∼ Royalty and Politics ∼
Chapter - 016
‹ Lucia, Crown Citadel - Artorian Lucius ›
"Now! For a demonstration," A voice carrying the tint of age and competence rang out, filling the mostly empty room. The plump and aged man of whom the voice belonged cleared his throat loudly and folded his arms behind himself as he paced back and forth.
"Archduke Zaiel greets you at a formal ball arranged by the royal family in the capital," He listed out, a thoughtful expression crossing his round features as if thinking. "You've yet to fulfill your coronation, however, you are still crown prince. What is your etiquette?"
A small sigh escaped in response to the request. Across from the man pacing, a young boy sat amongst the empty seats and opulent furniture. He couldn't be more than sixteen years of age, and the distant look on his face told one all about the adolescent youth's obvious boredom.
The stout and older man's words were met with reluctance but a stern glare stopped any further protest as the young man straightened. Though... with some modicum of demur in the boy's glare. However, the lax look in his silvery-white eyes faded to be replaced with one of amity as he moved to stand.
"Ah - archduke, what a pleasure it is to entertain your presence this fine day," He smiled, all traces of boredom gone. "I trust your trip went along smoothly?"
Watching intently as the youth greeted him as if he were the Archduke, the older man grunted.
"Acceptable, but next time, act with more propriety and decorum," He said, breaking his gaze. "You're speaking to the archduke, not any of the other dukes. While as crown prince, you're his equal, and he yours, you're still the next-in-line and promised sovereign. Showing too much cordiality would be like a precursor to a lack of confidence in your own station. The moment they smell weak blood in the water, not just have your enemies flocking across the borders, but your very own nobles will tear you apart long before they do."
He cleared his throat again, still pacing. "Now! Same event, but this time you have donned the crown and are some years into your term. What is your etiquette?" He asked crisply.
The young boy took a moment, a dispassionate expression momentarily falling back onto his face. But with the deep intake of a breath, a complete shift in demeanor and tone washed over his features like the wave of a strong tide, leaving behind nothing but the sands of flat stoicism.
"Duke," He said with barely a nod, the majesty in his voice magnitudes greater than before and belying his much younger and unweathered appearance. But just as quickly as it had come, it disappeared - and the air of a bored and tired adolescent returned the moment he slumped into the chair.
"Good," The stocky man nodded simply. He moved to speak. "Now, let's try-'' But the sudden bang of a door being slammed open cut him off mid-sentence.
With a blur, a small figure riding atop one much larger, bounded into the room with about as much subtlety as a hurricane. Accompanying the sudden interruption were the energetic squeals of a young girl.
"Arty! Look - look, I'm a wyvern rider!" The girl giggled wildly as the massive dog she rode bounded in between the lavish furniture and all around the teenager. Passing him to and fro.
The young girl, barely out of her pubescence, was dressed in what appeared to be ramshackle armor made of pots, undoubtedly pilfered from the maid kitchen. All of it strung together by copious amounts of yarn.
Leading the charge atop her mighty steed with a broom she could barely even lift upright, the petite and young girl filled the previously empty and dull lecture room with the innocent sound of glee.
Gone was the mask of boredom from the young lad's face, replaced with that of an affectionate smile. He laughed, "Don't you remember? It was the wyvern riders who flew, you mean the wyrm riders, who rode - right? From the stories you had me read you yesterday?"
"Doesn't matter!" She giggled back at him, more focused on keeping herself from being thrown off the dog as opposed to quarreling over his correction.
Catching and pulling her the comically large saddle as she rode right past him, which elicited a squeal from the boisterous girl, he plopped her into his lap with a chuckle of his own. "Now, what did mother tell you about strapping your saddle to Rudo?" He asked with a wry look.
"But Rudo is almost as big as my pony!" She protested to him, dredging up one of many of their mother's ludicrous demands of her.
