Prince Kezin let out a deep sigh as he sat on his bed with closed eyes, legs outstretched. There was a terrible pain ransacking his leg, due to a wound caused by an arrow. The pain was unbearable, but it was nothing in comparison to the turmoil ranging in his mind.
He had imagined this battle to be a wonderful opportunity to fulfil one of his long-cherished childhood dream. But a cruel twist of fate had now dashed all his hopes to the grounds.
As with any other day, the Prince had called in the medical staff to get treated for the day's injuries. The royal doctor, on close examination of a particular wound on the leg, had declared that the Prince had been hit by the vicious 'Nanjjiu' arrow.
This meant that a seemingly simple arrow, which had struck the Price, had been tipped with a kind of deadly poison. The poison had already entered the blood of the Prince and would take hardly a day to spread throughout his body and kill him. The only known antidote of this poison was available among the tribal folks, and was almost impossible to procure within a day. The tragedy was so bad that even arrangments for the funeral rites of the Prince had already started.
The Prince’s mind went numb when he tried to process all the happenings. This particular battle was very crucial, not only for his kingdom but also for himself on a personal front. This was because of the announcement made by the King just before the troops set out. The one to return to the capital with the highest number of severed heads would be awarded with the most prestigious, highly revered ancient sword, ‘The Zira'.
As with any other royal kid, winning the Sword was the most cherished dream of Prince Kezin, right from his childhood. The Sword had mythical origins, and was said to confer Divine Powers upon its owner. Owning that Sword was a matter of great honour to any royal male. The Sword changed owners at regular intervals of 25 years, and a new owner was often decided on the basis of martial prowess. Every male member of the royal family dreamt of owning that Sword. That particular Sword was as much coveted as the Royal Crown.
But now, all of his hopes and dreams had evaporated into thin air. He barely had a day to live. What was the way out? Was there even a way?
Sound of approaching footsteps jerked the Price out of his deep thoughts. He saw his stepbrother, Prince Karvarn standing in front of him. He held a tiny gold jar in one hand and a scroll in another. He had a kind of triumphant smug look on his face which made Prince Kezin suspect some foul play.
Prince Karvarn had come to the bedside of his dying stepbrother with an offer. He claimed that the tiny jar in his hand contained the antidote which he had managed to procure from tribal folks. The scroll was a declaration, singing which would mean permanent excommunication of Prince Kezin from Royalty, which, in turn, would make him unfit for competing for the Sword. Signing the letter would make him a permanent bonded slave of his stepbrother, but in return, he would get the life-saving antidote. And he didn’t have much time to think; the poison was already acting up. It was a choice between dying as a warrior with an unfulfilled dream, against living as a menial bonded slave for his stepbrother.
Caught between the Devil and the Deep Sea, Prince Kezin remembered the words of his mentor to always act like a true fierce Royal. A 'true' , 'fierce', 'ruthless' royal.
"Life brings many opportunities. Death brings none. So, ALWAYS chose Life over death."
Accordingly, Prince Kezin signed the letter and swallowed the antidote. But the first among the heaps of severed heads he carried back to the capital was that of his own stepbrother. He declared that his brother was a brave martyr who was killed by the enemy, and he had brought back his head in order to commemorate his sacrifice. Prince Karvarn was duly honoured for his sacrifice. His severed head was embalmed and set up to stand as a symbol of bravery and martyrdom. Alongside, in a grand celebration, the bravery and examplary courage of Prince Kezin was extolled and he was awarded 'The Zira'.
Prince Kezin carried no guilt in his heart. His brother had played a very lowly trick on him, which was unbecoming of a royal. He, on the other hand, had acted as a true royal by upholding the age-old principle of 'eliminating threats at the first chance'. He was a true royal, by values and deeds, and he believed, with all his heart, that he indeed was only one deserving of the Sword.
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