The Dark Covenant

BEGINNINGS PART II

"Have you seen the young master?" 

The councilman inquired of one of the guards stationed in front of the king's chamber.

"No, sir, he hasn't arrived yet,"  One of the guards replied.

"But... has he not been seen around the castle since Noble school's lessons ended about an hour ago?"

The guards said, looking around, hoping they would see the young master.

"No, sir, he hasn't done so. The knight guards who were supposed to pick him up from school have yet to return."

"Huh, that's quite odd. I wanted to introduce him to Harmel. If he doesn't come back within the hour come and contact me directly. I will be in my quarters."

"Huh, that's quite odd. I wanted to introduce him to Harmel. If he doesn't come back within the hour come and contact me directly. I will be in my quarters."

The councilman passed them by.

"Come on, Harmel, follow me, and while we wait for the master, let me show you around."

The boy who had been trailing the councilman dashed towards him. He was enthralled by the castle's architecture, and he could only take three steps until a pattern on the ceiling enchanted him and he fell into a trance, gazing at it for minutes before the councilman called to him. He was in his early twenties, barely out of his teens. He had obviously never been in a structure as opulent as the king's castle.

IN AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

Drom made his way through the marshy ground. With each step, his boots dug deeper into the earth. The shouts of the knight guards could be heard from afar. In desperation, their parched throats cried out his name. They were well aware of the dangers they would face if word got out that they had lost the young master. But Drom was eluding them, as he had planned since the dawn.

He felt he was finally ready to confront him after three moons. It was a treacherous climb up the hill. His shins ached with each step, but his determination forced him to ignore the discomfort; after all, he needed answers, and a little pain wasn't going to stop him.

He saw the little shack at the top until he reached the edge. He approached it, stomping his boots hard to get rid of the mud that had clung to them. He didn't mind knocking; he literally shoved the door open and stormed in with authority. An elderly man sat in the room's middle, skimming through the pages of a book.

Drom inhaled deeply, filling his lungs and raising his head. He came up behind him and approached him.

"Hey!" 

His high-pitched voice yelled at the guy, and his labored breathing made it difficult for him to say more than a single word. When the old man glanced behind him, he lowered the book and angled his reading glasses.

"Oh, it's you, little boy."

"Why?!"

Drom questioned, his voice trembling. The old man frowned and scrambled his mouth, unsure how he was supposed to respond to that question.

"... I'm afraid you'll have to be more precise," said the old man.

As he resumed reading his book, the old man adjusted his glasses.

"Why didn't you stand up for him? He was your only child, and you let that traitor kidnap him!"

For a while, the old man read his journal, prolonging the silence. Finally, he let out a sigh and set the book on the table in front of him.

"Aren't you supposed to be at school?"

Drom's eyes began to well up. He started to weep quietly as flashes of memories he had sought to hide filled his mind.

"He was a close friend of mine. He wasn't just a friend to me; he was my brother. And he put his faith in you to protect him, but you let him down. And you have no remorse for allowing him to die!"

"I'm sorry, boy, but there was nothing I could have done to prevent this. My role as the kingdom's Dark Bender had to be relinquished. I don't have the ability to be the dark bender any longer."

"What about your obligations as a father?"

"... We're all flawed in some way. And if the next King of the Independent States is like this, clinging to an unchangeable past, I fear for the Kingdom's future! You will be the cause of its demise."

Drom's short fingers clenched tiny fists.

"Are you ready to fight me right now?"

"Daito, you never deserved him! You're like the vurhans in that you don't care for anything but yourself!"

The elderly gentleman turned away and took up his walking stick. His leg had been injured in a vurhan assault, but he kept quiet about it.

"Listen, boy, you're pointing fingers at the wrong person and picking fights with them. You are justified in your anger, but you are enraged at the wrong guy. I implore you to turn your anger into fervent confidence. And put your confidence in me. You know where to contact me if you're able to have a fair discussion with me. You aren't ready to learn the truth yet if you aren't ready to hear it."

said the old guy. The guards' booming voices could be heard reaching the shack. They stormed in, slamming the door shut.

"Young Master!" They chanted out.

One of them raised his voice. Drom returned his gaze to the entrance, but when he redirected his eyes to them, the old man had already disappeared, and the room was silent. It seemed as though he had dreamed it, but it was all too real to be a figment of his imagination.

"Young master, we are already late; we must arrive at the castle before dusk or we will be in serious trouble."

Drom stopped for a moment before walking out of the shack. With the sleeves of his shirt, he brushed the tears away.

'Put your trust in me.'

Those words continued to reverberate in his head. What exactly did the old man mean when he said that? The young king pondered those terms, and they soon found themselves at the castle's entrance.

The young king was greeted by the maidens, but he hurried past them. He didn't want them to notice he was crying.

"What happened to the young master?"

Even his knight guards shrugged their heads, as though they had no idea what was going on with him.

The councilman shouted at Drom from the other end of the hall as he stormed into his room.

"Young master! I'm glad you're back. I wanted to introduce you to someone."

Drom let out a long sigh. He dragged himself through the long corridor and into the chamber where the councilman stood. As soon as he walked in, he saw the little boy sitting on the bed, fluffing pillows with delight. He immediately lowered them as he saw Drom looking at him, his body stiffening as though he had been caught doing something wrong.

"This is Harmel. He will be your new spokesman from now on." The councilman said.

Harmel sprang from his bed and walked over to Drom, shaking his hand firmly.

"Hello, my name is Harmel, and I'm from Ruby City, which is located in North Angus. I'm delighted to meet you and hope we will become best friends."

Harmel noted Drom's swollen eyes as he was giving his introduction. He could still see a small coating of tears under his eyelids. His vivacious demeanor soon changed.

"Are you... Are you all right?"

He inquired. Drom charged out of the office, his hand outstretched. The councilman attempted unsuccessfully to persuade him. He moved his attention to Harmel.

"Please accept my apologies for the young master. To be honest, he's never behaved like this before; I'm not sure what's gotten into him!"

"Don't worry, sir; I'm sure he'll come around soon enough," 

He said it with a wide grin for the councilman. The councilman smiled back as he stared at him. He bent in closer, gently patting the top of his head, seeing the fire in his eyes.

"Now I know the young master is safe in your possession. Stay with him; I'm certain you'll lead him in the right direction."

"Sir, you may count on me!"

He stated his case. The councilman exited the room. Harmel had a resolute mindset, once he convinced himself that he was going to do something, nothing else would come his way and deter him. He had made up his mind to befriend the young king, and he set to do so, no matter the odds.

After a few moons, Drom and Harmel bonded and he hid his depressive personality behind a vibrant character that everyone enjoyed being around. Throughout the years, he tried to make himself a happier person. But on certain days, he remembered what he'd been told by the old man, and after a long time, he finally grasped what Hashi meant.

"Put your trust in me!"