Chapter 2: The Secondborn

          

This year’s First Blooming festival on Gawanee was extraordinary, for the Emperor himself was about to participate in it. While peasants readied themselves for merriment, he rode in his elaborate carriage to join them. The entire royal family accompanied him, at least its important members, namely his sons.

         “What a dull landscape,” Prince Sargon said quietly, peeking from behind the velvet curtains. Flat and covered by never ending fields, Gawanee was far from pristine and breathtaking. Even the forestation was fake – what seemed to be woods was in fact a great orchard.

         “It’s the granary of the Empire, little brother.” Crown Prince Jahan scratched his short, dark beard and shoved the curtains back to their place, right before Sargon’s nose. “It doesn’t have to look good so long as it’s useful.”

         The younger brother snarled at his senior, but it only made Jahan’s self-satisfied smirk grow wider. Seeing Sargon’s clear discontent, the Emperor smirked.

         “I am glad that at least one of my sons is wise,” he said, casually leaning against the plush seat and sending his youngest son a condemning gaze. Sargon, however, didn’t look away. He held the eye contact with a silent fierceness until the Emperor furrowed his brows, and his look transformed into a wrathful glare.

         “Actually, I’m looking forward to the festival of First Blooming here, on Gawanee.” Suddenly Jahan interjected. “I heard that the celebrations are quite lively.”

         “Indeed.” Reluctantly, the Emperor abandoned glaring at Sargon. Nevertheless, he kept glancing at him, as though expecting his son to step out of line and give him opportunity to berate him. The tension in the coach was apparent, but, fortunately, Prince Jahan wasn’t going to let a family feud to break out.

         “Father, I wish to speak to you about the dire situation on the front,” he said. Jahan waited for the Emperor to nod, before he continued. “So far, we’ve been able to successfully block two of three islands of Tayann, as well as siege its capital. We’re running out of supplies though. The generals cut the rations already, but it’s still not enough. I believe that today will be a perfect opportunity to solve this problem.”

         The Emperor gave a small smile, acknowledging Jahan’s words and treasuring his politeness. It was a fond expression of a doting, proud parent.

         “That’s why we’re here. I intend to order the governor of Gawanee to increase the amount of food sent to our troops. A privilege or two should do the trick.” The Emperor shared his plan with his sons.

         “I respect your wisdom, father,” Jahan said, bowing slightly.

         The atmosphere in the royal carriage seemed to be pleasant enough, but Sargon’s snort ruined the brief moment of peace. The younger prince rolled his eyes theatrically, tapping with his finger on the edge of the window.

         “Squeezing more money from the peasants won’t solve the problem.” Sargon leaned forward, staring his father dead in the eye. “The siege of Tayann lasts ten long years already, and they still haven’t given up. Clearly, they wait for us to bleed out, and it’s working. You have stretched your troops thin, father, and all our wealth gets wasted on the pointless siege. Perhaps it’s time to rethink our strategy.”

         “Little brother.” Jahan glanced at his father, who looked like a volcano about to erupt. “This is how our honorable grandfather captured the great kingdom of Valador. Tayann will yield eventually too.”

         Sargon clenched his fists on his lap.        

         “It took him over three decades! We can do better than him. Father.” Jahan sighed heavily, when his younger brother addressed the Emperor again. “If we end the siege quickly, we can save a lot of resources. Recently, I’ve been thinking about a strategy-”

         “Enough!” The Emperor roared, stunning Sargon into silence. The ruler of the Sun Empire clawed into the fabric of his crimson robe. His eyes were gleaming with hostile fire, focused on his youngest child. “The strategy, you criticize, has been       developed by me and my finest generals. Do you honestly think that you can come up with a better idea than the greatest military minds of the Empire?”

         Sargon straightened his back and lifted his chin, staring at his father defiantly.

         “Yes,” he said confidently.

         After his bold statement, a tense silence wrapped the coach like a veil. The Emperor attempted to force the youngest prince into submission       with merely by looking at him strictly. Usually, people cowered under such glare, feared for their lives, intimidated. However, Sargon was one of few people able to resist it. Even Prince Jahan would have hunched his back and mumble a plea for forgiveness.

         “Father, if you would only listen to my proposal,” Sargon asked without a hint of humility in his voice.

