As the door slowly closed in his face, Diarmaid kept his gaze upon the back of his sister as she entered the throne room. As always, he found himself in the same position as he had since he was young, watching her walk forwards while he was forever at her back.
It was no secret that their father favoured her over him, part of him resented her for it. Yet he also knew that their fathers' attention was not an enjoyable thing to endure. That he had learned from what little experience he had with such attention.
It was also no secret that their father wished that Medb was born a boy. That fact was something he had continued to hold over both their heads from the moment Diarmaid had shown lesser talent than Medb. And as the doors to the throne room closed before him, Diarmaid released a low sigh, his gaze momentarily flickering to his feet and trailing up his body.
Every inch of him was clad in expensive azure blue and green clothing, the Royal Coat of Arms emblazoned upon his chest, an indication of his royal status. Decorating the cuffs of his tunic sleeves was a eye-catching, symmetrical pattern taking the shape of numerous symbols such as the Triquerta, Triskele and the Dara Knot. Symbols of longevity. Of power, intellect and love as well as destiny.
Yet as he reached out with his right hand, tugging upon the sleeve of his tunic, Diarmaid did not acknowledge the expensive clothing's worth, nor that if sold it could potentially feed a family for a year. No, all he acknowledged was the responsibilities and burdens that weighed upon him as a result of wearing it.
Above all else, he recognised how he wanted nothing more than to be free of them all. Free to see the world, free to do what he wished, to live as he decided. To simply be free.
However, as his gaze flickered up, moving from the clothing he wore to the intricate artwork carved onto the double doors leading to the throne room, Diarmaid was reminded of why he could never do such a thing. Why he could never be anything more than the son of King Cathal and a descendant of King Flann I. No matter how much he wished it, he would always remain in their shadow, unable to escape the burdens of kingship because the Kingdom of Éire was built upon their lineage, those bearing the family name of Fui Dé. He could never escape that, no matter how much he wished it.
Flann I had fought against the Sceitheadh Balor spawn and servants of Balor Béimneich, King of the Fomorians. He led a coalition formed of all the kingdoms of Avalon, beating the hordes back in a long, bloody campaign till he eventually sealed them away. It was a long and bloody crusade lasting over decades in which the forces of man fought against the Sceitheadh Balor. The greatest of all the kings of Éire and even of all the kings in Avalon, surpassed only by his father, the Great King Lugh who ascended to the stars as a God. That was who he was descended from and ignoring his own fathers' achievements, Diarmaid knew it would be impossible to ever shy away from his duties.
The Kingdom of Éire was built upon the blood of his ancestors and he could not be the one who led his family into ruin. 'Especially not when Medb is risking so much. How could I possibly hide when she is risking her own life?'
"Prince Diarmaid, what are you doing here?" Spinning around, the young prince turned to see an older man in his late forties or early fifties walking towards him. He was hunched over, a cane held loosely in his grip as it rapped against the ground. Contrary to this, he moved with a certain finesse, a refined movement that showcased strength and poise. The cane he used for balance creating an almost echoing sound throughout the corridor. His form clad in a white tunic with a golden cloak wrapped over his right arm, a golden chain connecting from one end of the cloak to the other. Even with the expensive robes he wore, one could not deny that he looked almost clown-like in appearance, an outlandish appearance that contrasted with his countenance. A scarred and wrinkled visage of his face telling the tale of many years of battle. Yet the smile he gave was comforting and warm. "Are you not meant to be with your tutor?"
Diarmaid didn't answer, ashamedly looking to the ground once more as to not meet the gaze of the man before him, only to look up when he felt a hand placed comfortingly upon his shoulders and was once again met by the kind smile of the older man.
"Don't worry about it, I remember that the tutors my father would hire were dreadfully boring. Old men like them usually are. It will be our little secret." The man told him and Diarmaid felt his lips twist up into a thankful smile.
"I don't think you're boring, nuncle Killian." In fact, Diarmaid was always eager to learn from the older man, he had a way with words that made even the most boring of subjects interesting and engaging. He told jokes oftentimes being the butt of his own and was so very unlike his tutors and other nobles that he was liked by all. Well almost all, Diarmaid knew that many of the nobility whispered behind his back, judged him. They did the same with him, it was why Diarmaid always loved to be around the man.
"Come on, I'm sure his Excellency will not mind if I take over your tutoring today," Killian told him and Diarmaid felt an eagerness grip him.
