Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction does not, in any way, profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
The Reclamation of Paralon
by Pout
Chapter 3: The Explanation
The Succession Scandal was to blame for most of the banes of the kingdom.
Fifteen years ago, the King had lain sick and dying in his chambers. Most believed he had lost the will to live after his first consort had been killed in battle three years prior. Since the other’s passing, he had been withering away steadily.
Prior drafts of the succession decree had the Royal Consort taking over as temporary Regent until the baby Oishi’s thirteenth birthday which was the usual and historic custom for regency in the kingdom. However, in the last moments of the King’s life, he signed a new draft of the decree, one which gave not only regency to the Royal Consort, but also the discretion to decide precisely when the Royal Heir would be fit to ascend the throne.
The young prince was sent off to the Academy and the Royal Consort became Regent and ruled the kingdom in his stead.
For years, the Regent cited various problems as excuses for delaying the Royal Heir’s coronation. First it had been the attacks from the north. Then, the minor uprising in Haberia. The next year it was the famine in the south, then the drought to the east. For the last few years it had been the war with the rebels.
“So it was pretty clear that he wasn’t planning on handing over the reigns anytime soon,” Kamio stated.
“Painfully obvious,” Oishi replied with a frown. “He never had any intention to relinquish control. I’ve always been the loose thread in my father’s plan. He’s always needed to get me out of the picture, and he’s tried, a number of times to do exactly that. So far, I’ve survived six assassination attempts.”
“How did he miss six times?” Momo asked incredulously. “Er, no offense or anything…”
“Politically speaking,” the prince explained, “a full-out assassination would have been risky, especially since there wasn’t an appropriate scapegoat to blame it on. To order an attempt while I was at court on leave would have been suspicious as well, so he was forced to make his orders while I was at the Academy. Five of the attempts occurred while I was still studying. But since undermining the protection of the Academy is virtually impossible, I survived.”
“And the sixth attempt?” Kamio asked.
Oishi’s frown deepened. “I passed my Academic Exams at the beginning of the year, so I returned to reside at the palace. I was spending all of my time engaging in open politics, as open as can be these days. I was talking to people, I was asking questions.”
“He was becoming a more viable threat, so the Regent tried to have him eliminated,” Square-eyes finished.
The mage was twisting his staff idly in his hands. “And that’s where I come in,” he said, his eyes sliding opening into unhappy slits. He introduced himself as Fuji Syusuke, once a member of the Black Mages.
“My father ordered him to assassinate me,” Oishi said evenly.
Fuji went back to his closed-eye smiling. “I was a rookie, fresh out of the Academy, newly arrived at the capital. They thought I wouldn’t know any better and I suppose I didn’t. As a part of the royal detail, Black Mages work just like the military or the guard. Orders descend the rank hierarchy, and as subordinates, we obey.”
“They tell you to assassinate the prince of the kingdom and you’re just supposed to do it and not ask questions?” Momoshiro scoffed. “What, do they brainwash you people or something?”
“They didn’t say he was the prince. They told me to take out a man named Shitou*.”
“That was the name I studied under at the Academy,” the prince supplied.
“You two never met in the Academy?” Eiji asked.
The mage shook his head. “No, although it turns out that we missed each other by three days at Calpor.”
The Academy was an overarching institution with six main schools that were scattered around the kingdom. The school of social and political science was in the north, called Glacial. Iso, the school of magics, lay near the eastern city of Banbort, by the open seas. The school of the sciences, Gaden, was in the western mountains. The military schools were clustered near the southern wastelands, collectively called Calpor. The school of the arts, Eilis, lay in the northwestern peninsula. And the school of the Temple lay in the southeast under the Borren Cascades, called Aeristi.
Schooling at the Academy started young and extended into adulthood. Most students knew beforehand what they would be specializing in, but they were allowed and encouraged to make their rounds and spend a few years at other schools to broaden their knowledge base.
“I think I might have actually killed you if Tezuka and Inui hadn’t figured things out,” Fuji said, looking somewhat guilty.
Tezuka Kunimitsu and Inui Sadaharu were identified as the swordsman and Square-eyes, respectively.
