The King’s Necklace
“A necklace?”
“Picture it.” Barsa leaned towards Magnus. “It was huge. Even more than the King and Queen now could imagine wearing, dripping in diamonds, emeralds, and rubies.”
“Barsa, you know I’m not one for ridiculous tales.”
“It’s not!” Barsa insisted. “I read it in one of the libraries. Myths of Apaelade.”
“The key word in that sentence being myths.” Magnus snorted.
“But the characters are undoubtedly true. Just listen to the story.”
Magnus sighed, gesturing Barsa to continue.
“A great king with citizens equally as wealthy as he ruled an old Apaelade from what is now ruins in the mountains our warrior compound resides. The King’s quiet prosperity in his large mountainside city brought many visitors, and eventually a rumor spread that the King’s success was attributed to his necklace, blessed by forces of Life Magic itself.”
“But what does that mean?” Magnus rolled his eyes.
“Shut up. The King’s daughter, the Princess, wore a set of matching anklets which had a glimmer that rivaled the King’s own necklace and held delicate blue sapphire pendants. The anklets had belonged to the young woman’s mother, but ever since her passing, the Princess had taken on her mother’s responsibilities in running the kingdom upon donning the late Queen’s favorite accessories.”
“It does feel like you are quoting a book. There is no way you could tell a story this eloquently on your own.”
“Magnus.” Barsa urged. “We are getting to the important part. The King did not only rule Apaelade, but the story talks of enemy kingdoms. As the book described them, they were not tactical fighters with the prowess of Apaeladian warriors. What’s more, the text describes them exactly as we see the forces of the Eastern Kingdom on the battlefield today – white-faced from a place with no sun.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Magnus shook his head. “White-faced from a place with no sun is propaganda. They are the color of marble, the deepest part of the ocean, and limestone. Their skin looks like sparkling, crystal sediment and it reflects the sun blindingly. That is how we describe the forces of the Eastern Kingdom. What is the name Apaeladians had coined for them? Udrtaang. Sea dwellers.”
“But this was a long time ago,” Barsa pointed out. “Our descriptions have changed.”
“Yes, but they have skin like the colors of sea glass.”
“Ugly sea glass.”
“No one said all sea glass was created equal.” Even as Magnus had described the Udrtaang, he realized that he had not done them justice. Their skin indeed was the color of marble and the deepest parts of the sea, but some carried orange flecks in their faces, the colors snaking around their bodies like paint. On top of that, they painted their faces red in battle. When the Apaeladian warriors saw Udrtaang soldiers on the battlefield, each soldier’s skin was a mosaic of white, gold, green, blue, and orange, dripping in red paint. Magnus could never decide whether they were lovely or terrifying. Their teeth were the most shocking, sharp incisors. Apaeladian warriors had extended canines that did not result in a great alteration of their faces, but Udrtaang soldiers had nothing but incisors filling their mouths. The sight of their smiles sent chills up Magnus’ spine – A deeply unfamiliar feeling.
“As I was saying,” Barsa raised his eyebrows pointedly, drawing Magnus’ attention back to him. “This story was written so long ago, perhaps they changed.”
“From stark white and lacking sun to full of color?”
Barsa shrugged. “How much do we know about the Udrtaang besides that they come from the East to slowly push into Apaeladian land? We are fighting them because they are trying to kill us, and we have no idea why.”
“Riches? Our libraries? Something to do with our knowledge of Life Magic? Or all of the above.” Magnus mused. “But you are right, we do not know, we can only guess.”
“Exactly. So keep listening to the story. These enemies, besides being pale from a place without sun, did not exert their force in battle. Their armies were smaller. Instead, they watched Apaelade from the sidelines, coveting the King’s necklace for their own. Their land was ridden with flood and famine, their city nearly underwater. And they needed to save it. One morning, a set of eight men on horses rode into Apaelade’s stronghold. The company stated that they rode in from one of the neighboring kingdoms, a man in elaborate armor declaring himself the Prince. The Prince then approached the King’s throne, saying his people were starving due to flood and famine. He eyed the King’s necklace closely, begging the King for the piece. What the Prince did not know is that it was not the necklace that had been blessed, but the sapphires on the Princess’s anklets.”
