Emperor of Legendia
An honoured farewell

Panic and havoc struck the Legendians when were asked to pack up and head for Dark Dume. The sky was still dark and yet the training camp was full awake by now. Peter helped Marco to line up the troops in their respective positions. “C’mon, make haste...everyone!”, Peter said. The soldiers were divided in two halves; one under Marco and the other, Marvelo. The knights remained under Marco’s command. A huge quantity of food supplies were provided to them. Forty horses to carry the loads of food and water and fifty horses for the knights were provided by the Irasians. Recently forged weapons comprising swords, bow and arrows were also provided in no time.

The news spread like a fire around the city and the Irasians soon learned about the departure. Soon the castle was surrounded by people to wish the Legendians a good luck farewell.

“I really don’t know how we’re going to make it, Albert...”, Yoyo said.

Albert shrugged, “Man! They are more than ten thousand. What are we marching there for? Parley?”

“Calm down buddy.”, Jack said, “The king is too sure of our triumph this time.”

“Yeah, have courage...”, Peter said from behind, “Life doesn’t matter. We’ll fight till our last breath. We’ll fight until the last man standing.”

A horn blew loudly from a distance.

“March to the palace.”, Marco ordered as he rode on his horse. The army followed Marco and Marvelo and the dust in the field settled down soon.

Zimon peered out of the window and inhaled a deep breath. He quickly strode across the bed and sat on the chair of the writing desk. He pulled out the quill drenched in royal brown Irasian ink. He tore out a yellow dirty page from a book and placed it in front of the table. Zimon thought for a moment, and then quickly scribbled something on the blank paper. He took a very long pause and scribbled down some frantic letters. He went through the whole page again and added some more words in the end. Zimon pulled out the ‘Disclosing Dark Arts’ book from his pocket. He folded the page he just filled up and kept it inside the black book somewhere in between the pages. He placed the book back in his pocket and picked up the staff resting against the wall. The door knocked.

“Come in...”, Zimon said.

Hamidh showed up. He informed in Irasian tongue, that the troops are ready and have gathered down at the gates.

“Ba’ad al hazaat. Shukran al jazeerah.”, Zimon said.

Hamidh bowed and closed the door.

The city lanes were jammed up by a huge crowd. Marvelo and Marco waited at the gates admiring the huge crowd down the hill. Some people sang unrecognizable songs while others kept shouting slogans. Olgreg and Zimon followed by Hamidh entered the view. Marco and Marvelo stepped aside. Voices calmed down when Olgreg stepped forward to speak.

Zimon enchanted a spell to raise the voice at the gates. “As the old saying goes,”, Olgreg said out aloud, “Every beginning has an end. But hail the Legendians, for their story will be passed down the generations for a very long time... for they will always remain a symbol of hope for the whole world... they define courage and humility, strength and wisdom and best of all... pure hearts.”

The crowd applauded and Olgreg said, “Before I pass on to the great emperor and friend Zimon to share a few words, it is highly mandatory for you all to know that I have been given a second chance to live.”

Fiera placed a hand on Olgreg’s shoulder and smiled. Olgreg continued, “Yesterday night, I tasted death when a messenger stood beside me with a sword at my chest.”

The crowd gasped; horror struck. Marco was turning pale, “Uh-oh.”, he said.

“It was that this young man, that I live to see another beautiful day. He saved my life by killing the messenger in the darkness of the night.”, Olgreg slowly turned to Marco. “This young man is Marco Hymes and inherits the same sign that I possess under my arm. He is the son of none other than my very own brother Troswood!” Fiera clutched her tippet fearfully as she waited for the crowd’s reaction.

“My head is spinning.”, Albert said out aloud while others simply gaped, dumbstruck.

The crowd was about to break the silence when Olgreg quickly said, “I reckoned on this matter for the whole night, that an evil minded and betraying man can never give birth to such an angel. It is very unfortunate on my part, but it is too late. I have realised that we were stubborn to label Troswood as a traitor and not accept his forgiveness. It was my ego that made me hard hearted. And it was his humbleness that he left Irasy silently for our happiness.”. Olgreg was sobbing now. “It was I who ordered you people to turn against him. I shall not order you this time but I would plead you all to forgive the forgotten king who once prayed for the wellness of our country... Please!”

