A Meridell Celebration

     “His Majesty, the King.”

     Presently, King Hagan held up his index finger to quiet the speaker. He had become distracted with reading about kings of past from the book that lay open on the large table in front of him, where it sat over a picture of Brightvale Castle on top of a map of Brightvale itself. It was never used outside of meetings – or within the conference room, it seemed, for that matter. After a moment, he finally looked up. “Yes?”

     “His Majesty, the King,” the Blue Elephante began again, nervously fidgeting his front feet in the sleeves of his Brightvale-green robes. He glanced to his fellow members of the court for encouragement to keep speaking up. “One month from today marks the twentieth anniversary of the Battle for Meridell. We find it important that… that in some way, we celebrate that.”

     “We are saying that you should do something special to honour your brother and his kingdom,” another robed pet added.

     King Hagan looked towards the new speaker. “I will acknowledge Meridell and its subjects.” He paused to crinkle his nose at the happy-but-also-serious faces of his royal court as if he had smelled something sour – perhaps it was their plans to honour his fellow brother king. Everyone outside knew about the infamous feud between the brothers. Which meant, so did they within his castle walls. “Meridell and its subjects suffered greatly, and still they rose against the nefarious rulers of Darigan — Lord Darigan and Lord Kass — with the help of the great and brave Jeran. That took a lot of heart and wisdom and knowledge. And for that…”

     They leaned forward in their seats.

     “And for that…” King Hagan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

     They leaned even further in their seats, quiet. An all-too-eager Bruce fell from her chair.

     “And for that, I will acknowledge my brother, King Skarl of Meridell.”

     - - - - - - -

     “Skarl, Skarl, Skarl,” mumbled King Hagan as he now paced in front of his throne (he had had a spare setup in the conference room). He’d returned to the throne room once they had ended the meeting, soon after deciding that there was something to be done for the upcoming anniversary of such an important battle in Neopian history; it was, after all, probably the most important of them all. And his court was adamant – they refused to budge or change their minds. But what could they do?

     What could he do?

     It was ridiculous, thought the king.

     He quit pacing to sit on his throne with a huff and folded his arms across his chest. Usually, King Hagan was merry, but now he showed rare irritation for a king, and for a Brightvale citizen at that. He was agitated that it involved his brother; he was agitated that it included his brother; he was agitated that he had to celebrate his brother. And if that wasn’t enough icing on the cake, he only had one month to plan a major celebration of great magnitude.

     His court really had such high hopes for a ruler who never looked up from the pages of his book.

     He paused.

     Book, book…

     King Hagan pulled back an oversized sleeve to check his watch, then glanced around for any members of his royal court as he rose from his seat, hurrying across the grand room to the draperies off to the side. He gave one last look over his shoulder before pulling open the draperies to reveal the hidden door that he knew lay just behind them. It was as tall as he was wide and as wide as he was tall. He felt around for the knob in the shadows and turned it with a quiet click. Then, quickly, without a second thought, ducked his head and passed over the threshold and disappeared into its dark depths.

     - - - - - - -

     King Hagan inhaled deeply the musty scent of old paper and history as he rounded the corner at the end of the hidden passageway into a vast, circular room fit for a king (no pun intended). All around him and pressed up against the emerald green walls rested bookshelves upon bookshelves made of solid gold. The bookshelves themselves were taller than the king, reaching high to the domed ceiling and curved to fit the circular architecture of the room. The floor was made up of one-hundred percent gold thread with the Brightvale flag emblazoned at a large scale across it in a seamless fashion, dyed Brightvale green. And there was even a flag of the kingdom he ruled hanging just above a large desk made of the finest wood that might have once belonged in a museum in the centre.

     This was where he felt he belonged.

     This was where he could truly be himself, the bookworm.

     And as he crossed the room to the desk and sat on the cushioned seat behind it, he decided that this was where he could safely hide away from the rest of the busy world of politics until he finished what he had set out to do. He’d gotten an idea back in his throne room, a spur of the moment sort. Spontaneous. It wasn’t the best. It wasn’t the worst. But the best and the worst often met in the middle.

     And that was enough.

     He grabbed an elegant fountain pen from the Brightvale University Mug that sat on the desk among scattered papers and books of old and of new, then dug through the desk drawers until he found what he knew would be there – his journal. Wasting no more time, King Hagan opened it to the first fresh page and began to write.

     - - - - - - -

     It took Brightvale’s king a whole of three weeks and two days to complete most of his project. He spent many late nights in the secret underground library writing until his vision blurred and his fingers cramped; he was a determined king these days for it. King Hagan’s irritation seemed to fly away little by little like wind beneath a Pteri’s wings with each written word, with each new sentence, and he gradually became an easier king to get through to when it came down to political business, and the occasional prank of a bothersome dark faerie quest. Jhudora had, on a fine morning, sent a pet desperate for praise to Brightvale to obtain magical scrolls. The king had known, though, when that pet reported back to the darkest of faeries to hand over those scrolls… that there would be no Jhudora T-Shirt for them. No Neopoints. The scrolls they had taken were blank. But, even this had not swayed King Hagan’s focus away from his secret project. Still, he continued writing late into the night, long after the court retired to their quarters.

