LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 2: Threads of Legacy
Chapter 2: Threads of Legacy
The afternoon sunlight bathed Montclair Palace in a warm, golden glow as Prince Knoa found himself reluctantly standing on a raised platform in the royal tailor's fitting room. The space was opulent, lined with bolts of rich fabric in every imaginable color, the air filled with the scent of lavender sachets tucked into corners to ward off moths.
A small army of tailors flitted around him like industrious bees, each bearing pins, measuring tapes, and shears. Knoa's arms were stretched out, his posture rigid as they busied themselves adjusting every minuscule detail of his coronation attire.
"Prince Knoa, please hold still," the head tailor, an elderly man with spectacles perched precariously on his nose, chided gently. "We're nearly done with the measurements for the doublet."
Knoa's ruby-red eyes glanced downward at the rich white fabric embroidered with golden thread that shimmered like sunlight. It was beautiful, he admitted silently, but he would have preferred to spend this time elsewhere—in the royal vault.
"I don't understand why this is taking so long," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. "It's just clothes."
The head tailor, already beginning to fuss over a loose stitch on Knoa's sleeve, paused for a moment, turning toward the prince with a soft chuckle. "Your Royal Highness, these are not merely clothes! This ensemble will mark the beginning of your reign as crown prince! Every stitch must be perfect, every fold impeccable."
The tailors around him nodded fervently, their hands working with practiced precision. One young assistant stood a little too close to Knoa, holding up two swatches of fabric, her voice hushed but urgent.
"Do we go with the pearl trim or the diamond accents?" she whispered to her colleague, her eyes wide with excitement as she tried to discern which would best complement the prince's ensemble.
"Pearl for subtlety, diamond for grandeur," the older assistant replied seriously, tapping his chin as if contemplating the matter like an academic decision.
"It's a coronation, not a theater performance," Knoa muttered again, but his soft protest was lost amidst the fervent debate over embellishments.
The prince sighed heavily, his snowy white hair shifting slightly as he glanced toward the window. Outside, the serene gardens were bathed in sunlight, and he could just barely make out the ripple of water from the fountains. For a fleeting moment, he imagined himself free from this ordeal—wandering the grounds in peaceful solitude, where the only sounds were the soft chirps of birds and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.
"How much longer?" he asked, his tone carrying the faintest edge of impatience as he turned back to the busy scene around him.
"Not long, Your Highness," the head tailor assured, adjusting the hemline of the cape. "Just a few more minutes."
A servant near the door stifled a quiet chuckle, whispering to her companion. "He's so lovely even when he's annoyed."
Knoa's sharp hearing, which was as finely tuned as the rest of his senses, caught the comment. He couldn't help but feel a slight flush creeping up his neck, though he pretended not to hear. The faintest pink dusted his pale cheeks, a delicate hue that contrasted with the cool, imperious air he always tried to project. With a resigned sigh, he stood still, letting the tailors complete their work. He supposed there were worse burdens than being fussed over for perfection.
As one tailor began adjusting the delicate embroidery along his sleeve, a quiet conversation seemed to sprout among the workers. One of the younger assistants—an eager-eyed girl—glanced at her colleague with a mischievous smile.
"Have you heard about the Lord Commander?" she whispered, her eyes darting toward the prince. "I hear he's an absolute sight—tall, masculine, and handsome, with eyes that could melt anyone's heart."
The head tailor, who had been quietly snipping a thread, raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? I've heard he has quite the presence as well. Not to mention, he's the king's right hand. He commands the battlefield as well as the court."
The second assistant, a more seasoned woman who had been working at the palace for years, leaned in, intrigued. "I've seen him once, and let me tell you, those rumors aren't far from the truth. He practically radiates strength. He could probably lift an entire horse with his bare hands, if he wanted to."
"Quite the dramatic description, isn't it?" Knoa chimed in, unable to resist the banter, though his voice held a light touch of amusement. "Is that how you see him? A man who can lift horses?"
