Crown of Thorns

Chapter One: The Beginning

As the ruby red sun shone its torturous rays of light down upon the parched land of Dimona, its people were seeking refuge under the remnants of what were once tall, luscious, green palm trees. The exhausting wrath of the sun’s light had hollowed out many of Dimona’s beautiful oases, leaving the people dehydrated and tired. Walking amongst the dusty streets and giving no thought to the unbearable weather was a lone teenager whose tanned face was hidden beneath a layer of shaggy brown hair. He wore torn khaki shorts and was topless, clearly to flaunt his well chiselled form. There was nothing about his appearance that would hint to any civilian that this teenager was the heir to the throne of Dimona.

Breathing in some dust particles, he gave a choking cough. “It’s dangerous walking out this time of day. You might collapse from the heat,” mumbled a single voice behind him. Turning, the Prince gazed upon a stranger; who wore a dark brown cloak and holding onto a broken walking stick. The stranger’s eyes flashed at the Prince, immediately recognising him. Reacting on instinct he prostrated himself across the dry ground, before bringing himself into a bow. “Forgive me, Prince Vallen. I did not know it was you who graced the streets so leisurely,” his words were spoken with a chord of anxiety. Vallen walked over and shook the stranger’s hand.

“Please stand up, there is no need for formalities; I am merely another member of this country so please talk to me as if I were.” The stranger stood up with a sense of confusion.
“Very well, then please allow me to introduce myself. I am Reks.” Stretching out his hand, he shook Vallen’s. There was a short silence before it was broken by Vallen.
“Tell me,” he spoke, “are the people coping with this heat? Is my father doing enough for you?”

Reks went momentarily quiet whilst averting his attention from Vallen, “Aren’t you aware, my Lord?” Something in his words made Vallen feel uneasy. Surely his father had done something. Vallen gave a nod, signalling Reks to continue. “Ever since Queen Alia’s death, King Tidus has disregarded his duties as King and forgotten about us. Gone are the days when he would walk our streets, and gone are the days where he cared about his people.” Reks’ mood had turned from polite to almost angry.

“What do you mean?” Vallen asked uncertainly.
At once Reks moved forward and clutched Vallen’s hands into his own. Their eyes met for an instant and Vallen could see the truth.
“Your father has stopped funding money into the economy, he has abandoned his contribution to assisting sufferers of this terrible heatwave and his decisions are destroying us. And now you, my Prince, you stand before me in denial of his actions. Surely this means we are doomed.”
“I…” Vallen started; taking a disbelieving step backwards from Reks, “My father is a good man; I don’t believe he would do this to the people he loves so much.” Suspicion lingered inside Vallen’s head. Not a word of conversation he’d shared with his father led down this road.
“Then that is proof!” Reks declared suddenly, “Proof that this country is doomed!” His voice softened to a whisper, “With all due respect Prince Vallen, if the King cannot confide in you, his own son, then what hope do we have of surviving?”

A clear and accurate answer escaped Vallen; he couldn’t find words to justify his father’s actions. His mother had passed away a few months ago, but his father had assured him he was fine. He seemed capable of doing his job, he loved it, it was his life. Vallen loved his mother too, and there wasn’t a day when he didn’t think of her, but there had to be a time to move on, accept the past and live for the present.
“I don’t know,” was the only answer Vallen could find himself voicing.
“Well I do, my Prince,” Reks gave another bow, “you should be King!” And with those last words, Reks straightened up and walked away, only disappearing from Vallen’s view when a wall of dust blew across the path ahead. Vallen paused and contemplated Reks’s words before he turned around to walk towards the palace that was glistening in the distance. “Me, king?” he laughed to himself, “No thanks.”