6

  They cleared the port of their fleet and docked at the outskirts, near the shore.

  Everyone gathered around the king. "We are going to build a town. The sooner we are done, the sooner we can get off the ships. We will begin with the blueprints. Any engineers among us?”

  Five men raised their hands.

  “You all are going to begin with the blueprints. And the others will give you whatever you need.”

  The engineers sat and worked day and night as the others hunted for food.

  In three weeks, the blueprints were ready.

  “This is perfect. We are a total of four hundred survivors. This can house all of us.” The king said as he looked through the blueprints.

  The engineers smiled at the king, pleased.

  “We hope this will give us our old lives back.”

  “We will never get our old lives back, but we can make a decent one.”

  And thus, work began. On the first day, they dug soil for the bricks. Before they knew it, night struck.

  All were asleep. Except the king who sat under candlelight writing something aboard the Ashreign, in his office.

  Thavron walked in and asked,

  “How long do you think this will all take, Kal?” And sat opposite to him.

  "Maybe four to six months.”

  “We don’t have Voltherium here. So…wood?”

  “Yeah, and coal. Not as efficient, but we have to work with what we can get.”

  Thavron paused and asked, “Do you feel any different here, Kal?”

  “Uh, not really…it is all in the past.”

  “Does your son know?”

  “I don’t think it is the time for him to know. He asked, but my wife shut him up.” The king paused and said, He can live without knowing it.”

  “They say destiny cannot be denied. What if it’s his destiny to know?”

  “He is a half-blood. Destiny might not be keen on helping those who aren’t fully within its grasp.”

  Thavron stared for a bit and got up; about to leave, he said, “Half or full. It exists in him. Havoc will happen, Kal, and you are the only one who can stop it.” And walked out, closing the door behind him.

  The king sat there staring at the door for a little while. Then continued on with his work.

  The following days were the same; men worked, the women cooked and took care of everybody.

  “Weird, my father. Despite his royal status, he works like everybody else.” Kaelith said as he sat on a boulder at a distance with Elira, from the men working, one afternoon.

  “That’s what makes him a great king. He sees himself as one of the commoners.”

  Kaelith didn’t reply.

  “Kaelith?”

  “Oh, uh, just wondering…about how I went from not even looking at you to practically spending my whole day with you.”

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  “I don’t know. You are a former aristocrat, and are a girl.”

  “What is wrong with girls?”

  “Can’t stand their hideous opinions.”

  Elira went silent. Lost for words, she walked away from there. Kaelith sat there, continuing to watch men work.

  Lunch time came, and all ate.

  Kaelith sat eating when his mother approached him. “What the hell did you say to Elira?” She asked.

  “Nothing,” he continued eating, without even looking up at his mother.

  His mother took his plate from him and walked away, as Kaelith sat there.

  Elira followed her and said,

  “Thank you. He has been like that since the incident on the ship.”

  “Next time he speaks like that, tell me. He shall know his fucking place, that bastard.”

  Three women serving saw this, and one of them said,

  “The queen is ruthless.”

  “How does she remain this active while pregnant?”

  “That’s the queen of Syntar for you.”

  “What happened to the previous queen and prince?”

  “I don’t know, I haven’t seen them since we arrived.”

  “Ran away?”

  “Maybe.”

  Just as they were talking, they were interrupted by Bren,

  “May I please have more stew?”

  The women stopped chatting and continued to serve.

  Slowly…brick by brick, plank by plank; four months after the evacuation, New Syntar was born.

  The men got together on the ships at night and drank, ate, and danced. While all women and children slept.

  The king was praised for taking up the labor to work on the town, like other men. All survivors respected him for this and were ready to give their lives for him. And thus, the king never needed guards and roamed the streets alone.

  Cargo and belongings were unloaded from the ships and shifted inside the houses. Once the ships were emptied, they were moved to a boathouse.

  "Elira,you can come stay with us." The queen said. Upon hearing this, Kaelith became irritated.

  "No thank you, your majesty. I will live in a cabin."

  "Are you sure? I will check on you once a day to see if you're fine."