         “So do you think of yourself as a genius strategist now, Sargon?” The Emperor was eerily calm and composed, like a viper moments before striking. His imposing aura made him appear just as dangerous as Hevv, the grim god of death worshipped on White Isles. He lowered his voice even more, until it became barely louder than a whisper, yet soaked in venom. “Tell me, my son, what makes you harbor that pathetic delusions of yours that you know a thing about the war? Have you spent a single day in army? No!”

         Sargon flinched, when the Emperor shouted at him, but didn’t give up arguing.

         “I haven’t! Do you know why? Because you wouldn’t let me! Even though I’m an adult man, you stash me in the palace like some feeble daughter!”

         It was the Emperor’s turn to let out an amused snort.

         “Don’t flatter yourself. Your sisters, at least, are useful - unlike you,” he said dryly.

         Sargon flinched and sank in the plush seat, his built up confidence slipping away. His fists trembled, but he pacified them by clenching them so hard that the fingernails dug into the inside of his palms. Jahan looked away, and the Emperor shook his head in dismay.

         “You’re nothing but trouble.” He stated.

         The comment triggered Sargon’s antagonistic nature once again – the Prince’s back straightened, as if someone slammed him with a stick. It was apparent that he was up to continuing the argument, and his father knew that well. He slammed his fist against the carriage’s wall, signaling for the coachman to stop. Then, he opened the door and waved his hand. “Get out.”

         Sargon’s gaze wandered from the open door to his commanding father.

         “What?” he uttered.

         “Get out of my sight.” The Emperor repeated. “You will accompany Princess Avani and Prince Javed. I’m through with your antics.”

         Sargon didn’t move from his seat.

         “You can’t have send me away to sit with a woman and a child!” he protested.

         “I can and I will.” The Emperor pointed at the door. “Maybe you need reminding that I am your Emperor and disobeying my command is a treason.”

         Sargon was motionless. He gawked at his father unsurely, contemplating his words. His face was focused, as if he was assessing his next move and its potential consequences.

         “As my Emperor commands.” Finally, Sargon bowed deeply and hurriedly left the coach, never turning with his back to his father.

         Sighing, the Emperor slammed the door shut and hit the wall, notifying the coachman to get moving. The horses neighed and the carriage rocked, swaying on the uneven road, as it made its way further into the land. The mighty ruler of the Sun Empire tugged at his long, neatly kept beard and groaned from frustration.

         “Why have the sun spirits burdened me with such an unbearable child?” He looked at Jahan, his firstborn. “Ever since Sargon lost his baby teeth I have regretted that he wasn’t born a girl.”

         At his father’s remark, the Crown Prince chuckled. His handsome face brightened, adorned by a pleasant smile, everyone loved.

         “If that was a case, you’d complain about not being able to find a husband for such a stubborn daughter.” He joked.

         “True.” This time, his lips stretched in a genuine smile. It lasted long, but eventually it faded, making place for a forehead wrinkled in thoughtfulness. “What am I to do with him?”

         Jahan became serious as well.

         “Sargon means well. He just seeks your attention and a chance to prove himself. Maybe you should let him?” Jahan cleared his throat. “In a month I’ll be going back to the front to capture Tayann’s main island. I could take Sargon along and keep an eye on him.”

         “Absolutely not.” The Emperor shook his head.

         “He’s a skilled fighter. Even though he hasn’t had any real experience, he’d be a fine addition to the army,” Jahan said.

         “I’m not going to let Sargon anywhere near my generals.” The Emperor crossed his arms on his chest.

         “How about appointing him as a governor? He’s smart and resourceful, he’s capable of doing it.” Jahan suggested.

         “I know he is,” the Emperor said. “That’s why I won’t allow him to put his hands on power. Do you know how the first Sun Empire crumbled?”

         The Crown Prince nodded, but the Emperor told the tale anyway.

         “The first Emperor Jassen was blessed with children. He had exactly thirteen sons. All of them were equally cherished by their father and that was about to bring doom. On his deathbed, Jassen wished that each of the princes would govern one of the conquered islands, while the first born would stay on the Sun Island as the senior ruler. The younger brothers of the next Emperor rebelled as soon as they received their holdings. Each of them declared himself a king in his own right, rejecting the Emperor’s sovereignty. Ambition and fatherly love destroyed our Empire once, I won’t let it happen again. Therefore, Sargon won’t receive any real power.”