She was a princess after all - what was the problem with riding her dauntless steed into battle or occasionally expressing her unparalleled artistry as she finger-painted on some of the rather dull and boring paintings decorating the halls of which she had to walk by every morning and evening? Who cared about some ancient kings and queens from times long hence? With a magnificent mustache or a spanking new hairstyle at the courtesy of this generous young princess, she'd dazzle any who walked by the much improved and flawless masterpieces.
At least, that was how it usually went until some maid would realize it and her mother would come to scold her...
"You know better than to do that, Ellie," He reprimanded lightheartedly.
Crossing her arms with a deep-set frown on her cute little face, she overplayed her grumpiness. But he merely laughed at his little sister's antics, not backing down an inch.
"But Art∼!" She whined as she saw her intimidation technique had no effect.
The tutor cleared his throat, "-Ahem" drawing the young man's attention back to the rest of the room.
"It's fine Ser Marygold, the lesson for today is over," He said, dismissing the older man.
"But Young Master, we still have-" The rotund man attempted to object.
"Today's lesson is over, I will see you two days time again," The young man interjected, the regal tone befitting his rank as crown prince briefly seeping into his voice.
"Hmm- very well, young master," He nodded simply, his bushy mustache twitching. "Do remember to finish your papers by the week's end, otherwise it is not me you'll have to answer to, but her majesty."
"I understand, now leave us."
The tutor bowed without any further words, all sternness gone from just moments previous, replaced with nothing but subservience.
While he was instructing Artorian, the Crown Prince of Lucia, Ser Marygold had some semblance of right and authority to talk like he did, but outside of lessons, he was still but a servant. So anything but deference when he was not in the position of a teacher could be seen as an affront to the crown. Though, Artorian had never been so cruel to actually care about an out-of-station comment from a subject.
Watching as the stout man left the room, he looked down at the grumpy girl in his lap, still trying and failing miserably at intimidation. The frown and puffed cheeks only encouraged the look of absolute cuteness that his little sister had been born with. With her fair skin, vibrant blue eyes, and blond hair, she was the image of purity and innocence, the Saphhire Jewel of Lucia hailed by many - despite her not realizing it herself.
"Where is your caretaker? You haven't tricked her and run off again, have you?" This question foiled the little girl's plans of intimidation as she suddenly for some inexplicable reason couldn't hold his gaze, a finger to her lip unconsciously as she avoided his eyes.
"I-uh... no..." She muttered sheepishly, her seemingly inborn inability to ever weave a convincing lie shining through brighter than ever.
"Ellie..." He droned out a bit admonishingly. "You know what happened to the last caretaker you did that with. She was so afraid she thought she was going to be executed when she realized you were nowhere to be found. Do I have to tell Mother to find a stricter handler for you?"
"But-but, Arty∼!" She pleaded, all pretenses to remain ignorant washing away.
"Also, what did I say about calling me Arty? Especially in front of others?" He reprimanded lightheartedly.
"But Arty is Arty!" She objected as if he was saying something unreasonable - as if he was trying to refute that Sol was round. This time she didn't back down and met his gaze vehemently.
It was his time to give up, as he released a sigh at his sister's antics that ended up turning into a chuckle. "Fine, fine. But let's get going, else we might find your caretaker groveling at Mother's feet for forgiveness... again."
"Okay..." She mumbled in a quiet voice, clearly downcast as she clambered down from his lap with the clatter of her armor of kitchen utilities. Holding her hand as she did, he couldn't help but feel a bit bad at her downtrodden expression.
"Well... you know what? I think it just so happens that I've found a little time in my schedule before my next lessons. What would you say about entertaining your big brother for a bit? An adventure or two?" He asked, a smirk forming at the corners of his lips at the sudden change to radiant brightness in the little girl's face.
"Really∼!?" She practically squealed, clutching his hand tight as if she was holding on to dear life - afraid that he'd back down from what he had just said.
"Yes, of course." He chuckled.
