Aavitus-Koina Park, Residential Sector,
The sweltering sun's heat waned, but its light still glowed. The otherwise open and aerated park was a hot chamber today. But did the people care? Absolutely not. They were sticky, sweaty and many were seated beside a few that were smelly. But sensory desire is evanescent when the mental desire is fulfilled. Even the elites, some of whom were undoubtedly a bit-stuck up, couldn't care less about decorum, as today they bore witness to one great performance after another. And the most-awaited main event was yet to begin.
The audience was currently spectating the final practice, where both teams were running their final plays. Suddenly, everything stopped as the guards, who were abundantly stationed throughout the park, roared in unison, "EVERYBODY, TO YOUR FEET! LORD ANTEKUS, THE GRANDSON OF OUR BELOVED WISE KING IS HERE|"
All heads; be they of the players, the elites or the civilians, turned at once toward the entrance. A wildly attractive boy in bedazzling rose-gold robes entered the park with a charming smile. Everyone stood up, and the hubbub that was slowly simmering erupted all at once. It was loud. Every bird in the sky fled the site as fast as they could and the entire park was hit by a faux quake. Many were crying, and some even tried to breakthrough the chain of guards to reach the young prince. Of course, they were restrained and later thrown out of the park.
Antekus smiled and waved as he walked inside. First, he steered toward the Goliath, the team that bore his family designation: The Royal Team. The chat, with the familiar faces was brief and cordial. Antekus wished them luck, after which he headed toward the dugout of the dog'. The old coach, along with Joda, froze for a second, but they quickly regained their bearings and readily approached the incoming prince.
The old coach, with his bad hip, couldn't bow. So, Joda promptly bowed to introduce himself and the rest in his stead. "Young Prince, it is of our utmost pleasure to be graced by yer presence. This old man here is Edugg Lappa, the coach and me father. I am Joda Lappa, the assistant coach. We are both from Zatkin…BOYS ROUND UP HEEEREEEE… forgive me screaming me lord…These unruly lot are the heart and soul of this team. So, these two big boys here are Lonk Latum and Hou Palemoon. They are the starting 'Protectors'. This fat kid here is Meral Goff, our 'Conductor'. This is Tonk Latum, our 'Guardian' and our final starter, is this runt, Nagra Palemoon. Our 'Spear'. Also, these two are Jou Lamm and Helai Do. Substitutes respectively for the Protector and Guardian roles, and the Conductor and Spear roles."
Antekus bemusedly observed the mess of an introduction. He was profoundly amused by the hasty assistant and his antics. He tried to keep his composure, but the loud shout that startled the living daylights out of his Kingsguard, along with the hurt expression of the team's starting Conductor, really tested him. Squinting to hold back laughter, he patiently replied, "I have read about you Joda Lappa. The last guy from the eastern parts to make it to the National Team. But, I also read that you grievously fractured your right leg? You don't limp at all? Are our medical facilities that good?"
Joda's eyes sparkled as his breath stopped. He had been acknowledged by someone this important, this intimately! The gratitude this exchange stirred in Joda was incomprehensible. Taking deep breaths, he stabilized himself before replying, "Thank ya me lord for… noticing!...Yeah, I did hurt me self, but the nation took the burden for me treatment. May the True God bless ya family for doing right by a nobody like me. The scars ache like hell, but I don't want to limp. I abhor the looks of pity, so, I white-knuckle it… but-but me lord, these lot here are ten times the player I was back in the day. And I'll promise ya this much, this lot will entertain the heck out of you."
Antekus heartily laughed at the ex-star's crude but confident oath. Humoring Joda, he acknowledged each of the Eastern Hukivawen players with a nod. The players, mesmerized, readily returned bows. Antekus raised his hand to stop the last few from bowing, but it was in vain. 'How could they not bow!'
"I want entertainment today boys. I am young, so my seniors love to forgive me for the jarring dent I put on the coffers sometimes. So, regardless of the result, if I am entertained, consider yourselves blessed."
Wide-open smiles quickly etched themselves across the team's faces, even the decrepit coach couldn't hide his toothless grin. But the second half of Antekus' words turned them stern.
"It's been a long time since I last saw Chargeball being played in a…traditional formation. Finalists nowadays are filled with incredibly versatile players. Everyone plays every position…it is pragmatic and effective, but fun…not as much. Anyway, best of luck, your trial ahead is incredibly exigent."
Joda, Nagra and the rest knew their task ahead would be harder than scaling the White-Wall of Calus. But they also knew that they were ready. Looking at their determined faces, Antekus felt glad. He was here to enjoy, and now the fulfillment of his wish felt certain.
"Sir, your stage has been set. Please bless us with your speech."
The Scaffolding Unit had been a great boon to the capital city. They were a nation-financed unit that specialized in setting up quick yet taut structures in incredibly short periods. They had started building a small stage after the last performance, a few minutes before Antekus arrived, and all Antekus did was hold two conversations before they finished their assignment. Though the stage was small and simple, no man present could fully comprehend the incredible ingenuity of the unit.
Antekus softly nodded, acknowledging the now more radiant retainer who had come to fetch him. Then, bidding farewell to the team, he made his way directly to the raised platform.
The crowd went rowdy as soon as Antekus' foot touched the first step. The guards sweated in annoyance as they now had to work outside their usual remit. The already stuffy park now housed thunder. But the high and apparent emotions soon abated as drums, loud as a howling wolf, were beaten repeatedly. The crowd now awaited Antekus' speech in bewitched silence.
