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Prologue:
Conan threw himself face up onto the ground, not wishing to have his sweat transfer to the thick blankets that were spread out on his bed. Today's sword training had been rougher than usual and now the boy was exhausted. The trainer had tried to have him wield a greatsword, but the poor boy could barely lift the thing from the ground. Actually trying to swing the massive sword was asking too much of him, yet that was exactly what happened. Now his arms felt as if they were going to fall off. Couldn't they have saved this for when I'm, you know, not 12 years old? Conan thought bitterly.
The door to his sleeping quarters swung open, revealing a petite girl with a blonde bob and a dainty silver tiara resting just where her bangs started. She wore a puffy, white dress made of silk with an impressive amount of ruffles. A large, violet bow hung just below her collarbone, with an amber colored gem right in the middle of it. Her attire was rather exorbitant compared to Conan's simple green coat and black pants. Her face was scrunched up with what was supposed to be a look of slight inconvenience, but her baby-like features made her look more disgusted than anything else. She stomped towards Conan and stopped upon reaching his feet.
Conan lifted his back up off the ground, wincing as his arms burned. He looked up at the girl and asked "What do you want. Camila?"
Camila scoffed. “I don’t get it. How come you get to do all the training and fighting while I have to sit out, all bored? I’m a descendent of Erdrick too, in case daddy has forgotten.”
“You’re barely nine years old, sis,” Conan laughed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t think you’d be allowed to begin training even if you wanted to.”
His sister tapped her foot insistently on the ground. “I can beg for any kind of toys, makeup, or food I want, but I’m never able to ask daddy to let me train,” she said bluntly. “Maybe I need some sort of backup.”
Conan lifted himself off the ground, staggering a little as he straightened himself up. He knew exactly what Camila was setting up.
“Look, I know you want to start doing your own thing, but I really don’t think dad’ll let you s-”
A fist flew into his face, headed straight for his nose. It took a split second for Conan to realize he was about to get hit, but by the time he had processed the information four knuckles had already made contact with his nose. He stumbled backwards but somehow managed to stay standing, though he was beginning to feel a little dizzy.
Camila looked up at him, with her fist clenched and face rouge. “You know you’ve gotta help me! What kind of queen would I be if I didn’t know how to defend myself or my people?”
Conan was too busy trying to regain his balance. Slowly, the world around him ceased to spiral around and he was able to plant both of his feet to the ground with a little confidence. He wanted to tell his sister that she likely wouldn't end up ruling the kingdom of Cannock because she wasn’t the oldest heir, but kept his lips shut. Based on what he had been seeing for the past few years, his status as the oldest prince would soon be insignificant; Camila was much more assertive and responsible than he, even as a mere child. She'd make a much better ruler than I would, thought the prince with contempt. After all, he could barely handle his own problems. How was he supposed to juggle the responsibilities of an entire kingdom?
“Helloooo? Are you still there, stinkface?” Camila hopped and waved her hands in front of Conan’s face. He hadn’t realized he had spaced out for a second.
Conan blinked a few times and replied, “Y-yup.” His dull-ish blue eyes darted around the room as he tried to evade his relative’s piercing stare. “Here, I’ll ask dad about what we can do to get you training. Don’t get mad at me if he says no, though.”
Camila put on a sly mask and slowly turned around. “Don’t worry, Conan. If he says no, you’re going to have to train me yourself!”
With that, the little girl skipped out of Conan’s bedchamber. Conan stared into space for a couple seconds. “There is no way I’m going to train her on my own,” he muttered between clenched teeth. It would not only be unbearable to handle his sister's strong personality, but also practically useless. There was only so much he knew about swinging swords and casting spells.
Realizing his gloves were a little damp Conan slipped them off, threw them onto his bed, and limped to catch up with his sister, letting the air dry up his clammy hands.
“You’ve gotta let me, daddy!”
Camila’s cries echoed throughout the throne room. The king of Cannock sat on his throne, slightly slouched with his elbow perched on the arm rest. He had a stern look on his face, yet it was somewhat hard to take him seriously. His crown, which was likely made of a yellow colored alloy, didn’t seem to sparkle with the sunlight.
“I cannot allow my dearest daughter to be harmed in any war-like activities, even if they are but a child’s game,” said the king. His voice was not very intimidating, but his children recoiled slightly anyways.
Conan ruffled his orange hair nervously, setting it back into its distinct bush-like shape. If his father cared so much about his children being injured, then why was… he shook his head and pushed the thought aside.
As if she had read her brother’s mind, Camila stomped her foot and asked, “If you care so much about your children getting hurt, then why does Conan get to train?”
