Gabriel changed into attire suitable for the evening supper, wishing he could remain within the four walls of his chambers—alone. But regardless of his pain, which had not subsided in the hours since Tunklard’s departure, he knew he had no choice but to attend. The consequences of his absence would be dire.
As he prepared himself, memories flooded his mind, of all Tunklard’s wisdom and teachings. Tunklard embodied everything Gabriel wished his father could be, and he had hoped that he was regarded as a son by Tunklard. Unfortunately, now Gabriel would never know.
The thought sent a lance of pain to his heart. He remembered one lesson in particular, a lesson he would need to act on in the hours to come.
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One sunny afternoon, they had sat in the tranquility of the palace gardens, surrounded by blooming flowers and interrupted only by the gentle rustle of leaves.
Tunklard's eyes, wise and kind, met Gabriel's as he began to speak. "As a Prince, you need to understand the nature of your position. Every action you take, every word you speak, everything will be scrutinized and judged by those around you."
Gabriel listened intently to Tunklard’s words, the gravity of his future responsibilities sinking in. "But why must I be judged so closely?" Gabriel asked, a hint of frustration in his voice.
"It is the nature of power. You will be a leader one day, and people will look to you for guidance and reassurance—or a sense of stability. They will seek to decipher your intentions. It is also how others may look to use you for their own motives, whether good or bad.”
Gabriel pondered Tunklard's words, realizing the weight of the expectations placed upon him. "So, I must always be careful in my actions and words," he concluded.
His tutor nodded, offering a gentle smile. "Indeed, you must learn to mask your emotions when necessary, to choose your words wisely, and to speak differently to different people. This is not to say that you should be dishonest or manipulative, but rather to be mindful of the impact your words and expressions can have on others."
"But how can I always be aware of such things?" Gabriel asked.
"It is a skill that requires practice and observation. You must learn to be attentive, to read the subtle cues and body language of those around you. Unpoken messages are just as important as words spoken. Adapt your demeanor accordingly, for each person you encounter may require a different approach."
Gabriel nodded, his youthful curiosity absorbing Tunklard's teachings like a sponge. "And what if I feel overwhelmed by the weight of these expectations?" he asked.
His tutor's eyes softened with empathy at Gabriel’s vulnerability. "It is only natural to feel overwhelmed at times. But remember, you are not alone on this journey. Lean on the wisdom of those who came before you, seek counsel from trusted advisors, and above all, trust in your intellect. Your sharp mind is your greatest asset."
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Gabriel chose black attire for supper, traditionally worn in times of war or grief. It suited the moment perfectly and served as a subtle act of defiance against the king, without inviting direct retribution.
He regarded himself in the mirror, his black shoulder-length hair in disarray. He tied it up at the back, the dark clothing accentuating his sharp features and adding a harsh aura to his usually smiling face. His once-bright green eyes were now puffy and red. He washed his face, composing himself. Though still heartbroken, he refused to show weakness in front of the king and other nobles.
Satisfied with his appearance, he reluctantly made his way to the hall. Though he usually looked forward to seeing his friends and sister, tonight he walked slowly, unprepared to engage with people once again. Passing through the grand double doors to the hallway, he received a short nod from the guards stationed on either side. He glanced past the doors and beheld the opulence that always greeted him.
The hall was a marvel of engineering, vast enough to accommodate nearly five hundred people, and with a high cathedral ceiling. Elaborate murals adorned the ceilings and walls, gold trim lined every corner, and the chandeliers glistened, undoubtedly requiring daily cleaning by servants. The sheer size of the hall, unfitting for the number of gathered guests, served as a blatant display of wealth intended to highlight their affluence—unless one considered the Galatic kingdom in the north, whose riches were without equal.
The tables were arranged in two lines at the back of the hall, with the king's table situated on a dais where he dined exclusively with the queen. Musicians played a melodic tune in the corner, building anticipation for the evening meal. Summoning his bravest smile, Gabriel understood it was time.
He spotted Lord Carnahy, the king's closest ally, who greeted him with a smile. Gabriel always enjoyed conversing with him. "My prince, are you well?" Carnahy asked. It was a simple question, but one had to be cautious in any interaction with the nobility, for they were like snakes waiting to pounce on their prey—no matter how kind.
Putting on his best smile, Gabriel replied, "Aye, my lord. As you may have heard, my tutor has gone. I was saddened by his departure, but it is time for me to learn the ways of battle."
Lying came easily. I wish I didn't have to pretend to be someone I wasn't. He held onto this facade so tightly that he occasionally struggled to remember who he truly was underneath the burden of being a prince. Conversations with Tunklard had always served as a reality check. What will I pretend to become and will I lose myself in the process.
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Carnahy didn't perceive any of these thoughts on Gabriel's face and responded with encouragement, unknowingly exacerbating his predicament. "That is good to hear, my boy. I know you have a scholarly inclination, but this kingdom needs a prince prepared for battle. I am glad you have come to realize this." Though intended to be uplifting, the words stirred anger within Gabriel.
He quickly regained composure and responded with a hint of defiance, "Yes, my lord. I will be exactly what this kingdom needs." To any observer, these words would have been what they wanted to hear, but Gabriel had his own motivations. He would do whatever was necessary to rid the kingdom of violence.
