A light shining in the dark of night attracts attention. The dancing of warm tongues of flame and the allure of their song mesmerize many. Moths and winged insects particularly find the pull so strong that they, at the risk of their already insignificant lifespan, chase after the warmth in a suicidal hunt for...something in their self-destruction.
Humans react in a similar way albeit they have a more conscious reason. Light, to them, represents many things; warmth, a relief from the stealthy and slow poison of the cold night; safety, the denial of the dark: where nightmares and monsters roam; and hope, like the lights of a town beckoning to weary travelers.
When a traveler first sees lights ahead a sigh may be followed by tears. To him the light represents the end of a hardship, a promise of fresh food and a warm bed. Of course he will do anything to reach it.
Different to moths the light does not need to be physical. Humans, with their reasoning, can determine what situations offer the most light in their dark cloud of hardship.
So was The Kingdom of Tyl ruled by the Shining King.
On the eastern coast the city jutted out into The Bay of Tyl. Every morning the sun would rise behind the castle engulfing it in dancing flames until a little before midday. Built of fine granite it shines bright white an eternal beacon to the weary and oppressed.
So it was this particular morning, splendidly clear with a deep blue that contested that of the ocean. The inhabitants of the castle were abuzz with activity. Maids hurried to their duties as the cooks prepared lists of needed ingredients to be procured from the market that morning.
Amid the commotion was the whisper of gossip. A maid, passing by a friendly guard, asked when they would arrive only to be answered with a shrug. A cook turned to the head cook and asked if they should get more than normal. After a nod, the cook grinned and started whistling a tune as he changed the quantities on his list.
No one was asleep in the castle, and that included a young man, sitting on a chair in the foyer of the King's office. He sighed as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. It was longer now, almost to his shoulders and the servants kept telling him how much he looked like his father.
He chuckled at this temporary distraction. His father had blond hair.
Then with another sigh he turned his attention back to his previous thoughts. Refugees were coming to Tyl once again. This was not concerning in and of itself. 'No, what is concerning is that the rest of the world is in a state where we receive refugees constantly,' He thought, 'We received refugees a little more than two weeks ago!'.
This constant increase in population had always happened during the reign of the Shining King, but the frequency and quantity had grown exponentially. 'Has it really grown that bad?'
The door to the office slammed open and out came a Middle-aged blond haired—a bit of grey showing around the edges—man walked out almost passing the young man before noticing him.
"Thayde, my son! Perfect timing! Are they here?" He asked, rubbing his hands together expectantly.
"No Father," Thayde responded with a sigh, "Father...don't you thin—"
"Son, I will greet them personally. Haven't I educated you already?" Cutting his son off the king, sent an inquisitive glance at his son.
Sighing Thayde remembered the various lectures his father had given him. Clearing his throat he quoted "It is the responsibility of the ruler to ensure the safety and prosperity of those placed beneath his care." He paused after seeing a nod of approval before continuing. "But, you also said that a king should do what is most important first and that he should keep his promises. Father, you are behind on accommodating all of the refugees from the last group. Right?"
Surprised by this sudden attack the king coughed before answering. "Hmm... you see," then realizing excuses would not make up for the lost time nor appease his son he gave in. "Yes, I am behind. But, those refugees right now are surviving off of pure hope. A hope that things here are really as they have heard. I want— no need to make that hope a reality."
Thayde stood with his mouth open and eyes wide. The conviction with which his father had spoken, stirred something in him.
"If I may, your Majesty?" Inquired a servant bowing. It was Alyx, master servant of the castle.
"..." The king hesitated for a second, he knew where this was going. "Speak, Alyx," he sighed.
"Thank you, Lord," a deep breath could be heard. He did not like speaking contrary to his lord but... "My Majesty, with all due respect, meeting with the refugees is a potential threat to your safety. What if there are spies? or worse, assassins!"
"I understand your concern for my safety, Alyx, but this is something bigger than me, it is about protecting people who only have hope. If I, the Shining King of Tyl: Beacon of Hope, cannot provide the dream that these refugees need, how can I face myself?"
Once again his father's conviction stirred something inside Thayde. This time he recognized what it was. He had felt it many times. To his father, helping the people meant giving them protection and hope that things would get better eventually.
'I don't understand how my father is content with bringing hope to people! We should just solve or get rid of the problem!' Thayde ran his fingers through his hair again. He was different from his father, and was trying to suppress it. He knew that his father, and mother, would be disappointed.
King Abyl noticed his son's gesture. "Son, would you like to say something more?"
This froze the hand within the midnight black hair, trapped within the confines of the night. Thayde looked into his father's eyes looking for a clue as to how much he understood from the gesture, and how much he should tell him.
The king did not miss the scrutiny, it eerily reminded him of a raven studying a field for a good carcass. A pressure came from the steady dark blue gaze. A shiver ran down the king's spine. 'What is he looking for?' He thought to himself.
The look changed, Thayde was noy searching anymore, he had made a choice. A shiver ran down Abyl's spine again as the pressure left. What had caused his pressure? Where had his son learned to do that?