"Yes-yes-yes! Okay- we have, umm- ah, Rudo! Come!" She sputtered, seemingly trying to say and do a million things at once. "Come on slowpoke, our quest awaits!"
Tugging on the sleeve of his embroidered shirt, she motioned for the huge dog who had laid itself on the floor, its large ears and curly loose fur jiggled in response to the bounce in its step.
Laughter and the excited noises of a young girl echoed through the halls as they walked, hand in hand. And despite the informal and carefree air they carried with them as they traversed the citadel's many hallways, all servants, guards, and custodians acted with utmost respect and deference whenever they would pass.
They paid them no mind, however, as this was what they had been growing up with their entire lives.
Turning a bend, both the teenager and the young girl were suddenly met face to face with a tall and intimidating man clothed in all black. He was like a living shadow, the darkness of death. He wore what was in between formal and actual combat armor, his dark as midnight clothes were accentuated by the white linings and the ivory-white short blade at his hip, matching the twin short sword that was entirely black from hilt to tip strapped to the other hip.
Furthermore, his curtain-cut mane of black hair and the dusky eyes that gave no indication towards his land of birth - produced a dangerous air around the man who looked to be no more than thirty.
From his dashing looks to the ominous presence, it would've made most people shy away, but for Ellie, she smiled wide. "Uncle Val!" She beamed, letting go of Artorian's hand to run up and practically throw herself at the tall man.
Laughing heartily, the man, proclaimed as Val by the young girl, caught her and heaved her up into a hug. "What would you know, running into my favorite troublemaker?" He chuckled with a glance, holding the girl so she could sit on the crook of his arm.
"I do not make trouble!" She protested with a giggle.
"Oh, you don't? Then you better be careful when calling me uncle, else your actual uncle might become jealous if he overhears it," He whispered conspiratorially.
"But if Ellie says you're her uncle, then you're Ellie's uncle!" She proclaimed haughtily, trying to imbue as much regality in her small voice as possible. "Besides, Uncle Gideon doesn't mind."
"Oh, you'd be surprised." He stated simply with a wry smile, more to himself than to her. "But alas, I must admit defeat to my princess's decree." He said, doing little to nothing to hide the playfulness in his voice.
Turning his gaze from the young girl to the Artorian, he smiled.
"Uncle," Artorian greeted, not hiding his own smirk all that well.
"You too..?" He sighed with a smile.
Artorian just smiled cheekily back at the dark-haired man. "So, I heard everyone was called in for an assembly, are you returning from that just now?"
"Yes, and actually, I came here to find you," Val said, a bit of seriousness returning to his voice and posture.
"I don't believe our dueling lessons are until this evening, so did something happen?"
"Yes, unfortunately. But it is actually in regards to our lessons."
"What is it?" Artorian asked with a frown.
"All your academic and royal studies are to be ceased as of now and until the foreseeable future,"
"What?!" Artorian blurted out, shocked.
Although he had never been one to enjoy studying arithmetic, royal etiquette, and so on, he knew very well just how important each of them was for his future as king. Something that took up as much time as his training to become a warrior who'd stand as the kingdom's bastion against all that was malign - just as his father had.
"We've received word that King Mortius has sent reinforcements to quell the war on the northern borders. There are even rumors that his right-hand man, the Sparrow of Morrowwood, has personally gone to fight on the frontlines." Val explained.
Stunned, Artorian wasn't sure what to say, as the implications of this were far-reaching. As a royal, Artorian was well aware of who the Sparrow of Morrowwood was, a man hailed as one of the strongest and most adept swordsmen in all of Argon, second only to his late father. He alone could turn the tides of entire wars.
"But... what does that have to do with..." Artorian muttered out slowly, but even as he spoke, he realized exactly why. "The Sovereign's Seat? That old man is actually going to try and win it?"
Val nodded solemnly. "We've always known he was an ambitious fox, though we had not expected him to go this far - at such an impractical time for both us and himself."
