Pariah

Chapter One

The gates of Amaden Kingdom closed, and the deafening silence that followed made the air stand still. A cloud of grief was cast over the entire kingdom as the king of Amaden, Howard the Sixth, was pronounced dead.
The day passed in a sad rhythm, and streaks of sombre grey floated in the sky. An unusual chill seemed to grip the heart of every Amadenian. Eyes were red, wet with tears as the king was taken through the heart of Amaden to the royal tombs. In one voice, the whole kingdom mourned the valiant king as he was laid to rest.
Even after King Howard was buried, the kingdom of Amaden stayed as silent as a graveyard. Citizens remained indoors as a customary sign of respect, and the only thing that roamed the streets was the chilly wind.
It was just past noon, and the royal carriage was on its way back from the tombs. As the carriage crossed the palace gates and stopped by the late king's tulip garden, the widowed queen stepped out feebly and staggered her way to the royal meeting hall with her son, the young prince of twenty-five years, staying a pace close to her every step of the way; as if to catch her if she ever fell.
She made it to the meeting hall without falling though. Still, he stood by her side. She swung the door to the hall open and staggered up a few steps until she was now on a raised platform which bore the throne. She staggered a few more steps around the throne, her heavy, teary eyes blinking red.
"It's like he took half of my heart with him when he left," she sniffed wistfully.
"And he had been singing it to my ears for the past few days that I must be strong, that if he didn't survive..."
Then, she stopped to lower her head. Her son misunderstood this too quickly, thinking she was going to fall, so he caught her.
"So eager to catch me, Damian?" the queen looked up at him from his protective arms.
A little embarrassed, the prince released his mother and threw the arms behind him. "Now that Father is no longer with us, I have to be here to support you. It is my duty as your son, isn't it?"
Queen Lauren tittered feebly, "But I'm not that weak- just not yet. Your father wouldn't forgive me for it. I have to be strong. I remember when I was fourteen, I lost a pet cat, and I fell sick for months brooding over it..."
She woke herself from the memories flooding in, and took a brave breath, "But I'm stronger than that now. And I want you to be even stronger for you are the next king of Amaden."
The queen looked at the bare throne and back at her son, "It's a new dawn for the kingdom. It's your time to take over the reins and rule our people. Always remember, my dear, that there's a huge responsibility lying ahead of you. There's a whole kingdom out there looking up to you and pinning all its hope on you... and you cannot let it down."
"I can muster enough strength to stand by your side to support you, Mother, but to be king is..." the prince shook his head as he struggled to find the words he needed. As far as he knew, he wasn't really the strongest man around. He wasn't the smartest either, so following in the footsteps of the great kings he would most likely never live up to seemed very daunting.
But his mother always thought differently. She would hold his hands all the time and tell him he had all the making of a great king; that with time he would see it. Damian really wished he could share her faith, but it was always hard not to notice how undeserving of the throne he felt. Lauren was holding his hands before he knew it, her usual words replaying. That he had all the making of a great king and with time he would see it. Damian sighed. All he could see were writings on the wall about the great feats of his ancestors and doubt in his own mind if he'd have any to his credit. A century-old story played in his mind; about the king who built Amaden, the one who stood tall when the tyrants of Anthill Kingdom conquered the seven nations, who offered tributes to the conquerors in a bid to save all seven, who fought a war against the tyrants for a chance to win back freedom, who swore that the kingdoms would never fall even after the war was lost, who weathered every storm to keep the land alive, and how the five kings that followed upheld his legacy. He was the seventh king now, but sadly, he couldn't help but feel crushed under the weight of the royal expectations. 
Lauren pulled his hands closer now, breaking into his thoughts. "You shall ascend the throne soon, Damian", she said, her gaze steady on him, "and what rules a kingdom is not one man. By a king's side there's always a queen, a companion to light your way in dark times."
"To light my way?" the prince was amazed by his mother's choice of words. "But, Mother, I'm not..." he found himself grubbing about for words again.
Lauren, on the other hand, wasn't really planning to leave him a say. "I already have an eye out  compiling a list of eligible brides- princesses and daughters of noblemen all through the land. You will choose a queen, and your coronation will hold on the same day as the wedding."
Damian shuddered. Marriage? Now? He faked a calm smile at his mother, and straining through that, he said to her, "Mother, wouldn't that be leaping too soon?" Then his tone fell almost to a whisper, "Could we just postpone the marriage a bit?"
His mother didn't speak now, but her eyes said it all. What they said was that his fate was sealed. He was getting married.
"But there will be no one in charge of the royal court if you insist that I choose a queen before I'm crowned," he said with one last spark of hope that he could get her to change her mind.
But his mother gracefully put it out. "Don't worry about that," she said. "I'll hold the fort as regent and step down as soon as you're crowned."
He could go on lighting another, but knowing it like his own name that he could never beat his mother at an argument, not after twenty-five years of trying, he sighed an agreement, "Very well, Mother."
"I can feel the future drawing nearer, my dear. I can already see you on that throne, strong and never faltering, with your queen by your side," Lauren said poetically with a smile glowing on her face. Damian unfortunately didn't share the sentiment. Hanging on to his fallen shoulders, he tried not to sigh any more. But the fact remained; he wasn't ready to get married.
Just then, the courtier, Sir John, came in through the door holding the king's crown on a platter of bronze laid with a thick bed of red velvet.
