around my hand. Well, it was white until they wiped away all my blood.

It scared me a lot. I exerted all my efforts, and still couldn’t do anything. Ha-ha. Now, I look at it with a light touch of irony. That’s what gave me strength. It angered me. I no longer wanted to meet with my uncle. I just wanted to become stronger, so that when the time comes, I could defeat him and seek revenge. Despite everything.

I started studying everything with tripled strength. At the age of nine, I already knew quite a lot. Mathematics. Not that I was good at counting, but I understood the principles of this science perfectly. It developed in me areas of thinking that often lie dormant in people. History. Relying on the past experiences of anyone, I could learn something as good as if it had happened to me personally. Reading and languages allowed me to develop intellectually possibly more than anything else I studied. Philosophy. It helped me understand the world, answer questions that tormented me, but not all answers I could find only with its help. The art of warfare. All I understood was that it is an art that teaches you to take everything you know and use it skillfully against your enemy, whether your enemy is an inconspicuous person or a whole legion, a state, or a God. I don’t know about gods – I haven’t seen them – but it definitely worked against states. At least, judging by what the Raidarian history says. I’ll let you in on a secret – mostly, it’s about war. I studied everything bit by bit. Even things that wouldn’t necessarily help in a one-on-one battle with Megal. I knew you could never know what would be useful to you tomorrow. Astrology, alchemy, geography, and so on. I even studied magic, like many in Raidaria. Usually, they only study the basics, so they understand how to fight against it. Only a small part of basic knowledge. But I am the nephew of the emperor. It was my duty to learn everything about this, from small to great. Honestly, it was harder for me than for anyone else. I didn’t see the point in such a deep study, as throughout history, magic had only submitted to one Raidarian – General and Magister of Sciences named Basaro. But I studied everything, despite all the pain and suffering that studying magic caused me.

Now, knowledge of magic is gradually fading from my memory due to the lack of opportunity to apply it, but I still remember how Magister Lemna explains the basics.

In the ancient times when people lived in tribes, and the most advanced race in the world was the Elven race, there lived an Elven mage named Rinon. He was a scholar, and like all Elves, he had an innate ability to perform simple magic. However, even as a child, he realized that magic could be more powerful and complex. In his youth, his talent for magic was noticed, and as a result, the Elven king invited him to live at the royal court. There, Rinon studied and taught others.

At that time, there were ancient writings and scrolls that were accessible only to the Elves. Even the Elves did not know who the writings belonged to. It was not even known which people used the writing system that created all this wealth. According to legends, the Elves discovered these manuscripts in an ancient tomb on their lands – but that is not important. What matters is that the Elves formed a special research team to study these manuscripts. This was because these were not ordinary writings and scrolls – they emitted magical energy.

Using the languages known to the Elves, they gradually translated the writings. They even learned to pronounce them correctly. It turned out that by speaking some of the recordings aloud, they could bring to life a magic previously unseen and unknown to the Elves. This further motivated them to study the writings. The more they studied, the more they understood about the nature of magic. They named the language used in these writings and scrolls “magical runes.”

Soon, Rinon joined the investigation of these runes. He spent as much time studying the manuscripts as a human could live. He grasped so much that no Elf could comprehend. In fact, most of what is known about magic is thanks to this Elf. He told all Elves that runes were not written symbols for words; runes were an incomprehensible invisible energy that described the entire surrounding universe. What the Elves called runes were just descriptions of those runes that Rinon referred to when talking about them. He confirmed the theory long spoken among the Elves that magic required energy. But he added that, for magic, the ability to move the energy was also needed. It turned out that every living being capable of performing magic unknowingly directed their energy towards these incomprehensible runes. For most creatures, it was an innate reflex, and they usually took energy from their own soul. Somehow, it seemed to replenish itself in a strange way, although it was not clear how. This Elf also discovered that these runes were built from other runes, and those, in turn, from others. A multi-level construction, as Master Lemn explained.

Finally, we come to the main discovery of that Elf. With the knowledge he possessed, he had enough life to somehow study even the level of runes below. “Slightly more fundamental,” as my teacher used to say. And using this knowledge, the Elf, so to speak, created a new magical language. More straightforward to understand – at least if you are an Elf. It is called Rinon’s language. The one before him was called Ashar’s language. The old one provides more extensive possibilities, but some spells on it sometimes require, for example, a certain amount of lives to be created. The new one almost completely eliminates such possibilities.