"For now, Gideon and I will train you every waking moment. As it stands, neither you nor any of your peers amongst the royal generation have any chance to rival Mortius's personal strength or influence. Of course, your significant difference in age and established roots will weigh heavily in your favor in front of the Magistrate upon final decision, but he can achieve a lot before any of the other young royals can. Including you."
"There are very few in this kingdom who can match his prowess in the magical arts, and even The Sparrow would be weaker in a head-on fight. So you and the rest of your generation amongst the other factions are far behind to match what he can accomplish. That is why we can no longer dally around. You need to become stronger now. You must become stronger."
Clenching his fist, Artorian stared at his feet.
Val, who just stared at the young boy, had an unreadable look in his dark eyes, watching as the determination only a man of... that bloodline could possess began flaring within the young soul of this unwitting lad. A dangerous smile formed on Val's lip upon seeing this, though, Artorian did not realize it as his mind was on other things.
Ellie just looked back and forth between Val and Artorian, looking comically confused.
His father, the late King of Lucia, Supreme Sovereign of the Ten Realms, the man who gave everything for his people. Sacrificed the innocence of his blade and his own life to defeat the elven invasion and their ever-greedy ambitions. All of Argon still stood - because of him.
But he, but a sniveling child, had yet to accomplish anything. Standing in front of the big empty void was left in the presence of his father. Something that could only be filled with the legacy he had left behind. His offspring. Artorian Lucius, First of his Name, Crown Prince of Lucia, The Prince of Light. He had big shoes to fill, and he knew it was time for him to step into them.
He looked back up at Val, eyes blazing with fervor. "I'm ready."
"For father - for the kingdom."
Val's smile lost its previously unreadable tone as Artorian's steely white eyes centered onto him, Val's smile now simply that of a doting uncle.
"But Arty∼? You promised you'd play with me..." Ellie said this time genuinely downcast, tearing both out of the moment.
∼ Royalty and Politics ∼
Chapter - 016
‹ Lucia, Crown Citadel - Artorian Lucius ›
"Now! For a demonstration," A voice carrying the tint of age and competence rang out, filling the mostly empty room. The plump and aged man of whom the voice belonged cleared his throat loudly and folded his arms behind himself as he paced back and forth.
"Archduke Zaiel greets you at a formal ball arranged by the royal family in the capital," He listed out, a thoughtful expression crossing his round features as if thinking. "You've yet to fulfill your coronation, however, you are still crown prince. What is your etiquette?"
A small sigh escaped in response to the request. Across from the man pacing, a young boy sat amongst the empty seats and opulent furniture. He couldn't be more than sixteen years of age, and the distant look on his face told one all about the adolescent youth's obvious boredom.
The stout and older man's words were met with reluctance but a stern glare stopped any further protest as the young man straightened. Though... with some modicum of demur in the boy's glare. However, the lax look in his silvery-white eyes faded to be replaced with one of amity as he moved to stand.
"Ah - archduke, what a pleasure it is to entertain your presence this fine day," He smiled, all traces of boredom gone. "I trust your trip went along smoothly?"
Watching intently as the youth greeted him as if he were the Archduke, the older man grunted.
"Acceptable, but next time, act with more propriety and decorum," He said, breaking his gaze. "You're speaking to the archduke, not any of the other dukes. While as crown prince, you're his equal, and he yours, you're still the next-in-line and promised sovereign. Showing too much cordiality would be like a precursor to a lack of confidence in your own station. The moment they smell weak blood in the water, not just have your enemies flocking across the borders, but your very own nobles will tear you apart long before they do."
He cleared his throat again, still pacing. "Now! Same event, but this time you have donned the crown and are some years into your term. What is your etiquette?" He asked crisply.
The young boy took a moment, a dispassionate expression momentarily falling back onto his face. But with the deep intake of a breath, a complete shift in demeanor and tone washed over his features like the wave of a strong tide, leaving behind nothing but the sands of flat stoicism.
