Fiction logo

FIT FOR A KING

Chapter 1: Olevander's Gift

By Laura MerchantPublished about a year ago 13 min read
3

The morning sun burst through the windows of the east tower, past the curtains onto the floor. A tall, thin shadow of a man brought the curtains to a close and breathed deeply at the relief of darkness. He liked the dark; it was where he did his best work. The elder ran a wiry hand through his long white beard. Gone were the days of old and gray. Now there was only old. But the alchemist wouldn't be retiring any time soon. There was too much to be done. Especially now. As he considered the task at hand, there was a knock at the door, which Olevander the Mild quickly rushed to answer.

"My father said you wanted to see me?" inquired the visitor.

"Yes, yes, Your Majesty," said Olevander with a forward bow. "Please, please, come in!"

Prince Nero of Celadore scrunched his nose as he passed through the doorway, stifling a gag in response to whatever was bubbling in the corner. Then, following the wizard's gentle gesture, Nero ventured into Olevander's wonderland of weird. Pops and sizzles of various experiments gave a glowing greeting of their own. Olevander's been busy, he thought.

Nero had only been in Olevander's chambers once, by mistake as a child. Though many years had passed since that accidental discovery, Nero would never forget the smell of the wizard's modest workspace: stale bread and body odor with the slightest hint of rosemary. The curtains were drawn-in enough to make one question the time. Days could pass without one knowing. A messy pallet in the corner embellished with stacks of books and blankets suggested that Olevander studied even in bed. He noted the candles, dusty scrolls, and multiple bottles scattered over the various working stations. What a mess! The Prince shook his head. His father, King Sayed, was merciful and just--even to those he confined--and would never allow criminals to be kept in such living conditions.

Why, then, did the mage choose to live in such an environment?

"I see that last night's festivities did not leave any effect on you," noted Olevander. He half-expected the cherub-faced royal to be hungover or physically spent from all the excitement. There were dancers, fireworks, a twelve-tier cake, and an endless supply of champagne in the grand ballroom the night before, but Nero's chocolatey eyes showed little evidence of a late night.

"Should I be affected?" asked the Prince.

"Well, it was your birthday."

And not just any birthday. No, this birthday would catalyze all that Nero would do, all he would become. Olevander hid his nervous excitement.

"A boy doesn't turn sixteen every day, sire."

"It was like any other day," shrugged Nero.

While the royal celebration of his birth had been extravagant, Prince Nero found himself bored and indifferent. Birthdays aren't special. Everyone has a birthday. What's the point of celebrating something that everyone has? His yesterday was very much akin to his present day, with the sun rising and setting as usual. The sun would rise and set again until the end of time, even after he'd long turned to dust. Nero didn't feel any older, and he certainly didn't look any older. Underweight, with juvenile curls of gold and showing the signs of a desperate need for a growth spurt, the Prince knew he'd have big shoes to fill once he took the throne. But that seemed far into the future. There was still time.

"I would have given you your gift at the party," began Olevander. "But presents like these are best given in secret."

Prince Nero ignored the elder's cryptic preface and considered his fair reflection in a nearby looking-glass, the absence of facial hair giving yet another reminder of his adolescent setback. King Sayed had a beard and the muscle mass of a Greek god. That's what a king is supposed to look like, Nero told himself. Perhaps in time, he would overcome this developmental delay.

"You don't need to give me any presents, Olevander," he said. "I received more than enough at my party to last a lifetime."

"But this gift has always been yours, sire. I've merely been holding it for you, waiting for the right time.

"The right time?" queried Nero, taking notice of Olevander's still empty hands. He knew the old man meant well, but a sweet temperament merely dampened the appearance of lunacy; it would never fully absorb it.

How could one present a gift when there was nothing to give?

The Prince shook his head again at his host's enigmatic commentary. It seemed Olevander was always mumbling some sort of gibberish! If he didn't already live in the palace, Olevander would fit right in with the other rogues that lived outside of Celadores's stone walls: gypsies and shamans selling homemade remedies beside fortune-tellers or spiritual consultants. To Nero, they were all fantastical fanatics practicing inconceivable nonsense, possessing no talents other than the charming sleight-of-hand. Why so many put their faith in such practices was a mystery!

Now, arithmetic, Nero understood. The effects of modern medicine were a thing to be marveled over, no doubt. Even heavenly constellations seemed to have a practical purpose for examination. But magic? Magic was for tricksters, swindlers, and master manipulators. He was of noble blood--ordained by God--and therefore did not require such endowments, however mysterious or generously given. Nero knit his brow.

"What if I don't want this gift?" he asked.

Olevander knit his own bushy eyebrows in response. "I don't see why you'd--"

"--Because I don't believe in magic, " Nero retorted.

The elder shifted. "Don't believe or don't understand?"