  "Mother. Why the hell do you care about that girl. The person you need to care for us yourself, as of now. " Kaelith said.

  She looked him in the eye and said, "Don't you dare ever tell me what to do, boy. Now shut up."

  "You been like this since we arrived."

  "Punched an eight-year-old boy, spoke wrong about a gender and expect me to be all angel with you." "Sinners get the devil treatment." Kaelith went silent.

  Everyone moved in and settled.

  Queen Elizabeth visited ‘New Syntar’ upon completion. She was astonished to hear that unmarried women roamed around at night without chaperones and that the king didn’t live in a palace.

  “Had a good time, your majesty?” The king of New Syntar asked.

  “Indeed, I have. Your nation stands far beyond what I had anticipated.”

  “Well, I am glad that you approve of us.”

  “I will take my leave now.”

  “Then may your journey be a safe one—and know that our doors remain open should you ever return.”

  The people of New Syntar waved the queen goodbye as her carriage drove off in a distance.

  “She wasn’t that bad,” Thavron said, mildly surprised.

  “The laws here are relatively better than in the other parts of Europe. That’s why I set course to Tilbury.” The king replied.

  “Yeah, they aren’t as bad as they were when I used to come.”

  “Now that she is gone, let’s get back to our work.”

  The crowd dispersed, and all individuals continued on with their work.

  A few days later, Thavron sat in an alehouse. Just as he was about to drink, the king walked in and said, “Thavron, we are leaving for the palace of Whitehall tonight.” And left.

  The whole alehouse went in silence. Thavron gulped his jug of ale, paid for it, and walked out.

  Night struck. The king and Thavron got into a carriage and began their journey.

  “Why the hell do you want to go there at night? And wasn’t she here just a few days ago? Couldn’t you ask then?” “Ruining my sleep,” Thavron asked, irritated.

  “Too bad I forgot.”

  “Motherfucker.” Thavron whispered to himself. The king noticed, but didn’t say anything.

  They traveled through the night, making stops on the way for the horses to rest. And arrived the next morning, at the palace of Whitehall.

  At the gate, the king asked, “We seek audience from her majesty.”

  “Greetings. Her majesty, as of now, isn’t at Whitehall. Please come at another time to seek audience.” The guard replied

  Upon hearing this, the king ordered the carriage driver to turn back to New Syntar.

  “We came all this way, and she isn’t even here.”

  “We will go at another time.”

  Thavron’s face was filled with anger. But he kept silent.

  They reached ‘New Syntar’ by midnight.

  “Why did we even go there? You have been giving me suspense like no tomorrow. What the hell were you even going to ask her?” Thavron asked, frustrated as they got down from the carriage.

  The king walked up to Thavron and looked him in the eye. Stared for a second and walked away.

  “I am home.” The king said, coming inside.

  “Father, you’re back!”

  “Son? You’re still awake?” The king asked, confused.

  Out walked Kaelith’s mother.

  “Oh, it’s you. You sounded exactly like Kaelith…”

  “I didn’t. You’re so tired that a little deep voice can trick you.” Mari?n said, laughing.

  “Kaelith asleep?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Well, I have a little work. I will finish it and be back with you.”

  "Why are you always busy?”

  “My dear, I am the king. The fate of all of us depends on me.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  She didn’t say anything. She stared, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and went away.

  The king went to his study. He began writing a letter. He was done in an hour or so. He put the letter in an envelope, marked it with the Syntarian navy seal, put it in his drawer, and went to bed.

  The next morning, the king, still in night clothes, took the letter to the messenger and ordered him to deliver it.

  The messenger tied his horses and began the journey. He delivered it and came back the next morning.

  Lord Tharyn waited for a response…but none arrived. He gave up and assumed the queen hadn’t even read the letter. He forgot about it and continued to live.

  Her majesty the queen arrived back at Whitehall weeks later. Sir William Cecil read all the letters and passed a select few to her majesty. She read all the letters she was handed and decided which should be replied to.

  “Good Cecil, let us have the whole packet of letters that arrived in our absence, without exception.” She ordered.

