CHAPTER 1
THE HERO OF GRIMGAR
"Do you really wish to go?" Arat answered Hans with a question of his own. He was momentarily puzzled when Hans asked him when they were going back to Parv.
However, when Hans remained silent, hesitating to answer Arat. The old man, stressed, asking again, “Do you really want to return to Parv?”
“It’s not about what I want,” Hans answered, irritated, “It’s about what the situation demands. A prince must remain in his nation, not goof around in some foreign place.”
“But, what’s stopping you from goofing around a bit more?” Arat asked, smiling.
"A forced sense of duty,” said Hans, puzzled by the expression of the smiling old man. And when he found Arat’s gaze inquiring, he explained, “Being a prince is not a privilege but a job, a tiring one at that.”
Hans said those words as if something inside forced him to act this way. “It was a point of no return. That’s why I’ve been avoiding it.” He sighed and looked up, “Why do you think I was so persistent about it? You don’t understand. The moment I accepted it, something changed… in me…look…I can’t explain—”
“But it’s not wrong for you to train in some foreign place to be a good ruler, right? Many of our ancestors were taught there. You’re not avoiding your duties, just postponing them.”
Hans didn’t know what magic Arat whispered through those words, but the pressure from his inner thoughts was almost gone. “What the heck? You’ve been insisting I should return. I thought you wanted me there,” Hans asked, confused.
“I still do,” Arat answered. “But I never said immediately. It’s a political den I wish you could avoid. You see, Parv is a complex place. Monarchy is dead, and while many wish for it to return, the rest... let’s just say we are doing better in some areas than before. Now, we elect our rulers on a tenure basis; whoever the people deem worthy gets a chance.”
“That’s lunacy,” Hans interrupted. “Who would you rather have fight a war? Some likeable soldier, or a well-trained, educated, and experienced General?”
“Believe it or not, that lunacy is successful, and half of our country is doing fine by some marvel,” Arat, who shared the same belief as Hans, scorned.
“Haa! So these lunatics won’t accept me.” Hans asked, puzzled, “Is that what you are saying—”
“Hell no,” Arat interrupted. “If they don’t want their heads to explode, they won’t.”
Hans and Delimira thought his words were some kind of metaphor, unaware that it was the literal truth. Arat glanced at their confused faces and explained, “Parv is a very disciplined place. The rules—people strictly follow them. The law is ironclad for all since we could be judged by God anytime.”
“Sounds like a ‘NICE’ place to live,” Delimira commented, her sarcasm apparent.
"It's tough everywhere, Little Winters," Arat was wise in his tone, his experience and understanding were showing off in the face. He continued, “This freedom you are feeling is the privilege of being a child. Living is actually ‘HARD’.”
All remained silent, lost in their own thoughts until Delimira broke the silence. “Whatever!” She scoffed and intrigued by her earlier thoughts, she asked, “Well, I was always curious. Why do you refer to your royalties as Imperials—"
"You didn't know?" Hans asked in doubt.
What? The fable of Parv being the human empire and all the other human nations as its vassals? Get real, will ya!”
"It's the truth," Hans defended. He had already met Dietrich, the one who united all humans and the same one who allowed the Parvian empire to be dismantled. However, he couldn’t convince Delimira with only his words, but Arat had his own answer.
"Parv wasn't just the empire of the past, but still is,” Arat responded. “There are forty vassal states, comprised of many races, including elves like yours.”
"Okay," Delimira nodded, acknowledging. Her act, on the other hand, rubbed off on Hans. “Hey! When I said it, you didn't believe me," he pouted.
"You lost your credibility when you handed that sword to Xandor," she rebuked, but Hans had no words to fight back. Seeing him down, Delimira cheered him on, “Oh come on Hans,” she nudged, “I'm just messing with you. Don’t go sullen on me.”
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“It's not you.” Hans continued to look down, muttering, “At that time, I only saw what was best for me, not the consequences it would bring.” He was apologetic, then his tone changed like the skin of a chameleon. He aimed at Arat, “You should've stopped me. What I did was foolish—”
"Would you have stopped if I asked you?" Arat questioned, and everyone in the room knew the answer to that. So, Arat came close, gently holding Hans by the shoulders. With a pleading voice, he said, “I can only offer counsel. It will be your decision in the end. So, please start being careful.”
“Fine, I’ll try,” Hans scoffed. “The duty of a prince is already a shackle big enough. Don’t pressure me more—”
“Haven't you heard the words,” Arat interjected, taking the context elsewhere, “When the blood soils the skies and Rain paints the land red. A Parvian sun shall rise, filling the world with dread.”
