This is a Tale of Brotherhood. 

This is a Tale of Coming-of-Age.

This is a Tale of Faith.

This is a Tale Of a Young Man and his Creator-Given Gift to Lead.

And the Beginning of his Long, Long Journey…

***

Motorcyles Revved. It was a glorious sound.

The small cohort was mounted and waiting to leave the fortress. The estate was large, with a cobbled courtyard and stately red brick. It had been a hunting lodge for the King of Dalreme, once upon a time. Now it was fortress and dominion for Lord Blackwood, Regent of the shattered land. And it was home to the lost heir to the throne of Dalreme. Or so everyone hoped.

Richard could hear the yelling across the courtyard as he threw his leg across the seat. Any hope that the sound of the engines would drown out the tutor calling his name and therefore, remove any responsibility towards responding, were dashed. 

“Prince Richard!”

“What is it, Mr. Avyel?” Richard sighed, pulling a set of goggles over his eyes. 

“Regent Blackwood would like to speak with you at once!”

"Mr. Ayvel, May I venture a guess as to what it is that Blackwood would like to speak to me about?" Richard asked. "Would it be about the lack of development in my King's Blessing, and how it is absolutely crucial that it develops so that we may lead Ruben to glorious war against our neighbor and re-take what is rightfully ours?"

"Ah-"

"A mark, I might add, that only develops upon seeing a legendary creature that only appears to the Royal Family, in its own time?"

The tutor looked defeated. "I see you have had this conversation before."

"Many times, and I have no intention of having it again." Richard revved his own motorcycle, sending a signal to the rest of his cohort. The forward bikes roared, leading the way out of the courtyard. "We'll be back when you see us!" Richard yelled, diving into the middle of the pack. 

Bereft of many of the necessities of a Royal procession, such as a large collection of retainers, guards, fellow courtiers seeking a lovely day trip and all the carriages, motorcars and heavy-weights that entailed, the small group of seven made good time across the Kingdom of Ruben's countryside. They rode south, following the foothills of the mountains to their left as the sun traced its path overhead. They stopped near the mid-day, at a small hidden pond that had become a refuge for the young band. 

"Again?" Henry asked, shaking sweat-soaked dark hair out of its helmet. "What does Lord Blackwood expect you to do, go out hunting the Mana Neamhai yourself?"

"You don't go huntin' a myth like that." Barry shook his head, leaning against a tree as he took a deep breath. "Not unless you want to go running around the kingdom looking like a fool." 

"The Mana Neamhai ain't no myth." Benji shot back. "It's how heirs 'ave been chosen for -for forever."

"And how are y'sposed to prove that?" Barry raised an eyebrow. 

"Well, that's what the King's Blessin' is, ain't it?" Benji replied. "It's proof that y've seen it. Only clear marks can take the throne."

Richard rubbed his hand. The mark was hidden under his glove, dark and blurry. He hoped it would stay that way. 

"Y-Y'do want to take the throne, don't you?"

Richard looked up to six expectant faces. Words died in his throat. "Ah..." 

He hesitated. Closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "There is nothing more I would like than to lead our Kingdom back to prosperity." He started slowly, opening his eyes. "However... I do not think it would be as simple as returning to Blackwood with a clear mark."

"No?" Nathan tilted his head, his flask halfway down to the pond. "But he's been chomping at the bit for your mark to develop."

"Only so he can lead Ruben to war." It was Joseph that spoke, who until now had been quietly standing guard at the edge of the clearing. "Proof that he does indeed have the true heir to Dalreme's throne is all he needs to invade Lazuli."

The clearing was quiet. Dalreme had split into the twin kingdoms of Ruben and Lazuli when they had all been but babes in their cribs-a united kingdom was foreign to them. 

"I will not lead our people to war." Richard shook his head. "It does not matter which kingdom has the true heir- War would only destroy both of us."

"You think?" Benji asked. 

"He's right." Sal rolled a kink out of his neck. "Our food supplies are heavily reliant on Cailsmarch-and their ability to produce grain is unstable at best. We would be even more reliant if all our able-bodied farmers were drafted."

"And they're our nice neighbors." Henry pointed out. "The Northern tribes have been spoiling for a fight for years. If we went to war with Lazuli, they would strike when our backs were turned."

"Lord Blackwood knows all this, right?" Barry turned to his brother. "He ain't stupid."

"There's stupid, then there's narrow-minded." Sal repiled. "And Lazuli has held his focus for a long time."

"We cannot risk war." Richard stood straight, frustrated. "Blackwood is so focused on his vendetta against Lazuli that he would not see our people going up... in... smoke..."

The pond and its clearing overlooked a valley, one with a few farms and villages dotting its landscape. in the closest curve of the valley was a thick cloud of black smoke. The group fell silent.

"Benji?"

Benji reached into his bike's bag and pulled out a pair of binoculars. "Looks like a farm, or what's left of one."

"Don't suppose they're havin' a cookout?" Barry asked hopefully.

