The long journey back to Centre Pointe was filled with joy. Maebus rode in a flatbed cavalry wagon. He listened to the continued cheers of the Realmsic and allied forces. Together, they sang gleefully, for the Warlord Damian was dead. Yet more significantly, never in Realmsic history had Magical and Laymen nations aligned to fight against a common enemy. Such an unprecedented event marked the beginning of a new era: an era where peace was no longer a hopeless dream, but a possible reality.
“It’s good to see you smile again,” Kelm said, interrupting his thoughts.
Maebus stretched his arm over the side of the wagon, allowing it to dangle freely. The vibration of the wagon along the road was relaxing. “It feels good finally having something to smile about,” he replied.
“Well, you can also smile about there not being any permanent damage to your leg,” Kelm said. Throughout the ride, he’d been sitting next to Maebus, nursing his injury with a healing spell.
Just then, Normandy and Leoden rode up on horseback alongside them.
“Greetings, King, Advisor,” Normandy saluted. He stood tall, chest out, full of pride.
Maebus reasoned that he was undoubtedly thankful for the role he’d played in the Warlord’s demise. Perhaps now he could begin finding closure regarding his family.
“Greetings, General.” He noticed a medium-sized burlap sack dangling from Normandy’s horse.
Kelm suddenly jolted forward upon noticing it too. “Normandy! You didn’t?”
The General laughed. “No, it’s not what you think.”
Maebus glanced curiously at them both, unsure of what they were talking about. Normandy leaned to his side and untied the sack with one hand. Reaching in, he pulled out a large melon. Kelm sighed in relief.
“A soldier in the cook’s wagon gave it to me,” he explained, replacing the fruit and tightly sealing the bag.
“It’s not what I really wanted, but it’ll do.”
“Normandy wanted to keep the heads of each enemy he slew,” Kelm stated to Maebus.
Leoden suddenly chuckled. Until that point, he’d remained silent, galloping alongside them.
Maebus took a moment to observe the youth. His hair, spiked with sweat was as dirty as his clothing. Despite the elation of the other soldiers, Leoden seemed relatively withdrawn.
“Are you feeling better?” Maebus scooted himself upward within the wagon.
The young warrior shook his head, maintaining his low gaze towards the ground ahead of him.
“Other than what you recounted to me, I still don’t remember much about the battle.”
“That’s understandable,” Kelm said. “Your aura may be blocked. That’s common after one performs an intense magical action. Once we’re back in Centre Pointe, I can work with you some.”
Leoden’s face softened and his eyes began to swell with tears. “I-I just can’t believe I did the things you said I did. I mean ... I believe you of course! I can still feel the remnants of magical energy in my body and...” he paused to swallow, but didn’t continue. He instead stared blankly into the distance.
Maebus could sense the conflict within him. Remembering his own feelings of uncertainty before Damian’s invasion, perhaps he could even identify somewhat with the young man. Leoden was likely asking himself, Where did this magic come from? Why was it given to him? How would he be able to control it? His heart ached for Leoden, knowing that the answers to such question were far from being answered.
• • • • •
Upon arriving back at Centre Pointe, Maebus and Kelm resumed their official responsibilities. Shortly thereafter, the Realmsic Council returned, along with Archivist Fable.
Being the last member of the sacred Archival Order, it was now solely upon her to rebuild the wealth of knowledge that was previously destroyed. Therefore, Kelm suggested that Maebus’ next official act should be to grant the Archivist asylum within the castle. There, she’d be free to create a new archive within the structure’s indestructible walls. Kelm knew that Fable would have to utilize the magical archive in her mind to re-write the entire collection. But for all time, the precious history of the Realm would be safe, and the traditions of the Archival Order would continue to live.
Fable happily accepted Maebus’ offer, as she felt no desire to return to the Ancient Lands. Also, she looked forward to spending countless hours conversing with Kelm and analyzing the prophecies centered around the Hero of Legend.
Next, Kelm focused on the problem of securing the Realmsic Crystal. After thoroughly thinking about it since reclaiming the gem from Damian, he decided that the best way to protect it would be to completely eliminate it.
Learning that the crystal was only a conduit, and not the true source of magic, he believed the energy could be safely transfer into another entity of his choosing. Therefore, he chose the King. With Maebus being a Layman, he wouldn’t be able to utilize the power. His body would function only as a container that held it. Kelm rationed that this would only be a temporary solution. In the meantime, he’d work on a way to naturally stabilize the Realm’s energy, thus eliminating the need for a filter of any type.
