Chapter 1
The Prince Returns
TW: Violence sort of!
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The doors slammed open, revealing the silhouette of a figure against the sunlight, “Uncle, your reign has come to an end!” Before Mogul Arahabi could react, the figure–alongside a small legion–charged into the palace’s banquet hall. “Who dares-” the Mogul thought to himself just before he caught a glimpse of the figure’s face in the light as it approached him. “I-it can’t be,” Arahabi said as the two drew their swords, “I left you for dead!”
The figure responded, “That only made me stronger.”
With a sudden lunge forward, the two began to clash swords as a power struggle between the figure’s legionaries and the Mogul’s Guards surrounded them. A quick exchange of blows left Arahabi on the ground as the figure pointed his sword down at him, “I, Prince Ganari, as the rightful heir of the Garanga, hereby charge you with treason!”
Arahabi just barely dodged the Prince’s strike, and recollected himself up off the ground. Ganari swung at Arahabi again, getting his sword stuck in the floor in the process.
“Hah! You’re just as rash as your father was,” retorted the Mogul, preparing to take a swing. Ganari rolled to the side, avoiding the strike and abandoning his sword in the ground.
Arahabi let out a menacing laugh, “If you give up now, I’ll let you off easy and exile you!”
Ganari scanned his surroundings for any sign of a weapon he could use, but he found none. If he wanted to win this fight, he’d have to get his sword back, but Arahabi guarded it carefully, waiting for the Prince to risk the first step. With a sudden dash forward, Ganari powered through the sting of the Arahabi’s strikes, risking being cut somewhere vital. Once he reached his sword, Ganari ripped it out of the ground and swung it at the approaching Mogul, leaving a large cut in his cheek. Arahabi looked back at the Prince with a fire beneath his eyes. He began to add more power behind his swings, growing more desperate to end the fight.
“All of this, and for what? What exactly is it that you hope to do?” Arahabi asked.
Ganari retorted, “Liberating the fallen kingdoms, retrieving the Crescent Moon, uniting the coast. All of it is to do one thing: to take back what was once ours!”
With a swing from each, their swords interlocked. Ganari shoved his sword forward, sending Arahabi’s sword flying out of his hand. Both glanced at each other for a moment before they each made a dash for the weapon. Still with a sword in hand, Ganari made swings as he ran, causing Arahabi to slow down as caution overtook his mind. Ganari reached Arahabi’s sword, picked it up, and pointed both at him, “This fight is over!”
Ganari pushed the Mogul down onto his knees. Arahabi gulped nervously as he felt cold metal against his throat, “W-wait! You need me, I have connections!”
“I suppose it would be smarter to let you live. But like you said,” Ganari readied the swords at his side, “I am pretty rash.” With a sudden swing from the swords, Arahabi fell to the ground clutching the wound at his neck.
“Your war is a dream, boy, a dream,” muttered Arahabi through his pained expression as strength began to leave his body, “you don’t know what you’re up against.”
The Prince staggered backward as he heard his Uncle’s final words. As the dust of the battle settled, the legionaries were left victorious. Ganari’s determined footsteps echoed throughout the empty palace chambers. He entered a balcony area where another figure stood, looking outward onto the chaotic city.
“Chayan! Do you have a report?”
“Not yet my lord, but with the way things are going, Garangol is bound to be in your hands by the end of the week.”
“Good. In a week’s time then, I’m going to need to send a courier to each of the four free kingdoms. If we want to free the fallen three, we’re going to need the aid of everyone left.”
Chayan nodded, “I’ll have one ready to be sent at your word.”
As the weeks passed by, the invitations slowly made their way into the hands of the Moguls of the other four remaining free kingdoms.
In the Palace of the Pashara Kingdom, a courier handed Mogul Bayod a scroll addressed to him. His eyes lit up upon seeing the symbol on the seal of the scroll. Scanning the message quickly, Bayod closed the scroll and set it down.
He muttered to himself with a hint of pride in his voice, “I can’t believe it, the kid really went and did it.” He spoke more loudly, ordering around the guards of the Palace, “Gather the entourage! We set out for Garangol tonight!”
In a courtyard in the Mananda Kingdom, Gauta and Suresh, the Moguls of the Mananda and the Kandra respectively, sat across from each other with a half-finished game of pariah between them when an advisor suddenly stepped in to deliver each a scroll. Gauta, being much older than Suresh, immediately laid his eyes on the scroll’s seal and said, “This will be either very good or very bad news.” The two took a break from their game and began to read the scroll’s contents.
“I suppose this is good news, right? You didn’t really like Arahabi all that much anyway,” remarked Suresh.
Gauta stood in the courtyard, listlessly looking up into the sky as nostalgic memories filled his mind, “Ah, so the kingdom yet lives.” A hopeful smile spread across Gauta’s face as Suresh looked at him with a confused expression.
Beginning to pack his belongings, Gauta said, “Let’s get ready, we don’t want to be late for something like this!”
As the night began to settle in the Palace of the Chandrol, Mogul Jitandra stared at the scroll in front of him. His brows furrowed into a menacing glare as he read the words. Without a second thought, Jitandra ripped the scroll in half and tossed it aside.
An advisor behind him spoke up wearily, “A-are you sure that was a good idea my liege?”
“The audacity of the Garanga to ask us for help after all they’ve done is impressive. If they want to have their war, then they can go at it alone.”
