Dance With Darkness And Light - Chapter 2 Dead Prince Walking

The morning sun rose over the kingdom of Ra’Lun, and the dew slowly faded. But around the royal court, there was a dark air looming around, the nobles and servants looked dejected. The king himself was in a wrathful state, one second away from mass slaughter, and the queen kept to herself in her quarters.

Today would be the passing ceremony of one of the kingdom’s young prince’s, two days ago he died of unknown reasons. Surely suspicion arose within the nobles, but there were neither traces of poison nor any ill magic to be found within the fallen prince. There was no way to give any reason to the prince’s death towards the royal family.

In another place within the royal court someone just awoke, and the moment he did, he was gasping for air. He tried to move but, there was not enough room to do so.

He was confined in what seemed to be a wooden case, and the air was thin in his dark confinement.

The morning sun rose over the kingdom of Ra’Lun, and the morning dew slowly turned into fog. There was a dark atmosphere looming around the royal palace. The nobles and servants looked dejected. The king himself was in a wrathful state. One second away from mass slaughter. And the queen kept to herself in her quarters.

Today would be the passing ceremony of one of the kingdom’s young princes, two days ago he died of unknown reasons. Surely suspicion arose within the circles of nobles, but there were neither traces of poison nor any ill magic to be found within the fallen prince. There was no way to give any reason to the prince’s death towards the royal family. Seemingly, the twelve year old prince had died of natural causes.

In another place within the royal court someone just awoke. The moment he did, he was gasping for air. He tried to move but, there was not enough room to do so.

He was trapped in what seemed to be a wooden case, and the air was thin in his dark confinement.

There was a hoarse “Is that..a” to be heard inside it.

“If that’s not one hell of a way to be reborn, in a fucking coffin!!!” He thought to himself half sarcastically, half angered as the rage inside him kept swelling up. Simultaneously, something dark rose within him, oozing its way outside.

In just minutes, as the darkness and rage inside of him continuously rose, the pressure shook the wooden planks amd pulled on its nail. Piece by piece tearing the wood on the coffin apart.

Once disintegrated, he could move once again but getting used to this worn out and formerly dead body, took a bit of time. What unveiled before his eyes, was the picture of what seemed to be some kind of medieval mortuary.

“What the fuck is going on here? Didn’t he say something about a fetus that should have been prepared for me?” He thought.

He left the stench of death behind and exited the room. There he stood, butt-naked with the first whiff of fresh air under his nose, in some hall without any sense of where he actually was. He saw people moving around frantically in the not so far off distance.

“What’s going on?” He thought to himself, with the urge to see what all the commotion was for. Knowing little of the fact that the servants of the palace had to work ardently to prepare the prince’s passing ceremony. His own actual passing ceremony.

As he made his way towards the people, a young servant girl turned around the corner walking his way. He was just about to smile as the girl spotted him, dropped the garments she carried and screamed “Whaaaa pervert! Pervert in the halls!”

Within just a moment’s time, people came and circled him like he was some kind of scoundrel. This just added shock and insult to his confusion.

In his weakened state, and the darkness still looming inside of him, the anger rose once again. Slowly, killing intent started to seep out towards the crowd as an old man within it muttered.

“You-Young Prince?! How is this possible?”

This old man was one of the oldest servants and knew the royal family well, thus he also saw the young prince while he was still alive.

Naturally, his words caused quite the ruckus within the crowd.

Still, our now apparently young prince was already a little angered. “Prince huh? Who are you?” He said slowly with a sharp light flashing through his eyes.

The old man felt as if a sword was hanging above his neck as cold sweat rolled down his back.

But he centered himself and said.

“I’m Bram, one of the oldest servants within this wing of the royal court your highness.”

As he answered, the young prince was looking at the clothes the girl dropped.

“Young prince! You cannot wear that…get the prince something more appropriate!” The old servant reacted swiftly, proving his experience.

The prince beckoned with his hand saying. “Nevermind that, linen is just fine, I like to feel the air on my skin. You walk with me! The rest, scatter!”

As the rest of the servants went back – not knowing if they should proceed to work – the prince made Bram show him the castle and answered the prince’s inquiries.

So apparently this was the kingdom of Ra’Lun, one of the seven kingdoms within the Seven Kingdoms residing on the south-western coast of the Ytolonian Realm. His name was Bazuul and he was currently twelve years old.

“Bazuul…twelve years old…” He muttered to himself as his lips curled up slightly and his heart rate accelerate in excitement. “Bram, I will take you as my personal servant. I’m not sure what you did before, neither do I care.”