The tailors giggled at the prince's sarcasm, but the younger assistant's curiosity only grew. "Oh, I'm not exaggerating, Your Highness. You should see him for yourself sometime. Tall, strong, and a presence that commands attention. I'd say he's someone worth meeting."
One of the tailors, a cheeky young man with a mischievous glint in his eye, gave Knoa a sly grin. "So, Your Highness, do you think the lord commander is handsome? We've all heard the stories, but your opinion would be the most important, wouldn't it?"
Knoa blinked, his ruby-red eyes narrowing slightly at the sudden question. He hadn't expected to be put on the spot like this. "I've never seen him," he replied, a bit too quickly for his liking. "I can't answer that."
The cheeky tailor raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come on! Surely you've heard the rumors? The ladies in the court are swooning over him, they say. He could probably steal your crown, too."
Knoa rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a faint smile as he let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sure he could. But I wouldn't know. I'm far too busy reading books and managing the kingdom's affairs."
That conversation made the prince's curiosity about the Lord Commander grew bigger and bigger.
The head tailor, sensing that the conversation had veered into dangerous territory, cleared his throat and interjected with a knowing smile. "Yes, Your Highness. It's always books and history with you. But do remember, even a future king needs to be aware of the present. A good king understands the hearts of his people as much as the books on his shelf."
Knoa's eyes softened at the gentle rebuke, and he nodded slowly, his voice quieter. "You're right, of course. But there's still much to learn from the past before the future arrives."
At that moment, the conversation shifted back to the matter at hand—Knoa's coronation outfit. The young assistant, ever the optimist, spoke up again, this time with a hopeful tone. "So, Your Highness, once this coronation is over, do you have any plans? Perhaps… a royal ball or a grand celebration?"
Knoa paused, his gaze turning inward as he considered the idea. "A feast. There will be a grand feast the day after the coronation. But for now, I have duties to attend to." He looked toward the window once more, where the gardens seemed to beckon, offering him a moment of peace before the inevitable flurry of his new responsibilities.
With a final adjustment made to his mantle, the head tailor stepped back, surveying the finished product. "There, Your Highness. Perfection."
"Are we finished?" Knoa asked, his voice now carrying a note of finality.
The head tailor nodded, giving a respectful bow. "Almost, Your Highness. Now for the final touch—the mantle clasp. It must reflect the glory of your station."
The tailors presented a tray of jeweled clasps, each more elaborate than the last. Knoa studied them briefly, his gaze drifting over the options. Finally, he pointed to a simple golden clasp adorned with a single ruby. "This one will do."
The head tailor hesitated, clearly not pleased with the simplicity of the choice. "But, Your Highness, the emerald clasp symbolizes prosperity, and the sapphire one signifies wisdom—"
"The ruby is fine," Knoa interrupted gently, his voice calm and firm. "It matches my eyes."
The room fell silent for a moment before the tailors nodded in unison, accepting the prince's decision without further argument. With the final piece in place, Knoa stepped down from the platform, smoothing his attire as he examined himself in the full-length mirror.
"Thank you all for your hard work," he said sincerely, offering a small, genuine smile. The tailors beamed at the compliment, their earlier frustrations forgotten.
As Knoa exited the fitting room, he was met by a servant who bowed deeply. "Your Highness, the chamber keeper has not yet arrived, as he is mending something very important. Shall I escort you to the gardens while you wait?"
Knoa nodded, eager for a moment of fresh air. "Yes, please."
The gardens sprawled before him like a living tapestry, a masterpiece of nature carefully curated by generations of royal gardeners. The grounds were lush with the scent of blooming roses, lilies, and jasmine, their colors a brilliant contrast against the emerald greens of perfectly manicured hedges. The gentle trickle of fountains added a soothing melody to the air, creating a tranquil ambiance that allowed Knoa to momentarily escape the weight of his duties.
He strolled slowly along the cobblestone path, his thoughts drifting like the soft breeze that ruffled his snow-white hair.