Maebus required quite a bit of convincing, but he reluctantly agreed. Next, Kelm personally created a spell to dissolve the Realmsic Crystal and bond its energy to his life force. Afterwards, the gemstone was physically destroyed. Never again could an item of unlimited power be stolen, or fall into the wrong hands. The only caveat—if Maebus were to die before the power could be transferred, the resulting absence of stability would be catastrophic for the Realm. Therefore, Kelm swore upon his own life that he would never let that happen. Going forward, he would protect Maebus at all cost!
• • • • •
As Maebus led Centre Pointe through its recovery, word of the Warlord’s demise, and the concurrent rise of the Hero of Legend, was celebrated throughout the Realm. All rejoiced in what appeared to be the beginning stages of peace. Therefore, Maebus felt it was appropriate that an official victory ceremony be held at the Realmsic Castle itself. There, he intended to host a second Conference of Amity, where the terms of a permanent truce with the Laymen community could be discussed.
The entire Council immediately coordinated the celebration. The castle was to be draped in red ribbons that would stretch from the highest towers down to the exterior guard walls. Maebus chose the color of red to honor the blood that had been spilled on both sides of the endless war. During the month that followed the announcement, Maebus commissioned reconstruction within the Realm, and the citizens of both the Magical and Laymen communities enjoyed their first thirty days ever with no conflicts.
On the day of the ceremony, people journeyed from as far as the Western Nations to partake in the official celebration. As Maebus readied himself, within his personal chambers, a knock sounded at his door. Instinctively, he reached for his battle sword, but then reminded himself that, at least for now, war was over.
As he opened the door, a familiar face greeted him.
“Leoden!” Maebus said joyfully. “It’s good to see you.”
“Thank you, your Highness. Do you have a minute? Can I come in?”
“Of course!” Maebus replied. He stood to the side so Leoden could enter.
“Nice room,” he said, nervously walking in.
“What brings you by? I thought you’d be getting ready for the festivities also?” Maebus reached for his ceremonial armor that had been staged by his wooden wardrobe.
“Yeah, about that...” Leoden began, his eyes drifted towards the floor. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d just like to go home.”
“What?” Maebus exclaimed. The heavy breastplate he carried nearly slipped from his hands. “Go home? Now?”
“Only if it’s not a problem,” Leoden added, forcing a smile.
Maebus expelled a long sigh, forcing down the wave of disappointment filling his heart. “No, it’s not a problem at all, if that’s what you want to do,” he spoke in a low voice. “But ... Leoden, this entire victory
ceremony is largely in honor of you! Your name is on the lips of every citizen in the Realm.”
“I know, I know. And I really do appreciate everything you all are doing for me.”
“It’s the least we can do. The Realm owes its freedom to you.”
Leoden furiously shook his head, “The Realm doesn’t owe me anything! It was my honor to fight alongside the Realmsic King and protect my home. But now ... now I need to go home.”
Maebus could see the sincerity in his eyes; could feel it in Leoden’s soul as the young warrior stood before him.
“With the discovery of my magical abilities,” he continued, “I now have even more questions about my past. I need answers, and what better place to start than in my own village?”
Silence filled the room as Maebus thought on his words. After a moment of reflection, he nodded. “Who am I to stand in the way of the Hero of Legend?” He extended his hand to Leoden.
“Thank you, King Maebus.” Shaking his hand, Leoden looked into his eyes. “This isn’t goodbye. I borrowed one of those instant messaging bracelets your troops wear. So, if ever you need me again, I can easily be reached.”
Maebus smiled as Leoden walked out of the chamber, carefully closing the door behind him.
• • • • •
Kelm shook his head as Maebus tardily made his way atop an elevated stage to join them. The platform had been built upon the land bridge in front of the castle’s main entrance. Four large stone pillars that stretched towards the castle’s peaks supported its weight. A surrounding crowd of thousands cheered as Maebus took center stage, followed by the Realmsic Council, Normandy with the Joint Officers Corps, and the leaders of the Western Nations. In special attendance sat the brother’s Heegan and Hom, along with their parents. Maebus laughed as he watched Hom munching down on the batch of cookies he’d promised them.