"It gladdens my old heart. But why must you always insist on calling me 'Lord'?" Carnahy asked, feigning sternness.
Gabriel smiled genuinely and replied, "It's a bad habit, I'm afraid. I expect it's the same reason you call me 'Prince,' my lord."
Laughter erupted from Carnahy, and he remarked, "Boy, you are far too witty. If words fought battles, you would already be our general."
Gabriel smiled and said, "Wouldn't that be the day?" before adding, "Enjoy your evening, my lord."
Carnahy chuckled and playfully said, "Tell my children they need to read more."
Gabriel proceeded to the tables where his friends sat. "My, my, don't you look dashing in black," Jessinta said with a smirk. After a pause she asked, "What was my father saying to you?" Her brother Lovren leaned over the table, curious to hear his father's words.
"Just idle chat." Then pretending as if he forgot something, Gabriel added, "Oh, and he mentioned that both you and Lovren should read more."
"That's a relief. I was worried he would lecture me about spending more time on embroidery with the ladies," Jessinta said.
Sarah observed him, aware that he was only pretending to be okay. "How are you, Gabriel.” His friends on the table raised their brows. Oblivious to what had transpired.
"I'm well," Gabriel answered.
Lovren interjected, "Why, what happened?"
"Tunklard had to leave. I don’t want to talk about it.”
They all knew how much Tunklard meant to him, and the table fell into an awkward silence. The wound was still fresh; he feared he would break down if they spoke of it. He guarded his emotions closely, remembering Tunklard’s lesson.
Then Jessinta felt compelled to fill the void with conversation. "These musicians are lovely. I can't wait for the bard's performance.”
Jessinta wasn’t known for her subtlety. Gabriel greeted newcomers to the table, but he played no active role in the discussions that followed. He felt like a passenger longing to be left alone. Supper came and went, with numerous attempts to engage him in conversation, knowing his tendency to talk and talk. However, that night he skillfully disengaged, mastering the art of being present without truly participating. Then, the music stopped.
Gabriel's gaze turned toward the musicians as a tall man in his late twenties stepped forward. Women in the room began staring at the man for some reason. Though undoubtedly good-looking, Gabriel found their gawking unnecessary.
"Tonight, we have a special treat for you all—a song at the king's request." The man then turned to the musicians and gestured for the musicians to start. The harp’s melody was soaring as the musician expertly plucked the strings. Then the other instruments joined in, creating a symphony of emotions. The people eagerly awaited the first words, and then they came.
“In days of yore, a tale resounds, Of Accamanus, a king renowned.
He built a home, a solace true, And with his sword, a kingdom grew.
In battles fierce, he stood alone, Against an army, foes unknown.
With unwavering courage, he fought, Defending honor, as legends ought”
Gabriel recognized the song—it was the kingdom's origin story.
“Champion of Victra, goddess fair, His spirit guided, beyond compare.
With each swing, his kingdom stood strong, Defying the odds, against all wrong.
There came a day, a fateful hour. When a vast army loomed, full of power.
Their numbers swelled, an overwhelming might, Yet Accamanus stood, ready to fight.”
The king rarely cared enough to select a song for bards to play, but his father was sending a message. It was the story of how the kingdom was founded on violence, how its legacy is honor.
“Shield held high, his sword gleaming bright, He vowed to protect, to win the fight.
Through torrents of arrows and clash of steel, He pressed ahead, with an iron will.
His armor battered, his body strained, But his spirit resolute, undeterred, remained.”
Although he knew this was a slight from the king, Gabriel couldn’t help but be engrossed by the bard’s song. He had read so many of the histories relating to King Accamanus. He was a hero who defended honor and stood strong in the face of adversity. He longed to hear the next words, eager to immerse himself in the legacy of his ancestor.
“He carved a path through the enemy lines, A force to be reckoned with, till the sun shines.
His loyal men, inspired by the sight, Fought alongside, with all their might.
They rallied behind him, a unified force, their resilience was a testament to their course.
And as the sun blazed high in the sky, Accamanus, with a battle cry.”
Looking around the room, the nobles were leaning on the edge of their chairs entranced by the music.
“Emerging triumphant, against all odds, A legend forged, as destiny nods.
So raise your voices, let them resound, To Accamanus, the king renowned.
A tale of glory, his name unfurled, A legend forged, in the battles of the world.
In days of yore, his story shall be told, How Accamanus, brave and bold,
He withstood an army many times his own, His unwavering valor forever known.
Through trials and battles, he held his ground, A beacon of strength, in chaos found.
The kingdom he built, a fortress strong, Stands as a testament to his lifelong song.”
The music reached its crescendo, and Gabriel found himself lost in its enchantment, momentarily forgetting his worries and cares.
“Champion of Victra, his guiding light, He fought with honor, with all his might.
In the annals of history, his name will stand, Accamanus, the king of a noble land.”
The music ended with raucous applause, and the bard and the musicians performed a bow.
While the song was intended to show that war founded this kingdom, what resonated with Gabriel was that King Accamanus overcame numerous challenges to build a brighter future. And the lesson to be learned is that one must be strong, remain steadfast in their convictions. A beacon strong in chaos found.
The melody continued to echo in Gabriel's mind. He didn’t want to be remembered for his battles, he didn’t want to be remembered for his sword. One thing stuck true, however. He did want to be remembered.