Because of this, the Elves split for the first time. Some practiced magic using Asharic writings, while others used Rinonic ones. There were many skilled mages, and there probably are still some today. They supplemented the writings by writing their spell books. Basaro, for example, is the only mage from Rhaedarian, and he even wrote a spell book in Rinonic. And he’s just a Lynx who somehow learned to control the energy of his soul in a strange way. Yes, yes, that’s why you and I, my friend, cannot perform true magic. Managing magic is not our strong suit! Although I can cast spells. Well, you know… Use various energy-charged ingredients. It is possible to place them in a special liquid if you are preparing potions. The main thing is to bring everything to the required energy potential for the spell from a special magical book. There are a lot of nuances and various branches. True, some, as I mentioned earlier, I began to forget. One thing I know for sure… Now, for me, the main potion is strong ale. It would also be nice to have good listeners like now. Occasionally, girls wouldn’t hurt either. But now, unfortunately, there are none.

It seems that in my attempts to recall something about the magic I once studied, I completely forgot about the main event in my life – the Battle for the entire… Empire. I could fight on equal terms against a dozen trained Rhaedarian warriors. I even managed to hold my own as the victor. It was a mere trifle. By the time of our duel, I was prepared like never before. But that didn’t instill even a slight confidence. Fear… it kept me from sleeping and eating.

When the time finally came, I shook hands with my mentors. The duel for the right to rule the entire empire was supposed to take place in a strictly designated location. In the capital of the Rhaedarian Empire, on the main arena of the military border perimeter of the city. The path to this arena led through the east-west passage of the city – a large street that extended from the city center, where it connected with other passages, to the center of the eastern perimeter zone. So… What am I talking about? Oh yes… And here I was, already approaching the exit from the castle. The morning sun blinded my eyes. I knew I had a long journey ahead. Ahead of me, with the imperial convoy, they took away my uncle – Megala. I was also supposed to ride on a special imperial chariot, pulled by young Irlings of a special breed with light fur. // Note: Irlings – resemble camels without humps with faces slightly resembling dogs. // I was also escorted by the imperial guard, starting from the castle gates. When we set off, I felt a very strange, incomparable feeling. As if the calm before the storm in my soul. The closer I got to the duel site, the stronger the storm in my soul woke up, as if feeding on me, and it tried to break free. At a certain point in this trip, I felt fear and excitement, not only because, as a prisoner of my uncle for many years, I had never been so far from the castle.

Here we are, almost at the first wall – the first monumental structure that encircles the entire city, built by the great Rhaedarian architect – Noran. He could have been a good ruler, but his element was not war, but architecture and construction. It was he who made the Great Wall of Illyrion even higher. Although, by the time of the conquest of Illyrion by the Rhaedarian Chief Sanre, who became the first Rhaedarian emperor, this wall was already called great – and not just like that – nevertheless, it was Noran who made Illyrion absolutely impregnable.

So… And here I am, accompanied by my convoy, crossing the first wall and, finding myself on the border perimeter, I see the arena with a crowd of people, and beyond it, I see the second wall, called the Great one, although, I think it does not need an introduction. The Great Wall also encircled the entire city, but already including the border perimeter. It shaded part of the morning sun and cast a shadow on part of the arena – it was so great. To see this wall so close in person, not in paintings. It also stirred up a storm of emotions. I must have been the only person in Illyrion who had not seen it so up close before. But still, I couldn’t be distracted because I was about to face not just an important battle, but the most important one… As the man who accompanied me immediately explained, all four kings of the other Rhaedarian realms gathered in the arena stands. I realized that the entire nobility from the entire empire had gathered to watch this spectacle. I was also accompanied to the arena under guard. When I reached its center, I finally saw him – my uncle, who killed my mother and father. I felt the blood in my veins flow with the same rage as seven years ago when we met face to face for the last time.