     - - - - - - -

     On the second day after those three weary weeks, King Hagan emerged earlier than he usually preferred as of late from his hideaway to avoid more questions from the other members of the royal court on his tardiness. They had been too suspicious and too eager for his personal liking to hear his thoughts over what should be done for the upcoming anniversary of the Battle for Meridell ever since that fateful day he had agreed to honour Meridell’s past and its ruler. Did he have any plans for a big feast? Were the subjects of Meridell and Brightvale invited to attend it? And were the kingly brothers going to catch up, for old times’ sake? He cringed at that last thought every time.

     “How are the plans coming along for Meridell’s anniversary, Sir?”

     He stopped idly tapping the arms of his seat, his mind forced back to the present. “I’m sorry, what was that?” The king was sitting on his throne, but not where he wished to be at that moment, under the fluorescent lights of his secret room, working on his secret project. Instead of finding himself still in his hideaway in his mind, he found himself back in the conference room again with its large table, and the map of Brightvale painted beneath the protection of its clear, glossy surface.

     And with his well-educated royal court. They weren’t easily fooled.

     “I asked, Sir,” repeated a bright-eyed Drake, who looked more guard than royal, “how the plans for Meridell’s anniversary are coming along.”

     “Five days! Five days!”

     “That’s one-hundred and twenty hours from now, Brucille.” The Drake patiently addressed the Pink Bruce to his right, who always drank too much hot chocolate before meetings. She often had it delivered from Terror Mountain despite her budget. Brucille was currently sipping from a Mika and Carissa mug as they spoke.

     “FIVE DAYS!” she screeched.

     Five days. One-hundred twenty hours. King Hagan continued to nervously tap on the arms of his gold-and-green throne.

     “Preparations are well underway – and it won’t be a disappointment. I promise this.” He let his eyes rest briefly on each face of his royal court as he finally answered their questions: “Yes, there will be a large feast in Meridell’s honour. Yes, all of Meridell and Brightvale are invited to attend the celebration; it will be held here, in Brightvale, within these castle walls.”

     Just as before on that fateful day, they leaned forward in their seats.

     King Hagan waited.

     Just as before on that fateful day, again they leaned even further in their seats. Brucille again fell off of her seat.

     “As for catching up for old times’ sake?” He thought for a moment about the differences between his brother and himself – and decided right then maybe they could make things right, after all. Or at least civil. “If my brother also wishes it.”

     - - - - - - -

     King Hagan had happily snuck away from the messy world of politics and celebratory plans immediately following the conclusion of their meeting, to his hidden library. And it is there, in that spacious hideaway library, where King Hagan had metaphorically ceased to exist in wake of the last few days leading up to the Battle for Meridell’s upcoming anniversary. In his place remained Hagan, who was more than happy to take the king’s place.

     Hagan was the true King Hagan underneath that finely robed exterior. He was shamelessly poetical and literary – a collector of fictional works and a writer – and he was without guilt free to be those things in the privacy of his underground room without the jokes from his royal court. He was also free to be those things in the privacy of his underground room without being laughed at by his royal court, especially. He suspected they chuckled whenever his back was turned, or when they found him with his head bent over another old volume.

     The king often tended to forget all about those worries though at the first thought of his secret retreat, however, he would simply steal away to his hideaway. He always, always, always felt right at home when he would inhale that old rustic smell of history and aged parchment, late night after late night. It was good for his spirits. Because it was there, down in the hidden underground depths of Brightvale’s castle, where he blissfully traded politics for the written word.

     Royal duties for secrets.

     He felt a thrill at keeping such secrets. They were small secrets, he knew. But if word got out about it… Maybe it wouldn’t matter who found his best-kept hobbies, if the Neopian world discovered that one of their very own kings was in private penning his own worlds of fiction. Or whatever else.

     King Hagan stopped writing then at that idea of discovery, leaving a sentence unfinished for the moment. His mind had strayed too far from his secret project, so he let it run ahead and paused. He looked up from the pages of his notebook and let his eyes search the quiet room until they landed on the flag of Brightvale that hung proudly above his desk, and gazed at it thoughtfully. It made him think about kingly things. He thought about his duties, his kingdom, his people, his brother. He thought about wisdom and knowledge, and the power they possessed if used with respect and honour and responsibility.

     Perhaps it was time that he let the rest of the Neopian world in on his secrets. They would laugh together.

