Someone Else's Kingdom, BOOK I - Chapter 4
It was only two hours into the journey when Julen cottoned on that everything had been engineered to remove him from the locale, and not Box and Goola.
"We're turning back!" he immediately snapped, as the realisation dawned upon him.
Unfortunately for him though, he was just sat in the wooden cart at the back with Box. It was Goola at the reins, guiding the horses. Meaning he could do little but moan.
In contrast, swords were allowed to be carried. So Box, Goola and Julen each carried one at their side. Solely for protection. The slender, but sheathed blades hanging picturesquely from their waists, making them look like a gang of trim little brigands. The general thinking was that swords could only cause harm at close range, so where allowable for self-defensive, whereas arrows could be used unfairly from a distance. Giving criminals and vagabonds an easy advantage. This made a lot of sense, and it did add to the overall safety on the roads in the Eastern Kingdom. However, it also meant that its soldiers - who were allowed to use both swords and projectiles - had a huge advantage over anyone attempting to break the law or challenge authority.
"We can't go back now, we're too far gone. Plus, why would we even want to?" pipped Box.
Still, Julen moodily insisted they stop. His pique at being duped undiluted by the plea. It was an argument he was always destined to lose however, as the more time that passed the further forward they travelled, and the ever-more unrealistic turning back became. If he'd have been at the reins he'd have stopped there and then. He'd have still no doubt eventually conceded that it was stupid to turn back, and that they pretty much had to continue, but it would have been much more of a drama. Much more of a big kerfuffle. As he wasn't, it was an added drama they avoided, and the journey kept rolling on. Albeit with some sulking and surly debate.
Indeed, one of the good things about the Eastern Kingdom was the ease at which you could travel across most of it. It was the safest, but also the most expensive kingdom to travel through. Certainly of the three mainland kingdoms anyway. There were good roads, and it had an efficient system of relay in place, where people could hire horses, carts and carriages at various points along their journey. You'd travel on horseback for twenty miles or so, then switch horses, or stop over at some inn or tavern. Picking up your travel the next day. This was how Box, Goola and Julen were travelling, and it was a hint expensive, so it made sense to travel quick, and keep stops to a minimum.
"At least we'll be leaving the mainland just as King Tunid is arriving," noted Box, looking over at Julen, in an attempt to brighten his mood. "It's a shame," he quipped back, only half-jokingly, "I could have shot an arrow right through his eye ..that would shake things up a bit." As he said this he made a gesture, as if he was reaching for an arrow from an imaginary quiver on his back. Then he preceded to mime firing it out of the cart and across into the passing fields - with a casual, lazy intent. His previous moodiness seemingly dissipating as he immersed himself in the vision. He was a good shot with a bow too. It was his one real skill or talent, so the daydreaming indulgence carried with it a dash of credibility. Mercifully it was just idle fantasy though, as in the Eastern Kingdom there were laws prohibiting people from carrying arrows whilst travelling. People were allowed to own and keep them at home, on their farms. To use when when out hunting in the local forests, but carrying them whilst travelling was strictly forbidden.
Indeed, one of the good things about the Eastern Kingdom was the ease at which you could travel across most of it. It was the safest, but also the most expensive kingdom to travel through. Certainly of the three mainland kingdoms anyway. There were good roads, and it had an efficient system of relay in place, where people could hire horses, carts and carriages at various points along their journey. You'd travel on horseback for twenty miles or so, then switch horses, or stop over at some inn or tavern. Picking up your travel the next day. This was how Box, Goola and Julen were travelling, and it was a hint expensive, so it made sense to travel quick, and keep stops to a minimum.
"At least we'll be leaving the mainland just as King Tunid is arriving," noted Box, looking over at Julen, in an attempt to brighten his mood. "It's a shame," he quipped back, only half-jokingly, "I could have shot an arrow right through his eye ..that would shake things up a bit." As he said this he made a gesture, as if he was reaching for an arrow from an imaginary quiver on his back. Then he preceded to mime firing it out of the cart and across into the passing fields - with a casual, lazy intent. His previous moodiness seemingly dissipating as he immersed himself in the vision. He was a good shot with a bow too. It was his one real skill or talent, so the daydreaming indulgence carried with it a dash of credibility. Mercifully it was just idle fantasy though, as in the Eastern Kingdom there were laws prohibiting people from carrying arrows whilst travelling. People were allowed to own and keep them at home, on their farms. To use when when out hunting in the local forests, but carrying them whilst travelling was strictly forbidden.
In contrast, swords were allowed to be carried. So Box, Goola and Julen each carried one at their side. Solely for protection. The slender, but sheathed blades hanging picturesquely from their waists, making them look like a gang of trim little brigands. The general thinking was that swords could only cause harm at close range, so where allowable for self-defensive, whereas arrows could be used unfairly from a distance. Giving criminals and vagabonds an easy advantage. This made a lot of sense, and it did add to the overall safety on the roads in the Eastern Kingdom. However, it also meant that its soldiers - who were allowed to use both swords and projectiles - had a huge advantage over anyone attempting to break the law or challenge authority.
As Julen's imaginary arrow disappeared into the passing green fields, Box wondered aloud about the King of Tunid.
"Did the he really kill his brother?"
It was a question she was asking not for the first time, and she asked it with the same incredulity that she had every other time she'd asked it.
"It is required of him," stated Julen, with an affected worldliness, "Every king of Tunid must kill the second eldest when coming to the throne ..that's why they're such bastards."
