’Finally! Just a few more formalities, and then the throne will be mine!’ Prince Syla’s thoughts, though meant to be covert, flashed visibly across his face. His eyes glinted coldly, making the elder before him sway back a little.
It was a fleeting emotion, but even though no words were said, one could imagine the thoughts running through their king’s mind.
Brian, the bookkeeper, who was at the back of the crowd that day, could only shake his head sadly. He had a hunch about what would happen when their throne was ’forcibly’ taken like what was unfolding in front of them.
"How sad!" He whispered. This comment made a few people by him look at him very weirdly, so Brain kept the rest of his thoughts to himself.
The few elders and wise citizens had already accurately stated all his concerns, but they fell on deaf ears, so who was he to challenge anything?
It was only prudent that one man be buried before his inheritance was taken, but in their case, this was more than its literal meaning.
A loud voice from the elder caused Brain to pay attention to what was happening at the front.
"Do you swear to put the needs of your citizens before your own and serve with humility per the responsibility you have been bestowed?"
"Yes, I solemnly swear!"
"Will you lawfully serve our Fae-land with honour and dignity, upholding and respecting the rites and customs of the lands of our forefathers from here on?"
"I will!" His strong voice boomed, but the underlying excitement could not be mistaken.
"Very well," The elder responded in satisfaction.
"By the power vested in me as the representative of our elders and the kingmakers, I officially welcome our new King!
"Long live the king!" The elder’s clear voice also boomed, reverberating throughout the crowded room.
That was the cue that Prince Syla and his family had been waiting for.
The elder bowed and readied himself with the crown.
"Long live the king!"
"Long live the king!"
"Long live the king!"
"Long live the king!"
A few of the Faes had spread their wings, flapping them wildly to keep them in the air so that they could get a better view. Obviously, this was only within the stand of the ordinary citizens, not the royal family or the elders.
In the crowd, a young girl sat on her grandfather’s shoulders. She hung onto his head and was shaking with excitement. Her grandfather shook his head and steadied the little girl.
"Thanks for letting me come, Grandpa!"
"Of course! You are old enough to see events too!"
Although young, the girl knew how much her grandfather had sacrificed to get them there. In fact, all the ordinary citizens there had paid a great deal of gold to see the ceremony in person. Such ceremonies were usually held in seclusion except for the testing part. However, their new incoming king had decided to cash in on this.
This had left a bitter taste in the mouths of many of them, compounding their sentiments about the coronation, but they could not help it. Such ceremonies were and could only be experienced once in a lifetime. The fact that there was a slim opportunity to see it, many had made the necessary sacrifices for the greater good. This old man was the first to mutter another negative statement.
"What are they doing? That is not supposed to happen like that?" His whisper was drowned out by the chants going around as they all concentrated on the last few things their king had to do.
No one would ever know how he knew that whatever was going on was wrong.
The elder rested the crown on his head, and Prince Syla was helped to his feet. The weight of the pure gold crown bore down on Syla, and he frowned slightly. The elder before him was the only one who saw this as the aids who had helped Syla up had retreated.
’Is it supposed to be this heavy?’ Syla asked himself as he tried to steady himself under the crown’s weight, which was getting heavier by the second.
The elder narrowed his eyes at what was going on. He could see that his new king was struggling to stand. He wondered what the issue was. He never thought of the crown, as he had been able to lift it and place it on Syla with no issues, but Syla behaved as if the crown itself was a weight he could not bear.
Syla closed his eyes, and a ’friendly’ scene flashed behind his closed eyelids.
’I have gone through a lot to get here, and nothing will stop me! Not even the throne itself. In front of all my people, I will ascend to this throne and show them that it is merely a myth that my brother, who was never even crowned, must be buried before I ascend. A mighty warrior like me does not need to follow such stupid customs and tests before I become the supreme power!’
It should be noted that Prince Syla was 100% sure that his brother Roman was no longer in the land of the living. It should also be noted that he started advocating for the throne just a few months after Roman had gone ’missing.’
This had been met with friends, but the royal family was supposedly untouchable, and no one had been able to say anything in his face.
It had taken Syla almost five years to get the quorum he needed, as the elders were finally inclined to believe that Roman was no more. As for Syla’s sentiments about his brother, it was just like the relationship between royal siblings: cordial in front of the masses and messy behind closed doors.
This, therefore, became a very important moment for him. He just had one task to do: walk up the few steps and sit on the throne himself.
This would signify his strength and his rule over all of them. However simple this seemed, it was anything but simple, and only the few royals who had completed this short journey could talk about what they experienced. Sadly, none of them were alive.
The elder took a couple of steps back and bowed.
With a deep breath, Prince Syla tried to ignore the crown, which then felt like a building bearing down on him. He started taking slow but sure steps up to the throne.
The voices in the room died down with the first step he took.
However, he did not move again for a long time, prompting some hushed whispers all around.
"Why is the prince not moving up?"
With all eyes on him, Syla had no way out. His leg trembled as he felt heavy pressure on it , but he gritted his teeth and moved up the stairs. His breathing came out in rasps as if he had completed a marathon instead of just scaling a stair. Looking at the few stairs before him and the throne on it, he placed another foot on the next stair.
Outside the hall and in the streets, a few people noticed from the large screen that something was wrong.
"Is that blood?" Someone asked, making all around concentrate. They saw a trickle of blood from Syla’s lips , and this confused them.
The veins in Syla’s forehead stood up visibly. It was at that moment that Syla knew that, he may not make it.
Adding his foot to the next, all Syla felt was immense pain and blackness.
For the rest of the observers, what they saw was something that they would never forget in their lives. They saw a visible force push Syla down the stairs. It swept across the room and the elder who was closest to Syla was flung hard against the nearest wall, never to wake up again.
The warriors around Syla were also thrown off, but at least, like Syla, they lived. It had taken a few good weeks before Syla woke up that day. He never became the king, and he lost the most precious thing to him: his core power. He retained most of it, but what gave him the best reputation as the unbeatable warrior was forever lost. It was like a punishment for trying to take what was not his. What was not meant to be, never could be!
Back to the present ...
None of the elders volunteered to explain what was going on after the Prince and his son made their presence known.
"What is going on here?" Syla’s strong voice boomed yet again.
The way he was addressed irked him as his lips twitched, but Syla knew that once he had not sat on the throne, he would forever be Prince Syla and not the title of ’King’ that he had always dreamt of. He could feel himself wilting away and the last thing Syla wanted to happen was his son being crowned as King.
All had been going well until that damn bookkeeper had mentioned his cursed brother Roman again!
"My Prince, so, this is what happened...."
After listening to the explanations, Syla and his son spoke together,
"Why are you not sending more reinforcements? Is this something to waste precious time on?"
"Yes, my Prince," the elder bowed in acknowledgement, and the rest followed suit. They could feel a repeat of that incident happening yet again, but they did not understand why Prince Syla was still insisting on taking the same path that had brought him doom!
He really did have a short memory!
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