  Cecil bowed and brought all the letters he had filtered out.

  She looked at them, and a specific letter caught her eye. An envelope with the seal of a raven and a ship anchor.

  “Why was this not brought to us?”

  “Madam…ravens are held by many to be tokens of ill fortune. I thought it unfit to trouble your majesty with a letter so marked, lest it bring offence or disquiet.” He hesitated. “If it please her majesty, maybe we shall have it cleansed?”

  "That will not be required. You may withdraw.” She said as she opened the letter.

  Cecil bowed and walked away.

  She read the letter:

  To the Queen’s Most Excellent Majesty,

  With all humility and duty, I make bold to lay this petition before your majesty. We, the people of New Syntar, having found refuge under your majesty’s gracious protection, do most earnestly beseech leave to exercise trade with foreign lands, for the better sustaining of ourselves and those who depend upon us.

  We submit ourselves wholly to such conditions, duties, and charges as it shall please Your Majesty to appoint. We ask neither ships, victuals, nor any provision from the Crown, but shall furnish all things necessary at our own cost and labour, seeking only your majesty’s license and favour.

  If it shall stand with your majesty’s good pleasure to grant this request, we shall hold it as a singular grace and bind ourselves to live peaceably, obediently, and to the profit of your realm.

  And thus, humbly commending ourselves to your majesty’s wisdom and mercy, I pray God to preserve your majesty in a long and prosperous reign.

  Your Majesty’s most humble and obedient servant, Kal Tharyn King of Syntar

  “Consider your request granted, Tharyn. You have lived quietly without trouble in our realm.”

  She called for Cecil and instructed him to issue a license. He bowed and left to begin the task.

  The license issued by the Privy Council was delivered to the king two weeks later.

  And so, trading began for the people of New Syntar.

  Dawn of 23rd Aprion; a month and a half after the completion of New Syntar. The weather was clear, and men loaded a ship with wooden crates.

  “Swords, Shields, and arrows. Six crates of each. Is that right?” Thavron asked a laborer as he noted it down.

  “Yes, sir. That is all.”

  “Good work. This is our first trade ship since we got our license. We mustn’t disappoint lord Tharyn.”

  The first cargo ship from New Syntar sailed to Le Havre. The French were a little hesitant at first. But then loved Syntarian products more than any. After the French, it wasn’t long before the Italians began trade.

  Humongous cargo ships sailed to all parts of the world from New Syntar. New Syntar became rich. Getting more ships, a military, and weapons. The wealthy saw Syntarian goods as the highest of quality. But this success came with two catches. Other Craftsmen didn’t particularly like their success, as their goods weren’t being purchased anymore, and with the wealth increase, taxes also increased accordingly.

  One night, two weeks later, a drunk man arrived at the gates of New Syntar. The guards took him to the hospital for temporary care and informed the king.

  He was young, so people weren’t aggressive. The next morning, the king came to see him.

  “Who are you and what brings you here?”

  “What happened?” “Where am I?” He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

  “You are in a hospital in the land of New Syntar.”

  “I drank…and now am here.”

  “You look too young to be drinking. How old are you?”

  “Sixteen years of age, sir.” He hesitantly replied.

  “Awfully young, what misfortune must’ve befallen you?” He said in a tone of pity.

  “I live on the streets, stealing. Am an orphan, ran away from the orphanage.”

  The king paused, “well rest up, and let’s see what we can do.”

  Lord Tharyn got up and left.

  “What do you plan to do with him, Kal?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s let him out once he is well.”

  “He is well. Kick him out.”

  “He is an orphan.”

  “He is an Englishman.”

  “What can a sixteen-year-old do to make you worry?”

  “You know, what.”

  “That time was different.”

  “You’re playing with fire.”

  “I am king and I will grant refuge if that’s what’s needed.”

  “Well, don’t let it backfire then.”

  Later, guards came and took the juvenile to a small cabin.

  “This is where you will live. You can eat there and bathe there.” “We will bring you meat and vegetables once a week. As ordered by the king.”