"Really?"
Killian nodded his head to the side. "Come." As they turned back down the corridor, they made their way past the main entrance, servants carrying boxes to the carriages outside. Guards clad in sleek, narrow helmets, a compact cuirass with Coat of Arms of the Royal Family emblazoned upon the surcoat they wore. In one hand, a large, circular shield and in the other, a large halberd larger than any man. Behind them, a dark green cape flowed out as they marched along the corridors, patrolling the Pálás an tSolias and protecting the Royal Family.
They were a prestigious organisation, consisting of young heirs to noble families and men who had achieved great prestige and glory upon the battlefield. Yet while they possessed durable and strong armour and boasted the greatest weapons designed by the best blacksmiths in all of the Éire. Their shields on the other hand were made of yew wood and decorated with their personal emblems or in the case of the heirs, their house symbols. Their appearance was mostly ceremonial and while no longer active members of the army, were leading figures in the City Watch and the last line of defence should the palace come under siege.
Making their way up the main stairs, Diarmaid looked out at the open doors leading to the palace and out to the world beyond. It was dreary and dark, the storm clouds hanging over them like the executioners' blade waiting to descend. Yet he didn't feel any fear, only an intense yearning.
He was so close to the outside, so close that he could feel the wind brushing against his face, and rustling his hair. It was so close that Diarmaid felt like he could reach out, take a single step and be there. Not in the palace, with all its rules and restrictions, but out in the world, free.
"My Prince?" Blinking, Diarmaid turned away and looked towards Killian who stood a few stairs above him. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Diarmaid said nothing more, continuing up the stairs once more. Eventually, the two reached a crossroad upon the sixth floor of the palace in which two long corridors intersected. Yet both went in different directions, Diarmaid to the left and Killian to the right.
"Prince Diarmaid, not that way."
The young Prince of Éire turned to look at him questioningly. "Are we not heading towards the study?"
"Not today. I think we should give you a change of scenery and a different type of lesson." Smiling unsurely after a momentary pause, Diarmaid rushed to close the distance between the two of them and continued down the opposite corridor.
"So, what are we going to be doing today?" Killian did not answer vocally, instead, the two came to a stop outside a door, the guards who had been stationed outside moving away after a dismissive hand gesture from Killian. Stopping outside, Diarmaid looking from it to Killian in shock.
"Nuncle Killian? What are we doing here?"
Killian smiled at the words, pushing open the door and letting Diarmaid enter inside, which he did after some hesitation, still struggling to believe what was happening. As he stepped inside, Diarmaid looked around with awe at the interior which unlike the rest of the palace, was not made of bright, marble stone that was illuminated in unnatural white light. This chamber was made entirely of dark grey stone, lanterns glowing with a pale blue flame, a direct result of the Magic Powder used to fuel it.
Looking around, Diarmaid let out a short laugh, eyes trailing over to the windows on the opposite side of the room, to the large wooden, oblong table positioned in the centre, where dozens of chairs surrounded it. He then passed over the numerous suits of armour lined up on the walls, ranging from the earliest forms to the most recent, a representation of the advancements made by the people of the Éire over the years. To the shelves of books detailing information about the various kingdoms in the continent of Avalon and the many maps of countries, provinces and counties rolled up into scrolls. Finally, his gaze landed on the most eye-catching feature of the room, a map centred upon the left-hand wall, one that detailed the entire continent of Avalon.
"The War Room?" Diarmaid questioned, unable to believe that he was here.
Out of all the rooms in the palace, it was the one room in which Diarmaid had never been inside before. His father had been firm in the stance of keeping the War Room closed off to everyone except his most trusted advisors.
In here, all decisions to do with military campaigns and plans were made. The King and his advisors would oftentimes spend days on end locked away with no one seeing even a hint of them. Not even servants were allowed in, forced to hand the food to the guards waiting outside who would, in turn, wait for one of the advisors to collect it from them.
For most of his childhood, King Cathal had been inside this War Room as they waged war against the Kingdom of Cymru. Due to that, Diarmaid had rarely seen his father growing up and had only recently seen more of him with the peace treaty being negotiated.
"Would father agree to this? He has never allowed me in before." Killian moved forwards, pulling out the seat at the head of the table. It was different to the rest of the chairs surrounding the table, larger, more intricate and lighter in colour.
