"Daydreaming, I see."
King Orastor Ballister flipped another page, staring at his son, a boy of twenty-and-two gazing upon the landscape of permafrost layered with snow. "Thinking," the boy corrected. "Of plenty things."
Another page was set aside. "Don't leave me waiting. Let it out, boy."
"You're quite old now, father. Don't you think? Not only so, but I've become older as well." Impulsively, he tapped upon the wood inside the carriage they rode in, thinking of what to say. "Would you see me a fit king?"
"What else but so?"
"Anything else."
Finally, the king raised his head, his own hair of gold, like that of his son, flowing down his head and neck. "You take yourself unworthy. I knew you would."
"And you think the same, father?"
"The contrary."
Slowly, the boy stared at the carriage floor, lifting his head back to set his eyes once more on the cold desert. No answer was given but a long sigh, forming steam as the cold took hold.
"I know I have within me no power to change your mind, but at least remember the blood you carry through your veins, son. You are no mere prince born to become one. I've seen you prove yourself plenty of times."
"Those days when I was a kid?" The boy let out an amused huff. "Turns out, getting yourself beaten by your sister in sparring is a worthy trait. Who knew?"
"You never know who you will become," his father replied with a smile. "Your choices aren't limited to some men in the past. You're fine the way you are now and you can still grow." He leaned closer and placed his hand upon the boy's shoulders. "You're my son and nothing less. Don't think of yourself that way, then."
With a gentle smile, he said back to him, "Thank you, father."
The convoy of sixteen wagons and carriages continued on up until the horses had halted by themselves. On the prince's left, the door swung open: A royal guard. "Your grace," he greeted. "We have arrived at the Tunnels."
"Let us stop here for the meantime. Have the riders change shifts. I'm sure they're tired," the king ordered.
Orevian, the prince, remained behind. It's not important, he told himself. Fresh air. Father wants merely fresh air. Yes.
"Follow me, boy. I know you'd want to see something like this."
Ah, there was the light feeling he felt. As he took his first steps outside, the light nearly blinded him. Sure, the sun rarely shined through the clouds, but it was still sunlight-- bright and gleaming. The mountain range was truly titanic as well. The clouds cut it in half, he thought. As if it were...
"Warm butter?" Beside him, his father smiled, hands resting on his hips. "Those stories your grandfather told you aren't so mythical now, are they?"
Orevian gawked at the scale of the mountain and the large gate to the Tunnels. "Not anymore."
"Recognize those beasts of muscle?"
He looked to where his father pointed to. The carvings upon the gate itself were cramped, chaotic, but symmetrical in nature. A rim of stone lined both outer and inner sides, and into the empty space left were... two beasts of muscle? "All of them are muscular, father."
"Center of the top side. Left of the raging goat."
The goat. It was the sygil of their house after all. "The two men fighting a giant?"
Orastor nodded. "Orevion and Oranus, the mighty sons of the Exiled King. You used to obsess over them when you were a toddler."
"Still do," he replied, turning to his father. "Am I too old for such myths?"
"Not at all." Orastor inched closer. "You want to be a good king? The kings of the past can be your inspiration. 'Even the greatest painters draw their art from the creation of nature.' Your grandfather told me that when I was just a lad."
"But you told me--"
"To not make them your cage. Use them as your foundation. All kings before you made their mistakes, and it's wise to learn from those than make them your own and only learn then."
He glanced once more at the carvings. "Mistakes."
"And achievements." Orevian had been so focused he hadn't realized his father was behind him. "House Gryphith made these Tunnels. King Orevion brought a hundred and seventy years of peace that lasts even until today. Even Oreon the Awful had a good year going until he went insane."
"And I am to become him?"
That was the question that nearly sent his father choking. "Wrong point, boy. What I'm saying is you need to take what is good from the past and build from it. The bad times will serve you just as well. Those are what you need to shape your present towards your future. You must..."
There in front of him, the boy stared off and kept thinking. A blur. That was all he could see and a muffle was all to hear. Would I be an awful foundation? Could I fulfill my duties like them before me? Perhaps not, he thought to himself. He was anything but a mighty lad. A scrawny boy, maybe, but nothing more.
His father had finished. "Do you understand, son?"
Not at all. Stuck inside his own head torturing himself, the boy clenched both fists as tightly as he could. A ring began to form around him, deafening everything until...
"Boy."
Pop, he was back to reality. "Of course, father."
Orastor stepped to his son's side. "Don't lie to me. There's no use hiding thoughts and emotions. You'll only hurt yourself when they explode one day. It's inevitable."
"Then what do I do, father? I'm doubting myself again."
"Stop it, then." Orastor's gaze towards his son became sharper than the winter's wind. "You were born a prince of my kingdom as my son. I will guide you to become a true king just as those heroes you admire. That shall be my last wish. You're my son. I have no plans to harm you. So put your trust in me."
"Father..."
Before anything else, the king stepped closer, embracing his son. "You're sister will be wed soon. There will be a feast."
Resting his head on the furred coat his father wore, he smiled. "Orelia will enjoy it. I wonder if Noran will make a fool out of himself again-"
"Orevian!" His father's laugh echoed as he ruffled his son's hair. "He has humor. He loves your sister. You know that well enough. There is no other match fitting for my girl. She'll be happily married with her own joyous ending."
"With kids, I assume?" Behind them both, a young lady with straight silky hair of blonde neared them. "How many, father? Two, the perfect number?"
Orastor scratched his head for an answer. "My daughter! Well... I would prefer two little grand babies-- but if you don't wish for them, it's fine!" He managed a crooked smile. "But I wouldn't mind grand babies-"
"You're not the one to give birth to them." Her eyes set themselves upon Orevian, who was still visibly dull and distant. "Is dear old brother having another one of his sad chapters?"
"It's not a chapter! I'm just... managing my emotions!" Of course... said the prince with the same crooked smile as his father. There was no arguing they weren't related.
"Oh, I see," she said as she crossed her arms. "How chaotic is that storm of emotions now, hm?"
"Now, now, that's enough." Orastor laid his hands on their shoulders. "We must get going. The horses are nearly done resting and the wagon riders have changed shifts. We've been travelling for two days what's another two? Come on."
The convoy, with its two carriages, went on. Orevian had ridden with his sister upon the request of Orastor. With the horses well rested, their journey continued further into the Tunnels. This was the only way to reach the south without passing the Nortenhein or the longer route east.
Inside the carriage with a small white stallion nestled atop, the siblings sat timidly. Orelia flipped through a page on her book, like her father before. "How long before the end of the Tunnels?"
"Half a day, I would assume."
"That's half a day without the sun," she sighed. "It's torture to read a book when all the light you can have is from those lanterns outside. How many are there, a thousand?"
That made the boy laugh. "Nearly fifty thousand, all built inside within the walls for more than a hundred years ago." He smiled, remembering everything he read. The library is always a decent place, he told himself. Yes, it's my sanctuary.
"Fifty thousand," she scoffed. "Imagine changing the fuel of ten lanterns every few hours for your whole life. And the kingdom pays these men?"
"What men? There are none."
"That makes no sense, brother."
[author's note. this is still being edited. i am very inefficient with these but it's already midnight and I need that beauty sleep damn it-]