Consciously, Antekus closed his eyes as he breathed in this dream-like moment. He was a beloved prince, but rarely did he see such an assemblage of men, women and children. But, looking at the awe-struck Nonjouls in the teams and the crowd, he felt guilty. His actions had led to deaths and hateful uprisings against many of them in Dal-Zoh. Be that as it may, his face betrayed all of his thoughts, as it still carried the characteristic charming smile of the Brilliant Young Lord.
"Friends, Brothers, Sisters, Uncles and Aunts, I hope you are ALL WELL! Your excitement at my arrival today…the warm way you embraced me…made my day…no…IT MADE MY YEAR!"
The crowd howled, and many lost their minds when the Young Prince addressed them in such a sweet and elevated way. But they quickly piped down as they saw their prince gesture for calm.
"Hahaha…I LOVE the energy! This is Hukivawen, and WE. ARE. THE. GREATEST! AREN'T WE?"
"YEEESSS!"
More than three thousand voices responded to Antekus' inquiry in unison.
"Obviously we are! And, I will share a simple fact with you all. A fact no kings, princes or whatevers in other nations will ever say…It's not the Repyes family that makes Hukivawen great, no, absolutely not… it is YOU WHO MAKE HUKIVAWEN THIS GREAT!"
"NOO! IT IS YOU, YOU, YOU, YOU…!!"
"Hahaha…is it so?"
"YESSSS!"
"ALRIGHT THEN, LETS CALL IT WHAT IT IS!! A SYMBIOTIC…COLLABORATIVE EFFORT BETWEEN YOU, THE INCREDIBLE PUBLIC AND US, YOU RULERS THAT LISTEN TO YOU… THAT UNDERSTANDS YOU!...THAT ANSWERS TO YOU!"
"YESSSSS!!! GOD BLESS THE REPYESS! GOD BLESS THE REPYESS!..."
Antekus again had to gesture for the crowd to quieten. Repeating the same thing again and again is bound to irk one. But Antekus, Oh! He was ravishing the moment like never before. Never in his life did he think he would feel this powerful. A swordsman cuts from the borrowed courage of a sword. Antekus now was a swordsman and his sword, the people. 'This is the allure of the throne, eh?'
"Okay…yes, yes…god bless us…but OH, DEAR TRUE GOD, BLESS THEM TOO!!!... yes, yes…calm down…okay…yes…uh-huh… Alright then! I will not bore you any longer, otherwise the sun will set before the game ends hahaha…MAY BY THE GOD'S BLESSING WE WITNESS THE SINGLE GREATEST GAME OF CHARGEBALL…"
The last words of the speech got buried in the frenzied atmosphere of the park. The young prince's passionate speech sowed seeds of obsession in the hearts of the people. They already loved him, but now, they loved him more.
As Antekus was being escorted to his extravagant couch propped on a dais in the area reserved for the elites, he had been subjected to greeting every single personage en route. The boiling crowd also simmered as a sizeable group left to relieve themselves or to buy refreshments. The main event was about to begin, and the restrained energy of the park, right before the storm, was truly palpable.
Antekus really felt redundant; he had been doing the same thing repeatedly. About a hundred or so dignitaries came, and each shoved the other for his attention. Earlier, Antekus himself had been elbowed once, luckily it had not hurt him. The guards, though, after the incident, stopped caring about identity of the elites. They were pushed and shoved to make way for Antekus. Nonetheless, Antekus made it his priority to exchange at least a polite salute with each. Even god couldn't predict a man's trajectory in life; thus, Antekus didn't want to lose a future ally by being mean or dismissive. A good impression works wonders.
Ultimately, Antekus heaved an audible sigh of relief when he finally plopped himself onto the sufficiently cushioned couch he was assigned. As he wiped his sweat and stretched his aching body and neck, the hubbub he thought would subside reignited. Curiously, he turned toward the crowd. 'Okay, the elites seem to love our newcomer…but the people don't know him…Oh wait, I see the faces of few redheads glowing…oo, some are tip-toeing as well… a Nonjoul, but the fanfare among the elites, equals mine… has to be a Bluemoon. What in the false realm is a Bluebloodymoon doing here?'
Antekus' observation led him to an answer, but the answer sincerely concerned him. The ever-patient Antekus now hastily turned to his Kingsguard to inquire. But as soon as he saw the astoundingly dour expression of his trusted protector, he knew the answer. Nonetheless, he queried, for he dared not believe until he heard it: "Is it him?"
"Yes, milord…I know I am just a humble servant…but, please don't get impulsive and try to outwit him."
Antekus heard nothing after the initial affirmation. His face lost all color as he dazedly stared at the ceiling of the marquee. He completely relaxed his back and wedged his head on the top rail of the couch. 'Wow! The embroidery is very pretty, eh.'
Antekus knew he had a conversation incoming with a person who would make it his priority to extract every last piece of information from him. Intent matters not in a failed execution, but failure is not a concept found in the books of the Bluemoon Family Patriarch. A shrewd myth of a man whose life of suffering and glory could be compared to none; he was the man who stood beside his father, the last Bluemoon family head, as he led the exodus of Nonjouls to the northern lands. It was also he who, as a child, had to hide in the wild to survive the barbaric hunt of King Xonden. But he was also the man who re-established the almost exterminated Nonjouls in the Northern Lands of Balia. Finally, it was also he who was brother-in-law to the current king of Hukivawen. He was none other than the existence the Temple feared most. He was: Olaag Bluemoon.