“So the King brought prosperity to Apaelade because of anklets blessed by forces of Life Magic that he himself did not wear?”
“Yes. His daughter wore them.”
“Also does not make sense considering his daughter would still have to pass the Succession Trials to take her father’s place.”
“Yes, well I suppose being the King’s daughter comes with its advantages.” Barsa scrunched his nose as though something smelled bad. “Now will you shut up?”
Magnus crossed his arms, allowing Barsa to continue.
“The Princess had watched quietly, allowing her father to speak, but even she knew that her mother’s anklets spurred the immense prosperity of Apaelade. The King, obviously with the knowledge that his necklace was not the cause of Apaelade’s happiness, sighed, and said with deep regret, that he could not give his necklace to the Prince in good faith. He invited the Prince and his company to remain in the palace for the night, and the princess decided that perhaps she could gift the anklets to the Prince to help his kingdom.
But the Prince had come with a plan. His kingdom was poor from losing resources from constant flooding. What the Prince did not tell the King was that he watched each morning as some strange life force urged the water to flood further into their city. The magic of the King’s necklace contained the same magic the Prince watched slowly overtake their city. The Prince had suspected the King did not want to part with his necklace. After all, who would give up such a massive force at the request of a stranger?”
“If this story is about the origins of our conflict with the Udrtaang,” Magnus mused. “It is saying they encroach Apaelade to save their city? Or to find a new place to live?”
Barsa shrugged. “Their motives must have changed in the last hundred years. But in this story, if the people written about are the Udrtaang, it seems to be a small window into how the conflict began in the first place.”
Magnus was silent, in thought, so Barsa continued the tale.
“As the Prince plotted how to steal the King’s necklace, the Princess had chosen to give her anklets to the Prince. She would present them to him at the feast, under the condition that they be returned to her once his kingdom was stable again. She had placed them in an intricate wooden case, lined with velvet. She meditated over her mother before placing the wooden case in the hands of her most trusted handmaid to be presented before the dinner began, setting good relations for the night.”
One accurate detail, Magnus noticed. It was common for Apaeladians to meditate over heirlooms of dead family. That, and the way the enemy seemed to be presented in the story. It was characteristic of how tales concerning Apaelade and the Udrtaang tended to sound – with the Udrtaang being the aggressor to the innocent Apaeladian kingdom. He listened closely to Barsa, as it seemed like this story was coming to an end.
“The Prince had ridden with only seven of his soldiers, but seventy more roamed about the royal courtyards as commoners. As night fell and the feast began, the King raised his glass and the Princess’ gift was brought to the Prince. The Prince glanced at the anklets and frowned. It was not these, but the King’s necklace that held the magic he wanted. With a loud laugh, he dismissed the anklets. When the Princess questioned what the Prince really sought from them, he was silent. The Prince wanted the King of Apaelade to save his kingdom. That was indeed a sizeable favor. He set the anklets back in front of the Princess and explained to her that it was not anklets to adorn that he desired, but a force that would bring fortune back to his kingdom. Still put off by the rudeness in his refusal of her gift, the Princess said nothing. She thought to tell him the truth about the kingdom’s prosperity, but realized if she told him and he accepted, it would have been through a greed for saving his people and not though an appreciation for a simple gift. In realizing the Prince’s greed, it also dawned on the Princess that he would not leave until he was satisfied.