         “Sargon won’t be happy about it.” The Crown Prince sighed. Then, his trademark smile lit his face again. “I bet he’ll be sulking for the entire month.”

         The Emperor furrowed his brows, but his face didn’t express neither anger nor irritation with his firstborn. Mockingly, he punched Jahan’s shoulder.

         “What are you smiling at, fool? Once I leave this world, he’ll be on your head. I wonder if you’d be still grinning.”

         Prince Sargon huffed, stubbornly staring at the not-so-thrilling landscape of Gawanee. At least now it became at least a little diverse – the royal procession made their way down a winding road, which led long the river. The water below sparkled tauntingly, reflecting the pure blue of the sky above. The highway had been built precisely at the edge of a steep cliff that descended into the crystal clear waters.

         “Isn’t it dangerous?” Princess Avani, Jahan’s beautiful wife, asked, her voice trembling, as she glanced outside. Her eyes widened with worry, and she embraced her son, protectively stroking his locks.

         Prince Javed, however, didn’t share his mother’s cautious disposition. He was bold and adventurous, like a true Son of Sun. Wriggling away from the reach of the Princess’s arms, Javed moved to sit beside Sargon.

         “Uncle,” he said.

         “Stop bothering me.” Sargon’s voice was dry, somewhat resembling the unpleasant tone of his father, the Emperor.

         “But uncle!” Javed protested. Sneakily, he crawled toward Sargon and clutched the sleeve of his robe, giving his older relative his most adorable gaze. “I was meaning to ask you… Will you teach me how to fight? We’ll have a lot of fun together!”

         “Have your father teach you.” Sargon replied. “Entertaining a kid isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”

         “Dad says he’s too busy. He also says you have too much time on your hands,” Javed said.

         The Prince’s face began assuming a red shade, and that was a clear sign for Princess Avani to intervene. She reached for her son and pulled him off Sargon.

         “Stop bothering your uncle, dear,” she said in her sweet, meek voice. With some difficulty, she scooped the little prince in her arms. Avani trapped him in her tight embrace, effectively immobilizing him. A demure laughter escaped her lips, when she noticed how Sargon was straightening his creased robe. “Javed adores you.”

         “Hm.” Prince Sargon grunted in response. The line between his brows deepened, as they knitted together, his mouth upturned in the scowl, which seemed to be permanently stuck on his youthful face.

         “Prince Sargon, lighten up please. Smile at least once.” Princess Avani pleaded.

         “I have no reason to smile.” Prince Sargon responded.

         Princess Avani sighed lightly, resting her chin on Javed’s head.   

         “You got into an argument with the Emperor, didn’t you?” She prodded. Sargon didn’t answer her, but his silence was even more revealing. “Perhaps if you told someone about your concern, your soul would become lighter.”

         At her suggestion, Sargon rolled his eyes demonstratively. Who is she to patronize me like my mother? He narrowed his eyes at her, cursing in his mind her honest face and kind heart. Sargon was about to tell her to mind her own business, but he reconsidered. If she wanted him to confess his sorrows to her, she would get them.

         “My father wants me to be the prisoner of the palace - a nice decoration by my brother’s side.” He growled, staring straight in Avani’s doe-like eyes. “Just like you.”

         Princess Avani stiffened immediately. 

         “I’m the Crown Princess of the Sun Empire, and I’m willingly accepting my place at my beloved husband’s side.” She recited quickly like a mindless prayer.

         Upon hearing this, Sargon snorted.

         “You’re a hostage.” He stated the fact.

         Instantly, Avani looked like a terrified, defenseless sparrow before a cat. Sargon smirked, feeling much better now, when he turned the tables on the inquisitive Princess.

         “You’re the last of Valador’s royal line.” The Prince continued, omitting the notion that each of the male descendants of Valador’s last king had been executed by his grandfather, Emperor Jahangir. “The sole purpose of your existence is to legitimize my father’s claim to his new colonies, your former homeland.”

         “Not in Javed’s presence.” Avani breathed out, covering her son’s ears with her palms.