"Duke," He said with barely a nod, the majesty in his voice magnitudes greater than before and belying his much younger and unweathered appearance. But just as quickly as it had come, it disappeared - and the air of a bored and tired adolescent returned the moment he slumped into the chair.
"Good," The stocky man nodded simply. He moved to speak. "Now, let's try-'' But the sudden bang of a door being slammed open cut him off mid-sentence.
With a blur, a small figure riding atop one much larger, bounded into the room with about as much subtlety as a hurricane. Accompanying the sudden interruption were the energetic squeals of a young girl.
"Arty! Look - look, I'm a wyvern rider!" The girl giggled wildly as the massive dog she rode bounded in between the lavish furniture and all around the teenager. Passing him to and fro.
The young girl, barely out of her pubescence, was dressed in what appeared to be ramshackle armor made of pots, undoubtedly pilfered from the maid kitchen. All of it strung together by copious amounts of yarn.
Leading the charge atop her mighty steed with a broom she could barely even lift upright, the petite and young girl filled the previously empty and dull lecture room with the innocent sound of glee.
Gone was the mask of boredom from the young lad's face, replaced with that of an affectionate smile. He laughed, "Don't you remember? It was the wyvern riders who flew, you mean the wyrm riders, who rode - right? From the stories you had me read you yesterday?"
"Doesn't matter!" She giggled back at him, more focused on keeping herself from being thrown off the dog as opposed to quarreling over his correction.
Catching and pulling her the comically large saddle as she rode right past him, which elicited a squeal from the boisterous girl, he plopped her into his lap with a chuckle of his own. "Now, what did mother tell you about strapping your saddle to Rudo?" He asked with a wry look.
"But Rudo is almost as big as my pony!" She protested to him, dredging up one of many of their mother's ludicrous demands of her.
She was a princess after all - what was the problem with riding her dauntless steed into battle or occasionally expressing her unparalleled artistry as she finger-painted on some of the rather dull and boring paintings decorating the halls of which she had to walk by every morning and evening? Who cared about some ancient kings and queens from times long hence? With a magnificent mustache or a spanking new hairstyle at the courtesy of this generous young princess, she'd dazzle any who walked by the much improved and flawless masterpieces.
At least, that was how it usually went until some maid would realize it and her mother would come to scold her...
"You know better than to do that, Ellie," He reprimanded lightheartedly.
Crossing her arms with a deep-set frown on her cute little face, she overplayed her grumpiness. But he merely laughed at his little sister's antics, not backing down an inch.
"But Art∼!" She whined as she saw her intimidation technique had no effect.
The tutor cleared his throat, "-Ahem" drawing the young man's attention back to the rest of the room.
"It's fine Ser Marygold, the lesson for today is over," He said, dismissing the older man.
"But Young Master, we still have-" The rotund man attempted to object.
"Today's lesson is over, I will see you two days time again," The young man interjected, the regal tone befitting his rank as crown prince briefly seeping into his voice.
"Hmm- very well, young master," He nodded simply, his bushy mustache twitching. "Do remember to finish your papers by the week's end, otherwise it is not me you'll have to answer to, but her majesty."
"I understand, now leave us."
The tutor bowed without any further words, all sternness gone from just moments previous, replaced with nothing but subservience.
While he was instructing Artorian, the Crown Prince of Lucia, Ser Marygold had some semblance of right and authority to talk like he did, but outside of lessons, he was still but a servant. So anything but deference when he was not in the position of a teacher could be seen as an affront to the crown. Though, Artorian had never been so cruel to actually care about an out-of-station comment from a subject.
Watching as the stout man left the room, he looked down at the grumpy girl in his lap, still trying and failing miserably at intimidation. The frown and puffed cheeks only encouraged the look of absolute cuteness that his little sister had been born with. With her fair skin, vibrant blue eyes, and blond hair, she was the image of purity and innocence, the Saphhire Jewel of Lucia hailed by many - despite her not realizing it herself.