"It's said to be a repository of Montclair's legacy," he murmured to himself, his ruby-red eyes focused on the horizon. "Every artifact a fragment of our history. A link to those who ruled before me…"
As he rounded a corner, a burst of laughter broke through his musings. The sound was bright and carefree, a welcome interruption to the heavy thoughts that had been weighing on him. Ahead, a group of noble children played a game of chase on the lush grass, their high-pitched voices ringing through the air like the song of birds. Their joyous laughter was a stark contrast to the often somber atmosphere of the palace, and it made Knoa pause for a moment, captivated by their innocence and joy.
The children stopped suddenly, their playful shrieks faltering as they caught sight of him. With wide eyes, they immediately dropped to their knees in a deep bow, their faces a mixture of awe and nervousness.
"Your Royal Highness!" one of the older boys stammered, his cheeks flushed with both excitement and fear.
Knoa smiled gently, the corners of his lips curving up slightly. "Carry on," he said, his voice soft yet firm, as always. "No need to stop on my account. Please, continue your game."
The children hesitated for a moment, exchanging glances, before one of the braver girls, who appeared to be around eight or nine years old, stepped forward with a boldness that caught Knoa off guard.
"Would you like to join us, Prince Knoa?" she asked brightly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "We're playing a game of strategy—you'd make an excellent commander!"
Knoa blinked, momentarily stunned by the invitation. He wasn't accustomed to being asked to join in such things. He was the prince, after all—always a step removed from the carefree world of childhood. But as he looked around at the eager faces staring up at him, his gaze softened. Their genuine enthusiasm was impossible to resist.
"I'm afraid I wouldn't be much fun," he replied, a faint smile playing on his lips, though there was a hint of hesitation in his tone.
But the girl's face lit up as if she had just received the greatest gift. "Oh, but you would! Please, Prince Knoa! You'll show us how to be great commanders, won't you?"
The prince felt a wave of warmth wash over him, and though he normally kept his distance, this time something stirred within him. Perhaps it was the innocence in their request, or perhaps it was the way the children believed in him, despite his reserved nature. With a soft exhale, Knoa gave a small nod.
"Very well," he said, finally allowing himself to be drawn into their game. "But I warn you, I can be quite ruthless when it comes to strategy."
The children's eyes widened with delight, and the game quickly resumed. It was a simple affair, the children imagining themselves leading armies, drawing lines in the dirt to create battlefields. At first, Knoa hesitated, unsure of how to approach this game, but as he watched their eager faces, an idea took root. He bent down and began offering suggestions—ways to outsmart an opponent with precision, how to anticipate moves, and how to make use of the terrain.
He laid out his plan for the children, his voice low but full of excitement. "You see, the key to winning isn't to charge blindly ahead," Knoa explained, his voice taking on a more confident, commanding tone. "You must think ahead. Anticipate your enemy's moves. If they think you'll attack from the right, you strike from the left. It's about patience and strategy."
The children watched, captivated by his every word. They quickly followed his instructions, their laughter growing louder as they began to win the game, one strategic move at a time. Knoa, usually the picture of reserved grace, was now fully caught up in the fun. The sound of his own laughter, soft and melodic, mixed with the children's as they celebrated their victories. For a brief moment, the weight of the crown seemed a distant thought, and the prince was no longer just the future ruler of Montclair, but simply a young man enjoying a joyful moment.
"Ha! Gotcha!" one of the boys shouted triumphantly as he captured a rival's "troop" in a daring maneuver Knoa had suggested.
Knoa smiled, genuinely pleased by their enthusiasm. "Well done! You've learned well."
The children's faces beamed with pride, their joy contagious. The older children began to mimic Knoa's words, repeating his tactics with gleeful shouts as they implemented his strategies in their mock battles. It was a scene of pure joy, and Knoa couldn't help but feel a rare sense of contentment in their midst. He'd spent most of his life in the palace, hidden behind the walls of responsibility, but here, surrounded by the laughter of children, he felt like he could almost forget the future that awaited him.
Just as the game reached its thrilling conclusion, with one last triumphant shout from the victorious team, a servant appeared from behind a nearby hedge, bowing respectfully as she approached Knoa.
"Your Highness," the servant said, her voice soft but firm, "the chamber keeper has arrived and is waiting for you."