Marco placed his hand on Olgreg’s shoulder and said, “It’s okay uncle... Bygones are bygones.”

Olgreg hugged Marco instantly. Fiera sobbed; shaking her head, smiling and crying.

Zimon smiled heartily and stepped forward, “And in the joy of this moment, I would like to announce one more good news to all of you.”

Marco slowly turned to Zimon. “With honour and pleasure, I declare Marco Hymes as my successor and the next Emperor of Legendia!”

With a strong jolt, Marvelo turned completely towards Marco. He gaped wide enough for a rat to crawl in.

“Now I am going to faint.”, Albert commented. Yoyo said in a shock, “I’ll join you soon.”

Zimon continued, “With exceptional abilities and talent and a mark of a rightful king on his arm, Marco leaves no doubt for me to pass on my throne in his capable hands.”

Slowly, slowly, the crowd applauded and soon the city was filled with a hail of claps and claps. Albert and Yoyo were laughing heartily. Peter beamed at this sight. “That’s my best friend.”, he shouted.

If at all someone was feeling unhappy and uneasy, it was Marvelo but soon he walked to Marco and shook his hands nodding his head.

Marco walked up front and at the top of his voice, “O’ men and women of this pure and holy land. The fight for humanity, goodness and peace will prosper forever! WE FEAR NOBODY! SAY, DO WE??”

“NOOO!!!”, the city erupted.

“LEGENDIANS! WE DIE MARTYRS FOR THE SAKE OF OUR LAND! SHALL WE??”

“YEEEAHHH!”, the army answered with swords in their hands.

“FEAR NOT THE STRENGHT OF THE FOE! FOR OUR HOPE IS OUR UNBREAKABLE SPIRIT AND OUR UNDEFEATABLE WIZARD! HAIL THE LORD!”

“Long live, William Zimon!!”, the city enchanted in reiterations.

Slowly, slowly, Irasy disappeared from the sight of the army. The knights silently galloped in the front while the soldiers jogged behind them. They were following the route to the borders of Engeria, keeping River Tuks on their close left. The air was breezy. Black heavy rain clouds glided above them. They passed a few hillocks. The dry hill sides fringed with lush greenery.

“Stay close to the river side!”, Zimon ordered, “We must avoid getting too close to the reigns of Engeria.” Marvelo nodded and passed out the order quietly. Marco and Zimon were riding their now healthy horses along with the front most row of the knights. Marvelo stayed behind with the soldiers. The cool breeze gusting towards the troops tranquilized their minds.

“Such a pleasant river bank it is, isn’t it?”, Yoyo said to Debril.

“Ahh... always wanted to be here... today I see it... the beautiful River Tuks.”, Debril said.

“What do you guys reckon?”, Jack joined them, “Does Commander Marco deserve the throne of Legendia? Well just taking your opinions, you know... I’m on his side to be frank.”

Yoyo nodded, “Although he’s an Irasian, which came as an absolute shock to me... he is a very true Legendian also.”

Albert agreed no less, “Yes... and being the son of Troswood Hymes, he definitely have some qualities passed onto him. Troswood was a magician if I remember correctly.”

“Oh was he?”, Yoyo asked.

Reiford peered in, “Commander Marco is just a brilliant human being, wise, loyal, a very modest person and has a beautiful heart... all that is required to be a good king!”

Jack nodded, “Not to forget that he single handed bought down the messenger in complete darkness. He surely is a brave man.”

“He knew, he was an Irasian and yet he’s fighting for Legendia. What more evidence we require for his loyalty?”, Reiford suggested.

“And moreover, it is lord Zimon who chooses him...”, Debril said.

“Yes, now let’s see what the two leaders are upto regarding this war between a thousand and a ten thousand or ...well... maybe more.”

By the nightfall, they had covered half of the River Tuks. They camped down near the river bank and stayed close to each other. “No wood fires... not a slight smoke should rise in the air.”, Zimon said to the soldiers. “They might be keeping an eye on us. You never know.”

They silently ate and drank. The horses were tired and didn’t neigh either. Zimon stood alone near the shore, away from the camp. He silently leaned over his staff facing towards the river. He could see the other side of the land across the river; seemed far yet near enough.

“That’s him, isn’t he?”, Peter asked Marco. Marco looked at the king far away near the shore. “Excuse me for a moment, Peter.”