Kelm took his traditional position slightly behind Maebus, to the right-side. “You’re late,” Kelm whispered into his ear. He then scanned the King’s attire from head to toe, admiring his decorative armor and lion fur trim. “What, you weren’t pretty enough?”
Maebus fought back a chuckle. “I was speaking to Leoden,” he replied using only the side of his mouth. “He’ll be skipping the festivities to embark upon a new journey.”
With that, Maebus stepped forward. Kelm had perhaps never felt prouder as the Realmsic King raised his hands towards the sky, rallying thousands of his countrymen sprawled like an ocean before him. With the Realmsic sun beaming over their heads, Maebus approached Kelm’s latest invention—a voice amplifier. He gripped the small metal device and spoke into it. His voice boomed over the crowd.
“The rise of the Warlord Damian marked the darkest time of our history since the fabled Darkest Age. Yet we’ve survived his quest for magic or, rather, his Realmsic Conquest. Before you today, we’ve come together as many nations, yet we now stand together as one! Thanks to all of our combined effort, and to one very special young warrior, this monumental occasion wouldn’t have been possible. Never would we have formed an alliance to fight against one great and common enemy, and never would we be standing here ... at the end of the endless war, embracing a long-awaited time of PEACE!”
Beneath his ceremonial robe, Kelm trembled with exhilaration as the word peace echoed from Maebus’ mouth towards the heavens. The crowd roared with joy, for the day they thought would never come was finally here!
Kelm and the others on stage applauded as Maebus lifted his face towards the sunlight. Unexpectedly, the stone pillar to Kelm’s left side exploded with a ping!
He was unsure of what had just occurred. He peered into the crowd, trying to locate the trajectory of whatever flew past them. Immediately, he noticed a glint of light spark just below the horizon. Though brief, it was brighter even than the sun, and sounded almost like thunder. A part of the stage shattered, scattering pieces of wood into the crowd.
Startled, the honorees began fleeing the platform as a collective scream came from the audience. Thousands scampered chaotically. Kelm and Normandy, despite the confusion, tried to make their way toward Maebus, who’d wandered towards the edge of the stage. Desperately, he tried to calm the crowd. But everything was happening too quickly.
The King’s head instinctively jerked as something tiny zipped past his head. Not even a second later, another pillar behind him exploded into fragmented bits! Two of the support pillars had been destroyed and now the stage began slanting sideways.
“Maebus, get down!” Normandy shouted kneeling next to Kelm with his sword drawn. But it was too late. The King’s body violently jolted backwards. He fell to the ground limp and covered with blood.
“Maebus!” Kelm shouted in terror as his friend slid motionless down the tilted stage. Frantically, he searched left and right for an enemy, but one couldn’t be found.
“What the hell is going on here?” Normandy yelled, ducking between the remaining pillars. Kelm raced as fast as he could to Maebus.
It shocked him for a moment seeing so much blood. But pulling himself together, he put an ear over Maebus’ nose.
“He’s alive!” Kelm shouted in a rush of breath and anxiety. “I’ve got you, hang in there.” He scanned Maebus’ body and spotted a small puncture wound just above his metal breastplate.
“Normandy!” Kelm exclaimed. “Maebus, I think he’s been shot!”
As fast as he could, the General slid over to them. Kelm removed the breastplate, placed his hands upon the wound, and began chanting a healing spell.
“General!” a voice cried out from the bottom of the platform. Normandy looked down and spotted a Realmsic infantry soldier. His face was as pale as a ghost.
“Soldier, what is it?”
“Sir, there’s an army approaching the castle!”
“An army?” Kelm exclaimed, while trying to stop the bleeding.
Normandy’s eyes narrowed with anger. “Is it the Legion?”
“No sir! I don’t think so,” the soldier replied.
Normandy rose to his feet upon the uneven platform. Trying to maintain his balance, he stretched tall above the heads of those fleeing.
“What do you see? Who’s attacking us?” Kelm shouted.
The General shook his head, “I see them. But ... I don’t know who they are.”
The Realmsic Conquest
The ICON OF EARTH
November 2015
www.realmsic.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Demethius Jackson is a fiction writer from Washington, DC. He is the author of The Realmsic Conquest book series, which chronicles the struggles of the Realm — Earth’s only magical kingdom.
Jackson is an alumnus of American University’s School of Communications. Throughout his career, he’s held positions at global media and cinema companies.
Connect with Demethius J!
Websites: www.demethius.com | www.realmsic.com
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