Knoa's smile faltered slightly, his duty calling once more. But before he could respond, he glanced back at the children, their faces glowing with excitement from the game they had just played.
"Thank you for letting me join your game," Knoa said warmly, his voice sincere. "You all play wonderfully. I have no doubt that you will be great commanders one day."
The children's eyes lit up, their faces full of awe and admiration for their prince. "Thank you, Your Highness!" they chorused, bowing deeply in unison.
Knoa gave them a small nod, his expression soft with lingering fondness. "I'll remember this moment," he said softly, before turning to follow the servant down the garden path.
As he walked away, he could still hear the children's laughter echoing behind him, their joy a sweet reminder of the simpler moments in life. The servants and courtiers nearby, who had been watching the scene unfold from a distance, looked on with admiration, whispers of how kind and approachable the prince was spreading throughout the garden like wildfire. In a world of royal formality, Knoa's genuine warmth had shone through, making him not only the prince of Montclair but a figure who captured the hearts of those around him.
He paused for a moment, looking back at the children once more, their faces still filled with the excitement of their game. For a brief moment, Knoa wondered what it would be like to have a life where he could experience such simple joys every day. But as he turned to face the path ahead, the weight of his future pressed upon him once more.
"Shall we go?" the servant asked, waiting patiently by his side.
Knoa gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Yes."
And with that, the prince continued his walk through the palace gardens, the memory of the children's laughter lingering in his heart, a rare and precious moment of lightness before the inevitable return to duty.
The chamber keeper finally arrived, bowing deeply before Knoa. "My apologies for the delay, Your Highness. Shall we proceed?"
Knoa nodded, his excitement barely concealed. "Lead the way."
The vaults lay deep beneath the palace, accessible only through a series of heavily guarded corridors. The heavy iron doors creaked open, revealing a vast room lined with shelves and pedestals. Ancient artifacts, jeweled crowns, and ceremonial weapons gleamed under the light of chandeliers. Knoa's steps echoed as he entered, his gaze drawn to the rich history encapsulated within these walls.
"Your Highness," the keeper began, "it is rare for one so young to show such keen interest in Montclair's history. Might I ask what drives your curiosity?"
Knoa paused, his ruby eyes reflecting the soft glow of the chandelier. "I requested permission from my father, the king, to visit these vaults," he said. "As Montclair's future ruler, I believe it is my duty to understand every part of its history. Leadership is more than titles and ceremonies—it's about knowing the foundation of what you lead."
The keeper bowed deeply, his expression one of admiration. "A sentiment worthy of a ruler, Your Highness. Let us begin."
They stopped before a display case containing a weathered sword. "This is the Blade of Unity," the keeper explained. "It was wielded by King Severino during the Great War, symbolizing the unification of the provinces under Montclair's banner."
Knoa studied the blade, its hilt encrusted with sapphires. Despite its grandeur, it bore the marks of battle, a testament to its storied past.
"A weapon that united a kingdom," Knoa murmured, his voice tinged with awe. "And yet, it's still just a weapon."
The keeper nodded. "True, but it's missing the ideals it represents—unity and the will to lead wisely."
As they moved through the vault, the keeper unveiled an intricately carved shield. "This shield belonged to Queen Elara, known for her defensive strategies during the Border Wars. Its surface is engraved with the royal crest of her era."
Knoa sketched the shield in his journal, his delicate handwriting filling the pages with notes. "A queen who valued defense over aggression," he said thoughtfully. "An approach that preserved countless lives."
Further down the corridor, they stopped before a collection of faded maps. The keeper explained, "These are the original cartographic depictions of Montclair's expansion. Each one shows the evolution of our borders over the centuries."
Knoa examined the maps closely, his finger tracing the lines. "To see how the kingdom grew… It's humbling."
They reached a pedestal displaying an ancient scepter adorned with amethysts. "This scepter belonged to King Lucas," the keeper said. "It is said to hold a curse for those unworthy of the throne, though such tales may be folklore."
