The armored girls, who had returned to the chamber, did the same.
“Darling,” Elizabeth’s smile became even brighter than it had been before.
“I have a son, brother!” The King grabbed the man standing next to him by the shoulders.
He looked like the King, but was even taller and a little older. His black beard had some gray in it. A golden medallion was fastened to his heavy fur cloak.
“Congratulations, brother,” the man answered in a deep baritone voice.
The King shook him a little and almost jumped onto the bed. He embraced his wife and touched his firstborn gently, a little wary of harming him. The baby was warm.
“Why isn't he crying?” The King asked worriedly. “Call the doctor! Quickly!”
“Calm down, Haver,” the Queen laughed, and her gaze stopped the knights. “He’s cried. He’s just... stopped now.”
“Stopped crying?” Haver was surprised. “Is that at all normal?”
This time, the question was addressed to the nurse that had straightened up.
“No, Your Majesty. You cried for almost four hours after your birth.”
Haver wanted to scold the grumpy old woman, but he remembered that his newborn son was next to him, just in time to stop himself. Could he hear him?
“Don’t worry, brother,” the tall man came closer. “Look at how tightly he’s holding Elizabeth’s finger and how hard his eyes are.”
The King turned back to his son, and for the first time, a feeling of pride flared up in his chest. He held out his own finger, and the baby grabbed it with his other hand. Tightly. Very tightly.
“The gods know,” the smiling King whispered, “He will be a great general and...”
“A scholar, dear,” Elizabeth interrupted him. “We agreed that if a boy was born, he would become a scholar.”
“But, my love, look at him! He weighs as much as a young ScaryWolf!”
Elizabeth’s look hardened. The warriors tensed up.
The King frowned.
“What is going on here?!” The Nanny suddenly shouted. “You can argue later! The child needs a rest now.”
After saying that, she went to the Prince and wrapped him in a gold-covered veil, then carried him to a small comforter.
The Queen fell back onto the pillows with a sigh of relief. Breathing heavily, she stroked her husband's arm. Despite their quarrels, which were legendary throughout the whole country, she loved Haver with all her heart. And he loved her in return.
“Congratulations, brother,” the man bowed. “But, my Queen, I beg that you forgive us, we need to attend the War Council.”
“Just a couple of minutes, Primus,” the weakened Elizabeth whispered. “Let me spend a bit more time with my husband.”
The King’s brother bowed once more, and then went out into the corridor, donning his cloak. He was followed by all the soldiers. Both the knights and bodyguards of the Queen. Finally, the new mother and father were left alone. The royal couple had precious few moments they could just spend with each other, basking in their love and devotion to each other.
The governing of the country demanded their full attention. It often happened that they couldn’t see each other for several weeks at a time. It was a great mystery how they’d managed to conceive a child in such conditions. But taking into account the timing, it had most likely happened during the feast in honor of the Harvest Festival.
Haver sat down next to his wife and she lowered her head to his mighty, scarred chest.
“Stay with me this time, darling,” she whispered
“The war’s starting, dear,” the King stroked his wife’s hair. Silky and thick, it smelled like jasmine. Untouched by any gray, the same as the day they’d met, almost 70 years ago.
”This one will end, another will begin, and so on, endlessly. Wars never stop.”
Elizabeth put her hand gently on the scars. There were more and more of them marring the body of her lover each time they met.
“I was born a King and warrior, this is my fate.”
“That is why I want our son to become a scholar,” the Queen’s voice trembled. “Let’s not allow the martial arts world to touch him.”
“Will he live a mortal life, then?” The King sighed. “In forty years, his hair will turn gray, in sixty—his teeth will fall out, and in ninety years, if he lives, he won’t even be able to remember your name. And you'll still be young and beautiful.”
The Queen had celebrated her 90th birthday last month, but she didn’t look a day over twenty. The King had ruled the country for almost three centuries. By the standards of the cultivators, they were still young. And compared to those who’d reached the level of The Heaven Soldier and had touched the edge of eternity and immortality, they weren’t that different from their newborn son.