Tezuka was a top graduate of Ferriway, the royal and quarter guard division of Calpor. There was so little a possibility that he would fail his Academy exams that he had been selected for the Royal Guard before he had even taken them. His year and a half of service had taken him to the admirable rank of captain, a station that was generally reached after a good three or four years in the Guard.
Equally impressive was Inui, the apprentice statistician to the Royal Advisor. He had attended Gaden and excelled. He had shared top ranking and was, upon graduating, immediately swept up by the palace bureaucrats in order to fully utilize his outstanding analytical ability. His position as apprentice under the watch of the Royal Advisor privileged him to many of the finer workings of the palace and the court. It was because of his position that he was unwittingly made privy to the secret assassination plot against a man named Shitou. Curious, he had asked his acquaintance, Tezuka, if he knew of the man.
Tezuka had befriended the prince during their years at the Academy and knew him by the alias of Shitou. A clandestine conversation clarified the plot and threw both parties into a strained panic and they moved quickly to intervene.
“We intercepted Fuji just as he was setting up to cast,” Tezuka said.
“That close?!” Momoshiro said, disbelieving the tale. But Tezuka nodded and it was impossible to believe that the stern-faced man would lie about something so trivial.
“So then what did you do?” Eiji asked, enthralled by the story of palace intrigue.
Inui adjusted his glasses, the lenses glinting with amber lamplight and blue-white magelight. “The only course of action that did not end with public execution as traitors to the crown was to run for it. We persuaded Fuji, retrieved the prince, and then we fled.”
“So let me get this straight,” Momoshiro said slowly. “When the king died, you were too young to rule, so he issued a decree stating that the Royal Consort could take over as Regent until you were old enough to rule.”
Oishi nodded. “Yes.”
“But the Regent didn’t hand over the reigns like he was supposed to.”
The prince shook his head. “No.”
“And now he’s ruling by way of regency, legally, because the decree lets him decide for himself when he wants to retire.”
Oishi nodded again.
“So now the Regent’s afraid you’re going to reclaim your throne.”
“Yes.”
“So he tried to kill you.”
The prince pursed his lips. “Basically.”
“And that’s why you’re on the run.”
“That’s right.”
“I see.”
“That’s just great,” Eiji started, “but there is one problem with your story: the prince is supposed to be dead!”
“Yeah, there is that part,” Kamio snorted.
“There was a memorial procession!” Eiji stressed. “They paraded the body around!”
The prince nodded calmly. “My father made the pronouncement before he knew the assassination had failed.”
“We had Fuji report back that he had succeeded in order to buy some time,” Inui explained.
Fuji smiled, “For a while I thought they were on to me, but then they just laughed and sent me on my way with a full sack for my good work.”
“What about the memorial?”
“The procession lasted for exactly an hour and fifty minutes. A good illusion would only have lasted for two hours,” the Fuji said authoritatively.
Kamio raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying they were faking it?”
“Yes,” Oishi replied.
The three street rats looked skeptical.
“There was another tactical reason for announcing the prince’s death,” Inui said. “It makes it much harder for us to receive any sort of aid; no one will believe us.”
“Most of the nobles will have attended the memorial. A body in the pyre is going be hard to refute, irocite or not,” Tezuka added. “And since most of the nobility is corrupt and taking orders from the regent, we have very few places to hide.”
“That’s why we’re going to Ellestor,” Oishi stated. “Ellestor has always been a strong house of Loyalists. The current Lord of Ellestor is no exception. He also happens to be a good friend of mine.”
“And Ellestor is one of the Grand Estates. We’ll be in good hands,” Inui added. “If all goes well, we should be there by sundown tomorrow.”
“So who are you?” Momoshiro said suddenly, throwing out an arm to point at the man in front of him.
The bandana man looked ready to break the arm that was pointing straight at him. He hunched down lower and scowled ever deeper, hissing and glaring all the while. He was about to pounce when the prince put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
“This is Kaidoh Kaoru, my assistant and bodyguard,” Oishi said.
“Bodyguard? Him? Really?” Momo said with a doubtful look on his face.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the man hissed.
“Well, you don’t fight too good, you know.”
