The Emperor's Heir Part 1

Reads: 630  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

An Emperor, A Son, A brother, and betrayal

Dece is a humble boy introduced to a vast world of conflict and suffering. After years of unjust treatment by imperial soldier's and the suicide of his mother due to the imperials mistreatment of her, Dece develops a burning hatred of the Empire. After discovering a secret of his fathers he is set on a journey which could present opportunity's to appease his hatred and grant him revenge. Dece travels far and learns much of his ancestors and his roots. He learns of the secret order the "Priors" and of the evil "V" worshipers which the Empire is made up of. He also encounters foul men and beasts under the imperial rule.

After meeting with the priors they send him on a undercover mission to the "V" worshipers school of wisdom where he will learn "words of potent" (words that allow you to manipulate certain aspects of nature)and discover that not everyone in the school is evil as was presumed. Friendships, romances, and betrayal entail.

The Emperors Heritor

“The empire’s no good son. Not to honest folk like us. They have these other fools scurrying around in fear. But not the Wagonpulls no. We won’t be threatened by a bunch o thieving dogs”

The town of Glásfields used to be filled with striking sunlit days. Cattle used to graze in there ever reoccurring paradise of grass. Drunkards used to partake in their favourite hobby daily at the tavern. Old friends used to recall tales to each other and laugh at old jokes. The town use to be secluded from the outside world. The people in Glásfields knew nothing of heroic tales, priors, decisive battles, kings and emperors. A simple quiet life was what you would find.

The memory of his old life brought a tear to Dece Wagonpulls’ eye. The sun was just rising in the solemn town of Glásfields. Though its rays gave the grass its vibrant colour no one in the town admired the splendour. Young Dece saw only a sliver of the suns light. It crept through a narrow slit in the roof of the tent, illuminating the sword on the table in front of him. The swords edges gleamed threateningly; it was a sleeping terror, a beast waiting to be awoken by its master.

The tent in which he was in had a musty smell and a hostile appearance. Maps and parchment lay strewn on the ground around him. Behind the table ahead of him was a throne-like chair and behind that a massive portrait. The portrait was of the emperor himself. Towering and menacing he looked. Dece stared at the painting and cringed. Tens of swords and shields lined up against shelves around the tent. On these shelves were numerous amounts of books.

Dece’s mind raced. Why does the commander want to see me? Why would someone like me be of interest to them? He longed to be back in home with his father laughing, debating, listening to his rants about the empire’s good for nothing but stealing from the poor. He smiled imagining what his father would say to him now. “Son, ain’t no good gonna come of being afraid, especially of being afraid of these imperial bastards!”

That was one thing Dece treasured in life. That after everything that’s happened his father still kept his rebellious and charismatic personality. There was a time when Dece lost all hope, a time when he cursed God. He watched his Mother succumb to depression. He watched as she ceased her day to day routine. As she slowly let the grief claim her. Dece never found out the true reason why his Mother took her life. His assumption was that it had something to do with the Empire. The moment they arrived was the moment his Mother’s downward spiral begun. And Dece hated the Empire for it.

Dece took one of the books off the shelf. It looked old and gloomy; it had a red “V” painted on the cover. There was no visible title. He opened it and found a page full of foreign words and strange symbols. Below was a translation in the common speech, he began to read;

The Path Of The Revered One. The following is a manuscript of volume 1 of Emperor Slicicus’s writings to be produced to the acting commander of said garrison(s).

3786 yr Of the 5th Era.

I write these transcripts from studies and teachings I obtained from the ascended king himself.

Those in which let their gazes wander upwards will obtain the ultimate weakness. The path to be taken is in front of you. Worthless is he whose gaze turns up; you must show him the path and if he does not see what is in front of him the flame awaits him. Study the speech that manipulates the world. Only then can you hope to progress along the path. Use these powers in the name of The Revered One to harness their true strength. Any who use these in another name are disrupting the road on which the path is taken. There bodies must be broken.

The book carried on telling of things Dece didn’t understand. There were strange decorated drawings of men fighting, but not with regular swords and shields. Each man in the battle was doing something extremely foreign to Dece. Some stood with their palms outstretched. Some form of energy emitted from the palms, carrying their enemies away. Many carried strangely coloured swords and staffs, none carried shields. Dece even spotted one man whose sword was on fire!

