Lwazi had been standing at the crest of the mountain, holding the only piece around his neck that brought him countless emotions. Overlooking the sea that rested abroad the land, resting calmly under his cold gaze.
On the right before the sea, a long wide bustling river ran to connect to the sea. On the other side, he could see the Crystal Empire paying respects to the great uncle.
Seeing the King and Queen kneel in sequence, he found his knees kneeling along with the royal family as he paid his respects along with them.
Killing was something he had known ever since he could march on the battle. For his grandparents, being the only bloodline in his generation was not enough, he had to prove himself and work just as hard. That meant numerous bodies in his name, and a lot of blood painted on his hand.
Watching the burning platter flow so carelessly as it carried to join the sea. The waves magically welcoming it, to border along the lines that bind as the sea carried on to spread ahead.
His eyes carried him to the Queen being helped by her husband to her feet. What a cosy family they seemed to be, and how betrayed the young Lord suddenly felt. Did she ever think about him?
Not wishing to dwell on the past and swim in the sea of questions it seemed he himself could never answer. He turned away and went ahead to his horse to carry himself home.
He had prepared to seek audience with his grandfather. He had made up his mind and was set to continue the mission. Whilst for his grandfather, it would only be for power and expanding his reign, for him, it meant freedom.
If this was what was expected of him as the grandchild of the Wolf Imperial family, then this would be the last thing he would ever do. When Lwazi arrived at the premises of his grandfather, the Great Royal House. He had stood at the huge tall walls and wondered if it had been in his grandfather's plans all along.
His birth? was it ever a peace treaty, or was it just a scheme his grandfather had planned all along? He laughed at himself, suddenly realising how much of a coincidence his birth line was, it was obviously a devious scheme set by his grandfather. Of course it was for the Wolfs to gain ability to inherit the Great Spirit's power that he was born.
Seconds later, he had walked to his grandfather's chambers, only for him to kneel just after entering the door.
His grandfather, the Great Royal Lord sitting at the dining table, having his breakfast glanced at Lwazi nonchalantly and continued to chew. "Have you eaten?" he questioned moments later. Maybe because he felt warily that he hardly took care of himself, or maybe because he wanted him nearer just so he could have a look at the future King.
"No, royal grandfather," Lwazi had answered, a little shocked by his grandfather's affection.
"Come, sit." His grandfather was a man of few words. He only answered, questioned or ordered. This led Lwazi to wonder, what the relationship his grandfather had with his grandmother was built on.
Lwazi steadily rose on his feet and walked to his grandfather to take a sit across him.
He gazed at the old men infront of him with aware and calculation, silently studying him. He looked more tired that morning. His half of his dreadlocks were tired with a golden piece. And the other half was resting carelessly beyond his shoulders. This was a sign of his old age. Not only were his dreadlocks white in colour, his eye ends were a little wrinkled setting off an air of wisdom. His caramel skin was darker. "Have you and Royal Grand mother been okay?" Lwazi asked out of concern.
"Some days are better than others. It helps that your First Uncle has been taking care of most of the affairs." The old man answered, before he took a sip of the beef stew in front of him, made to warm his stomach.
"However, although no longer do as much work, there are some things that I must overlook," he carried on to say sharing a swift contact with the young lad infront of him.
The grandson had been watching him steadily that he somehow felt uneasy. He realised he had not touched his food, maybe because he didn't have the appetite, or because, he couldn't bring himself to share a meal with him.
"Eat," he commanded. Lwazi shifted in his seat, suddenly shyly looking at his plate.
The Royal Lord had always felt uneasy around Lwazi, hence maybe he had appeared to be cold towards him. He, maybe, felt guilt, or he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge him as the fine piece that would carry his kingdom beyond. However, with just how Lwazi was with him, he sometimes felt a bit sad.
"I had a dream about father yesterday," Lwazi suddenly said. The Royal Lord nearly choking on his food stared at Lwazi absentmindedly. Why would he suddenly bring him up now?
"He was beating me with a sjambok and asking where my morality went for killing the Great Uncle of the Crystal Kingdom," Lwazi carried on to say as he silently read his grandfather's reaction.
"That is like your father. Even after death, his bearing has not changed at all," the old man laughed away his nervousness and carried on to eat.
"You do know your people's future depends on your capability to inherit your birthright," he carried on to begin his lecture reminding him that it was still expected of him to take over the Crystal Empire and inherit the power of the Great Spirit. "I have not forgotten," Lwazi answered, feeling pressured and cornered.