In the hall, the Prince’s soldiers unmasked, barring the doors and slaughtering the King’s attendants until the floors of the grand hall ran red. The Princess screamed as the Prince cut her father’s throat in front of her and ripped the necklace from the King’s neck. With the Princess’s anklets returned to her, she drew her own swords, her fury blinding any generous instinct that could have convinced her to spare the Prince or his party. She wailed in grief and cut the Prince’s hands. The Prince demanded his company kill the Princess too, but her fury was unending, the magic of the anklets coursing through her. She slashed through each of the Prince’s company until she was left standing above the Prince, now without his hands and the King’s necklace covered in the Prince’s blood. The Prince pleaded for mercy, but the Princess simply placed her foot on his head, laughing in her blind rage, and kicked him to the ground. Only he was left alive to return to his kingdom wounded and relay that greed would not buy the help of Apaelade.” Barsa sat in solemn silence once he finished the story.
“This sounds suspiciously like the tales you would tell of ghosts when we were younger.” Magnus finally spoke. “Oddly enough, the end of this story sounds incredibly like a victory tale of Apaelade. To emphasize the prowess, brutality, and justice of a royal warrior in a face of an enemy that sounds strangely familiar.”
“Who come from a neighboring kingdom with no sun.” Barsa pointed out.
“But we still do not know if it speaks of the Udrtaang. Even if we did, we would still be left speculating because as far as anyone understands, such anklets do not exist in Apaelade now. Even if they once did at the beginning of this conflict.”
“What if we pinpointed an assassinated king whose daughter took over after his death? It would bring us steps closer into understanding whether the story is worth any weight and whether we should bring it to the palace with us.”
“And what are the odds of finding such a king?” Magnus sighed. Barsa leaned backward, reaching under his cot to pull out a leather-bound book, a page in the middle carefully earmarked. He placed the open book in Magnus’ hands. Magnus scanned the elegant Apaeladian script:
The Fall of King Akmen
Many scholars and kinets credit the rule of King Akmen as one of the key decisionmakers during Peacetime in a young Apaelade. Akmen had been crowned young, leading the armies in early consolidation conflicts between Apaelade and neighboring Eastern territories on the same land. In order to end the conflicts, a royal kinet crafted anklets for the Queen, laying sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and diamonds into gold and creating a matching necklace for the King to ensure their safety and success.
During a Spring conflict fought in the plains of Apaelade past the mountainous forests of the castle inland, the King’s forces seemed to be outnumbered and on terrain that they were unfamiliar with. The Queen, now with a daughter and waiting for him to return, meditated on the anklets that the royal kinet had created. Legend has it that in one such vision a force of Life descended in an essence of gold. There was no figure and no words spoken to the Queen, but the anklets simply began to glow as she meditated, fading when she opened her eyes and suddenly becoming much lighter in her hands despite being covered in gems and made of heavy gold.
The Queen, having worn the anklets, decided the best way to protect King Akmen was to fight alongside him. Despite their forces being grossly outnumbered, she joined him with her own battalion on the field, and they won, ending the conflict on the plains and returning to the castle. Conflicts quelled, it was reported that the Queen no longer wore the anklets, for fear of what she believed to be an interference of Life Magic the day she had meditated on them before joining the King on the battlefield.
After a few years, the Queen herself passed from a sickness she could not overcome. Akmen wore the necklace every day, choosing to avoid conflict and maintain peace among the consolidated cities that now formed Apaelade.
As years passed, a battalion from an eastern kingdom rode into the Apaeladian mountains, and King Akmen entertained them in the castle between the two highest peaks in the Eastern Mountains of Apaelade. He listened to the story of their quickly-falling Kingdom and their request for his necklace. In a play for the jewels blessed by Life Magic, the battalion slaughtered the King, but paid for their crimes with their lives.
“Oddly specific,” Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Anklets that were blessed by Life Magic.”
“King Akmen.” Barsa pointed. “The story must be true to some capacity, whether those anklets were blessed by Life Magic or not, they must exist.”
“We need more evidence.” Magnus gestured to the forests outside of the windows of the Warrior compound. “Considering we are in the Eastern mountains already it should not be too out of the way for us to look for ruins. The location of the castle is between the two tallest peaks.”
It was not lost on Magnus that the location of the castle in the entry and the story was described to be in almost the same location as the warrior compound. Perhaps they were close.