“Enjoying yourself?” said a voice. Dece spun around to see the garrison commander standing there with a disdainful expression.

“I’m sorry sir I was just looking around”, Dece said humbly. Dece knew enough of this infamous soldier (as did the entire town) that he was a ruthless man and easily provoked. He frantically put the book back in its rightful place. The commander approached him, armour clanking in rhythm with Dece’s heart beats. He had an unnatural looking scar on his face. It stretched in an arc from his temple to his cheek. He wore intimidating steel plated armour, with a red cloak hanging from his neck. His entire ensemble was dyed a threatening black. The same red “V” from the book was painted on his chest plate.

Dece had grown into his teenage years seeing that eerie red “V” all over the town. It was forbidden for town’s folk to discuss the purpose and significance of the red “V” which seemed so important to the Empire. It was on all imperial documents and armour but prohibited to be discussed in all corners of the empire. This gave it a curious aura of mystery.

The commander spoke to Dece in a sarcastic tone.

“Please do entertain me with your name”. He took a seat in the throne-like chair and looked up at Dece with a dispassionate expression. His eyes were blood-shot nearly to a point of where you couldn’t recognize the colour beneath the red.

“Dece Wagonpull son of Antranicus Wagonpull sir”, he said in a humble voice. The soldier, who had in the past few moments a tedious countenance, eyebrows rose. His father’s name stirred something within him. He looked more eager.

“And what Dece, is your age?” he asked. Dece noticed the soldier was tapping his foot repeatedly.

“Seven and ten sir”, he replied.

“What is your profession boy? “He asked.

“I am but a humble farmer sir”, Dece replied

“And you father?” he said

“The same sir”, said Dece

“Tell me boy, do you know who I am”, he stepped closer as Dece shifted uneasily. Outside the tent Dece heard shouting.

“No sir I do not sir”, Dece said uneasily. But he knew very well who he was and of his atrocity’s.

“LIES!” yelled the soldier abruptly. He shot up from the table. Dece jumped back in shock, knocking over pottery which smashed upon the ground. “You know very well who I am and of my exploits!” snarled the commander. He sat back down and relaxed his tone. ” Now tell me what is it the locals have nicknamed me?” he smiled cunningly. Dece was in a complete state of dread now, almost unable to speak. He was falling into a terrible nightmare to which he could not awake.

“Sir”, he stuttered.

“Speak it” he scorned.

“The scarred despoiler”, blurted out Dece. He regretted it the moment he said it. He winced expecting a final decisive blow. He made his peace with the gods and closed his eyes ready to see his mother again. After a moment or two of no happening he stopped cringing and looked up to see the soldier smiling. Amazingly he seemed unoffended. More than that, he seemed pleased.

“You expected me to be insulted”, he said smiling. Dece was mystified “As for my scar”, he ran his finger down the grotesque disfigure. “It is an honourable war wound. One in which I have no shame showing conspicuously. And despoiler you say? Well I am the acting commander of this garrison am I not? It is within my rights to ravish your woman. And I must say”, he smiled showing bright yellow teeth. “I have earned that title prominently. Dece felt nauseas staring at the vile man. In previous minutes Dece had only excruciating fear for this man. Now he realised how much he despised him. His anger grew and surpassed his fear.

He wondered in what sick way the soldier justified his actions or even if he justified them at all. Perhaps he was just a wraith not feeling any human emotions. Just a man addicted to instantaneous pleasures and obeying his masters commands on his leash.

Dece did not raise his gaze from the floor. Dece again heard shouting outside the tent. The despoiler continued; “I knew very well all along your father poked his nose where he shouldn’t but to find out from an informant that young farm boy Dece Wagonpull openly opposed the Empire in discourse and thus insulted the Emperor himself”. Ice crept into Dece’s mouth and seemed to encase his entire body. “Thus breaking the code of his greatness’s law”. Dece tried in vain to swallow. ” The penalty of this offense is subjection to the Dracors and ultimately....” The commander paused and smiled. “Execution”, he finished. Dece didn’t speak, he couldn’t. He would never see his father again, he would never laugh and joke and smile and hear tales of foreign lands and heroic knights. His last sight on earth wouldn’t be a loving fatherly smile or epic battle scenery like in tales, but the grisly, tormenting teeth of a dracor. The long forgotten face of his mother shot into his head. Will I see her again?

