PRINCE OF FOOLS: CHAPTER ONE

i. Arrogance Burns Brightest with Fear

The Beast from Borea

A moment that seemed like a lifetime ago. The Prince’s eyes reflected for the last time on his palace before fire crumbled the main tower into charred timber and dust. He must admit, its beauty burned brilliantly in the darkness. There was no sense of despair or anger in his eyes, only indifference. He had nicer palaces further south. 

An enormous dark and shadowy figure was standing on the tall stone wall that surrounded his home. The man looked directly at him. The Prince relieved himself.  

“It’s time to leave,” said the Prince in an even tone. His men could not suspect how frightened he was. Stroking his well-kept beard, the Prince hiked up his long flowing silk robes with clean hands and shifted the weight of the jewels as they started to strangle his neck and weaken his arms. 

If it hadn’t been for the military uniforms, the men surrounding the Prince could have been mistaken as either thieves or royalty. Each was adorned with lavish jewels and canvas sacks stuffed with silver and gold. Behind them was a small army who instead on fighting back the Rebels so they could extinguish the fires before it burned their houses down. Loaded with trunks and chests brimming with fine silks and ornate furniture, the soldiers breathed heavily. Beaten and broken, they did their best to hold-off the army of rebellious slaves from pillaging the rest of the Prince’s vast fortune while the flames leapt from rooftop to rooftop. 

It didn’t take much convincing for the ‘Beast from Borea’ to gain the strength and support of the Prince’s slave caste. Every family had been tormented and starved at some point, all in the name of the Prince’s quest for exuberance and luxury. Eventually the slave to master ratio tipped 20 slaves to every 1 master. It was a slaughter. Quietly retreating into the valley beyond the desert hills, the Prince protected all that his father (the Sultan) held closest to his heart  -- no gold or gemstone left behind.

One Soldier, bloody and burned from the battle approached the Prince. “My Lord! Women and children are still inside the Palace. There are enough men here to rally against the slaves and still save our city! Your father’s palace is only half a days' ride south. Stay here and we’ll return to secure the road.”

“No. This is all lost to me now. I never want to be reminded of this moment again in my life. Let it all burn clean,” said the Prince. He could not wait to see the look on that beastly foreigner’s face when his father’s guard returned to clean-up the mess. He even knew exactly which wall in his southern palace would proudly display the Borean’s head. 

The Prince briefly turned his gaze back towards the burning city as the sound of wood splintered and cracked against rock. Then the night sky was filled with another crash of thunder as the other tower fell hard against the wall where the Borean once stood. The memory of the yellow glowing eyes and wide Borean broadsword was seared into the Prince’s soul that night. For the first time in his entire life, the Prince felt fear. And that required retribution -- no matter the cost. 

ii. Another Morning in the Sun

A bright white light filled a room with a cathedral ceiling. The warmth quickly washed away the Prince’s feelings of fear. He steadied his shaky hand to block-out the morning sun. The journey made him tired, but not too tired to indulge himself at his father’s palace. Unfortunately not all were as lucky as him that night. Only a few of the soldiers and one Palace Guard managed to escape the burning city, the task of carrying the Prince’s vast wealth and treasures was the only reason they survived the Borean’s broadsword. While the Prince on the other hand spent his night becoming a beast of his desires. The feeling of seeing so much blood and dead bodies in a single night had aroused him. However, he managed to keep his unearthly desires in check as he tired himself out quickly in his father’s harem. 

All who survived the night agreed that the Borean was not a man, but a demon jin who drank human blood through his blackened sword. Each swing created a precise moment in time where anything within its massive arc would turn to blood. The Palace Guard’s memories of the last 12 hours will haunt him for the rest of his life. Loyal soldiers, his brothers and friends were slaughtered on their feet.

Uncuffing his wrists and slowly rolling out of the stained sheets, the Prince was finally rested from the tragic event. “Ready my bath,” muttered the Prince. He slipped slightly on the filth that was left behind on the warm marble floor.

Now clean, he sat alone in front of a vast table full of exotic fruits, meats, freshly baked breads, and sweet dates. He took a deep breath in allowing the intoxicating aromas to fill his senses. He loved this part of the morning. But something was missing.

“More wine!” Shouted the Prince.

The Prince then spent the rest of his morning wandering around the royal gardens with his wife and four daughters as they sang old songs and skipped along ancient stone pathways and perfectly manicured foliage grown from exotic seeds of distant lands.

 iii. A Reign of Blood and Dust

The Prince tried to shake off the large glass of mead he had for lunch as he walked through the largest set of doors in the entire Kingdom. His father’s doors, a chamber so large that every foot fall echoed loudly off the ornate ceiling tiles. Soon these chambers and the voice that speaks from them will be his. For 800 years, the Kingdom was kept safe by a pair of ornate wooden doors reinforced with cold steel to protect the family who would reign with prosperity, generosity and wealth for a thousand more years to come. Inside there was a chair, carefully positioned to give whoever sat there command of the room and therefore the empire.

“Father! Your son demands your attention!” Normally the Prince would announce himself with a more gracious tone, but as his father aged he felt this was more of an appropriate way to assert his dominance. 

“Oh, my poor Prince... What seems the matter, dear boy. You look as if you’ve lost your kingdom,” replied the Sultan, who was doing his best to not hide his distain and disappointment in his petulant son.

As always, the Sultan’s words boomed from that chair of his. A design that his ancestors learned from the other religions to project authority and subjugate the masses. The menagerie of exotic animals that lined the walls were his idea. And it worked. 

