The Heir of Kings

Chapter Three: Waylaid on the Roadside

Days passed, and eventually, Aunt Pan got her way. On their departure day, a cloudy gray sky was overhead. As Ronald and Relma packed their things, Relma halted. "Well, this is it?" she said.

"What is?" asked Ronald.

"Well, I mean, I've always wondered what Gel Carn, the castle, looked like," said Relma. "And now I'm finally getting the chance to see it."

"Speak for yourself," said Ronald. "I don't much want to go."

"Oh, come on, it'll be an adventure," said Relma.

"But I won't be getting back for years and years," said Ronald. "It feels like we barely had time to say goodbye to anyone before they pulled us off into the blue. And I'll be completely out of place among castle folk."

"You don't know that," said Relma. "Aren and Aunt Pan think you'll do fine."

"Your Aunt Pan pulled us off because she didn't trust me not to blab," said Ronald with a sigh. "She doesn't actually think I'll manage."

Relma put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll both manage Ronald."

They finished packing and went out to meet Aren. Aunt Pan was nowhere to be found. She'd left the previous night on some business of her own.

"Hasn't Aunt Pan gotten back yet?" asked Relma.

"I'm afraid she'll have to meet us on the road," said Aren. "Come, we'll get underway at once."

They left behind the farm, and Relma gave a final glance back at her old home. Then she turned and walked onward. Yes, she was leaving behind the familiar, but she was going toward the new. That enthusiasm kept her walking. Ronald seemed far more conflicted.

Something strange began to happen as they walked. Relma realized she didn't regret leaving at all. Nor had she been looking forward to going. She hadn't been excited or sad. It was strange.

Relma had always known she wasn't like other people. She didn't see things the same way. Leaving everything she'd known behind her was just... mundane somehow. As if she'd always known she'd leave the place behind and hadn't gotten attached.

She wondered if she'd ever think of it again.

Then, a question occurred to her. She approached Aren. "Aren, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course, dear girl," said Aren.

"What was Anoa the Bright like?" asked Relma.

Aren considered it. "Magnificent. But also pitiful."

Relma blinked. That didn't sound at all like the Anoa she'd met. "What do you mean?"

"How shall I put this?" asked Aren, looking at the sky. "Some men become great because they succeed in performing great deeds. Others become great because they are given no choice but to achieve them. Anoa was a bit of both.

"He didn't want to be a King but did his best. And he did an excellent job for a while. He united all the feuding chieftains and established Harlenor United. The trouble was that bad things just kept happening to him. Finally, toward the end of his reign, he started to fall to pieces.

"It was a mercy; it ended there, actually."

"When he ascended into heaven, you mean?" asked Relma.

"Yes," said Aren.

Aren had been there. From the way Aren said that, though, Relma wondered if that was what really happened. His gaze had gone distant, and his expression dark.

"What's wrong?"

"His reign didn't end very happily," said Aren. "The beginnings of Harlenor are a sad story for many reasons. However, it was after Anoa the Bright that the golden age began. He laid the foundations on which his descendants built your legacy.