Thayde cleared his throat "Father, as much as you would like to go greet the coming refugees that is not a viable option. Not only do you have work to do with the last refugees, but you are not in a position to risk yourself."
King Abyl's frown grew with each word.
"So, Father, instead I shall go in your place. Not only will it function as a personal greeting from the royal family but I have been trained for self defense since I could walk."
The frown lifted, turning into a gaping mouth which then transformed into a smirk. Lifting his hands in the air the King sighed, "You got me. I will stay and take care of things here. Son, I entrust you to take care of the refugees." He just wished his smile uid his unease.
Thayde's heart beat faster as his eyes widened. He had not expected that attempt to work. His father had always taken care of everything; besides education and school, Thayde had not contributed anything to the kingdom.
"Also, take Dreyden with you," the king added. This tempered Thayde's excitement a little. So he was not trusted alone, but then again, going with his best friend would make for a great adventure!
Seeing the rising excitement in his son's eyes the king could not help but smile, this time genuinely before a wave of sorrow crashed through him bringing up memories.
Bad memories... a boy holding a sword covered in fresh blood standing over a body.
Banishing the thoughts the king continued.
"I expect that you will do well Son. Have at it then." Turning before anyone could say anything more he quickly retreated into his office before his composure broke again. Why? Why had that child done it?
Left with Alyx in the foyer Thayde stared in shock at the door to the office. Had his father...just shed a tear? Why was he sad? Thayde could not remember ever seeing his father sad.
Alyx let out the air he had been holding before turning to the prince who was running another hand through his hair absentmindedly. "My Lord?..."
He would need to talk to his Father. Pushing these thoughts aside, Thayde focused on the task at hand. While he did not think it was necessary that one of the royal family greet the newcomers he did recognize that it would help soothe the turmoil and pain they had been feeling up till now.
He just couldn't help but feel that instead of treating the symptoms they should just get rid of the disease.
"Alyx, see to it that preparations are made so that all the refugees will have new clothes, a warm bed, and a generous meal awaiting them when they arrive." Seeing the crisp bow from the butler he continued, "I will be heading out to receive them as an advance party, please let Sir Gwayne know. Have him prepare a contingent of knights and squires."
"As you command sire, though if I may? Is it wise for you to go alone?"
"Alyx, who here can beat all the knights and can manage against Sir Gwayne himself? Besides, I will not be alone. Dreyden will be accompanying me." Thayde explained, somewhat exasperated. Why did no one think he was strong enough to go out?
As if summoned, a knock was heard at the door before a head with a mane of blonde hair popped in.
"See?" Motioned Thayde as his shadow took his rightful place. Dreyden upon noticing he was the center of attention performed a crisp salute, an astonishing feat when performed in full plate armor, and stood calm as a still lake.
"I see...," Alyx conceded somewhat. Each of the two young men before him alone were strong. Thayde favored the longsword and light armor, using speed to deal with his rivals before they had a chance to put up defenses. Dreyden was quite the opposite, with his shield and sword he would draw combatants in, letting them wear themselves out before dealing with them. None of the knights, not even Sir Gwayne himself, was faster than Thayde, and none of them could match Dreyden's endurance.
Together, they would be a powerful team...if they could coordinate.
'But maybe this will help' Thought Alyx. "Very well my Lord, I will alert Sir Gwayne and await your safe return."
With a nod Thayde turned to Dreyden "Come, we have some refugees to help!" Dreyden nodded back, dropping the salute before following his lord out the door.
Navigating through the corridors of the castle the two nearly running young men were greated by the many servants that were about. There was much work to be done on both sides, so when the two sped buy with the occasional "Good day!" The servants were not all to put out. There would be enough time for chatting after the work was done.
Reaching the stables in the courtyard of the palace they hurried to prepare their horses before heading for the castle gate leading into the surrounding village of Tyl. Living up to its fame the city boasted wide clean streets and organized city precincts. The road the prince and his retainer were taking led directly to the outer city wall.
As they passed by they were assailed by many greetings and well wishes. The people loved the king for imparting hope in these dark times. However, even as they were racing through the crowd Thayde could see the hidden tension, the somewhat too wide smiles, the creases around the eyes.
The truth was that aside from the Shining Kingdom, the rest of the continent was entrenched in tyranny, rebellions, slavery, and raiding. Although these citizens and refugees now had hope, they never knew when it would be taken from them. Each had a fire, a bright light, but it was surrounded by such a heavy and dark mist that once extinguished there would certainly be no chance to rekindle it.
'Why are they content with hope? Why not make it a reality?' Thayde understood instinctively, it was ingrained in him by his parents, but he just couldn't fathom why his father and the city insisted on letting the situation continue. Why treat the symptoms? Why not cure the problem?
As Thayde realized what he was saying he grew concerned. This train of thought had been very persistent recently. It ran deeply contrary to the teachings and ideologies of his parents. Despite that it felt right. Memories drifted together and played themselves in Thayde's head.
He could feel them slowly invading his mind, each one sending a stab through the heart. They were memories. Memories, of the events that led to his awakening, tearing him from the sickly sweet maw of the paradise in which he was born.