"Every legend has a kernel of truth," Knoa replied, jotting down the scepter's description in his journal. His fingers gently brushed the glass surrounding the relic. "A curse for the unworthy," he mused aloud. "I wonder what it means to be worthy of such power."
The keeper, sensing the depth of Knoa's contemplation, spoke carefully, "It is said that King Lucas's reign was marked by great trials—battles that tested not just his strength, but his resolve. The curse is believed to affect those who rule for selfish reasons, rather than the welfare of the people."
Knoa's eyes softened as he considered the weight of those words. "Perhaps the true curse lies not in the scepter itself, but in the burden of ruling when one is not prepared," he said quietly, more to himself than to the keeper.
The two continued through the vault, the silence between them growing as Knoa absorbed the stories of his ancestors. The keeper gestured toward a large tapestry, its faded colors still managing to tell the story of Montclair's founding.
"This tapestry tells of the First Monarch, Queen Celestine, and how she united the warring factions of the land," the keeper explained. "She was a visionary, and her decisions shaped Montclair into the kingdom it is today."
Knoa stood before the tapestry, his gaze tracing the figures depicted—queen and warriors alike. "A vision," he repeated. "It's said that true rulers are those who can see what others cannot. But how do you know when your vision is the right one?"
The keeper gave a small smile. "Perhaps that is a question only time can answer, Your Highness."
Knoa nodded thoughtfully. "Time is a cruel judge."
They moved on, the keeper now leading them to a room at the far end of the vault. It was smaller, more intimate, and filled with items of personal significance to the royal family. There were letters, jewelry, and personal keepsakes—each one telling a story of a monarch's life, struggles, and triumphs.
The keeper stopped before a small wooden box. "This," he said, lifting the box carefully, "is the Locket of the lost princess. It was once worn by Princess Eveline, the daughter of King Alden, the king before your father. Legend says she disappeared without a trace, leaving only this locket behind."
Knoa's hand hovered above the box, curiosity piqued. "A lost princess? But, King Alden is my father's father. So, Princess Eveline is my father's sister?" he asked, his voice soft with intrigue.
"Yes, Your Highness," the keeper replied, his voice lowering. "Your Majesty, King Severino, despite having two children, is the sole heir to the throne, as the previous king deemed him the only rightful successor. Princess Eveline, well, some say she was taken, others claim she chose to disappear. Whatever the truth, her disappearance left a void in the royal line that Montclair never fully recovered from."
"I didn't know this. Might as well ask father." Knoa stood still, lost in thought. "What if the key to understanding the past… is also the key to the future?" His fingers lightly traced the locket's delicate surface, imagining the life it once held.
The keeper smiled, though it was tinged with melancholy. "Perhaps, Your Highness. Perhaps you are the one to uncover it."
Knoa's ruby eyes flickered, filled with a new sense of purpose. As he looked around at the treasures and relics of Montclair's past, he realized that each piece held a story waiting to be told—a story that would one day become his own.
Later that evening, Knoa stood on the balcony of his chamber, gazing up at the night sky. Stars twinkled like distant jewels, and a cool breeze ruffled his white hair. The day's discoveries swirled in his mind—the artifacts, the vault's grandeur, and the laughter of children in the gardens.
"This is only the beginning," he murmured to himself, his voice steady with determination.
As he lingered, a shadow passed briefly across the courtyard below, unnoticed by the prince. The soft rustling of movement was nearly imperceptible, but in the stillness of the night, it seemed to hang in the air. Something about the moment felt different—charged, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Knoa turned away from the balcony, closing his journal with a quiet sense of satisfaction. Tomorrow promised new lessons, and he would face them with unwavering resolve.
But as he reached for the door, a sudden, inexplicable feeling gripped him. It was a sensation not of the mind, but of the soul—a quiet forewarning. Something was stirring, just beyond the edges of his awareness.
He paused, looking back once more to the courtyard, but the space remained empty, serene. Yet, the unsettling feeling lingered.
With a deep breath, Knoa stepped back inside, dismissing the unease as nothing more than a passing moment. But the question stayed with him: What was it that he had sensed in the shadows?