The King

Larkin has heard the stories. The legend of the progeny of evil that reigned terror on earth. Everyone has been told these as fables to be heeded, but it was especially true for those to inherit the throne of their fathers. The next generation for the 10 kingdoms. Rosemount was one of the highest, because of that, he has to be held to a higher standard. He had more of a burden to carry. He feels the weight of his duties every time his father calls him to the courtyard. In such a beautiful garden, it is less of a time of admiration and relaxation; instead, his father turned it into a place to discuss plans for his succession. He sits on a bench where an arch entangled in vines and flowers sits overhead. There is a glow over his father from the evening sun, bathing him in a golden light. Larkin stands next to his father on the bench, hands gripping together behind his back. He looks at the sun melting into the ground. “Time seems to have flown away with me, the sun is already setting. The day has been so nice, I had to enjoy my time in it,” He comments. Larkin lets him sit in his solace, admiring the bleeding sun. “Is that why you called me here, to talk about the day?” He asks. “I am lucky enough to see many days like these. I am sure there aren’t many of them left.” “Father,” He reproaches from such a blunt statement. “I have been through many wars. I was no better than those who have died at my hands, in the name of the 10 kingdoms. ” Larkin is familiar with his speeches about the olden days. Where the entire world descended into darkness, plunder, and greed. That was how the legacy of the dark king was born. He speaks about how it was a long time ago, but his hair was still blonde, although dull, not as shiny as it was when he was younger. His face was pure but showed signs of withering in the corners of his eyes. Still, while he pictures many years for his father, the king's voice rings weary. He feels something deeper is impending in his train of thought. “Is there something wrong father?” The tweeting of birds fills his father's silence as he thinks. “Our worst fears have come to light. A few days ago, Emos sent word of the rise of the dark king; they have joined him and urged others to join too.” “I have heard stories, but that is all I thought they were…stories.” “No, I am afraid it is all true. The time of war and cruelty is coming,” His father pauses. “And I am too old to handle another war.” He looks at his son, and he immediately understands. “It is time, Larkin. I must pass on this burden to you.” He understood but it made him all the more reluctant. “You have a whole country to protect, and you won’t be doing it alone,” He says as if sensing his concern. “I have proposed to the Mave family.” His eyes return to his fathers, feeling his chest twine like vines. Although his father might have thought it would reassure him, it instead made him all the more anxious. He can’t hide the twinge of disappointment reflecting through his eyes. “Carissa…” Larkin says quietly. “Yes,” His father found this look to be ungrateful, “You are Hylander’s. Do not be ungrateful for the coincidence of your gifted blood and close family friendship.” “I understand, he says, yet his father still seemed disappointed by the way his head tilted to the ground. He gets up from the bench, turning fully to his son. He places a hand on his shoulder with a firm grip. Larkin notices how his face seems to have aged. “The day is finally ending. Join me for supper unless you have other reservations tonight?” “I…won’t be able to make it.” His father smiles, “I thought so.” Being in the company of people was sure to lift Larkin's spirits. The kingdom is stifling with loneliness, but here he feels insignificant. No one knows his identity, though he prefers it this way. Still, his father wouldn’t allow him to go without Morris. One of his father's best fighters and Larkin's greatest friend. He sets down his pint, leaning onto his elbows as Larkin explains what his father has said. “Now I am supposed to marry Carissa.” “Carissa,” he chuckles amusingly. “Well, it makes sense. Her father is the top supplier of weaponry. He rules his guards under a hard fist.” “Still, it is not something I expected...” “What did you expect? You are a prince and you need an heir,” he says bluntly. The mention of it still made Larkin gulp down his mead, wanting to be drunk if this is what is going to be discussed. ”I barely remember her.” “Yes, she was an odd girl,” Morris recalls. Larkin rubs his finger through his head, resting his face onto the counter. “I am sure it won’t be terrible. It has been 16 years, and the girl could have changed. If it is for the good of the kingdom, who cares?” Larkin only looks up to signal for another drink. “I know, but I am still not looking forward to it.” "It's your duty as a Hylander, especially when times only get harder from here," Morris says bitterly. The Demon King is on everyone's mind. Word has come from Dara that on the anniversary of his death, firelight was seen from miles away. Everything living--animal or insect stayed clear of the source. It was like they could sense something unnatural commencing among those who had gathered. The gatherers are said to be old knights of the demon king, who wear masks to hide their deformities. They sacrificed the sorcerer who placed him in his bound tomb. "You must be prepared," Morris claims. "I am."