"Greetings, my queen. Greetings, my prince," Sir John paid his respects, turning to each of them. Now, to the queen, he declared the reason for his presence, "Your Majesty, I have come to ask in my capacity as the courtier about your plans for the coronation of the crown prince."
"Send word to the kingdom, Sir John. The prince will be crowned; not alone but with his queen," Lauren said the decisive words. They made Damian shudder again.
"As you wish, Your Majesty," Sir John nodded.
"Let me know as soon as the messenger brings the list," the queen's  voice was filled with anticipation.
"Of course, Your Majesty," the courtier nodded again.
Then, she came down from the raised platform and took the bronze platter from Sir John. She spread out the velvet, draped it over the crown slowly and returned it to the courtier.
"This goes back to the king's quarters," she said. "Thank you, Sir John."
"My pleasure, Your Majesty," the courtier shook his head dismissively. Then, he nodded at Damian, "And I suppose the prince has been informed about his new training sessions."
"Training sessions?" Damian jumped.
"Yes, Damian," his mother turned around to answer. "A few days ago, I wrote an invitation to four of our best warriors to come to the palace to train you for battle."
"And they've written back," Sir John added. "They'll be here by morning tomorrow for your first session. So there's going to be a slight change in your schedule." He gestured how slight with his fingers.
It was one surprise after another now, Damian guessed. As promised, four celebrated warriors; Sir Maverick, Sir Robin, Sir Benedict and Sir Darwin arrived at the palace early the next day. The late king's training ground was opened, and the combat lessons commenced immediately.
It took the prince a few tries to get to know his new teachers.
First on the list was Maverick, the youngest of them all. He was only a few years older than Damian. He seldom talked; as if saying a word would kill him. Coupled with that, he was an unusual teacher; he would never pass direct orders. All he would do was throw a weapon at Damian and challenge him to a fight, highlighting his errors but never correcting them. What, to the prince, seemed like getting beaten nearly to a pulp and being left to his own devices was what Maverick believed to be training.
But Robin was the opposite. He taught in clear words. He talked more than he taught though. He was the kind that mixed business with pleasure. Often, he would dive out of training into telling Damian random stories about his journey as a warrior and how he won the greatest battles of his career. But the prince still preferred this by a large margin to getting demolished by Maverick.
The warrior brothers, Benedict and Darwin were always in a world of their own as Damian never remembered learning a thing from them. They preferred to sit at a corner of the training ground and talk in their secret brotherly codes, occasionally cheering the prince on when he was up against Maverick.
One thing Damian could easily sum up was that the four warriors, each outstanding in his own place, were better as warriors- not teachers. But he was prepared to learn all he could, knowing he wasn't anywhere near perfection, and the kingdom awaited a seventh king.
On one of those few days he trained, he overhead a conversation between Robin and Maverick. That was one of the few times he'd had the grace of hearing Maverick talk.
The taciturn knight had tasked him with arranging a heap of crossbows in a line and loading them with arrows- which he had no idea how to. He admitted it didn't surprise him much that all Maverick left him was his own instincts. He simply got to work with the instincts then. He'd listened in on the conversation over that crossbow battle. Damian wasn't sure if they knew he could hear them, but it was most likely that they didn't, taking how carelessly they spoke.
Robin, being the talkative, had started the conversation.
"Maverick, what do you think of our young student? Do you think he has it in him to be a great warrior?"
In reply, Maverick merely chuckled. A brief moment of his characteristic silence followed before he finally spoke up.
"I don't see a great warrior in him yet, I'm afraid," he shook his head. "He's always holding back."
"I find him the same way too; I only wanted to know if you had a different opinion." Now Robin shifted in his seat and sighed. "I knew his father when he was alive. I know what a tigress of a mother he has too. King Howard was courageous and fierce; he was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. I had admired him for years of my life. I still do. Now I wonder, how could they have a son so weak?"
"Don't be too quick to look down on people, Robin. If I remember clearly, I said I don't see a fierce warrior in the prince yet. If the winds can change, so can he. The boy could be a surprise in a box for all you know," Maverick said.
"Right, right. You have a point," Robin nodded. "I do like the boy, honestly. He's respectful, he feels like a friend and has a good sense of humour too. I just hope, for the sake of the kingdom, that he discovers himself soon."
"I wish I could say we'll help him do so," Maverick rolled his eyes down.
"What do you mean by that?" Robin frowned. "You can speak for yourself, but I'll give him all the help he needs!"
"I never said I wouldn't train him," Maverick pressed Robin's rising shoulder back in place. "I'm only saying that having four teachers teaching him the same thing could be a bit too overwhelming for the prince. All the boy needs is a single teacher he understands, one he can keep up with, not more."
"Do you think we should tell the queen that?" Robin held a thoughtful hand to his chin.
"Question Her Majesty's judgement at a time like this?" Maverick shook his head, "You said she was a tigress, didn't you? Try it if you have a death wish."
"I sure don't," Robin dropped his hand in surrender.
He leaned towards the other knight, "Now, Maverick whom do you think Damian keeps up with better; you or me?" Then, he nodded at the idle brothers across the ground with a rather jokey look on his face, "Or Benedict and Darwin?"
But the quiet Maverick went quiet again, ignoring the question like it meant nothing. Robin was offended, of course, but he chose to shrug it off, knowing how silent Maverick tended to be.
That was when Damian ran over to their seat to report that he had finished the crossbow task. Maverick took a look at the water clock and raised his eyebrows.
"Less than a quarter hour! You might just be able to keep up with me after all," he said as he jumped to his feet to resume training.