A Lazy Day on a Hill

[GMRO 6187]

Spoiler

 

 

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“Whilst there’s a trace of warmth in the air, let’s say we take a walk, son.”

 

The sun clambered through thick evergreens that blanketed the Attenlund. That lazy warmth of an evening spring sun in the month of rest, Jula ag Piov, washed over the hills of the Viscounty of Aurveldt. Here in the otherwise uninterrupted orchestra of soft sloshing of waves and tweeting birds was all the sounds associated with a festival. Jovial shouts and quiet murmurs among friends as games of Haeseni chess were played. This all did soon seem to fade out as Karl followed his king, or rather his father, across a river. The quiet rushing of water acted as a barrier, seemingly, and he now found himself and his father alone upon a hillside.

 

The light that had once hidden from them now crept forth, casting its gaze upon the pair and the valley below. It revealed the melting snows, for summer was soon to arrive. His father stood upright, the man a larger than life figure to the son as he found himself a spot to nestle upon the grass, his feet dangling over a verge. His legs did ache, for he had recently arrived from Elysium. The prince put this aside, nevertheless, pivoting his head to look ahead.

 

“Good day to enjoy the countryside, ai?”

 

“They’re few and far between.”
 

Despite the proximity of the pair, Karl had always felt himself estranged. The king was oft mired with duty or a courtier requiring attention. If it was not such, it was some family issue that had arisen. It did not matter, for it was the way it felt it had always been. Duty above all. Such was expected, and much of his learning had been left to tutors. Now, upon reaching majority: Karl knew not what to speak of beyond the weather.

 

“Did you ever wonder why Haense settles in the cold?”

 

The man squinted, glancing ahead to the lands of the South and the Empire. The snow had already melted there, far beyond there were no specks of white upon those trees. It was certainly warmer, no need for heavy fur during the spring in comparison to their own position.

 

“It is how we believe ourselves. A hardy, united people. Cold, though once known, a worthy friend.”

 

“Precisely. When the soil is harder, where the weather is harsher, it breeds a stronger people. Of course, when a harvest is poor or the winter blizzards are too strong, sometimes it’s hard to remember that.”

 

A long pause thereafter followed.

 

“And yet, do you think it is worth it? Is it worth the lesson of humility?”

 

 

The eyes of the king now ingrained themselves upon Karl, studying them with a certain gaze that, for the life of him, he still could not seem to figure out. It did not seem worth it, to argue or challenge the natures of a people. Whilst they all did change over time; it came about naturally and by God.

 

“What will be, will be. It is not worth overthinking the nature of our kingdom. We are not suited to tropical life, for instance. It does not matter whether it is worth it or not. It is how we are. To change our nature is to change what God wished for us to be.”

 

And what was this nature, that he so defended and did not challenge? He thought immediately after. The aim to sound intelligent at the time surely outweighed him in the moment, and yet he thought. The kingdom had been built upon principles of freedom, in the Jeremic Liberties. The principles of honour, for his father had sworn to stand even whilst it was difficult. The principles of a community. For when the grain runs low, they would only survive together. All of these were imbued he felt in that of his father. What was left for him to do?

 

The laugh of his father returned him to reality. “Since when did you become so wise? Perhaps Master Iulius is a better tutor than I thought. What of the other nations? What have you learnt of them?”

 

“There are many forms of strength, but many forms of weakness, at least in this age. Many of these newer nations do seem strengthened by their lords alone. Without them, it would all fall apart.”

 

“Many nations often do. When the leading man dies, so does the land. Whereas Haense… If I were to die at this moment. I would rest easy knowing little would change.”

 

The thought crept to his mind, and the worry therein of such a thing. The death of his father, and a rise thereafter. The worry then crept to his mind, for the world as it was. The assassinations, the subterfuge, and the attempts to deny inheritance.

 

“That is always the worry. The way in which kingdoms are torn asunder by a change. Princes do not seem to command the same loyalty as their fathers. At least these days.”

 

A crack formed upon his father’s face, a sympathetic smile. “Do you think you are the only heir to ever think so?”

 

“No. Most do, I imagine. Surely more will feel that same way. I hope your heart has not been skipping beats.”

 

“Ah. Klara said the same… Only with more tears. Do not worry, lighten up. You have a few more years as a carefree prince yet.

 

A short pause came then, from the father.

 

The hardest part of kingship, I have found, is trying to be a father. You would not believe it, but it is.”

 

“I would believe it. Things are surely… Easier than without. I have yet to think of marriage.  Were you the same, or did you always know mother would be the one?”

 

There was a long pause then, giving Karl further respite to think. He saw his brothers easily with matches already, even before the Lifstala. He, on the other hand, had rarely thought of it. It was a duty, and that was it. None seemed to draw his eye, he only knew it was a necessary task. Perhaps one, when they were younger. She was gone now, though. It was more required now that he simply meet a woman with the right criteria. 

 

“Not always.”

 

And at this moment, the sun was seemingly gone and replaced with harsh clouds. The winds had begun to billow once more, and before long, cotton-like flakes began to fall upon the hillside. Thoughts of his mother, Emma, came to his head yet no words on the matter came to him. He stood up from his spot, dusting the light patter of white flecks off his boot. 

 

“What will be, will be.”

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

[helldiving 5793]

Lucien endured much tribulation, much strange conditions upon his reign and current advances. The many attempt to enact subterfuge and chaos upon him and his peoples. The tension and confliction drove him a quiet, bitter man. Only his dearest of friends, the Grand Prince knew how to offer words of comfort and knowledge in the diring times of turmoil and tribulation. They both met in his quarters 'pon the Nikirala-Prikaz. Two tankards of Carrion Black were held in unison as they drank. After a lengthy exchange, Lucien sighed, reaching for his coat and making journey to the southern-gate of Karosgrad. The Prince of Savoy muttered under his cold breath, and Karl followed on his mare.

 

"This is the countryside?"

 

"Da, vy will enjoy it friend."

 

"What do you think of the Lifstala?"

 

And so the pair were lost within the woods. They began making way to a hill, and soon after, the azureous sky covered their advance and muffled that galloping, the flora reminded Lucien of his readings and sighted portraits of the Koengswald of yore.