I guess you will be joining your whore mother sooner than expected.” started the commander. “You know it was thanks to her in the first place how I got that dreadful nickname. Even though I was considerably gentle with her compared to some of the others”. He grinned recalling an appalling deed of the past. It felt as if a flame in Dece so long kindled was revived at the mention of his mother’s name. The depression, the suicide, it was all as he guessed; the result of the Empire. His hatred of God for taking his mother was directed a different way. He let his malice rule, his morals vanished. All human instincts of survival and rational thinking stopped in Dece’s brain. He no longer cared about his life. He was a volcano so long dormant which was just prompted to erupt. He could feel hatred rising as like lava, about to spurt out in one glorious instant. “However I must say she did taste the nicest”, added the commander. The volcano erupted. The mountain blew. The ground shook.

In a spur of a moment in which his rage ruled, Dece charged at the despoiler. His immense fury overshadowed his lean build. Dece grabbed the sword on the table just as the soldier shouted something. He raised the sword high and swung it in an arc, attempting to slay his enemy. Just as the sword came down the commander sidestepped. Dece went to thrust it again but the commander knocked it from his hands. As Dece bent down to pick it up a fist smashed into his face and he was blown backwards. He tasted warm, bitter blood in his mouth. The commander picked up Dece’s fallen weapon and spoke; “Insolent worm”, he spat on the ground. He made threatening cutting manoeuvres with his sword. “I’m going to prolong this”, he said. Then again for the third time Dece heard shouting outside. Who was that? A rescuer? Or perhaps they brought a dracor here…?. Just as the commander rose the mortal weapon there was a shriek and a gargling noise behind Dece. Dece saw the commander lower his sword with a look of astonishment on his face. Dece spun around to see a dead soldier with his throat slit on the ground and a tall stout man in front of him. “Good fer nothin”, the man panted.

“Father”, cried Dece. The joy that his father was here overpowered his distress. At that moment Antranicus Wagonpull didn’t look like a regular hearty farmer, but a noble warrior of great courage. He stood there with his ragged clothing and thick boots but with a countenance of determination. The commander resigned and dropped his weapon on the floor.

“Take the boy and leave. I have no quarrel with you”, he said. Antranicus was not too amused.

“Aye but I have one with you”, he stepped forward. Dece’s respect for his father rose substantially. He had to choke back tears of admiration. ” Your outrages stop here imperial. You will harm nobody else”, said Antranicus.

“I will not inform my superiors.” pleaded the commander. You and the boy will not be bothered I swear it. There is but under 20 men in my garrison I will instruct them to grant you absolution”. Antranicus did not relax his grip on his sword but moved forward. With each step he took the soldier that so frightened Dece in past years grew smaller and smaller. “Have mercy. Have ethics. No good will come of killing an unarmed man”, he urged. Antranicus raised his sword high over his head.

“Where was her mercy?” he asked. With that he brought the great sword down in tune with the commander’s final plea. He wiped clean his sword and left his adversaries hewn body smeared across the floor.

Dece had never seen his father kill a man. He had never even seen his father in any sort of quarrel. His respect was equivalent with his fear that his father was capable of such ferocity. When his father spoke to Dece it felt like it was another man. “We must leave. I’d say we take the road east as quick as we can boy. There’s a Rebel faction about 40 miles up there near Redfields. With our luck they won’t send Hunters. Aye we’ll be safe there but we must be quick about It.” he explained. Dece was confused. How did his father know of such things?

“Father, rebel factions, hunters, how do you know these things?” questioned Dece. His father looked down on him with a peculiar expression.

“There’s so much you don’t know m’boy.” He said. Light danced in his father’s eyes and for an instant he appeared to be a different man. A man Dece never got to know. A man of mystery, bravery and adventurism. Dece wanted to get to know this man with all his heart.

“Then explain Father please”, Dece probed. This new man met Dece’s eyes and smiled. It was a faint smile, not of joy but of irony.

“Well first off m’boy, you better stop calling me father.”

Submitted: March 27, 2012

© Copyright 2022 TheMcCarthyPhilosopher. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Facebook Comments

Other Content by TheMcCarthyPhilosopher