Emperor of Legendia
Rise of the Dawn

The Legendians stood at the gates of Irasy’s palace. They were all surrounded by curious Irasians fusillading the closest army persons. The Irasians were also astonished to see another group of warriors with chains around their feet and arms. Marco saw Olgreg Hymes jolting down the open gates at an incredible pace towards Marco. He looked bewildered. “I see captives!!”, Olgreg exclaimed, “Have we won?”

Marco stepped aside before Olgreg continued to express his excitement. Four guards put down a stretcher and Olgreg saw a covered body lying on it. The guards unveiled the top and the face jutted out the cover. “No!”, Olgreg gasped. He ran over to Zimon and locked his eyes at the bearded face. “No wonder...”

“Sorry?”, Marco squinted.

“No wonder Crevol knew this would happen.”, Olgreg was almost whispering, “No wonder he killed himself.”

Marco was shocked that Olgreg knew that Zimon killed himself. Marco said, “Yes... he was brave.”

“No... I mean...”, Olgreg stared at Marco strangely, “Crevol. He killed himself!”

Marco was startled, “What?? Mr. Crevol?”

There was commotion in the army at this hearing.

“He’s dead.”, Olgreg repeated.

Marco waited, his eyes locked at Olgreg’s.

“He kept on jabbering foolishly that Zimon was going to kill himself. He told me that Zimon meant everything to him and he cannot face that he is dead and thus he would prefer ending his life.” Olgreg explained, “... and well... he was whooping around like that for the past few weeks until he actually did it!”

“He was so confident Lord Zimon would die?”, Marco was tensed.

“We must speak in person, Lord Marco.”

“Where’s Mr. Crevol’s body?”, Marco enquired.

“In the infirmary... already wrapped in linen.”

They were standing in a circular chamber, not so large and not so small either. It had windows of thick steel shutters and the doors were reinforced with colourful metals.

“This is the room where royal bodies are bought to”, Olgreg told. He pointed to a bench lined with cushions at the edges and a cloth over it. Crevol laid there, lifeless like Zimon, wrapped in linen lining with just the face exposed.

“He slit his wrist off... poor old man.”, Marco heard Olgreg mumble.

Footsteps were heard and the guards bought Zimon in and placed him on an empty bench of the same fashion besides Crevol. Marco twitched, “Please, let’s move out.”

While passing through the corridors, a sturdy looking man dressed in heavy shiny royal robes emerged from a side door.

“My Lord,”, he said to Olgreg, “How tragic... what does this mean?”

“Pardon me Marco... this is Shurain, my foreign welfare councellor.”, Olgreg addressed to Marco, whom Shurain had not noticed.

Shurain was taken aback, “Oh, apologies... I did not recognize you. I am sorry for your loss.”

Marco nodded.

“I shall catch up with you later, Shurain.”, Olgreg said.

When Shurian exited, Olgreg said to Marco, “These people want stories. They love to gossip and spread rumours in the whole world for selfish benefits. Never mind him...”

Marco was not interested, “So... was that all Crevol said?”

Olgreg glanced around nearby. The stoned walls were thick and huge, forming a arched-half domed ceiling flying above them. “Look... I believe Zimon and the Dark Lord were...”, Olgreg stopped abruptly.

“...brothers.”, Marco said calmly, “I know.”

Olgreg tried to hide his surprise, “You seem to be well aware then.”

“Yes, I require all the knowledge to be a well acquainted and capable ruler.”, Marco replied.

“Indeed.”, Olgreg said as stretches of line etched on his forehead, “So... this is how it went... The other night, Crevol and Zimon had a spat about Zimon’s decision on marching to Dark Dume. Crevol murmured something to me about Zimon’s plans... not clearly though... but he went on saying like, they are brothers and he will kill himself. By last week or so Crevol almost lost his mind, reiterating that he doesn’t want to live if Zimon dies. I did not take him seriously. Apparently, we found his wrist cut open, lying in a pool of blood in his bedroom and lying next to an eye platinar.”

“Eye Platinar?”

Olgreg nodded, “I didn’t know he possessed an eye platinar. He probably watched Zimon kill himself. That’s probably when he decided to kill himself too.”

“Hmm...”, Marco paused, “Uncle?”

Olgreg raised his eyebrows. He felt strange at the way he was addressed, “Yes?”

“How many people know or might know about the last method to kill the Dark Lord?”

“Quite many, I believe.”

Marco nodded. “His reputation would be ruined on revelation on this truth?”

“Yes, Marco. Bitter truth spreads faster than good deeds.”

Marco shrugged, “Strange isn’t it?”

“I know best.”, Olgreg gave a pitiful smile.