"Both," Nero replied flatly. "So you can save whatever elaborate deception you've planned."

"D eception?"

Nero took to examining the visually stimulating gadgets and gizmos around him. Toys, he decided. These provide no educational value whatsoever. "The complex displays you perform at court; those farcical charades. I'll admit your shows are a sight to behold, but they don't do anything, nor do they mean anything."

Prince Nero's words pierced the great wizard like an arrow to the chest, striking him into silence. A kettle on the fire whistled, surprising them both. Olevander cleared his throat and awkwardly began assembling his beverage. "With all due respect, Your Highness--uh, tea?"

The Prince politely declined.

"Very well," said Olevander. "As I was saying, with all due respect, Your Majesty, you are mistaken. The work I do here--"

"--Is science at best. There are no otherworldly connections to your practices. There's a logical explanation for everything. "

"And that's your truth?"

"That's my truth."

A chemical reaction occurred within Olevander. Nero's reputation for realism proceeded him, and it was saddening that one so young would be so lacking of faith. He could prove the Prince wrong with little effort, but there was no need to exert such energy for personal validation. Acting true to his title, Olevander mildly stroked his beard.

How comical for one so amateur to speak with such arrogance!

"Science, you say?" he asked, pouring himself a cup of tea.

The Prince shrugged. "Mathematics must play a factor, too, I'm sure."

Olevander nodded and sipped, switching his tactic, "Do you like mathematics?"

"You know I do."

"Why?"

Prince Nero leaned against a wooden chair and pondered a moment. "Because it's the same in every language."

The wizard smiled. "Yes, it is." Even if other communication barriers existed between them, he could use knowledge of the Prince's interests to make a connection. "Forget the gift, then. You're right; material things are destined for clutter, and you have more than enough possessions, anyway. Let me teach you something instead since you're already down here."

Nero crossed his arms. "Teach me?"

Olevander, taking another sip, "What, do you have some other pressing engagement?"

"No."

"Then stay. Watch. Learn."

Setting down the tea, Olevander moved to another fire dwindling in a galvanized bucket. "Look at these cinders," he said. "If I wanted them to grow into a raging fire, what would I need?"

"This is dangerous," warned the Prince. "You could burn down the entire castle if you aren't careful."

"Not to worry, Your Highness," cooed Olevander. "Everything is all under control. Now, what would I need to make this fire grow?"

Nero took a patient breath. "More kindling, I suppose."

"Alright. How much?"

"I know how to make a fire, Olevander," Nero moaned.

"How much kindling?"

Running a hand through his tousled curls, Nero gave a patient exhalation. "I'm not sure, perhaps three handfuls?"

The wizard snapped his fingers in approval. "An interesting hypothesis! Let's put it to the test!"

Olevander then retrieved a basket of kindling from underneath a table and deliberately placed three bunches of tinder into the fire, one right after the other. One. Two. Three. With each contribution, the inferno grew.

"It works!" cheered Olevander. "Hoorah!"

"Hoorah..." said the Prince, unamused.

Olevander plucked a discarded piece of parchment off the floor. "Now, let me ask you: If I were to put this into the fire, what would happen?"

Nero rubbed his face. "It would burn, of course."

"Do you think? Let's see!"

As with the kindling, Olevander's offering was well-received, disappearing entirely within moments. Nero, almost embarrassed for the geriatric goon, uncomfortably watched the wizard praise his fire's response.

Perhaps he got into the brandy wine.

Suddenly, Olevander seized Prince Nero by the shoulders, his eyes burning deep with an eagerness Nero had never seen prior; an eagerness for more. "How did you know that three handfuls of kindling would make the fire grow? How did you know that the paper would burn?"

"I--I'm not certain of the exact reasoning behind the matter," Nero stuttered. "Though it does exist. I suppose I just...knew."

"No, you believed."

Olevander then began extinguishing the fire with water. "Belief is a powerful tool, don't you agree? Some might even say it's a blessing or an honor, a gift that's magical in its own way."

Nero folded his arms. "What are you getting at, old man?"

"You didn't have to come down here to accept your gift," Olevander revealed. "For it's already within you. Not to worry, though. I will help you to understand and use this gift once you are ready."

Olevander was giddy with the anticipation of a small child on Christmas morning, eagerly awaiting the royal's response. But Nero said nothing, staring blankly at the wizard for several seconds before chuckling with amusement.

"You and my father must have enjoyed planning such a ruse, but I won't be swayed."

"No one is trying to sway you, sir."

"Entertainment, then?" asked Nero, absent-mindedly thumbing through one of the many texts beside him.

Lessening, Olevander concealed his discouragement. He knew it would take a great deal of persuasion to convince the royal that his magical maturity was critical for the kingdom's well-being. If Prince Nero wouldn't believe in his abilities, Celadore might never reach its full potential.

