Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Reminiscence of Antiquity ❯ The Legend of Mukharha ( Prologue )

The Legend of Mukharha

In a great time of prosperity there lived a great king in a city of gold and silver. Wise was the king. Kind was the king. But old was the king and his time was nigh. The king held a necklace made of gold, silver and only the finest jewels which were the symbols of his kingship. It was common knowledge among the people of the King's city that anyone who wore the necklace would be king and so when the time came to pass on the necklace to one of the King's two sons, there was much fuss and commotion.

The youngest of the brothers was brave and cunning but not nearly as wise and kind as the eldest brother. Upon the king's death bed, the king had intended for his kingship to be passed on to his eldest son but in a slip of the hand and master thievery, the youngest stole the necklace and proclaimed himself king. Unfortunately the king passed away before he could denounce the claim and the false king came to heir.

The great city was thrown into turmoil and confusion. Many of the citizens knew the eldest brother was to receive the power from his father but the great majority saw the necklace upon the youngest and accepted him as their new king. Arguments and rebellions struck up against the new king from the faithful followers of the true heir to the throne. Much hate and bitterness had driven both the true heir and his faithful people out of the city.

However, upon the day when half the citizens were being banished from their city of gold and silver, Moubarak, the old king's faithful prophet, stood up against the crowd and called out to the false king.

"Shaheen!" Moubarak shouted to the youngest brother, "Shaheen!" He called again and the crowds of people stopped moving to listen to what the old man had to say, "Shaheen, I have seen your city of the future. I have seen it well and I have seen it crumble because you have built it upon lies and deceit. One day, the true prince of these people will rise up and take rule once more. The boy who walks on silver wine will come and unite the rift that you have driven between our tribe!"

The arrogant young king laughed at the fortuneteller's prophecy and ordered him to be thrown unto the streets with the rest of those against him and cast out of the city, never to return. Many people were astonished by this but said nothing about their new king for they did not wish to be banished from their beloved city either.

"A curse upon all who stay and follow this false king!" Moubarak cried as he left the city gates, "A curse upon you all!"

The banished people traveled for many days and many nights until they came to a valley high in the mountains where they found refuge enough to build a small city. But, as with those in exile from their home land, there were those who were restless with this new city they had founded. A third wanted to go back and fight against the false king's armies. A third wish to move on with the true prince and a third hoped to stay in the new city, tired of wandering the lands and tired of fighting their own kind.

And so another break in the once great tribe took place. A third went back, a third moved on and a third stayed. The third that went back broke the city walls and destroyed the innards of the city. The third that moved on, followed the true prince to the orient to seek fortune and live as gypsies. The third that stayed prospered, keeping a close guard on the story of where they all came from and where they all belonged. With the city in pieces and the false prince gone there has one part of the prophecy yet to go... the prince who will rise up and unite the tribe once more.