“But it will be a full life,” Elizabeth whispered, falling asleep. ”He will have no hardships, no troubles. He will marry, have children, and live happily, like all the mortals. He won’t know the horrors of this world. About needing to fight for a place in the sun. About the enmity of the practitioners of the Art. He will never be drawn into the endless conflict of the strong sects. He won’t be taken away from us by the Academy of Martial Arts, where he will forget all about the joys of life. He won’t be, like many others are, obsessed with his cultivation. He will live a good, peaceful, happy life. You can make our next son a warrior."
“We can’t hide him forever...”
“But we can do it until he’s old enough.”
Elizabeth ran a hand over his scarred, powerful chest once again and finally fell asleep.
Haver sat next to his beloved wife for a short time, and only after he was convinced that she’d fallen asleep did he get out of her embrace. He covered her with a blanket, closed the door and went out into the corridor. His elder brother, Primus, the First Warlord of the Kingdom, was already waiting for him.
“Does she still dream that he’ll be a scholar?”
They walked toward the small throne room, where the generals and senior officers had already gathered. A new war was coming, although, admittedly, Haver didn’t remember a time when one wasn’t being fought.
“I can understand her,” the King sighed and rubbed his numb neck. “Her whole family died when she was little.”
“Have you seen little Hadjar? He looks like a scholar about as much as a Heaven Tiger looks like a tame kitten.”
Haver smiled proudly and stopped near the window. He looked at his golden-domed capital, which stretched out for miles around. Almost thirty million people lived just in this city. Overall, more than two billion people lived in his Kingdom, which occupied a large swathe of land.
The King shook his head—his Kingdom, Lidus, was very small, almost imperceptible on a country map. Maybe that’s why they had to fight so often.Maybe Elizabeth was right, and Hadjar’s fate was to be a scholar.At that exact moment, he didn’t know how wrong his wife was or how right his brother was.Much had changed in Hadjar’s life over the past year. He wasn’t bedridden now, at least. However—that bed had been so multifunctional that it had even massaged him.And now he was forced to accept the fact that, in the future, he wouldn’t only have to sleep on a cold mattress, with preheated coals in an iron box stuffed underneath for warmth, but also... that he’d have to pee in a wooden outhouse. Upholstered in velvet, decorated with mosaics, but still wooden!Life hadn’t prepared him for this…It hadn’t prepared him for the fact that, after his death, he would find himself in another world, either. Fortunately, he wasn’t a farmer, but a Prince. Still, he wasn’t sure about what awaited him
A lot of the disciples raised their hands, wanting to answer the question. Almost half of the two hundred children knew the answer.“Please, Viscount Vale,” the scholar nodded.A red-haired boy, about ten years old, stood up. Hadjar himself was only a year and two weeks old.“At the eighth stage of the Bodily Nodes.”“That’s right, sit down,” and the boy lowered himself back onto the stool, looking at his companions rather arrogantly. “And this is considered to be a good level. To become a mid-level officer, you need to cross the threshold and reach the level of the Bodily Rivers. The ones who become senior officers in the army are the few who’ve managed to reach its third stage. Our generals are at the fifth stage of the Bodily Rivers.”The children scribbled with their feathers on the scrolls and listened to the mentor carefully. Now, in their crazy fantasies, they were probably dreaming about becoming the strongest cultivators of the Kingdom. Fortunately, there were no inequalities
Hadjar protested, but couldn’t deal with her. And as soon as he was back in its warmth and comfort, he couldn’t resist his natural desires and immediately fell asleep.The soldiers had already appeared from the hall by then. They surrounded the nanny in a ring of bodies and left the room with her, leaving the shocked disciples and the professor alone with their thoughts.The nurse sighed, imagining how the King and Queen would surely make a big deal out of this. No wonder the soldiers were checking their armor and shields. If Elizabeth started throwing plates again, it would be necessary to call the architects and builders to take them out of the walls.Hadjar was sitting at the table and playing with wooden knights, or so everyone thought. In fact, he was carefully studying the open scroll left there by the King. Frankly speaking, he’d allowed the neuronet to copy everything into its database. He couldn’t read the strange squiggles yet, but he’d realized that the drawings were associ