The musicians beat the drums and blew the horns. I was dressed in the standard armor of a Rhaedarian warrior. We were both clad in the same armor, excluding the helmet. Different helmets were then issued to us, so that the audience could easily distinguish between us. He was given his black and gold helmet. I, on the other hand, received a plain one in the colors of the Rhaenean wood, with uneven blue stripes, probably just to make me stand out a bit from the regular warriors standing around the arena on guard. Megal put on his helmet, then I put on mine, and the sounds of drums and horns abruptly fell silent. This was the moment. The moment when the storm inside me finally burst out. At that moment, my entire life path flashed before my eyes. It was either me or him – there was no other option. Swords were given to us. The sun had not yet warmed the day, but I was already breaking into a sweat. And a moment later, military trumpeters sounded the horns typically used by the Rhaedarians to announce a military siege or attack. This sound signaled that the battle had begun.

Megal approached me, dragging his legendary sword through the sand, the same sword with which he had deprived countless noble warriors of their lives. It seemed as if he was somewhat upset. Perhaps it angered him that during this battle, he was not the emperor of a mighty empire. Now we were… equals. This brought at least a slight relief to my soul. But I still had to win. The first strike, of course, came from him, and it wasn’t difficult for me to deflect it. I couldn’t help but compare this battle to our previous one. This time, I held a sword almost equal to his, though it was the most ordinary Rhaedarian one, and this time my sword was not much larger than me, and it wasn’t as heavy as it was back then. This realization strengthened my spirit. I convinced myself that my hope for victory was not unfounded. Filling my hands with my own fury, I directed it towards my enemy.

I dared to try to land a couple of ordinary strikes on him, and he blocked them with the same ease with which I did later. Well, then we decided to circle each other a bit and look into each other’s eyes. I think he was trying to see something in my eyes, but he could hardly see anything there except rage, although I tried to contain it. He, on the other hand, seemed completely calm. After a few moments, he took off his helmet, threw it aside, and said, “Now I see… You haven’t learned anything.” Then he sighed and immediately declared, “Today, it will kill you!” – and a barrage of strikes rained down on me. I could barely defend against them… Then I finally realized that he was just waiting and studying me – and he had enough time to see me as if in the palm of his hand.

Then we clashed swords like dogs ready to devour each other. I leaned on my sword, and he on his. We looked each other straight in the eyes. “Why measure strength when you should measure intelligence,” I thought – and then I realized that his fist was flying towards my face, covered by the helmet. There was no time to think. His foot immediately followed the fist, directed to the same spot. It seemed that he just wanted to remove my helmet in this way, as it flew off and fell somewhere near my feet. Then he gracefully shifted slightly to my left, so that I was directly between him and the helmet. In other words, the helmet was behind me, and taking advantage of my confusion, which still hadn’t left me after the previous blows, he began to advance. Accordingly, I started retreating. And where did it lead? Right! While retreating, I stumbled over that same sword. It was unexpected. In my position at that moment, it was already difficult to expect anything. Everything happened so quickly… I had no moment to think. I didn’t even realize that I had already lost. After landing on the sand with my back, he simply knocked the sword out of my hand, forcefully hitting the hilt with his own sword. After that, he immediately pounced on me and began to pound my head into the sand. Brilliant, fast, and simple. He had simply planned the sequence of actions in advance and executed it perfectly, as if he had done it many times before, leaving me no moment to reconsider and understand anything. Only after that did I realize how truly strong, experienced, and intelligent a warrior Megal was. He must have been born with a predisposition for this. All my strength, experience, knowledge, skills that I had carefully honed throughout my life, and even my will, simply crumbled into dust before his talent for killing. But, as you know, I am now telling this story, which means he did not kill me.

Drowning in my own blood, which flowed from my mouth due to the knocked-out teeth, and in a semi-conscious state, I managed to distinguish a few phrases spoken by him after the actual victory. “Another weakling,” he said loudly for everyone to hear. “So much strength and time were spent on you – all in vain. You’re too pathetic to kill. Even your father fought more honorably than you.” As a final touch, he decided to kick me in the face with his foot. Put a bold exclamation point in our duel, so to speak.

I woke up from unbearable pain in the cheek area. It felt like a hot metal brand pressed against my cheek. This was how the Rhaedarian Empire branded exiles so that if an exile decided to return to the lands now forbidden to them, they would be immediately executed by any citizen with legal citizenship. Each such citizen was obligated to either kill the exile or report them to someone who could. After that, they took me out of the empire in a cart with others of my ilk, who were deemed unworthy even of death. Only eternal suffering in exile… The remaining life spent in torment, reminiscing about the past.