“Sorry... I never meant you...”

“No, I understand.”, Olgreg said calmly, “I’ve been one of them. I felt the same way.” Olgreg placed a hand on Marco’s shoulder, “Go... have some sound sleep. After-all, you emerged victorious... so leave all the worries behind for a while.”

“You’re right.”

Hamidh, the caretaker showed Marco his new room, “I’m always at your service, your excellence. Call me when you need anything.”, he said in his Irasian accent with a stammer.

“Very good, Hamidh. That’s all for now.”

Hamidh bowed and closed the beautifully carved wooden door behind Marco. Marco did not observe the surrounding. All he could see was the bed and he never knew when he crashed on it. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Marco’s head throbbed in pain when he opened his eyes. He had to quickly shut his eyes as the bright white reflection of the marbled wall fell intensely due to a number of glowing firelights. Someone had lit those. It was not lit when he had entered; perhaps Hamidh had come in. A tray carrying a covered bowl and a covered glass of juice was kept aside on a hardwood side table. ‘Dinner?’, Marco thought and gazed out of the window. Moonlight poured in and he wondered how late it was in the night. A three legged sand timer showed that it was way past midnight. The bed was set up on an elevated black stoned floor. Lush green plants were spread across the two sides of the wall opening to a veranda. Marco realised that he had not even removed his war suit yet. The heavy suit had engraved dents and deep marks on the skin all over his body. He removed the objects off his body and felt the lightened weight of himself. He noticed that there was a tiny pool in the veranda in which poured in fresh hot water from an unknown source. Marco was tempted to take a dip in the pool to fulfil a relaxing bath, just when he noticed the black book fallen on his bed. Marco picked it up and flung it up in the air and caught it again, feeling its weight. He opened the book from behind this time just to go through the words again. He was astounded when he found a yellow parch of paper folded in half just in between the last page of the book and its hardcover.

Marco raised an eye, “Now what’s this?”, He said in a singing fashion.

He saw few writings on the outer folded part. He looked closely and found his name as the addressee. Marco was familiar with Zimon’s writing due to a number of paper work he completed with him during his times in Legendia; and this was definitely his. His name written in brown ink lingered in front of him for a while. His heart started to race as he opened the fold:

Dear Marco,

I presume that I’m already dead by now; else you wouldn’t be reading this. There’s a lot to tell you but alas, time does not permit. I believe you’ve already gone through the book. If not, finish the last chapter. Now that you know about me and my brother Perth Zimon, who supposedly became the Dark Lord, I plead for a sincere forgiveness for I kept it from you and everyone. There were reasons for I could not reveal it.

I made a vow to my father that I shall never harm Perth and shall defend him from same. Many would well hold my royal pride and ego responsible for such behaviour and they might be true to some extent; for as you might wonder why I didn’t kill myself before. I don’t mind if somebody thinks so, since their question is justifiable. I may have a darker side, hope you understand. This world is a difficult place to survive Marco. Some events can change your path of destination. So always choose wisely; at least try to.

Now, the most important point, Marco; every successor ought to know the true location of the treasure. Read my next words carefully. ‘The treasure does not lie beneath a plain land.’ Here’s the place: CROMP TYOUNTS.

Remember, it’s not under a plain land. You will locate an old withered tree where you must approach and speak aloud the following words: “Riboni Ribin, Firo si Firin, abinda Legendia, Sibo Li houn treazores.” Reach this spot with the help of Zulfain (who shall be waiting in the castle). Once you find the true location, you must fly back from there on Zulfain through the underground tunnel which leads straight to the Great Castle.

I hereby thrust you upon my responsibility. Be sure never to disclose this secret to ‘anyone’ lest you have gone mad. Now have a good laugh and welcome the good tidings with open arms. May you be blessed with success! May I send you a thousand compliments through three mere words? : I trust you.

The letter ended.

Marco’s eyes were moistened. He read the letter over and over again searching for some more words. He desperately wanted to interact with Zimon. ‘Lord Zimon has left a part of him with me’, he thought. He wanted to reach Zimon through the letter desperately and grab onto him forever.

The last three words revolved around his mind, looming over his thoughts as he stooped lower on the floor. He rested his head on the edge of the bed as he kneeled on the cold floor. He let out a sob. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

For the first time he realized the burden Zimon had carried all his life; the loneliness he endured miserably and yet he never broke in front of anyone. The trust Zimon held in Marco triggered the pain of agony stabbing deep in his heart. Marco whimpered for the first time since his childhood which transformed into an uncontrollable weep. He clutched at his chest near the heart and wailed helplessly with his head bouncing the floor. He cried bitterly all the while and no one arrived. It was very late at night, perhaps.

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