Teras was always a troubled child. A conjecture all but his father agreed on. He was always very thoughtful and contemplative, strangely mature for a child. So, in some ways, he was. A dark-skinned boy with eyes as red as rubies that glimmer as the gems do and hair the grey of ash, as muted and dull as scorched earth. Teras was, quite obviously, his great-grandfather's descendant.
Guinevere, a woman in a regal yellow gown, stood beside one of many large stained-glass visages in the windows of a vast corridor. Her curled ginger locks swayed with the motion of her shaking head. She glared down at her son, who was holding up to her mutilated owl. "Teras..." she grumbled in disgust, "Put the poor thing in the incinerator before I tell your father."
Teras tilted his head in confusion, his small, snake-like face looking up at his mother. "Prey. Eat." His words were curt but concise, an animalistic curiosity in his tone.
The short woman huffed in exasperation, placing a palm on her forehead as if to sooth hypertension. She mumbled incoherently for a moment before taking a sharp breath to steal herself. She moved her hands and placed them on his shoulders, leaning forward to meet him at eye level. "Put it in the incinerator... NOW!"
With a jolt, Teras hesitantly ran off in the direction of the waste furnace, his legs moving as fast as a child's could go. Disappointment thick in his expression. A furrow in his brow that could have been either out of sadness or frustration. Tears began to pool in his eyes as he slowed. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
He made a turn and ducked into an out of sight corner. The eerie shadows moving to swallow his figure like sentient ink. He brought the poor creature to his shadowed mouth, the feathers curling from the heat of his breath as a monstrous mouth tore open and bit the creature in twain. With a second spray of blood, the owl was no more.
Rising from the corner, Teras traipsed towards his room, a large quarters with many rooms of its own. Entering his room, the servants that awaited his return hurried over and helped him remove his bloodied garb. They led him to a steam-filled washroom, bathed him and placed him in a heated rosewater bath. The servants soon left him to relax in the faintly pink water.
Teras sat eerily still in the water, gazing at the silhouettes in the steam. As time passed, the shapes became more vivid; phantom sounds roaring from their illusory throats. Just before the lurid scene seemed to cross from illusion to actuality, a maidservant crashed through the door in concerned fury.
"Young Lord!" she shouted as she stormed towards the carved marble tub. "Why was their blood on your sark?" she asked as she picked him from the bath with a towel. She began to dry him as she rambled on in sisterly worry. Putting a robe on him, she walked him into his dressing room.
"I ate." came his simple reply as the servants from before clothed him in a dark blue tunic, grey slacks and brown loafers. He adjusted the cuffs of his tunic as he walked towards a dresser with a large mirror. Sitting down, he picked up a book and began to read, his eyes following the ancient text from below his dull long hair.
The maid stood behind him, combing back his hair, wrestling the seemingly sentient locks into submission. "Young Lord, can you not eat like that?" she asked dully, looking at the face of his reflection with an adumbration of hope in her voice. She seems to have asked this question many times before.
"Mitra." Teras began, looking up at her reflection with an austere gaze, "You know I'm not like them... not like you." Having said his piece, Teras looked back down and continued reading. As Mitra tied his hair into a short ponytail, Teras closed the book and tucked it under his arm, covering its title. Mitra took a step back and let out a disgruntled sigh.
"Young Lord, your father has called for you. Would you like me to walk you to his study?" Mitra asked. Teras, unbothered, simply nodded his head and let Mitra lead him out of his quarters. He reopened the book and continued reading as they walked along the grand hallways of his home, Telalhs Castle.
They ambled down the long halls of the great castle until they came before an imposing set of double doors large enough to let a catapult roll through unimpeded. Taking a bow, Mitra left to attend to other duties. Teras, now alone, closed the book and tucked it under his arm again. He heaved a deep breath and banged the Snake shaped iron knocker on the door.
A moment later, an august voice called from behind the doors, "Enter, my boy." Teras pushed open the door and marched to the back of the grandiose room as the doors closed behind him. The bookshelves on either side of the room towered over Teras like pillars of unyielding knowledge. Not long after his entrance, Teras arrived at the desk of a bear of a man with a gilded black crown on his head that resembled himself greatly.