     - - - - - - -

     Another couple of days passed by slowly until it was finally time. The last days leading up to the big day had kept all of Brightvale busy with last-minute preparations to ensure nothing but the best of the best for their arriving guests, and as the anniversary of the Battle for Meridell approached, so did the subjects of Meridell and Brightvale – including a few good-hearted Darigan. They had begun to arrive early overnight and late into the next morning, riding in elegant chariots bearing the colours and flags of their kingdoms under the watchful eyes of Brightvale guards – and at the insistence of their respective kings.

     King Hagan and his royal court had had another meeting the morning before to debate the safety of their people if they were to include Darigan at all.

     “It’s not like they willingly followed Lord Kass,” Brucille had said between sips from her Mika and Carissa mug. It smelled suspiciously of hot chocolate again. “He brainwashed them.”

     She made a good point.

      They sent the invitations out at the conclusion of the meeting.

     Every one of the invitees who confirmed their presence would be led directly to the main dining hall, where they were then comfortably seated at the long table. King Hagan had instructed his advisors to find help who could include extra tables to seat the remaining guests. It wasn’t much of a wait. Once the tables were set, the food was brought out on golden trays by Brightvale waiters and cooked by only the greatest chefs.

     They held back their appetites until King Hagan stood at the head of the centre table.

     “My kingdom and I want to personally welcome you to Brightvale,” King Hagan announced merrily to the eager faces around him. There was a series of applause. “We were deeply devastated by the news of Meridell at war against Darigan twenty years ago. But Meridell did not allow themselves to become discouraged by Lord Kass; they were instead able to rise above and persevere. So it is also with great honour that we welcome Jeran, for his bravery and strength in guiding the kingdom of Meridell to their victory.”

     Jeran, the famous blue Lupe who sat to the side of the king, stood in his armoury to joyful whistles and more applause before sitting back down.

     “And now I would like to personally welcome to Brightvale another very special guest,” he began again, arms spread out at his sides like he was about to take flight. “This great guest means a lot to me, so please give him a hearty welcome. We may not be close. We may not speak at all. But, it still stands that they mean a lot to me, as they should to you. He has done a lot for his kingdom and his people – including myself. He has sacrificed his time and his wisdom and his knowledge. And I know this much because he is my brother. So, without further introduction, I give you Meridell’s very own King Skarl!”

     King Skarl himself stood from his place at his kingly brother’s other side. He was a blue Skeith dressed in the finest robes in Meridell’s colours of red and blue. His expression was blank as usual, but a slight twitch of his mouth gave him away. He let his eyes sweep over the faces in the room as he tried his best not to show open gratitude to his brother. He instead opted to fiddle with his crown where it rested on his head until it again sat at a low angle to avoid expressing any outward emotion.

     King Hagan had caught that twitch as brief as it was before it was gone.

     “King Skarl? In honour of Meridell and your excellent leadership…”

     King Skarl turned to directly face his brother, this time at his name.

     King Hagan’s nervous hands shook as he held something above his head for his brother and all to see. As everyone looked on, their expressions all around moved between shock and surprise to one of awe and even deep admiration. He expected them to laugh at any second now. Why should he care what they thought of his hobbies? It was Brightvale! The kingdom of wisdom and knowledge! At this, he held it even higher. “We would like to give you this.”

     King Skarl accepted it. Turned it over and over in his hands. It was a hardcover book. On the front cover was an illustration of Meridell set against a beautiful backdrop. On the back was a photo of King Hagan alongside a brief blurb on its author and a synopsis of the story.

     “I had no ideas on how to properly honour your kingdom, my brother, and then it hit me during my studies one day that a lot of important information seemed to be missing from the story of the Battle for Meridell in the books. There were a few gaps. So I… filled them in with my own hand. It took me a great many late nights. It's published around all of Neopia as of this morning. Everyone within Meridell will get a free copy."

     The two kingly brothers stood there in silence for a moment.

     “You wrote a book?”

     King Hagan was surprised at his brother’s reaction. It made him feel good. It made him feel like their royal family feud was finally over, after all these years. “For your kingdom.”

     “I didn’t know…” King Skarl flipped to the first page of the book and quietly read the first paragraph. “I have two questions for you, brother.”

     “What is the first?"

     King Skarl didn’t hesitate before asking, “Why would you hide this from the world? Your talent.”

     “I get jokes often with my nose always in books. I thought that maybe… maybe they would laugh.”

     “Who is ‘they’? And why would they laugh? At you? You have incredible talent! Be proud! You are already a bestseller in my eyes.”

     King Hagan’s eyes filled with tears as he had never before felt such happiness between his brother and himself since they were kids.

     “I have another thing to ask you – a favour, really.”

     King Hagan and King Skarl just looked at each other for a while in what appeared to be a silent conversation. Then King Skarl’s face lit up in a rare show of pure merriment as he passed his copy of The Complete and Unabridged History of the Battle for Meridell over to his kingly brother.

     “May I have your autograph?”

     - The End -