And he had to be strong, in order to be able to discover them all, to be free from the shackles of his fate. He had to be much stronger than his father and mother, and much more powerful than his uncle.His first goal was ‘the Black Gates’ sect, and in order to get there, he needed to reach the eighth stage of the Bodily Rivers by the age of sixteen. How could he do that, with the meager resources of the Kingdom? He would succeed only if all of those limited resources were devoted to his personal cultivation.And so, Hadjar gave the order to his neural network and it projected the map onto the parchment. Of course, the projection was only visible to Hadjar himself, but it was enough for him to start tracing the contours with the quill.“That’s incredible,” Nanny exhaled.“This child can’t speak, but he can understand us,” South Wind seemed to be surprised, too. “Tell me, disciple, what change will you get if you pay two hundred gold coins for a sword worth one hundred and eighty.”“Sc
Those who were almost immortal. Those who could move seas and mountains with a wave of their hand. And it frightened and fascinated him at the same time, the fact that Hadjar didn’t know whether this was an exaggeration or not.And a week ago, he’d been taken outside. Well, ‘outside’ was just the balcony. From atop it, he’d been able to see the almost boundless city and valley, stretching out beyond the titanic walls.The wind blew, tousling his wavy black hair.The wind called to him.“Which do you want more? A brother or a sister?” His father asked again.Hadjar pondered the choice again. Each of the options had its advantages.Haver laughed and ruffled his son’s hair, as was his habit.“South Wind says that you can already pass the exam to be an official, but you can’t answer my question for some reason.”“It’s too complicated, Dad,” Hadjar said. “If I have a brother, I can play with him. And if I have a sister, I can protect her. Plus, a sister will clearly be more beautiful than
He stood on the edge of the grounds where the soldiers trained. He’d made a cunning plan a long time ago. He only had to implement it. And that’s how his cultivation would begin.The site resembled a sandy parade ground. It was a huge, sandy parade ground. Thousands of soldiers trained here, sparring. They were tirelessly beating each other up under the scorching sun, wearing only short pants (sometimes with a bandaged chest, in the case of the women) under the guidance of the Master walking around.Someone moved his arms like a whirlwind, parodying the famous Chinese fantasy movies. Crazy jumps, contrary to the laws of physics, were the norm here. Someone stopped falling as easily as a feather on the wind, by pushing off the earth using just a single palm. Others were easily shattering wooden shields.Others fought with a variety of weapons. Their diversity was impressive. Hadjar didn’t know the names of most of these weapons, and he was glad that the familiar staves, wands, swords,
The task was further complicated by the scorching sun, as well as the large size of the barrels; he needed to pour a whole barrel of water.The warriors hid their smiles behind their fists.Well, they loved their King, who was strict, strong and fair. And yet, they were glad that the little Prince had been put in his place. They hoped that he, being a well-bred boy, would turn around and leave, offended, but without making a scene, as the spoiled children of petty nobles usually did. Neither Nanny nor the Queen would approve of that kind of behavior.“Well,” Hadjar nodded, clenching his fists.Nobody had expected this. They also hadn’t expected that the boy would lift a heavy barrel and drag it through the parade ground.The Master blinked a few times, rubbed his beard and screamed: “What are you staring at?! Keep working!”No one moved, because the Prince, Haver and Elizabeth's son, was walking among them. The very thought of touching him caused them to tremble, they were afraid of h
Hadjar, twisting his head, noticed that he was flying directly toward the sword rack. Damn it, he might not get his second chance now! He was going to become a bloody kebab, and not the adept hero he’d fantasized about!The Prince waved his hands as hard as he could, but this obviously didn’t halt his flight. The swords, reflecting the sun’s rays, were already close to his face, when suddenly, he felt a gust of wind.It got tangled in his clothes, then rested in his hair. What had it brought him this time? The story of some distant country; the shadow of many great battles; perhaps the tale of amazing heroes and villains alike?No, this time, it brought him peace.If, at that moment, someone had been looking not at the Master or the Queen, but at Hadjar, they would’ve seen a complete absence of fear on the boy’s face. He flew towards the swords as calmly as a sparrow would toward the branch of a birch tree on a clear summer’s day.When he landed right on the blades of all those swords