  And they left.

  The juvenile began living there. He went and met the king again and shared his desire to learn blacksmithing. The king paused and said,

  “Come with me.” And took him to a workshop where a man sat hammering hot metal.

  “Lord Tharyn…what brings you here to my workshop?” He said, laughing, in a kind voice.

  “I have a boy who wants to learn your craft.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Miles Turner, sir.” The juvenile replied.

  “Well, Miles, you can begin with getting me some wood for the furnace. Take that axe and cut some trees.”

  The juvenile looked at the king.

  “Well…don’t be shy.” Bren said.

  “Take good care of him Bren.” The king requested.

  “Sure will, my lord.”

  And the king left.

  Miles went cutting trees. He was back after a few hours; with wooden logs in his hands.

  “My god. Didn’t expect you to actually do it. But this tells me that you will do well, dear

  apprentice.”

  Miles learnt everything Bren taught him, well. On the afternoon of 13th Altitherm; two months since Bren took him in; Miles sat sharpening swords, alone. Bren came back to the shop and said with a big smile, “Miles, leave that there and come with me.”

  Miles stopped and replied, “but we have an ord-”

  “Just leave that there and come with me.”

  Miles was confused but followed his master. As they were walking he asked why he was smiling and Bren replied, “the queen has had a child.”

  “Which one?” He asked hesitantly.

  “The queen of Syntar Miles! I just heard the news.”

  Miles’ face lit up in happiness.

  They walked to the hospital and joined the crowd gathered there.

  The royal family walked out with a baby in the queen’s hands.

  “I would like you to welcome my second son. Kaelis Tharyn.” The king announced.

  The crowd cheered in happiness as they welcomed their new prince.

  A banquet was held for the new prince’s birth. Delicious food, booze, bright lights and smiles all over the land!

  “Happy for ya Kal.” Thavron said. As they sat at the table, with beer. Thavron gulped his beer and said, “people are asking on who the next admiral will be; now that you are the king.”

  "What? Why’d you bring that up now.” The king replied, drunk.

  “We don’t have one yet. We began in Aprion. It’s time we have an admiral. God knows how long the symbol on the sails will guard the goods.”

  Kal paused and replied, “the man who I ordered to kill Magnor.”

  “Him?”

  “Yes. Didn’t even flinch when I ordered the killing.” He laughed.

  “First time, such a low rank is being promoted directly to admiral. But sure. I will handle things from here.”

  The party ended and all went back home early in the morning. The family arrived back home and Kaelith went to his room, pulled out his journal and wrote:

  1 in the early morning………………………………………………………………………………………….14th of Atitherm

  Dear Diary,

  I am a big brother now. And the older prince of New Syntar. My mother is still recovering. I just got home from the party. Good night. Or good morning, but I will sleep still.

  Kaelith Tharyn.

  Both Miles and Bren arrived back at the shop.

  “Sir, we have an order of swords still pending.”

  “Well, let’s finish them now, then!”

  Bren and Miles worked through the night to finish the swords. Once they were done, around seven in the morning. Miles got up to leave.

  “Where are you going?” Bren asked, tired.

  “Back home,” Miles replied in a scared tone.

  “No. Don’t go anywhere. Sleep here on the floor like I do every day.”

  “Won’t it be…uncomfortable?”

  “A real man doesn’t care about comfort. Come, sleep. We were awake all night. We need sleep now. Or we might hammer our hands instead of metal.”

  Miles laid on the solid floor, it was uncomfortable. But somehow, nonetheless, he fell asleep. In

  the evening, he woke up. Bren was still asleep. He looked around and fell asleep again.

  Lord Tharyn came in the evening to check on the swords but found both asleep. He didn’t disturb

  them and went back.

  The next morning at five, Miles woke up to Bren fueling the furnace.

  “Awake? Did you sleep well?” Bren asked.

  “Yes…it was actually really great. How long did we sleep? Nearly two days?” Miles replied, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

  “Uh-huh. Get up now. We have work ahead of us.” Bren laughed. “Right.”