         Afterward, she did what Sargon hadn’t expected of her – she glared at him defiantly. Up to this moment, he thought of his sister-in-law as a weak noblewoman, merely a pretty thing by Jahan’s side. Dark fire lit her ever gentle eyes, her lips turned into a thin line. As she eyed him so fiercely, the Prince was reminded of Goddess Izzah, the protecting deity of Valador. Dark-skinned and determined like Avani, the goddess wielded a hundred swords. Pity, that none of the blades succeeded in defending her children from the sons of Sun.

         “I am the Crown Princess of this country,” Avani said slowly, putting emphasize on every word. “I embrace my position and I think you should do the same, second born Prince.”

         Whatever Sargon’s retort would be, the Princess couldn’t hear, for an abrupt hitch shook the coach. At first, it appeared that the cause was merely uneven paving, but quickly, the situation took a dramatic twist. Avani could barely hear the wild squeaking of the horses and the panicked shouts of the coachman. The carriage jolted once more, but this time it spun out of control. Its  passengers were limp like rag dolls.

         Acting solely on instinct, the Princess let go of Javed to clasp something for support. However, when she realized what her hands did, it was too late. The young boy bounced away, crashing into Prince Sargon. Avani reached out. In that precise moment, though, a particularly forceful lurch made her topple over and slam into the carriage’s door. It opened, and she fell outside, painfully hitting the ground.

         Her entire body ached like never before. She couldn’t scramble off the dirt of the road. The silhouettes of the servants blurred before her. Someone ran to her to help her up, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Shocked and sore, she barely lifted her head to look at the coach. Her eyes widened in horror.

         The ornate carriage balanced at the ledge of the cliff. Only horses were what prevented it from falling  over the edge looming high over the river below – so far down, that it looked like a thin blue ribbon. The servants were pulling at the harnesses and whipping the animals to move forward. However, their efforts were in vain. Inch by inch, the coach was slipping away.

         “Javed!” Avani called out desperately.

         “Kid!” Prince Sargon yelled, frantically waving with his hand in a futile attempt to reach his nephew.

         The boy was dangling over the abyss. He looked up, petrified, but refused to take Sargon’s hand. Javed hyperventilated, as he clutched the swinging door of the carriage.

         Moving slowly and cautiously, Prince Sargon crawled toward the door, praying under his breath to the Sun for help. The coach rocked dangerously, about to fall into the river any moment now. He had to get Javed and himself the hell out of the deadly trap. Sargon was almost by his nephew, he was already able to graze the boy’s clenched palms with his fingertips, when another jolt shook the carriage. He found himself losing his balance and head straight for the opened door.

         Javed, however, was in much more dire situation. The hinges loosened and cracked. The door, onto which the boy was holding, parted from the rest of the coach. Sargon could hear his relatives cry his nephew’s name, as he dashed forward, jumping outside. With one hand he clutched the edge of the carriage and with other one he snatched Javed’s wrist.

         “Uncle!” the boy exclaimed, trying to reach with his other hand, but his body was too weak. Sargon cursed inwardly, feeling his firm grip slipping. Soon enough, he was handing on his fingertips, burdened by his nephew’s weight.

         We won’t make it.

         Then, the Prince had a moment of clarity. Suddenly, all the distracting noises died down. He couldn’t hear Avani’s hysterical shrieks or his brother’s desperate cries. The unnerving creaking of the coach bothered him no more, as well as its hazardous rocking. Sargon put as much force into his hands as he possibly could – his fingers dug into the carriage like claws. He nearly crushed his nephew’s wrist, but he wouldn’t let go. With a strange calmness, he looked around, assessing his options. When he surveyed the cliff, he noticed a small rock shelf, just big enough for a small boy.

         “On three you’ll let go off my hand,” Sargon said to his nephew.

         The boy sucked in breath, clearly at his wits’ end, but nodded obediently.

         Good child.

         “One.” Sargon swung his nephew. At first, he barely moved, but after several jerks with his wrist the first effects appeared. Javed yelp, scared.

         “Two.” The prince felt his little finger slip, but he didn’t let that bother him. He had a nephew to save.

         “Three!” He quickly flexed his fingers, and sensed Javed slipping out of his grip. The boy screamed, as he sailed smoothly toward the rock shelf, until he slammed into the cliff. Sargon stared at the child with anxiety. For a moment, it looked like he would roll off into the abyss, but Javed managed to claw into the cliff like a flying squirrel. His nephew’s unsure smile was the last thing Sargon saw before the leather harnesses broke, and the royal coach came crashing down.