His grandfather knew just how risky this mission was for him to take, yet he still blindly set his path on greed and forced his to act this way. Of course the young boy had been set on continuing with the mission, but after seeing how adamant the man was, he wondered, Could he ever care about him as the son of his child?
...
A horse galloped tiredly as a young man tried all his might to ride faster. Upon seeing the first member of the Crystal region, with no single jewellery in place, and their dreadlocks bare from not being tied or any shinny object.
His horse suddenly collapsed, causing him to nearly fall off his face, but thank his military training, he jumped instead and landed on his feet.
His eyes started tearing up as range entered his soul. He ran with all his might to the royal house. It could not be true.
When he entered the town, the spirits of the people almost seemed too down, and a drain of sadness hanged in the air.
With all the dark colours worn and their very bare looks made his heart clench. After making it to the gate of the royal house, he kneeled on the gates as apology for his attire. He had been wearing a white robe, covering half of his chest and and revealing the other. A normal attire worn by any of the young men of the Kingdom.
His dreadlocks had been tied on top of his head, while the sides were cut off a little, showing his title and ranking. A golden piece held his hair just right, showing his nobility in birth. The guards guarding the gates were beyond shocked that they showed their respects on the young dark lad moments after he'd ran into the doors of the Kings chambers.
He forgot formalities and raged into the house before kneeling at the door asking for permission to enter. At his father's throne room, he found him sitting below the stairs to the great chair, only then did he remember to kneel, but that was not because it was to acknowledge his father. It was because he had become weak after seeing the King's appearance. Plain, and black attire welcomed him.
"So it is true," uttered the boy bringing his father to his senses. "Moti," shrieked the King at his son's deranged appearance, surprised by his appearance, and surprised he had been back.
"Uncle?" he whispered kneeling closer to his father's legs.
"is he dea-"
"we accompanied his soul yesterday," the king said confirming the death.
The young boy fell from his knees, and remained sitting from shock and sadness.
He released his hair from it's position and let it fall in his head. Standing up to walk to the gates of the royal house.
He faced the direction of the sea and started to take off every piece of jewellery in his hands, arms and neck. He then kneeled, causing the guards, the maids walking by, and the people nearby to kneel along with him. He bowed at the sea, and paid his respects to his great uncle.
"Resting are his bones, and raised is his spirit to the greater realm," he shouted as he carried on to bow.
The people around him shrieked in fear, not knowing if to repeat such lines near the royal house. Would it not bring calamity to accompany a long dead inside the royal house.
The King hurried out of the throne room after he heard the commotion outside. He quickly yelled, running to stop his son from committing such an act.
"You're bringing doom, to our empire, uttering such words inside the royal palace," he yelled as he still hurried to his sides.
"Resting are his bones, and raised is his spirit to the greater realm," he carried on to yell, ignoring his father completely.
"Moti!!" the King shouted. "Why should I be considerate to this kingdom? When you cannot be considerate with the rest of the royal family?" he stood on his feet at full tilt, coming face to face with his father who was fuming from anger.
Moti spat next to his father showing distaste and anger towards him, before leaving him standing alone at the gates of the royal house.
"I command you to stop!" the King yelled at the rebellious son. Moti stopped a few steps later thinking if his father deserved his respect for the day. He turned slowly to face his father who was a few metres away.
"You will reflect on your crimes for a month, and burn liquorice incense and ask for forgiveness to the ancestors for bringing them back to this sinful place after they have ascended," venom laced his tongue as he questioned his son's morality. Who did he really take after.
"If father wishes, this son will abide," he prepared to kneel and bowed to receive punishment. Then he raised his head whilst half kneeling, "but father, who will punish you for your crimes?" he questioned, his heart and his tongue playing out strings of disapproval and disappointment.
"You bastard!" he screamed out before hurrying to kick the child out of anger. The kneeling remained kneeling, and those who had been nearing to the scene not knowing of the happenings ran away afraid of what was to come.
The King not knowing how to reprimand his devil of a child, left his son on the floor to bear out his grievances to the Queen.
Moti, was being Moti, with his father's personality and his mother's range, it made it hard to get him restrained. He was the rebel child. The unrestrained hooligan, the unlikely leader, the beast general who's blade sliced every enemy's neck, but, he was also the looks of the royal family, the irresistible bachelor, and the crowned prince of the Crystal Kingdom.