"This kingdom will be yours one day, your father understands that," Killian replied, moving to pull out the chair to the right of the head of the table. "I know that he will not be against my decision. So sit, my prince."
Tentatively, Diarmaid moved forwards, one hand tracing the edges of the chair before moving round in front of it. Looking to Killian, the man gave a smile and a nod which Diarmaid shakily returned. Then, with both hands placed upon the arms, Diarmaid leaned back becoming dwarfed by its large size as he did.
As soon as he fully sat down in it, the Grand Duke of Ulaidh, Lord of Aontroim, Lord High Chancellor and Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, Killian Darini settled in his own chair. A show of respect and proper decorum that was not lost upon Diarmaid at all.
"How does it feel?"
Diarmaid could not find a way to vocalise the way he felt without doing it an injustice. The weight he felt upon his shoulders was immense and the imploring and genuine look of curiosity upon the face of the Lord Chancellors only worsened that pressure. Part of him felt like it was silly, to feel such a burden upon his shoulders, but he could not help it. The knowledge and image of his father sitting here, commanding respect and giving orders were stuck in his mind.
Now here he sat, in the place of his father. Just that knowledge alone was crushing and Diarmaid didn't know what to say.
It left him in a situation where he needed to say something, even opening his mouth to speak, but the words were stuck in the back of his throat. Luckily for him, Killian seemed to have recognised this and gave a smile, not a mocking one, but one of understanding.
"This chair is different from the others, more so than just its looks. When you sit in that chair, the decisions and choices you make decide the fate of not only everyone in this Kingdom. It also affects the lives of those beyond this kingdom, to those in all of Avalon." He explained and Diarmaid felt no measure of comfort from these words. "In time this feeling will pass and that is when you will know, you are no longer Prince Diarmaid, but King Diarmaid.
'But what if I don't want to become King Diarmaid? I just want to be Diarmaid, to be out there.' His gaze flickered to the windows and out to the open sky beyond it. The adventures, the stories, the legends he had been told as a child filled Diarmaid's mind. Stories of Cú Chulainn the Hound and his battles against ancient beasts. Stories of Scáthach the Shadow. Stories of Diarmuid Ua Duibhne of the Love Spot.
Great heroes who had made their marks upon history, Diarmaid had always looked up to them. He wanted nothing more in life than to be just like them, to travel the world, battle monsters and fight in great battles.
But once again, just as Diarmaid was beginning to lose himself in thoughts of adventures, Killian drew his attention away. "Can I ask you something, my prince?" Turning around, he watched as Killian waved his hand around at the quiet room. "What do you see when you look around you?"
He didn't answer right away, unsure of the meaning behind the question. "I see an empty room." Diarmaid made the simple observation which gained a chuckle from Killian.
"That is true, but I do not want a simple observation. So again, tell me what you see when you look around this room." Killian asked once more. "Take a moment. Look carefully at everything you see and then tell me."
With the instructions in mind, Diarmaid once again looked around the room. From the various suits of armour resting along the edges of the room. The various shelves holding books and scrolls, no doubt containing dozens of years of accumulated knowledge not only upon the Éire but also other kingdoms in the continent of Avalon. Yet his eyes constantly returned to look upon the largest structure in the room. The map stretching across the entirety of the wall directly opposite him, positioned perfectly so that all in the room could see it whilst seated at the table.
Upon the map lay markers, indicators of troop positioning both allied and enemy alike. Symbols denoting valuable resources such as mine shafts, black water sites and even areas rich in magic powder. All very important logistical information that would serve to help the growth of any future kingdom. Wars were won and lost not only on a battlefield but also in logistics. That was one of the earliest lessons Diarmaid had been taught by his tutors.
"I-I don't know." Diarmaid eventually vocalised, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to be seeing. "I apologise."
"No need, it is understandable, you are still young and learning, you have time to expand your understanding of the world with the experiences you will gain." Killian replied calmly. "When you look at objects and people around you, you simply see what is before you. What do you think a blacksmith sees when he looks upon unforged and untempered iron? Does he simply see a lump of iron or does he see a blade?"
Diarmaid remained quiet, unsure as to which answer he should choose. Shouldn't he choose the first one, after all, wasn't it more likely that one would simply see a clump of iron? But from what Killian had said earlier, didn't that mean there was more to the question than what was obvious? It was something that left Diarmaid uncertain despite the simplicity of the question, something Killian picked up on.