"Where is your caretaker? You haven't tricked her and run off again, have you?" This question foiled the little girl's plans of intimidation as she suddenly for some inexplicable reason couldn't hold his gaze, a finger to her lip unconsciously as she avoided his eyes.
"I-uh... no..." She muttered sheepishly, her seemingly inborn inability to ever weave a convincing lie shining through brighter than ever.
"Ellie..." He droned out a bit admonishingly. "You know what happened to the last caretaker you did that with. She was so afraid she thought she was going to be executed when she realized you were nowhere to be found. Do I have to tell Mother to find a stricter handler for you?"
"But-but, Arty∼!" She pleaded, all pretenses to remain ignorant washing away.
"Also, what did I say about calling me Arty? Especially in front of others?" He reprimanded lightheartedly.
"But Arty is Arty!" She objected as if he was saying something unreasonable - as if he was trying to refute that Sol was round. This time she didn't back down and met his gaze vehemently.
It was his time to give up, as he released a sigh at his sister's antics that ended up turning into a chuckle. "Fine, fine. But let's get going, else we might find your caretaker groveling at Mother's feet for forgiveness... again."
"Okay..." She mumbled in a quiet voice, clearly downcast as she clambered down from his lap with the clatter of her armor of kitchen utilities. Holding her hand as she did, he couldn't help but feel a bit bad at her downtrodden expression.
"Well... you know what? I think it just so happens that I've found a little time in my schedule before my next lessons. What would you say about entertaining your big brother for a bit? An adventure or two?" He asked, a smirk forming at the corners of his lips at the sudden change to radiant brightness in the little girl's face.
"Really∼!?" She practically squealed, clutching his hand tight as if she was holding on to dear life - afraid that he'd back down from what he had just said.
"Yes, of course." He chuckled.
"Yes-yes-yes! Okay- we have, umm- ah, Rudo! Come!" She sputtered, seemingly trying to say and do a million things at once. "Come on slowpoke, our quest awaits!"
Tugging on the sleeve of his embroidered shirt, she motioned for the huge dog who had laid itself on the floor, its large ears and curly loose fur jiggled in response to the bounce in its step.
Laughter and the excited noises of a young girl echoed through the halls as they walked, hand in hand. And despite the informal and carefree air they carried with them as they traversed the citadel's many hallways, all servants, guards, and custodians acted with utmost respect and deference whenever they would pass.
They paid them no mind, however, as this was what they had been growing up with their entire lives.
Turning a bend, both the teenager and the young girl were suddenly met face to face with a tall and intimidating man clothed in all black. He was like a living shadow, the darkness of death. He wore what was in between formal and actual combat armor, his dark as midnight clothes were accentuated by the white linings and the ivory-white short blade at his hip, matching the twin short sword that was entirely black from hilt to tip strapped to the other hip.
Furthermore, his curtain-cut mane of black hair and the dusky eyes that gave no indication towards his land of birth - produced a dangerous air around the man who looked to be no more than thirty.
From his dashing looks to the ominous presence, it would've made most people shy away, but for Ellie, she smiled wide. "Uncle Val!" She beamed, letting go of Artorian's hand to run up and practically throw herself at the tall man.
Laughing heartily, the man, proclaimed as Val by the young girl, caught her and heaved her up into a hug. "What would you know, running into my favorite troublemaker?" He chuckled with a glance, holding the girl so she could sit on the crook of his arm.
"I do not make trouble!" She protested with a giggle.
"Oh, you don't? Then you better be careful when calling me uncle, else your actual uncle might become jealous if he overhears it," He whispered conspiratorially.
"But if Ellie says you're her uncle, then you're Ellie's uncle!" She proclaimed haughtily, trying to imbue as much regality in her small voice as possible. "Besides, Uncle Gideon doesn't mind."