For the Sultan was not a large man. He was fat and plump and since entering his 50s, his health has been in steady decline. But as his appetite grew, he was also absorbing as much knowledge from the surrounding kingdoms as possible. His legacy of conquest needed to reach the Northern Sea before he died. And he was close. Now his eldest son seeks an opportunity, one that finally aligned with his own. It would be no surprise if the Sultan’s first son would continue his reign of blood, dust, and conquest. And, if not, then a dozen younger sons were waiting to replace him. 

Despite this long succession, the Prince never thought himself expendable -- he could also only sire daughters no matter how many different women he tried. His expendability, however, would come as a stark revelation to him in just a few short years. Much too late to make any difference. Maybe if he had noticed that the army his father provided him was mostly slaves, prisoners, and sell-swords, then maybe then he wouldn’t have been so hasty to jump on the back of an elephant and ride North. But his father’s wit had grown too sharp for the foolish Prince.

Looking the Sultan right in the eye, the Prince laughed arrogantly.

Blood splatters across a marble pillar and quickly creeps across the polished floor. The Prince’s half-brothers flanked their father, the Sultan. Only when they were together did they ever look the same, as it was custom for the Royal caste to take multiple wives. 

The sounds of chains thrashing marble echoed through the Royal hall, for the smell of blood sent the carnivorous jungle cats into a wild frenzy: which then caused the birds to squawk and flap the chains against their gilded cages, as the gorillas bellowed and shook their golden bars. However, it was the shrieks of horror from the harem of women draped amongst the pillows that confirmed his manhood. 

The Prince kicked the lifeless body of the soldier who asked him to spare the city into the awaiting maw of a nearby tiger. The menagerie of sounds in the Sultan’s acoustically amplified chamber grew deafening. No one even heard the loud CRASH of the scimitar soaked in blood roar like thunder on the ornate stone tiles. 

“SILENCE!” Raged the Sultan from his seat of power. The whole room went silent.

“No, Father! Assemble the army. I am marching all the way to this Neanderthal’s home so I can burn his house to the ground!” Commanded the Prince indignantly.  

“Then you shall have it, my boy.” The Sultan then let out a large bellowed laugh that even made the gorillas retreat to the corner of their cell. “You shall have it...”

iv. A Journey North Begins

The Prince's Revenge Starts with Dust and Sand

The main gates to the palace opened slowly. The Prince’s wish was granted. Revenge will be his, and the empire will expand from the southern to the northern sea. And that’s all the Sultan wanted for his boys, conquest and expansions. Having a son lead the charge made the campaign a legitimate extension of his power, doing it for revenge was simply the catalyst. Besides, maybe his useless son would sire a boy with the Northern Queen -- if he could tame her. Stories of the ferocity, independence, and strength of the Warrior Women who drank from the Yenisei River was a myth that the Sultan saw prove true. Even he, at the peak of his manhood, ended up limping home unfulfilled for the first time in his privileged life. The Prince didn’t stand a chance. Still, the army of 50,000 men would deliver a message that it was time for the north to bend the knee. 

A thousand flag bearers, each one encompassing a 500 unit of lances, soldiers, elephants, horses, chariots, and war machine. All led by the Prince who rode  proudly on a mountain of pillows on the back of his war elephant. From his vantage point the might of his military might even be enough to sack his father’s four kingdoms. There were enough battle-ready soldiers to siege any city, sack any village, and certainly stomp out every last Borean. 

But will it be enough to quench the Prince’s lust for revenge? 

The Captain of the Guard rides up on horseback below the Prince’s war elephant. The Prince looked down at his trusty young Captain. Rows upon rows of soldiers in marching formation fill his field of vision. The great parade from city wall to city wall was a grand success. Flower petals littered every street corner and everyone, rich or poor, was given the time-off of their daily duties to wish the Prince luck on his ‘conquest’. 

“My Prince, it is an honour to expand our nation’s borders under your command. But 

your father wasn’t clear on how far north you will lead his army,” said the Captain. 

“Let’s be clear, Captain, as the next time you make this mistake it will cost you your life. This is my army to lead to the very gates of Hell, if I so wish,” replied the Prince with an even tone and ghastly smile that made the Captain feel confident that this was a man who follow-up up with his threats. The look of fear wasn’t lost on The Prince. For now he knew that this young Captain was eager to be a leader of men, while still prioritising the pleasure and confidence of his superiors. Most importantly, he could see the fear in the young Captain's eyes and that was a level of respect the Prince could use to his advantage. 

As for the young Captain, he found himself in the first of many awkward predicaments that would haunt his meteoric rise in the ranks to become the youngest General in the history of the Sultan’s Reign -- though it would not last long.  

As the main gates of the kingdom opened wide, a blast of desert heat created a pause amongst the roaring crowd. Never losing sight of an opportunity to present himself, the Prince leaps up onto the back of his elephant and addresses the crowd. 

“I will return to you with a story of conquest, a story of blood and a story of our expansion!” Bellowed the Prince. “Many have asked me, how far north are we going? We will march through the sun scorched deserts of our Homelands to seek out and claim new fields for your bellies. And then we’ll go farther. North! North towards the steppes of winter and I will continue my expansion until the cold settles deep within my bones and the sun forever sets behind me. And upon my return, I will bring gifts of gold and enough food that my kingdom and all who follow me shall never go hungry again!”

The crowd once again leaps to a mighty roar that escorted the Prince and his army out of a kingdom that would only ever welcome one poor soul back through its main gates. Needless to say, the Prince never did honour that promise to his people.

Fifty thousand men marched quickly and orderly knowing that the scorching sun would be the first of many trials that would attempt to claim their souls. As the doomed expedition full of men, muscle and might took their first steps north, it only took 20-minutes outside of the Sultan’s kingdom before the vultures started to circle. They were soon joined by dozens of desert rats who willingly braved the heat in exchange for a near endless supply of rotting meat and fecal matter left in the Prince's wake.