Barsa stared at Magnus for a moment. “It has been almost more than a century. Even if these stories are correct, the directions could be different.” He noted.
“We must find something. After all, they were stone castles in the only Eastern mountains in Apaelade. If they have not been intentionally disassembled, I do not see why we should not at least be able to find a clue. Besides, if this really does illuminate the story of the Udrtaang, we should bring it to the elder warrior committee.”
Barsa nodded, placing the book back under the cot. “We can search the forests between training sessions. We are not far down the mountains ourselves.”
***
Magnus had often hiked deep into the forests of the mountains after earning his ranks as a warrior, searching for moments of peace that he could not find in the compound. He and Barsa searched similar routes now, traveling until they could overlook the treetops of the forest below, but rarely finding the telltale ruins Magnus expected to find in forests as undisturbed as these.
“Life Magic is constantly shifting our surroundings.” Barsa shrugged. “Do you think it has something to do with why the ruins are not here?” Neither him nor Magnus showed even a sign of fatigue.
“There are plenty of ruins in Apaelade that we have either built upon or preserved.” Magnus shook his head. “No royal forces have come through the Eastern mountains as they are designated for the life and upkeep of the warrior compound. Not to mention, this compound has existed nearly as long as the stories themselves have. It must be here. We simply need to understand what we are looking for.”
Barsa scoured the books he had snuck away from the compound library, flipping through the pages for visual cues that would tell them exactly where this castle would have stood.
“There are descriptions,” Barsa sighed on one of their hikes. “But they seem vague. ‘a stone wonder’, ‘perched high in between forested peaks’, ‘a terraced hideaway’.” He shook his head. “How could anyone possibly understand what that means?”
Magnus leaned over his shoulder, scanning the page he was on in the leather-bound book Barsa had pulled out from under his cot to read the story of King Akmen earlier that week. “Hm,” He pondered as a breeze hit their faces. “Perhaps we should be asking one of the elder warriors now.”
“Would they know?” Barsa turned to him. “Why would they keep such knowledge and not relay it to the King and Queen?”
“You found these books in the library, did you not? Warriors, especially those in command, spend hours scouring through history and strategy books. Why would these be sitting in the library to none of the elders’ knowledge?”
“Maybe they found no use for them?” Barsa answered with a question, indicating that he would have no more knowledge on the matter than Magnus might.
“It must be worth asking.” Magnus turned back the way they came. He repeated the descriptions Barsa had read aloud in his head, thinking they sounded oddly familiar, but he could not figure out exactly where he had heard them.
Magnus and Barsa did not waste a moment as they entered the compound after their hike, the leather-bound book in Barsa’s hands. The elders’ hall was located below one of the highest terraces in the warrior compound. They tread up the stairs quietly, reaching the heavy wooden doors and pausing.
“Magnus,” Barsa grabbed his arm. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Magnus shrugged with a small grin.
“Might as well get answers now that we’re here, no?” He pushed the door open.
The room was empty. Magnus expected the elder warriors to be seated at the long table inside, but he laughed at himself as he realized the ridiculousness of that thought. They could not possibly sit in a room all day as elders who lead a warrior compound.
Barsa and Magnus let the heavy door creak shut behind them. Rays of sunlight streamed through the etched windows, creating swirling shapes on the tiled floor. If Magnus pictured thrones in place of the long table, he could imagine this to be a throne room.
“What are you two doing here?”
Magnus and Barsa spun towards a door behind the long table that had opened, revealing an elder warrior. Magnus scanned the room for more doors he had not noticed, but it seemed as though that was the only one. Odd. He could have sworn it was not there before.
“We were looking for the committee,” Barsa held up the book. “We’ve got a few questions.”
The elder warrior looked amused, sitting at the head of the long table. “What have you found, young one?”
“This.” Barsa placed the book on the table, relaying what he had found in the books themselves and the results of his and Magnus’ hikes in the past week. “…perhaps if we can find what is left of the castle, we can confirm that this book tells us key information about why the Udrtaang have spent so long attacking Apaelade.”