“Ye…Yes, your highness!” Bram’s old heart suddenly skipped a beat – this, to him – was a promotion of the ages. Before he was considered an elder-servant of this wing. One that was at most good to delegate between the other servants of the eastern wing. Thus he was well respected by the other servants. Now, however, as the personal servant of the prince, he had the respect and the status to stand above all servants and peasants. Even the nobles would have to give him some points of face.

Suddenly out nowhere, a tall robed man materialized before the two. Bazuul seemed intrigued. Bram, on the other hand, bowed.

“This humble servant greets the Magister!” Bram said, which caught Bazuul a little bit off guard, “Magister? So magic is a thing here huh?” He thought and immediately took a better look at the robed man.

“Magister is it? What can this prince do for you?” Bazuul said with a smile on his face, crossing his arms behind his back.

To the magister this smile did not seem kind nor benevolent, he felt a cold envelope his body and a seed of fear slightly grew in his heart. “Young prince, how is this possible, you died two days ago. The dead don’t walk unless there is dark magic involved.” the Magister asked.

“You are the Magister, you tell me. How exactly did I die hm?” Bazuul did not really answer but questioned the robed man. From the moment the magister entered the scene, his body seemed to be…scared in a sense, this should be a reflex belonging to the former Bazuul. The magister may act concerned – but considering this feeling he had – his heart should not be true, thus he did not trust him.

The question, in turn, caught the magister off guard and he said while walking towards Bazuul. “The reasons of your death were yet to be found out, young prince.”

“DO NOT take me for a fool, there really would be no use in investigating my death when the passing ceremony was to be concluded today. I may be twelve, but I’m not stupid.” He immediately refuted the hot air of an answer he received.

“Young prince, please don’t make it hard on me, let me make a basic check-up of your body.” The magister said with a troubled look in his eyes as he reached for Bazuul’s shoulder.

The split second before he reached his shoulder, it was as if time stood almost still to Bazuul. Deep within himself, he felt – as always – that he did not want to be touched. Like an automated protective measure, a tiny dark essence oozed out of his shoulder forming a tiny shield.

“Nobody touches me!” He said in a decisive tone as time went back to normal and the magister – upon touching that black essence – was being blasted away from him by immense pressure. Flying until the end of the hall he slammed against the wall. Although the end result looked more like the magister had been integrated into the castle wall.

This scene shocked Bram and Bazuul equally.

Bazuul, after the initial shock, unconsciously self-examined himself as cold sweat rolled down Bram’s back. The old man was scared and immediately formed a rule within himself to never offend the young prince. As he watched the young boy in front of him, he also realized that he too did not know what was going on with him or what he did, and how.

After regaining his composure he coughed twice and said: “Master, that was impressive! Now, where do you wish to go next.”

One had to admit, Bram was truly a well-experienced servant. Just to ease his master’s heart he made it seem like what happened to the magister was nothing to worry about. Bazuul, of course, unbeknownst to him was already twenty-eight years old, which reflected in the light, understanding smile he gave Bram. What in turn, through all this commotion this last hour, made the old servant even more so feel like he could not grasp this twelve years old’s mind.

“For now I’d like to go to my room first,” Bazuul said as he already thought a few steps ahead.

“Very well, master.”

As they reached the chamber, Bazuul started to realize his status as a prince. Since the so-called door to his room was already bigger in diameter than his former apartment on Earth. Conveniently, since he was assumed dead, there were no more guards stationed in front of his chambers. Making it easy to enter undisturbed.

Once they walked in, Bazuul was just flabbergasted. This room of his was practically the size and height of his former school gym. Coupled with marvelous architecture all in white stone, also, there was a huge open balcony on which one could see the whole eastern part of the kingdom.

“Is there anything else you need master?” The old man asked as Bazuul himself looked through the bookshelves of his study. Of course, as it was the study of a twelve-year-old there weren’t that many books on the shelves so he ordered his servant: “Bring me all historical, military and spiritual books you can muster!”

“Spiritual? Master, I think I can get you basic manuscripts, but one arcane codex alone is far from my reach.” Bram answered

“Arcane codex?” Bazuul thought inwardly. “For now that will be fine.” He said to his servant as he settled on his desk with a book about the history of the royal family, ignoring his servant from then on. Bram understood this notion and went on to complete his task.

An hour after Bram left, the door was slammed open and several guards rushed in. Followed by a highly enigmatic and well-dressed man. According to the book he just read, this should be the current king of Ra’Lun, King Varanur III. Father of the dead prince called Bazuul, his “father”.