  Miles got up, washed his face in a bucket of water, and began doing the tasks Bren assigned him.

  As Bren was heating metal, Bren asked, “Miles, how long have you been here with me?”

  “Uh…two months or so, sir.”

  “For an apprentice to learn this much in two months is quite shocking. Maybe you were destined for blacksmithing.”

  “You taught me so well, master.”

  “Really? The first thing I told you to do was cut wood.” Bren paused and said, “I think it is time you learn the secret of Syntarian metalworking.”

  Miles looked up and stared. He said, “You trust me with the secret of your craft so soon?”

  “it isn’t really a secret, just a secret from the rest of the world. Otherwise, it is the most normal thing on Syntar.” He laughed and said, “Come tomorrow for the last part of your training. Then you can open up your own shop. In England or in Syntar. But if you plan to open it in England, make sure to keep this a secret so you get an upper edge.” Bren winked.

  “What an honor, sir.” Miles bowed.

  “Get up.”

  Miles got up and stood.

  “Now go home and come back tomorrow.”

  Miles went home and cooked himself a stew, and ate it. He just sat the whole day drawing the scenery in his notebook.

  The king came to Bren’s shop.

  “Lord Tharyn!” Bren said, laughing. “What brings you here?”

  “Nothing much, just came to check on the order of swords and shields.”

  “Oh, those are ready; you can pick them up now. You didn’t have to come; you could’ve sent somebody else.”

  “I also came for Miles. Where is he?”

  “Oh, I sent him home a while ago.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Tomorrow is the day he will learn the secret of Syntarian metalworking. The main thing that sets apart Syntarian metalworking from other metalworkings. I was hesitant about telling him that, but might as well, since he has come this far.”

  “Was he a good apprentice?”

  “Oh, a very good one! The greatest apprentice I have ever had in my forty years hammering metal.”

  “Not all aspire to be metalworkers or blacksmiths. It’s good to have somebody I can pass down my craft to.”

  “Good then, I will be off.”

  “Sure, do visit again, my lord!”

  And the king walked away.

  The next day, Miles came to the shop. Bren was there hammering metal on the anvil. Bren saw him and said, “Miles! Welcome! Have a seat in your last class with me.” “You were a great blacksmith, son. I think it is time for you to learn it. The secret of why Syntarian swords are sharper and longer lasting.”

  Miles sat down with curiosity.

  Bren took a pause and said, “The secret is, we don’t quench our swords in water. We do it in fat.” “Water makes the sword hard, but brittle. But fat or oil makes it less hard and bendy. So, the sword quenched in fat lasts a little longer. A bent sword is better in battle than a broken one.”

  Miles paused. “Thank you for trusting me with this knowledge, sir.” “And may I ask you a question?”

  "Yes?”

  “How is it that you quenched the swords when I was always here?”

  “You see this cauldron in which you and I have quenched hundreds of swords in; that isn’t water. That is fat. You were quenching all the swords you made in fat all along.”

  Miles got up, shocked, “This is fat? Why doesn’t it smell, and how was it always liquid? And how is it that it didn’t catch fire when we put red-hot metal in it?”

  Bren laughed and gave him a slip of paper. “This isn’t regular fat. This is a special kind. Now go. This is my last teaching. But remember, you’re always welcome here.”

  Miles bowed in gratitude. And he cried, “Thank you for everything.” He said before getting up, wiping his tears, putting the piece of paper in his pocket, and running back home.

  He went home and began packing a bag. As he was packing, he remembered that a little bit of the liquid in the cauldron fell on him while quenching a sword and that it felt viscous.

  That same night on the 15th of Altitherm, Miles disappeared.

  The next day when Bren opened his shop, Miles didn’t come. He didn’t think much of it until the king came and asked about Miles. Bren said that he hadn’t seen him all day…

  Alarms started going off for lord Tharyn. He searched the cabin and the nearby landscapes, but Miles wasn’t found.

  Miles was deemed…dead. Lord Tharyn went to Bren’s shop and broke the news to him. Bren smiled and said, “Oh, uh, that’s sad.” But both knew…the smile wasn’t true.

