In a place very far from the tranquil lake of another, was a City. Likely the only one of its kind on that desolate world. Its vaunted towers covered in echelons meant to gather water and guide it into great tanks below. Each tank bore several guards that kept watch over those who would require it.
It was on a rare day of rain that a great horn blared. First one, then more. Their great bleating covering the valleys for miles. At first, none knew its significance. Then runners screamed through once the horns went silent.
It was a joyous day: The Queen of the land had given birth!
As with all things in this land, some cheered and others jeered. The King had an heir. That meant that naked grabs for power would be less effective but also that like any young one, the heir could be molded.
Even the most ambitious would be humbled mere hours later. The Queen declared that she would give no more heirs. That her first child would be the only one. Her declaration set the tone for the New Prince.
Only the best were winnowed from the masses. The prince learned and learned and learned. Their youth spent on learning how from sprout to crown, how an empire functioned. And despite the attempts to, the prince gained something beyond wisdom. The prince gained understanding.
Showing kindness to the masses by sneaking them food and water, they would return the favor a hundredfold. The prince understood how to sway others.
Bending the decisions of the King, the prince earned adoration in the eyes of the many. His position ensured the deference of the more powerful scavengers who sought greater power. Each time they thought they’d trap him, the Prince refused to fall into their traps. He refused to share time with their children, did not dine with their families and only spoke of common courtesies in their houses.
The King was busy during the Prince’s youth. New tunnels brought new bodies to support and be sorted. Yet, that same growth meant greater freedom to tame the great mountains.
One fateful day, the King and Queen called their child. The youth even saw the assemblage of every important person in the audience chamber. Hiding their anxiety and discomfort behind a practiced mask of assurance, the prince stood before their parents.
Mounted on the end of a long pole was a strange rock unlike any other. The King told of a time when their ancestor found the stone after it fell from the sky. It could pierce the hide of even the thickest warrior and had felled many since its creation. So, the King handed over the spear to the prince and gave him a quest.
He would settle down the rebellion in another valley and would not be able to return until it had been accomplished. So, with expectant escorts at his side, the prince traveled to the valley, if such a humble place could have been called that.
Compared to the spiraling city that wound both skyward and deep into the world, the collection of hovels shocked the prince. Almost as much as the haggard enemies who had gathered in resentment.
Trying to speak to the people, the prince was rebuffed. His words shouted down and the voices grew only louder as they recognized the spear he held. Not once had the Prince thought of why such a thing might be necessary.
One who had lost a dear soul to that spear lunged for the prince. Without thought, the Prince impaled his attacker, as the instructor had drilled his body to. In horror, the prince watched the dying man reach for him, wanting revenge even as control of his limbs faded. The fight, more a slaughter, expounded outwards from that.
When the rebels lay motionless, the prince looked out upon the field. None would console nor approach him. In the end, five more had fallen by the spear. The prince lamented and cursed his father for making this necessary. He spent the march home practicing the exact phrases he’d use to bring his father low. He’d throw the weapon at his father’s feet and make his disgust known.
Yet, what awaited them at the gate was a Hero’s welcome. Showers of accolades, praises and tokens of thanks lined the road leading up to the spire of the King. The prince arrived before their parents, clutching their spear, some of the blood still clinging around the tip.
The King stepped off his throne and withdrew a cloth. As the prince went to speak, the King wiped the blood off the spear. Words were whispered that sent chills down the Prince’s spine. Whatever transpired, the prince bowed his head and apologized for his negligence in cleaning the spear.
Welcomed as a hero, the prince stood before their people, their legitimacy undeniable.
And as some fatalistic sorts would say their fates were sealed that day.