Suddenly, the king’s voice boomed, “It is a man’s duty to fight, and as the prince, Conan must be able to fight for not only this kingdom, but for Torland as a whole!”
Both of the children took a step back, eyes open in shock.
“Besides, even if you wanted to begin training, you are not of age. Once one has lived for a decade, he is allowed to begin basic sword training.
Conan swallowed a ball of bitter saliva. He realized he hadn’t spoken a word, though he had told Camila he would try to help her out. It was now or never. Or else, he would end up having to use his limited knowledge to teach his sister how to fight.
“But, dad,” he began. “Say Camila wasn’t flanked with soldiers all the time and someone attacked her. She wouldn’t be able to defend herself without basic martial arts knowledge, at least. Also, teaching her how to fight would make her incredibly respectable as a princess. A strong, independent, and intelligent ruler. Isn’t that what a kingdom needs?”
The king stared at him.
“Of course, we already have that.” Conan said with a chuckle. “But, you won’t last us forever. What if something happens to me? Camila’s next in line. Yeah, a ruler can get away with just being really smart, but a ruler that can fight? That ups their rep by a ton. Especially if she’s a girl.”
“Enough,” said the king of Cannock, disrupting his son before he could continue. “I understand what you mean.”
Conan glanced at Camila, whose eyes were twinkling in anticipation. She fidgeted with the large violet bow on the front of her dress.
“Since you two will likely continue to insist on this, I will allow Camila to begin to fight once she reaches the age of 10. However, she will not be able to wield a sword for safety purposes. We have a few experienced martial artists in the kingdom that would be more than happy to take in an apprentice,” the king sighed.
Camila’s head bobbed up and down as if she were a maraca. Conan wondered if he would be able to hear his sister’s brain making rattling noises.
“Thank you, daddy!” Camila said, hardly able to contain a shriek. She turned around and proceeded to walk out of the throne room. The moment the enormous doors shut, an ecstatic squeal was heard and the sound of delicate footsteps slowly faded away.
“Looks like someone’s having a nice day,” commented Conan jokingly. He looked at his father, who looked slightly exhausted. “Are you ok, dad?” he asked, a little worried.
“Yes, yes I am,” replied the king. “I’m a little concerned about your sister getting in over her head with this, though. You know how she tends to get out of control.”
Conan nodded in understanding. “I’ll try to keep an eye on her,” he pledged. He then realized there was someone missing in the room. “Also, when does mom get back from Moonbrooke?”
“She is expected to return by tomorrow evening.” The king took a deep breath. “I don’t believe she will approve of this decision we’ve made…”
The prince shifted his weight from his left leg to his right, then back to the left. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Camila will be fine. Don’t stress about it too much.”
“I’ll try my best.” The king then looked at his son with falcon eyes. “You are aware that you must still continue with your duties as a prince, warrior, and scholar, correct?”
Conan failed to notice his father's sudden change in tone. “Yeah, yeah.” he replied casually.
The king removed his crown and wiped at it with his wool sleeve, revealing a shiny, pale head. He continued, “Don’t forget that. You are still in line to become king.”
Awkwardly, Conan nodded once again. “There’s no way I’m forgetting that.” He then made his way out of the throne room. In the corner of his eye, he spotted a tear in the rug leading to the door. We gotta get that patched up… he thought.
Conan opened his eyes sluggishly. Through the window in his bedchamber, he could see that the sky was still a deep navy blue, spotted with white stars of varied sizes. He attempted to recall one of the constellations he had read about the other day, but his mind was drawing nothing but blanks.
He sighed and lifted his back up from his bed. He was sure Camila wasn’t sleeping right now either; she could barely sit still during dinner that night. But the reasons behind their insomnia were very different. Camila was in a jovial state, but Conan… He felt a sinking sensation in his chest. What was it that he was feeling? Remorse? No, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Anxiety? Perhaps it was that, but what for? Jealousy?
Conan knocked on his head with his fist. It wasn’t right to feel jealous for any reason at all. Why did he even consider that he was feeling envious in the first place?
He let out a breath similar to the dozens of sighs his father had sighed earlier. He felt happy for his sister, but something told him that something was going to change in the family once she turned ten. Camila was already incredibly spoiled and more attention went to her than Conan.
“I sound like a snob right now,” Conan mumbled out loud. “Like an attention-seeking, conceited little crap.”
He flopped onto his bed, pulled his sheets up just below his chin, and closed his eyes. A melancholy yet nostalgic melody began to play in his head, drowning out his thoughts. Slowly, the prince’s consciousness drifted away from the real world, and he found himself in a realm where nothing was impossible.