Chapter 1
K arukan
was never meant to be king. That exclusive honor was destined for
his elder brother, Sorran, who had been groomed and prepared for it
even before his much anticipated birth. Should Sorran have been
unable or deemed unfit to perform the duties entrusted upon him,
the next eldest, Revak was designated as a replacement. Karukan,
being the youngest male child, and the baby of the family, never
anticipated that he would ever be called upon in this capacity, and
thus, had led a relatively untroubled and happy life.
Of course, there was that ongoing war with
Hahr. No one could be truly carefree with young men marching off to
their deaths on a daily basis. Yet, after all these many, many
years of battling, the war was more of a background noise than
anything else, and consequently, never given more than a passing
thought by young Karukan.
No one was entirely certain what the war was
about any more anyway. Land and God most likely, as that was what
usually incited men to declare all others worthy of defeat on the
field of battle.
However, if any young person should
dare to ask, ‘ What danger requires that I
march off to my imminent death, as well as slay the other guy in
the process ,’ an elder person might
respond with some complex and complicated explanation or
obfuscation that essentially answered nothing.
“Well, you see, the people of Hahr are our
enemies,” the elder might say. “Long ago they did this or that to
us. They crossed this red line, and violated that treaty. We need
to war with them for our own safety. Do it for your
mother.”
And so, countless generations on both sides
spent their best, and in some cases, only, years attempting to
annihilate the other. Karukan was oblivious to it, though. He was
the quintessentially handsome, and pampered prince, adored by his
loving mother, and three elder, and equally doting
sisters.
When Karukan was fifteen years old, and in
prep school, spending his days ignoring teachers and forgetting
homework, Sorran became king. Their father had died suddenly of a
heart attack, literally falling over and out of his throne, during
a parliamentary meeting that had gone on for hours. No one was
certain why the old king had expired so suddenly. Although the
meeting was boring, it was no more stressful than usual. The
arguments were certainly not worthy of causing the old man a
coronary. A headache, yes, but nothing more lethal than that.
However, gone he was, and thus, Sorran was now in charge, something
the twenty-five year old Crown Prince assumed with
relish.
Determined to end the wars forever by
overwhelming Hahr with every means at his disposal, Sorran
immediately unleashed a barrage of his most incendiary, although
conventional devices. Karupatani had an arsenal of nuclear
missiles, something Sorran was game to deploy. However, his
father’s advisors did their best to convince him
otherwise.
Also, there was that annoying Parliament that,
in Sorran’s mind, served only to stay his hand, and nothing else.
This was contrary to the responsibilities of his office, as defined
and obeyed by Sorran’s forefathers for centuries already, which
were simply to agree and add his signature to the bills passed by
the people’s representatives. Sorran was to keep his opinions
neutral, smile handsomely, and put on a good show by marrying an
appropriately beautiful princess, and siring darling children who
would do the same.
However, the young king found these
restrictions intolerable, for he was inclined to believe himself
both more handsome and intelligent than anyone else, including all
parliamentary politicians, who were by definition both ugly and
stupid. He was also in possession of a pen and a phone with which
he would first sign off an order to nuke Hahr to bloody hell, and
then, phone it in to his airforce.
“No, you mustn’t, Sir,” the Lord Chamberlain
had begged, whilst wishing that he too had fallen over and died
like his friend, the
K arukan
was never meant to be king. That exclusive honor was destined for
his elder brother, Sorran, who had been groomed and prepared for it
even before his much anticipated birth. Should Sorran have been
unable or deemed unfit to perform the duties entrusted upon him,
the next eldest, Revak was designated as a replacement. Karukan,
being the youngest male child, and the baby of the family, never
anticipated that he would ever be called upon in this capacity, and
thus, had led a relatively untroubled and happy life.
Of course, there was that ongoing war with
Hahr. No one could be truly carefree with young men marching off to
their deaths on a daily basis. Yet, after all these many, many
years of battling, the war was more of a background noise than
anything else, and consequently, never given more than a passing
thought by young Karukan.
No one was entirely certain what the war was
about any more anyway. Land and God most likely, as that was what
usually incited men to declare all others worthy of defeat on the
field of battle.
However, if any young person should
dare to ask, ‘ What danger requires that I
march off to my imminent death, as well as slay the other guy in
the process ,’ an elder person might
respond with some complex and complicated explanation or
obfuscation that essentially answered nothing.
“Well, you see, the people of Hahr are our
enemies,” the elder might say. “Long ago they did this or that to
us. They crossed this red line, and violated that treaty. We need
to war with them for our own safety. Do it for your
mother.”
And so, countless generations on both sides
spent their best, and in some cases, only, years attempting to
annihilate the other. Karukan was oblivious to it, though. He was
the quintessentially handsome, and pampered prince, adored by his
loving mother, and three elder, and equally doting
sisters.
When Karukan was fifteen years old, and in
prep school, spending his days ignoring teachers and forgetting
homework, Sorran became king. Their father had died suddenly of a
heart attack, literally falling over and out of his throne, during
a parliamentary meeting that had gone on for hours. No one was
certain why the old king had expired so suddenly. Although the
meeting was boring, it was no more stressful than usual. The
arguments were certainly not worthy of causing the old man a
coronary. A headache, yes, but nothing more lethal than that.
However, gone he was, and thus, Sorran was now in charge, something
the twenty-five year old Crown Prince assumed with
relish.
Determined to end the wars forever by
overwhelming Hahr with every means at his disposal, Sorran
immediately unleashed a barrage of his most incendiary, although
conventional devices. Karupatani had an arsenal of nuclear
missiles, something Sorran was game to deploy. However, his
father’s advisors did their best to convince him
otherwise.
Also, there was that annoying Parliament that,
in Sorran’s mind, served only to stay his hand, and nothing else.
This was contrary to the responsibilities of his office, as defined
and obeyed by Sorran’s forefathers for centuries already, which
were simply to agree and add his signature to the bills passed by
the people’s representatives. Sorran was to keep his opinions
neutral, smile handsomely, and put on a good show by marrying an
appropriately beautiful princess, and siring darling children who
would do the same.
However, the young king found these
restrictions intolerable, for he was inclined to believe himself
both more handsome and intelligent than anyone else, including all
parliamentary politicians, who were by definition both ugly and
stupid. He was also in possession of a pen and a phone with which
he would first sign off an order to nuke Hahr to bloody hell, and
then, phone it in to his airforce.
“No, you mustn’t, Sir,” the Lord Chamberlain
had begged, whilst wishing that he too had fallen over and died
like his friend, the
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