The elder warrior looked at the book thoughtfully. “Where did you find this?”
“Barsa found this and a few other books in the compound libraries.” Magnus answered. “To which I did not understand why this information would not have already been known by the elder warrior council already.”
The elder warrior smiled. “We can only read so much in our libraries. And believe me, young one, we have spent years in attempts to know it all.”
“So, you’ve never heard of this?” Barsa gestured to the leather-bound book. The elder warrior shook her head.
Barsa relayed the vague descriptions he had to Magnus on their hike. The elder warrior listened carefully, with a raised eyebrow and a curious expression that Magnus could not read.
“Is there anything you have found that could be specific to the castle in the stories? Even in the book of mythical history?”
Barsa shrugged. “A terraced wonder?” He suggested. “The most telling thing seemed to be that it sat in between two of the largest peaks in Apaelade’s Eastern mountains, but we have searched until the top of the tallest peaks and have not found anything.”
“And peaks change,” The elder warrior nodded, glancing out the window. She seemed to be studying the terrain outside. Magnus followed his gaze. To the East rose two higher peaks that did not sit close enough to each other for anything to be built in the middle and retain any height in the mountains. Beside them, the two tallest mountain peaks were those that rose around the warrior compound. Magnus furrowed his eyebrows. Could it be? He turned his gaze back to the elder warrior and they met eyes, exchanging a glance that Magnus could only describe as an understanding.
“Hm,” The warrior mused. “Stay here.”
They watched the warrior disappear in the door through which she had arrived. Barsa turned his head towards Magnus questioningly. Magnus shrugged. Barsa shrugged in return.
A few moments later, the elder warrior came back, the committee close behind. They entered through a door on the far right this time. That definitely had not been there after Magnus had studied the wall so closely. As the elder warriors filed towards the long table, one of them held out a hand. The one Magnus and Barsa had first spoken to nodded her head at the book. Barsa placed the earmarked book in the elder warrior’s outstretched grasp.
“This is an early writing of Apaelade.” The warrior announced after a moment of silence. “Perhaps older than it claims to be.”
Magnus addressed the elder that had spoken to him and Barsa first. “You said that the mountains can change.”
She nodded. “Life Magic is within every living thing, including the trees, the ground, and anything we may eat or walk on. Life magic is causing the world to breathe as it lives and breathes.”
Magnus pointed towards the only two peaks higher than the ones that the compound stood in between. “This compound is in between two of the tallest peaks on the western side of the Eastern mountains.” Magnus then gestured to the east side of the mountain. “But not the tallest to the eastern side.”
“Yes,” The elder warrior who held the book nodded. “And as Life Magic develops, it tends to extend west.”
“Why is that?” Barsa tilted his head.
“Many kinets assume its source was simply in the east. The older kingdoms are always located farther east.” The elder warrior answered.
“If the mountains to the west are newer, perhaps we can assume the peaks which we stand between could have been the two tallest mountains when these stories were written.” Magnus furrowed his eyebrows. “Do you believe this castle is the one written about?”
“The compound was not built anew,” Another elder nodded. “It was restructured from a base that had stood in the mountains as the Royal Apaeladian Palace in the center of the city was built.”
Magnus could only stare at the elder committee.
“This seems extremely convenient.” Barsa filled the momentary silence. The elders nodded.
“We will have to discuss further what this means for the conflicts with the Udrtaang and what to take back to the King’s advisory.” The elder nodded. “But it seems you young ones have made quite the connection.”
Magnus stood ever so still. He thought about the story when Barsa had told it. As the Udrtaang in the story were described, they seemed more – human. Then again, Magnus almost chuckled to himself, many would doubt he seemed human. More importantly, it seemed the Udrtaang had come to Apaelade ages ago for a reason.
“According to the story, their city was flooding.” Magnus furrowed his eyebrows and stared at the elders, waiting for an answer.
“That was arguably over a century ago.” Barsa added.