The man removed his half-moon glasses and ran his hands through his dark grey beard as he let out a tired sigh. "Teras, my boy. How was your day?" the man asked with his rough, menacing voice, his fatherly lilt clear as day. The man straightened his posture and set down his quill.
"It was good, father. I ate today." Teras responded with refined politeness, subtle joy in his tone. He bowed his head lightly, raising it only after his father cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm almost finished with the book you gave me." he announced proudly, holding up the book to his father. "I think I'll be able to do it in a month- no, two weeks!"
His father chuckled as he rolled his chair backwards, patting a spot on his lap for Teras to come sit.
Teras smiled brightly as he ran around the desk and clambered onto his father's lap. With a laugh, his father turned his chair to face a wall of curtains. Waving his hand, the curtain split, rushing to the ends of the room, letting the view of an awesome range of mountains that surround a valley.
Within the valley is a layered city, the city of steel, Dessner. and at the bottom of the valley, leading to Thalassa Lake in the very center of the city are the 4 Herald Rivers, Stiades, Crowden, March and Lystre. Named after the founders of the Black Iron Kingdom, Dresden.
"Teras, my boy" his father, the king, started, "This is your home. The people you see are your children, your wards, your subjects... You must care for them as you do your own. You must love them as I do. No matter what, do you understand?" His father asked with a somber tone.
"Why? They fear you... They call you a beast and a false king." Teras queried. "Why do you love them so much?" His face twisted, confusion and hatred marking his face as he looked up at his father. His father looked back with a loving gaze, not a trace of anger or frustration.
"Because I am king... I hold within me a responsibility to those people. They are the Kingdom, and you and your mother are my Castle."
As one would expect a child to, Teras questioned again, "And why do you have this responsibility?"
"I am Aberdeen Lien Telalhs, the King of Blue. Born into the bloodline of the Snake, the King of Red, Thalassa Morven Telalhs. As his descendant and bearer of the Blue Adder, this kingdom is my home by right, and as a man, it is my role to protect and prosper my home." Aberdeen explained patiently, waiting for Teras to understand.
"Then why is my name monster?" Teras asked in retort. "If your name and birth mean you have to protect them, then what does mine mean I have to do?"
Aberdeen paused, his gaze seeming to pass through Teras. "Your name is synonymous with Titan, Dragon, Phoenix and Whale. All these terms were once myths, but soon became the symbols of strength, might, life and grandeur. That is what I wish for you, my boy... And what I hope you can bring to this kingdom as my heir."
Teras froze, his childish fury dying on his tongue. He turned and gazed upon sunset over the city of Dessner, named after the first Queen, Ivana Dessner Telalhs. The beauteous sight stirred the meagre ember of passion within him. "Father..." He trailed off in silent awe, lost in his own mind.
"Yes, my boy?" Aberdeen asked quizzically in mild concern.
"Tell me how Grandfather Thalassa founded the kingdom... please?" Teras pleaded hopefully.
"Of course!" Aberdeen boomed. "Thalassa Telalhs started with a small group of friends, Kylan Stiades, Rain Crowden, Julian March and Landaus Lystre..." Aberdeen continued with the tale of the Five Founders of Dresden. Teras, hooked on every word, mumbling along with the telling, mouthing the words he's heard hundreds of times before.
"Tell me, Teras, what name will you choose at your coronation?" Guinevere asked from beside the two, the time of her arrival unknown. "How do you want the people to remember you?"
Teras paused to ruminate over the question. "Voltes..." he responded shortly after. "It means 'walker'... I want them to feel like they can walk alongside me on my journey, like Grandfather Thalassa. I want them to see my every step as one for the people." He paused again, remembering the fear he'd seen in his mother's eyes. "Mother... do you think they will see me that way?"
Guinevere flinched at his words. With regret in her eyes and love in her heart, she hugged him and his father, consoling his unseen anxiety. "Of course they will. They'll love you like they do your father." She looked at Aberdeen with the pride of a wife and smiled, "You just have to build their trust and respect, step by step."