"It is quite alright if you don't understand the answer just yet. In time, as you grow older you will understand what I'm asking and then..."
Before Killian could finish, Diarmaid interrupted. "What was the answer?"
"The answer?" Killian repeated before smiling. "The answer is both. A blacksmith sees both what it is and what it can become. Just as I, as a noble see the land in which I control and the people that inhabit that land not simply for what they are, but what they can become also. A king and a prince must be able to do the same on a much grander scale. But this is something that can only come with experience, it is not something that can be taught. This is something you will have to learn for yourself."
Once again, Diarmaid released a sigh at the reminder of what was expected of him as the son and heir of King Cathal. Perhaps though he should be used to such a thing by now, everyone he knew from the nobles to the guards and the servants, all of them reminded him of his duty in their own ways. It was a constant cycle, one that he could never escape, no matter how hard he tried.
He was broken from his thoughts when Killian rose to his feet and moved towards the map. "Now, once again, tell me what you see here and here?" A scarred finger pointed towards numerous miniature green flags decorating the border between the Kingdom of Éire and the Kingdom of Cymru. Then they trailed down to where a darker shade of green flags decorated the western coast of the mainland of Avalon, with a fewer number decorating the eastern coast of the island nation of Éire.
"I see our army on the border of our newly annexed territories on the mainland bordering the Kingdom of Cymru. And I see our navy, patrolling the oceans between us and the mainland." Diarmaid listed. It was nothing more than basic information that anyone with a minor education on military matters could have surmised.
Furthermore, one of the main focuses of his education had been on military matters due to the war between Éire and Cymru that had been going on for decades. The fact that the Éire and Cymru kingdoms were neighbours with only a channel of ocean water separating the two, it was only natural that when the Éire sought to expand east, that they would come into conflict.
By the nod of his head, Killian was pleased with the answer. "Good, very good. But again, look closer. Pay attention to the number of flags and tell me again what you see."
Doing as Killian said, Diarmaid looked closer, studying both sets of flags with greater scrutiny and as he did, one thing stood out to him more than anything else. "Our army, it's smaller than our navy."
"Do you know why that is?"
"Because we lost a lot of men during the war." Diarmaid noticed the little twitch of Killian's lips and realised that once again, he may have said the right thing, but not everything. Which in turn left Diarmaid wondering what else he was meant to say.
"Think on it, never feel the need to answer right away if you don't know what the answer is. Take a moment, wait, think on it and then answer, understood?" Diarmaid nodded his head, looking out at the map in thought, thinking back to the many lessons he had taken looking back over the military of the Kingdom of Éire. With the war having raged on for decades and seemingly with no end in sight at the time, most of his education had been focused on military matters, tactics and the logistical needs in campaigns.
Considering the positioning of the Kingdom of Éire, investing in a huge army was not the biggest priority. They were an island nation laying off the west coast of the mainland of Avalon, a strong navy would ensure that any invading fleet would first have to get through theirs. Which considering the vast fortunes that had been invested in the development and advancement of their ships and the development of naval combat, would be impossible. This had provided the Kingdom of Éire unrivalled naval superiority, surpassing even the Kingdom of Albion. However, in turn, this had resulted in a vastly underdeveloped army. Unlike the other kingdoms which had standing armies of varying sizes, Éire still operated with levies.
Not only that but only the Royal Guards were provided full plate armour. The rest of the military clad in tanned leather and chainmail. It was why they had always avoided land battles and focused purely on their navy. Many hard years would be required in order to expand their militaries capabilities and their technology in order to match even the weakest of the kingdoms in Kernov.
"Our army is weak." Diarmaid eventually answered after much deliberation.
"It's underdeveloped." Killian corrected. "After defeating your uncles and claiming the throne, your father, King Cathal invested a lot of his fortune into developing our army and why? So that our once divided people after the civil war would become unified by their victories over a common enemy. You, Diarmaid, will be the King to have both. An overwhelming navy and an overwhelming army. We will be unstoppable and under your rule, we could unify Avalon, something no one since King Lugh has succeeded in doing. You would be known throughout history as the second coming of the God Lugh himself."
As those words rang in his ear, Diarmaid could think of nothing else. 'Conquer Avalon? My name would be known throughout history. Like Cú Chulainn and Scáthach?'