Kaidoh’s eyes widened and suddenly he snapped his fingers. A flare of green shot across the room and struck the man antagonizing him right smack in the middle of his chest.
Momo flew backwards, landing gracelessly on his back with a painful sounding thump.
“Kaidoh,” Oishi admonished as Eiji laughed and helped his old friend up.
“This means war, you snake.” He dusted himself off and clapped his hands together angrily. “You’re not the only one who knows a few tricks.” A ball of deep blue light swirled and spun across the distance between them, punching into the other man’s stomach and dropping him to his knees. “Ha!”
“Why you-!”
“That’s enough,” the prince ordered. His words seemed to ring in the ears of the three street rats. He spoke with the authority of a true royal. How had they not noticed it before? “Since you know our story, may I ask who you three might be?” the prince asked politely.
Kamio made the introductions. “That’s Momoshiro Takeshi. That’s Kikumaru Eiji and I’m Kamio Akira.” He didn’t bother with the fancy embellishments that they usually employed to impress their prowess over the other street dwellers. He figured “the fastest pickpocket ever to stalk the streets of Geddervont” would probably be less than impressive to the present company.
“We thank you for your help in escaping and I apologize for getting you tangled up in my affairs. It seems I’ve developed a bad habit of doing that lately,” Oishi said with a sad frown. Then he smiled and shook his head as if to clear it. “So, whose turn is it to wash up?” he asked lightly.
Eiji bounced to his feet, eager to wash some of the dirt off his caked body. “Me! Me! My turn!” he cried bounding out towards the door. He was already at the water pump before he turned to see the prince himself walking up the path. Eiji was surprised when the other man let the redhead wash first.
Working the handle, Oishi commented: “I have to admit, despite the brave face, I was very uncomfortable in the sewers.”
Eiji laughed. “You took it better than your friends did. Square-eyes had his hand glued to his nose the whole time.”
The prince laughed. “Inui? That’s odd considering the fact that his energy drinks generally smell five times worse.”
“No way! I’ll believe it when I smell it.”
“You’d better pray you don’t any time soon.”
It occurred to Eiji that he was conversing rather familiarly with the Royal Heir to the throne. There was something very surreal about the whole thing.
“Is something wrong, Kikumaru?”
The street rat shook his head adamantly. “Nope. Nothing.”
They switched positions and Eiji watched as Oishi peeled off his cloak and then the shirt underneath it. Eiji’s eyes followed the sight of the Lunar Regalia as it swung from the prince’s neck like a hypnotic pendulum. Curious, Eiji wanted to ask how much the Royal Crest was really worth. “Hey, prince-”
“Oh, don’t call me that,” the other man said abruptly. “Ah, it’s just that, it isn’t really safe,” he said as he cast a look around the area. “And it isn’t safe for anyone to call me by my real name either, so until we reach Ellestor Manor, please call me Shitou.”
Eiji’s mouth formed a tiny ‘o’ as he nodded and put a silencing finger on his lips.
“Did you want to ask me something?”
Eiji just shook his head and balked as he realized he was now staring at the Crest and the smooth skin beneath it.
“When we get to Ellestor, I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out. I promise that you will be reimbursed for all your losses,” Oishi reassured him.
“We’ll be fine. Kamio’s likely to raise a ruckus, but that’s just what he does,” Eiji said, raising his blue eyes to meet green ones. “Is it true that we won’t be able to leave Ellestor, though? That’s real trouble for us.”
“I’ll take care of it,” the prince said determinedly. “I really do feel badly about dragging you three into this.”
Eiji just grinned wryly, “There’s no use in feeling bad about it now.”
That night, they slept soundly, as soundly as they could sharing a barn with a bunch of cows, and the next morning they set out for Ellestor. True to Inui’s estimations, they were cresting the border of the province by mid-afternoon.
“Fuji, ride ahead and inform the Lord of Ellestor of our impending arrival,” Inui said. The mage nodded and spurred his mount on down the road.
Oishi sighed wearily. “Shishido’s going to throw a fit when he sees us.”
*"Shitou" is Chinese for "stone/rock" in Mandarin pinyin.
If you would like to provide feedback on this story, please feel free to e-mail me at: poutonly@gmail.com.