Marco walked up to Zimon and stood besides him. Zimon was bare footed and his ankles were dipped under the water. “Feels good.”, he grunted. Marco let his feet play with the cold water.

“You left your sword behind, Marco.”, Zimon said unmoved.

“Yes, my lord, back in the tent.”

“What if a messenger turns up right now?”, Zimon smirked, “Dark times, Marco. Stay alert.”

“Sure. I’ll be more cautious here after.”

They stood silently enjoying the pleasant sound of the waves. Finally Zimon spoke, “You know what I like about you Marco?”, he looked at Marco for a moment then turned his gaze back on to the vast river. “You know that it is insane to walk up to Dark Dume in this situation and yet you never questioned my decision, unlike many others including Marvelo and your fellow men.”

Marco observed the low tide wave swimming towards him. “What you do, speaks so loud that I need not wait for the justifications for your actions. I trust you with my life and believe you blindly.”, Marco said.

“Never trust and believe anyone blindly.”, Zimon smiled. His beard flew in all directions exposing his chest. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Zimon’s quote forced Marco question his instincts. He somewhere inside knew that Zimon, being at such a high political position and a victim of war atrocities, would always carry secrets for the sake of protecting his loved ones.

The moonlight sparkled on the river line. “I am sorry for penetrating your mind... I was compelled to do so.”, said Zimon.

“Good gracious!”, Marco was taken aback, “I’m so obliged, for you forgave me in-spite of stealing the book from the school. Do not apologize... It makes me feel guilty.”

“The particular contents of the book means a lot to me...”

“Who was Iahwin Rhaufaldo?”, Marco asked anxiously.

“A great wizard! He wrote this book roughly a hundred and fifty years ago.”

“It is old, indeed.”

“He was a great friend of my grandfather. When his time arrived, he asked my grandfather to preserve the book in the treasures. I deemed it better be in the school, it being a book... so I took in and placed it behind the secret wall.”

“I did not see Crevol at the time of leaving Irasy. I mean... is he okay?”, Marco asked.

“Don’t worry about him. The old man is always whining about things. Moreover he quietened down after what happened with you and the messenger yesterday. By the way, it is the first time in history that a man has killed a messenger. You are already in the pages of legends.”, Zimon smiled.

“No one ever did that?”

“Well... messengers don’t really fight. And if they do, they don’t use magic.”

“...which is why I survived.”, Marco chuckled.

“But you destroyed a form of dark magic.”

“So, does that weaken the Dark Lord?”

“One loss would do negligible harm to him... but yes he is well aware of the loss, which adds to his furore.”

They stood silent for some more time before Zimon said, “Crevol is mad at me...”

“Why?”

“Because I march with just over a thousand men to face the hungry troops of Elazabor...”

Marco stared in Zimon’s eyes. His eyes told many things. They were full of emotions. “We all shall survive, won’t we, my lord?”

Zimon stood expressionless.

Marco sighed, “So if we all die fighting, our story will never reach the world. There would be no one to speak of our fearless men, how we fought and how we struggled.”

Marco smiled and closed his as the wave splashed over his legs. “Fate knows that we all shall die.”, Zimon said, “But it is up to us whether we chose to fight our fate or simply give up to it. And incase we win...”, he pulled out the cook from under his cloak, “take this book from me after the battle... under any circumstances... even if Crypus forbids you to do so.”

Marco nodded, “You’ll let me read it?”

“For sure... but after the war.”, Zimon said. “Now my feet are going to turn ice, so we better get back to our tents. I hope you have set up the guards to watch out through the night.”

Marco headed towards his tent. Now that he was declared as the next king, the others were confused whether to be casual with him like they used to interact before. Consequently, they started being too formal with Marco and kept a distance from his tent. Only Peter would share his tent. The lantern in the tent was still burning. Marco saw Peter sitting upright with his gaze on the ground. “You didn’t sleep yet, Peter?”

“- Oh! Marco...”, Peter turned with a jolt and massaged his eyes, “No, I was just...” His eyes were moistened.

Marco took a deep breath and crawled besides Peter, “...thinking of Fred?”

Pater smiled and nodded, “Just missing the boasting master.”

Marco held Peter’s hand, “Things don’t seem to go the way we wish to. All are testing times, my dearest. We got to be strong at the heart.”

Hope we’re strong enough to see our families again, Marco thought...

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