"Oh, you'd be surprised." He stated simply with a wry smile, more to himself than to her. "But alas, I must admit defeat to my princess's decree." He said, doing little to nothing to hide the playfulness in his voice.
Turning his gaze from the young girl to the Artorian, he smiled.
"Uncle," Artorian greeted, not hiding his own smirk all that well.
"You too..?" He sighed with a smile.
Artorian just smiled cheekily back at the dark-haired man. "So, I heard everyone was called in for an assembly, are you returning from that just now?"
"Yes, and actually, I came here to find you," Val said, a bit of seriousness returning to his voice and posture.
"I don't believe our dueling lessons are until this evening, so did something happen?"
"Yes, unfortunately. But it is actually in regards to our lessons."
"What is it?" Artorian asked with a frown.
"All your academic and royal studies are to be ceased as of now and until the foreseeable future,"
"What?!" Artorian blurted out, shocked.
Although he had never been one to enjoy studying arithmetic, royal etiquette, and so on, he knew very well just how important each of them was for his future as king. Something that took up as much time as his training to become a warrior who'd stand as the kingdom's bastion against all that was malign - just as his father had.
"We've received word that King Mortius has sent reinforcements to quell the war on the northern borders. There are even rumors that his right-hand man, the Sparrow of Morrowwood, has personally gone to fight on the frontlines." Val explained.
Stunned, Artorian wasn't sure what to say, as the implications of this were far-reaching. As a royal, Artorian was well aware of who the Sparrow of Morrowwood was, a man hailed as one of the strongest and most adept swordsmen in all of Argon, second only to his late father. He alone could turn the tides of entire wars.
"But... what does that have to do with..." Artorian muttered out slowly, but even as he spoke, he realized exactly why. "The Sovereign's Seat? That old man is actually going to try and win it?"
Val nodded solemnly. "We've always known he was an ambitious fox, though we had not expected him to go this far - at such an impractical time for both us and himself."
"For now, Gideon and I will train you every waking moment. As it stands, neither you nor any of your peers amongst the royal generation have any chance to rival Mortius's personal strength or influence. Of course, your significant difference in age and established roots will weigh heavily in your favor in front of the Magistrate upon final decision, but he can achieve a lot before any of the other young royals can. Including you."
"There are very few in this kingdom who can match his prowess in the magical arts, and even The Sparrow would be weaker in a head-on fight. So you and the rest of your generation amongst the other factions are far behind to match what he can accomplish. That is why we can no longer dally around. You need to become stronger now. You must become stronger."
Clenching his fist, Artorian stared at his feet.
Val, who just stared at the young boy, had an unreadable look in his dark eyes, watching as the determination only a man of... that bloodline could possess began flaring within the young soul of this unwitting lad. A dangerous smile formed on Val's lip upon seeing this, though, Artorian did not realize it as his mind was on other things.
Ellie just looked back and forth between Val and Artorian, looking comically confused.
His father, the late King of Lucia, Supreme Sovereign of the Ten Realms, the man who gave everything for his people. Sacrificed the innocence of his blade and his own life to defeat the elven invasion and their ever-greedy ambitions. All of Argon still stood - because of him.
But he, but a sniveling child, had yet to accomplish anything. Standing in front of the big empty void was left in the presence of his father. Something that could only be filled with the legacy he had left behind. His offspring. Artorian Lucius, First of his Name, Crown Prince of Lucia, The Prince of Light. He had big shoes to fill, and he knew it was time for him to step into them.
He looked back up at Val, eyes blazing with fervor. "I'm ready."
"For father - for the kingdom."
Val's smile lost its previously unreadable tone as Artorian's steely white eyes centered onto him, Val's smile now simply that of a doting uncle.
"But Arty∼? You promised you'd play with me..." Ellie said this time genuinely downcast, tearing both out of the moment.