  The king left and came back a few hours later to check on Bren, but the shop was closed. He asked around and found Bren sitting alone with bottles of liquor.

  Lord Tharyn came up to him and said, “You said you were fine. But you clearly aren’t fine.”

  “My favorite apprentice. I saw him as my dear son. He died on the same day he finished training!” He drank. “What did he do wrong to deserve that faith!”

  “It's fine, we just know he went missing, not whether he is dead or not.”

  “Oh, please, he cried the day he finished training. A man only cries when it’s most necessary. And what reason did the boy have to leave this town that welcomed him warmly, or cry crocodile tears?”

  “We don’t kn-”

  “Just leave me alone.” Bren cut the lord off mid-sentence.

  The king sat up and left, as Bren sat there drinking till he passed out.

  At an unknown meeting spot, the sixth night after his presumed death, on the empty streets of London. Two men met.

  “Did you find out their secret, Miles?” Horace asked.

  “Yes, sir. They don’t quench in water. They quench in fat.” Handing Horace the piece of paper, Bren handed him.

  “That’s all? Even if we do it, we never manage to get their quality.”

  “And this is?”

  “The method of producing the fat. It’s different from regular animal fat.” He paused and asked, “May I please have my payment of sixty gold coins?”

  Horace looked at the paper and said, “You may.” And pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the neck, killing him on the spot. “Sixty gold coins? I wouldn’t even give you half a gold coin.” And spat on him.

  Horace dragged the body to a closed shop and knocked on the door. The door was opened by a man, and the body was burned in a furnace.

  Suddenly, more Syntarian swords began circulating. Prices went down, and even English craftsmen learnt to make Syntarian weapons. When the Syntarians found out, they began checking their records. And more swords were found than the number written in the records. It didn’t take them long to figure out that…it was Miles.

  “You happy with that, Kal? That bastard you gave refuge to was a damn spy.” Thavron confronted the lord in an irritated tone.

  The king sat there calmly. He then spoke, “We can never let Bren know. He might take his own life if he finds out that Miles was a spy.”

  “Yeah, fine, whatever.” “Now tell me what the hell are we going to do?” Thavron yelled. "You played with fire and it burnt the whole place down."

  Syntar’s economy took a big hit with that mishap.

  Since the mishap with the swords, the king was now in rage. He took every possible measure to prevent such a mishap from happening again. He wrote once again to her majesty Elizabeth. In the letter, he stated that no civilians other than English government officials shall enter through the gates of New Syntar. And those who entered will be taken care of. She again granted that request but increased taxes accordingly.

  Three months later. The queen sat at Whitehall on the balcony with William Cecil. When Cecil asked, “Madam, I pray thee—wherefore dost thou so freely grant each and every wish of the Syntarians?”

  “Because they pour gold into our coffers, good Cecil. We thrive upon their favour, and thus ’tis wisest to keep them well-disposed toward us. With every wish fulfilled, we raise the levies, and still they render payment without a murmur.”

  Cecil went silent.

  The queen looked up and saw thunder and rain when the sky above them was completely clear.

  Cecil observed too and said, “It is coming from New Syntar. I presume it is witchcraft, your majesty.”

  The queen stared at the unusual phenomena in shock. “We shall ensure that the residents have no harm and set up a government building in New Syntar.”

  “Why not send soldiers, your majesty?”

  “We shall first know that it isn’t something dangerous. If it isn’t, by sending soldiers, they will no longer be well-disposed to us anymore."

  “Who shall we send then, your majesty?”

  On the night of 5th September on the Julian Calendar. A man walked out from the Beauchamp tower. Malnourished, with overgrown hair in shackles.

  He was seated in front of the queen. "Thou hast erred greatly, yet I offer thee grace. Serve me as spy in Syntar, and thy pardon is thine. Betray me, and death shall claim thee without mercy."

  The man was silent.

  “I shall take thy silence for consent.”

  The man was taken away.

  TO BE CONTINUED...

  Beginning of Act 2 A sprout.