"Cookouts don't make that much smoke." Nathan shook his head. "Those buildings are on fire."

"Bikes, now." Richard gave the order, spinning on his heel. The company fell in behind him, racing for their helmets. 

It took them half an hour to race down the hill towards the source of the smoke. Handkerchiefs were pulled out of pockets and tied around faces as the smoke grew thicker. Richard was thankful for his goggles-they mostly kept his eyes from stinging. 

It was a barn-one that likely had been full of hay before it had turned to ash. Richard almost choked on smoke as the bikes came to a stop. Mercifully, then wind shifted and allowed them to see what was left of the farm. The fields were burning, and the small house was already crumbling into ash. 

"Over here!" Sal jumped off of his bike and ran into the smoke. Barry followed him, the two emerging a minute later with a body carried between them. The man was carefully laid on the ground in fresh air as the rest of the group dismounted. 

"He's alive." Henry knelt down, feeling for a pulse. "But he needs a doctor."

Richard looked at the group. They weren't exactly men of medical experience. "Benji, get to the next village and get help. Henry, stay here and keep him alive. The rest of you, spread out-Farms aren't run by one man, there's definitely more."

Benji's bike left a trail of dust as he vanished into the distance. The rest of the group scattered across the farmyard, calling to each other through the smoke. Nate's bike left a trail of dust as he vanished into the distance. The rest of the group scattered across the farmyard, calling to each other through the smoke. Where would they be? He thought desperately. How many people does it take to run a farm?

And where would they hide?

A memory stirred-The lesson had been mostly military tactics, but the topic of locating and securing civilians in rural locations had been touched on. Richard ran for the farmhouse, even though little remained of it but a few standing, charred beams and billowing smoke. He coughed as the wind shifted, blowing ash and cinders into his face. Where’s the cellar?

He almost tripped on it; two wooden doors barely sett off the ground, at an angle. There was a large cinder sitting on the seam, turning the wood around it to charcoal. Richard wound up and kicked it, sending it rolling across the yard. He heaved the door open, sending up a cloud of dust and ash. 
“Hello?” He called, squinting down into the dark. “Anyone down there?”

No words, just the sound of a quiet whimper. A young whimper. Richard’s heart broke. Children. “It’s alright, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” He called, softer, easing his way down the steep wooden steps. The Cellar ceiling was low-he had to bend over at the waist in order to fit.

It was quiet, and cool. Crates and barrels lined the cellar, along with wooden shelves that held jars and jars of preserves-or would, when harvest time came around. The only sign of life was a tiny pair of shoes peeking out from behind a crate. A board under his foot creaked, and the shoes vanished. 

“Can you tell me your name?” Richard asked, lowering himself to one knee to avoid banging his head on the ceiling.

There was the sound of a sniffle. “Pa-papa told me not-not to talk to strangers.”

Richard’s heart broke further. She doesn’t even sound ten years old. “Your papa’s a smart man.” He said.

“I-is he okay?” The small voice asked. “Wh-where’s papa? And mama?”

“Your-“ Richard quieted, thinking. “Your papa’s a bit hurt, but I’ve got a good friend looking after him. And my other friends are looking for your mama right now.”

The shoes reappeared from around the corner as the girl relaxed, just a bit. “You-You’re not one of the scary men, are you?” She sniffled again. “The-the scary men came on really loud bicycles and papa told me to hide with Matti.”

Richard’s stomach dropped. This wasn’t an accident. “I’m not one of the scary men.” He assured her. At least I hope I’m not scary. “I’m…" Something stopped him. "I’m Keon.”

“Like the first King?” There was hope in her voice. A small, blond head peeked around the edge of the crate. Richard tugged down his bandana so she could see at least part of his face. “You don’t seem very scary.”

“Chief!” A voice called from above him. Richard looked up, and back. Benji was standing at the top of the ladder.

“Here.” Richard unclipped his water flask and handed it to the young girl. “You’re probably thirsty.”
He turned, banging his head on the ceiling with a solid ‘ow!’ as he climbed halfway up the ladder.

“What?”

“The fields are toast.” Benji reported, squatting down and rubbing his neck. “We haven’t been able to find anyone else.”

“I’ve got two children down here, young.” Richard told him. “Ben-this wasn’t an accident.”

“What!?”

“They’re terrified of ‘Scary men’ that came to the farm earlier.” Richard reported. “They were riding bikes, like us.”

“You’re saying this was a hit?” Benji asked, jaw dropping.

Richard waved a hand, warning him to keep his voice low. “But who, and why?” Benji asked.
“Well, that’s what we’re going to find out next, isn’t it?” Richard replied. “It’s gonna be hard to ride around here if the populace cowers at the sight of our shadows.”

Richard tapped the top of the ladder, thinking quickly. “Grab your map, see if you can figure out where they were headed. I’m going to keep the kids down here until help arrives.”

“And then?”

“Then we ride.”