“We do not have all the answers about the Udrtaang,” The elder answered. “But this will be the beginning of uncovering much more than is available to us now.”
Magnus nodded slowly. He thought about the anklets. Had the Udrtaang come for them? If what the stories in the books Barsa found suggested were true, then perhaps stories about the anklets blessed by Life Magic had been passed down by the Udrtaang too. There were endless possibilities as to why the Udrtaang came from their kingdom in the east, even if the story had been passed down. Magnus could not bring himself to name the possibilities, because he was unsure exactly how many there were.
“We must discuss what to do next,” The elder continued after a pause. “And who to provide the responsibility of exploring these findings further.”
Magnus and Barsa nodded, preparing to leave.
“However,” The elder continued. “Perhaps it is time for the two of you to officially join the Royal guard.”
Magnus exchanged a glance with Barsa, squinting slightly. Did a simple story hidden in the libraries of what was once the Apaeladian castle lead them to positions in the Royal guard?
“You are both the best young warriors we have in the compound and have led countless battalions into conflicts with the Udrtaang. You will continue to do what you are doing from the Royal Apaeladian Palace. With your curiosity and ability to spot the imprints of Life Magic on Apaelade, the King and Queen will need your prowess to continue a successful rule.”
Magnus opened his mouth to respond, but Barsa caught his eye, shaking his head slightly. They nodded, and the elders turned, on their way out of the room.
“You will leave at the end of the week to the Royal Apaeladian palace.” The elder who had been speaking to them instructed, following the committee out through yet another door Magnus could have sworn was not there.
“What have we done?” Barsa sat aat the long table once more.
“I think we found something more important than we thought it was.” Magnus took a deep breath in. He had never been to the Royal Apaeladian Palace. Warriors who had led battalions from the palace and returned spoke about the grandeur and the precision of fighting the Udrtaang with some of the best fighters Apaelade had to offer. It was as though those training in the compound were hungry for the opportunity, but Magnus only found himself confused.
Every year, the elders chose the best warriors to fight with the Royal battalions. Some returned to the compound, and some stayed in the main city to continue through the ranks of the conflict. Magnus had heard of the occasional warrior becoming part of the Royal Guard. Is that what he wanted? “I think we might need to start preparing to leave for the palace.” He finally spoke.
Barsa was lost in thought. “Magnus?” Barsa finally piped up as they treaded down the stairs. “Do you want to leave?”
“I don’t know.” Magnus did not find himself excited or averse to the situation. Many young warriors at the compound spoke about being assigned to the palace as a rite of passage, the same way they had earned their ranks. Magnus had always thought that he would feel the same excitement he did before earning his ranks, but maybe that was why he did not exude excitement now. “We do not know what waits for us there.”
Barsa nodded in agreement. “If it’s anything like the battles we have been in, it shouldn’t be too difficult to brave together, eh?” He nudged Magnus. Magnus found a smile teasing his face.
“I have a feeling it might be exactly like the battles we have been in.” Magnus answered lightly. “Maybe slightly more pomp and circumstance.”
“I should hope so, after all this trouble we have been through.” Barsa shook his head good-naturedly. Magnus could see him loosen up slightly, become more comfortable with the idea of going to the Apaeladian palace. “We had better get a feast just like everyone else who gets sent off to live with the King and Queen."
"Do you think it will be louder?” Magnus raised an eyebrow.
“Certainly more eventful.” Barsa grinned. “A palace full of people that are not all warriors? That leaves plenty to explore.”
“Don’t be an oaf,” Magnus nudged him. “We have a reputation to uphold.”
“And a job to do,” Barsa mocked. “That can be your job.”
“You’re the one who found the stories.” Magnus scrunched his nose.
“Yeah, I did my part.” Barsa grinned. “Besides, they’ll have you leading a battalion in no time.”
Magnus smiled, but did not respond, as they reached one of the lower terraces. He paused, watching the sun begin to set behind the higher peaks on the west side of the compound.