"No. And your father knows nothing of why I requested this visit."

Setting the book aside, Nero locked eyes with the elder. "I may have explored the practices of sorcerers from tales of old in my youth, but I'm no longer a child. I know my human capabilities. I am no more mystic than I am mighty. I'm simply myself." Ending with a sigh, "Can't that be enough?"

Olevander gave a sympathetic smile. Though the memories were fuzzy, he remembered teenage angst; he understood.

"It is more than enough," said the wizard. Adding, "Only, your doubt limits you."

Nero outstretched his hands to present himself fully. "Look at me, Olevander! It's not doubting if it's the truth."

"Ah, yes. The truth," smiled Olevander with the wave of a finger. "Funny how it's brought us back to the start of our conversation. The truth is, you are strong, and you do possess mystical powers."

The Prince's eyes widened. "Powers? You're mad!" Wanting to eliminate the possibility of anything magical leaving reminisce, Nero dusted off his hands and prepared to exit. "I came here because my father instructed me to do so. As that request has been fulfilled, I'll be on my way."

"You will do great things once you believe," Olevander advised, stepping into the doorway. He knew preventing a person of power from leaving was grounds for harsh punishment, but he didn't care. "Just as it is an honor to believe, it is likewise an honor to be believed in. I believe in you, sir."

Nero set his jaw. "Let me pass."

Olevander reverently obliged. "I wouldn't fight it, sir. The day you start believing is the day you'll start receiving."

"What?"

The words stopped Nero in his tracks.

What did the great magician know of his possibilities?

Perhaps he could see into the future.

"The day you start believing is the day you'll start receiving," the wizard kindly repeated himself with the gentility of a wise grandfather. "But this is more than a prophecy, Your Highness; it's a promise."

Nero squared his shoulders. "Let me pass. I order you."

Having done his best, an obedient Olevander cleared the path. He had passed along the message. What the young Prince chose to do with the information was up to him. Shaking his head, Prince Nero took his leave, but not before giving the warm wizard a courteous farewell out of habit.

"Happy Birthday, Your Majesty!" Olevander called behind him.

Nero tore through the tower steps two at a time, escaping through a side tunnel into a meadow just outside the castle walls. He liked being away from the castle, where the free world seemed to go on and on forever. Upon his residential release, the Prince first let out an exhalation of relief, followed by a confused chuckle.

"Me? Mystical powers! How ridiculous!"

The Prince waded through this stretch of land, running his hand along the tall grass, letting its pointy tips bend and bounce below. There was a slight tingling in Nero's fingertips, a buzzing, as though he had pulled energy directly from the earth. He chuckled again at the thought of phenomenal cosmic powers being relinguished to him simply because he'd lived 5,840 days, give or take.

"As if I could bring down the city walls or call for rain from simply waving my hands!"

In a moment of flippant silliness, Prince Nero, remembering his Latin lessons, signaled to the skies with an extravagant gesture.

"Pluvia!"

A heavy droplet of water tapped the bridge of his nose. Then another. And another. Prince Nero looked up to the darkening, cloud-ridden sky, which had been nothing but clear-blue moments before. Perplexed, Nero pushed away the raindrops as more continued to fall. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for the sudden change in the weather. The seasons were making their springtime transition, so a surprise shower at that exact moment was nothing more than a coincidence.

Or was it?

The Prince stared at his hands, those friendly appendages he thought he knew so well but now couldn't say for sure. If what Olevander said was true, then this would be the first of many surprises for him.

"No, I don't want this gift," he decided. "Who would?"

"The day you start believing is the day you'll start receiving."

Olevander's words formed like clouds of smoke over his memories, blurring his logic, and stifling his ability to reason.

"I can't believe," Nero told himself. "I--I won't!"

Cara. She'd know what to do.

His older sister would undoubtedly be in the castle library or practicing the lute in her quarters. While the interruption would be most unwelcomed, Nero knew she would understand, and maybe--just maybe--she could fix it.

Author's Note: My favorite aunt suggested that I write fantasy to expand my creative horizons as a writer and show a different side to my craft. If this finds an audience, I'll continue the story. Happy reading!

Young AdultAdventureFable
3

About the Creator

Laura Merchant

Writer. Teacher. Performer. INFJ. Disney enthusiast. Texan.

Instagram & Twitter: @LMerchant84

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments (2)

Sign in to comment
  • Kale Ross4 months ago

    Ohhh, wonderful storytelling! You're on the right track for becoming a successful fantasy writer! .... Will Cara be able to help Nero?!

  • L.R5 months ago

    kept me hooked in until the end, would love to see the story develop further, I want to know what happens when the prince talks to his sister :)

Find us on social media

Miscellaneous links

  • Explore
  • Contact
  • Privacy Policy
  • Terms of Use
  • Support

© 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.