Chapter One
Prince Garvas
The Prince of Lyonhall stood in front of his stained glass window, watching through the lighter parts of the image the glass captured in its claws. With his hands behind his back, he stood straight, chest puffed out and wore that serious face a King should always wear in time of business with other kings and listening to the common people complaints about the dry seasons and the cost of bread.
He had hoped that the day his brother, The King, would grow ill in his sleep, or be assassinated at his throne, but only he knew of the curse that lingered in the King's blood. "A curse that couldn't be broken," that foul witch laughed upon the previous king. Garvas remembered it all too well; the witch's foreign words of sorcery, his father's bright red face of heating anger, and his brother who sat by his mother's side with no look on his face. His father had ordered the witch to be burned on the stake that cloudless day, the day which both the young king, and the prince Garvas would experience their first execution. The witch's screams haunted the prince's dreams since then, as the curse had set upon himself.
The prince shut his eyes at the memory of the terrible day he got his golden forged necklace. He thought of his brother and the necklace he bore, the same, but the token was completely different. His hand slipped away from the other and reached for his golden chain that hung around his sweaty neck. He held the perfectly forged token in the flat palm of his hand and his brown eyes rested over it; a golden lion with a crown upon its head. It was right after the execution that his father had the lion forged, along with his brother's token which was of a silver dragon with ruby eyes.
There was a loud knock on the door.
"Come in," the prince said, cold as ice.
The door opened and the Queen, his mom, walked into the room dressed in a dress that she wore very rarely, only on the days of an important death in her family and today's death was of her eldest son. "Dear, you aren't even dressed for the day, let alone your own brother's funeral."
"I'm not going," he said bluntly.
"You must. You will be named King right after the ceremony. I know you loved your brother very much, but we cannot bring him back from death, either can we bring your father back"
There was silence.
The Queen walked up to her son and rested her hand on his shoulder. "You cannot spend the rest of your days locked in your room while the city is overrun with poverty. Your father wouldn't want that"
He snapped around, knocked her hand away from him and stared his mother in the eyes, inches away from her face. She didn't even flinch. "You do NOT tell me what I shouldn't do and what I should do. If I don't want to attend my brother's funeral, then I won't. If I want the city to remain in poverty, then it will. You have no power here, mother"
The Queen left the room silently as she had walked in.
The prince let out a relieved sigh and fell onto his freshly made bed. "If only mother knew you were still here," he said to himself as he stared at the ceiling of his grand bedroom. The walls were painted a darker shade of red with golden rims inches from the bottom and inches from the ceiling. For being one of the richest cities in Asterth, most of everything was made of gold, silver, or other precious gems.
Minutes passed by at the rate at what seemed like hours, but the prince finally made his decision and pulled out a kingly outfit from his wardrobe. This outfit had been picked out the day before, right after his brother's disappearance. As he was fixing the wrinkles in his black trousers he thought of the speech he would have to give to the citizens of Udil, in front of millions, his mother, and probably dukes and duchesses from neighboring towns.