"How could he do that though?" chimed in Goola, from the front of the cart, sharing her sister's unwillingness to believe such a callous tale. "It makes no sense."
"It makes perfect sense," continued Julen, insistently, "The Tunidans only care about power, and it sends out a message. If the king can do that to his own brother what will he do to you? Plus, it removes a rival. No one can rally around the second brother if he's dead, can they? And any others will be too scared to try it. The First Rules. The Second Dies. The Third Bides."
Julen said all this with a storyteller's sense of drama. It was the familiar description of how the Tunidan royals, the most lofty, but feared royal house of all of the world kingdoms, ran their affairs. It was a particularly hot topic now too, as just a few months earlier the old king, King Edvard, had died. At the right old ancient age of ninety-seven. Meaning his eldest son, Prince Dogfael, himself now sixty-two, had taken the throne - and, as was his duty, had executed his brother, Prince Twayen. Beheading him publicly in front of a crowd of citizens, before taking the crown and being proclaimed the new King of Tunid.
Everyone knew the stories concerning the Tunidan kings, but it was still generally met with a little surprise throughout most of the other kingdoms. Many had wondered if he would indeed do it. It was such a long time since it had last happened. Over sixty years ago now. With so few people still alive to actually remember it, and even those, for the most part, only hearing about it second hand. So it was almost like a distant myth. A scary tale, used to illustrate the awful power seated in that island, and in the family ruling it.
"It makes perfect sense," continued Julen, insistently, "The Tunidans only care about power, and it sends out a message. If the king can do that to his own brother what will he do to you? Plus, it removes a rival. No one can rally around the second brother if he's dead, can they? And any others will be too scared to try it. The First Rules. The Second Dies. The Third Bides."
Julen said all this with a storyteller's sense of drama. It was the familiar description of how the Tunidan royals, the most lofty, but feared royal house of all of the world kingdoms, ran their affairs. It was a particularly hot topic now too, as just a few months earlier the old king, King Edvard, had died. At the right old ancient age of ninety-seven. Meaning his eldest son, Prince Dogfael, himself now sixty-two, had taken the throne - and, as was his duty, had executed his brother, Prince Twayen. Beheading him publicly in front of a crowd of citizens, before taking the crown and being proclaimed the new King of Tunid.
(The Island of Tunida)
Everyone knew the stories concerning the Tunidan kings, but it was still generally met with a little surprise throughout most of the other kingdoms. Many had wondered if he would indeed do it. It was such a long time since it had last happened. Over sixty years ago now. With so few people still alive to actually remember it, and even those, for the most part, only hearing about it second hand. So it was almost like a distant myth. A scary tale, used to illustrate the awful power seated in that island, and in the family ruling it.
It was also generally thought by most that Prince Dogfael was much softer and more pleasant than his domineering father. So that too added to the doubts that he would actually do it. With some speculating that his coming to the throne would bring a break with such bloody traditions, and a fresh start of sorts. Nevertheless, he did indeed carry out the bloody act, and took his throne as tradition required. And now, just as our three travellers were journeying to leave the mainland, he was heading to it with equal purpose, to discuss the ongoing situation in the Western Isles.
The dislike Julen had for the Tunidan royals was not uncommon, though he perhaps expressed it with more open disregard than others would. In his, and in most people's eyes, the Tunidans were simply tyrants. The apex of everything that was wrong throughout all the kingdoms. Howbeit Julen, like most people in truth, only really knew all this through gossip and rumour. He wasn't really political enough to have a deeper sense of the situation. Absorbing his opinions and rebel leanings via osmosis, from the wider world around him. Though again, most of those around him would speak their opinions with a sensible discretion. Making sure not to draw too much attention to their potentially dangerous views. Whereas Julen was naively cavalier. Often speaking loudly opinions others would only express more circumspectly.
Both Box and Goola understood this only too well. So, as the tiny village they were stopping at for the night came into view they changed the conversation. Urging Julen not to say anything that would get them too noticed when they finally arrived. The warm evening was still young, but having travelled since early morning they were glad to have the chance to finally veer off towards one of the winding little settlements. To speak to the people, and to see something other than just endless farms and fields. As they clopped along the off-road, leading to the village, they slowed their pace, so as not to break the quiet with their noisy rattle.
The dislike Julen had for the Tunidan royals was not uncommon, though he perhaps expressed it with more open disregard than others would. In his, and in most people's eyes, the Tunidans were simply tyrants. The apex of everything that was wrong throughout all the kingdoms. Howbeit Julen, like most people in truth, only really knew all this through gossip and rumour. He wasn't really political enough to have a deeper sense of the situation. Absorbing his opinions and rebel leanings via osmosis, from the wider world around him. Though again, most of those around him would speak their opinions with a sensible discretion. Making sure not to draw too much attention to their potentially dangerous views. Whereas Julen was naively cavalier. Often speaking loudly opinions others would only express more circumspectly.
Both Box and Goola understood this only too well. So, as the tiny village they were stopping at for the night came into view they changed the conversation. Urging Julen not to say anything that would get them too noticed when they finally arrived. The warm evening was still young, but having travelled since early morning they were glad to have the chance to finally veer off towards one of the winding little settlements. To speak to the people, and to see something other than just endless farms and fields. As they clopped along the off-road, leading to the village, they slowed their pace, so as not to break the quiet with their noisy rattle.
"I'll do the talking," insisted Julen.
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