“Nope,” Hans shook his head. “First time hearing it—”
“I’ve heard it,” Delimira mumbled, her mind still piecing together the words. “In my mother’s collection, there were records of previous Clairvoyants. “Hmm... maybe they were from the Amarathiel high elves. These words were definitely from a prophecy made hundreds of years ago…”
She halted, realising why Arat changed the context. “Wait a minute,” she looked at Hans with a strange expression, and then, sneering, she spoke, “When you use the VoidZone, a red hue covers the sky like a dome, and sometimes the moisture condenses like rain droplets. And… for dread... your opponent definitely feels it.” She chuckled and, patting his shoulders, exclaimed, “Congratulations, Hans, you are the frickin’ calamity.”
“Woah, Deli. Why don’t you become a writer?” Hans shrugged her hands off, continuing with a frown, “If you aimed to annoy me, Winters, you did a damn good job.”
“Oh, come on, Hans. It's not like you are some sort of psycho, killing people right and left… well, you actually are—”
“Shut up, Winters.” Hans stretched his hand to cover her mouth but slipped and fell right into her clutches. Shaking him, she chuckled, “Oh! How I missed teasing you.”
Arat interrupted their childish antics and said seriously, “Whether that prophecy is true or not, I don’t give a damn. I must admit, though, it’s fun to rub it on the smug faces of our dear Clandorians. But that prophecy is the sole reason why there are no imperials left. It’s easier to hunt a cuck than a full-grown gryphon they say.”
“You serious?” Delimira exclaimed, releasing her grasp.“So people killed that many young imperials because of what? some words?” For some time she had known that very few imperial children survived their childhood and reached adulthood. But she didn’t know this was the reason. People feared them because they were different, powerful, and capable. She had received similar treatment, and abhorrent looks from others because she too was different from them.
As she delved into the past, Arat admitted her words and affirmed, “Yes, the elves, the other humans, all feared that prophecy. It became the reason so many heirs died before they could even drink their first milk.”
As none said anything, Arat resumed, “Princess Sierra… she had a little brother. He was a toddler when someone assassinated him. Her father, King Yishan, was regularly poisoned, so when the opportunity arose to send one of his children to Indu, he took it without thinking. But attempts on her sister, Princess Arahan’s life continued.”
Arat looked sad and his voice was breaking, “So he later married his remaining daughter to Norwin. He didn’t care if someone succeeded to the Parvian throne or not. His only wish was for Arahan and Ira’s safety. He was truly a weak king and a compelled father. Our gods remained silent, but they finally spoke when Samson was born, and that’s how Parv rose to power again.”
“What?” Hans was confused. Despite being the last descendant, all he knew about Parv was the glory of the past, not its recent struggles. “I always thought Parv was invincible—”
“Everyone loses at some point. If a dynasty is in reign now, it will fall, and someone else’s will rise.” Arat patted him. “The whole point of the story was to give you an idea of how helpless one can become. You could dodge a spear in broad daylight, but can’t avoid an arrow in the dark.” He stressed, “So beware of whom you trust from this point on. You are in the light now.”
Hans nodded, but a sudden thought pricked him. “Wait a minute… You did something behind my back, didn’t you?” He asked, as the words of precaution, especially the last part where Arat emphasised ‘from this point on,’ became more suspicious.
“Yay! Hans’s head is working again.” Delimira clapped, teasing.
“What did he do?” Hans asked with a big frown.
She chuckled as Arat remained stoic and embarrassed. “You see, Hans,” she spoke, “You are a pretty big deal now. Your Prime Minister here left no stone unturned in spreading your heroic tale. He even acknowledged that you saved a lot of people in the capital. Well, you painted the whole city green, so it was pretty much irrefutable.”
Hans turned to Arat, infuriated, “Why are you hell-bent on making my life tougher, Mr. Arat?”
“Well… I was kinda excited, and one thing led to another, and everybody knew—”
“Ooh! Ooh! Tell him about the Gryphon Knights.” Delimira fanned the flames.
“What Gryphon knights?” Hans asked frantically. “Wait a minute, where am I? This is not Concordia’s allotted mansion.”
“No, we are in Parv’s mansion.” Instead of Arat Delimira responded, amused as she explained further, “And there are fifty Gryphon knights standing guard. Now, everyone knows you are the Prince of Parv.”
“I don’t even have words,” Hans said as his face lost colour, but seeing her that excited, Hans felt ominous, “What else are you itching to rub in? Go ahead, Winters, do your worst.” He asked wishing his gut feeling to be wrong but it was pretty much confirmed when he looked at her shining eyes.
“Hihi!” She smirked. “Ahem..” Clearing her throat she spoke, “There is even a rumour about how you stood equally against an undead, so powerful that even the hero king had problems subduing him—”
“Damn!” Hans cursed. “And I thought I could just sneak back to Concordia.”
“Good luck, princess,” Delimira taunted.
“What now? Why am I a princess instead of a prince? Did something else happen in those rumours—”
“Naah!, because you’re whining like one.”
“Oh, man. I can’t even cry. It wasn’t me; I couldn’t stop him without the gems. I was practically powerless. If my father hadn’t regained consciousness back— Screw that.” Hans turned to Arat, his face serious, “What happened back there?” His voice demanded an explanation from the prime minister of Parv.