The Last Golden Eagle

Chapter 2 - The Stolen Son

“Hurry,” his mother said as she pushed Darian into a room and shut the door. She then rushed to open the door the people were kicking.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice quaking.

The soldiers made way for a silver-haired woman who wore a gray dress and carried a strange, long stick that was curled at the end. Her eyes were full of strange colors. The woman spoke, “Today, there was a strange disturbance in the realms. It led us here. Are you Helena?”

“I am Helena,” Darian’s mother replied.

“Take her!” the silver-haired woman said as she walked away.

Helena screamed, but the guards did not care. They carried her away and did not even let her walk on her own legs.

Darian wanted to scream, but he remembered his mother’s instructions. It would get better, right? Mother was always right, and Mother had told him to stay calm. But the moment he saw tears in his mother’s eyes, he thought of anything but obeying her. Darian wanted to rush out, but the doors were locked. He banged on the door. The guards were already out of sight, except for one who turned and walked slowly toward the room Helena had locked Darian in.

Darian froze. He felt that strange feeling of fear again. He froze and did not make a sound. What stopped the soldier from finding Darian was a voice that called from behind him. “Hey! Her Holiness wants all the soldiers with her. Hurry up already.” The soldier turned and left the place.

“Mommy,” little Darian called. Maybe Mommy would come soon. Mommy had told him everything would be alright, so Mommy would come back home soon. He fell asleep. By evening, he was hungry. He found a plate of bread and some milk on a small table. Maybe Mother had kept this for him because she knew she would be coming back late. As he ate, he felt a renewed hope that his mother would return soon.

By nightfall, little Darian heard footsteps. Maybe it is my mom, he thought. As he peeked, he saw a person in black carrying a little lamp. That was definitely not his mother. He panicked when the person reached his door and undid the lock. The next thing he knew, the person covered his face with a white cloth. Darian lost consciousness.

***

When Darian woke up, he was in a different place. He rose slowly and rubbed his head. He discovered he was lying on a large bed. The bed was covered in purple and white sheets. There was a servant by his side—an old man with a bald head. He was in a green robe, and a dark blue sash was tied around his waist. The moment the servant saw that Darian was awake, he said, "Young master, please change your clothes. The Lord and Lady would like to see you now."

Darian rose to his feet after rubbing his eyes with one hand. He yawned one last time and climbed down from the big bed.

The old man helped Darian change his clothes. "Young master Darian, please follow me," the elderly servant said as he moved toward the door. Darian was right behind him.

Darian walked through the large halls whose walls were delicately carved. This place was bigger than his mother’s cottage. There were also a lot of servants walking around, carrying different objects and rushing to perform various tasks.

“Is this a palace?” Darian wondered aloud.

“Keep it down,” the servant who was leading him turned to warn him.

Darian felt a little excited walking through the halls. This place was amazing. The servant led him to a giant hall guarded by two servants. They opened the doors, and Darian and the servant leading him entered.

Seated at the end of the hall in regal attire and lofty seats were a man and a woman. Both had frowns on their faces. The woman was wearing a peach-colored dress with flowery decorations on it. The man had a mustache, a hat, and spectacles. He looked respectable in his pants and suit.

“Is that the child?” the man asked.

The servant bowed, “Yes, sir.”

“Bring him closer so that I can see him,” the man instructed, clicking his teeth.

The servant gently pushed Darian forward.

Darian was still looking around the place. He had never seen so many decorations and designs in one place before. He was used to smaller and less distinguished places. He had the urge to run around and feel the carved walls with his hands, to press against their hardness.

"Will you focus, child!" The man scolded Darian, using one hand to touch the end of his long mustache. He could see the playfulness in the child's eyes and guessed that Darian wanted to run around.

Darian was startled by the yelling. He shook, and his little hands raced to his sides.

The woman looked disapprovingly at Darian, then back at the man seated by her side. "My Lord, the child has no manners. I will do well to teach him the proper etiquette so that he will not behave so... badly next time." The way she rolled her tongue was like she had tasted something rotten.

"Indeed, my Lady," the man replied. Then he planted his gaze on Darian. "Child, what is your name?"

Darian swallowed the lump in his throat. "My name is Darian," he said.

"Darian..." The man repeated the word almost like he was tasting it. "Very well then. I am your father, Darian. My name is Lord Lucas Featherington. But, you may address me as Father." He paused for a moment, checking to see if the boy was following him. He saw a brief spark of interest in Darian's eyes, then he continued. He pointed to the woman at his side. "This is your stepmother. Her name is Lady Ally Featherington. You shall address her as Stepmother. She will be in charge of your education and welfare. I simply do not have the chance to take proper care of the son of a concubine. All you need will be gotten from her. And I do encourage you to be well-behaved, if not, Lady Ally Featherington will discipline you as required."

The moment Darian had heard that the man standing before him was his father, he was stricken with joy. He wanted to run and hug him after he made his brief speech. He also wanted to ask if his father knew where his mother was. Darian remembered that his mother always taught him to let elders speak first. It was impolite to interrupt. So he had waited. But when he was about to speak, his father spoke sharply. "I have seen enough of him. Take him out of my sight. Take him straight to his room, at once!"

And just like that, before Darian could open his mouth to say anything, he was driven to his room. His head bowed and his eyes downcast.

When Darian got back to his room, he sat on the bed. His face was still downcast.

The servant looked at him, "Do not be sad, my boy."

Darian smiled, "I wonder where my mother is. I wanted to ask my father, but he would not let me say one word to him. He would not even let me touch him."

The servant smiled, "Your mother will come see you soon."

Darian's eyes lit up. "Really!"

The servant nodded.

Darian jumped off the bed. "I am going to wait for Mother. I want us to be together. I will also take good care of myself, so that when she comes, she will meet me well and strong."

"That's the spirit," the servant said.

Darian asked, "What is your name, old guy?"

The servant laughed. "Why do you call me old?"

Darian replied, "My mother said old people have gray hair."

The servant nodded. "Indeed. But I have to tell you that some young people have gray hair too. My name is Alfred. I'll serve you as long as you live here."

Darian bowed to him.

Alfred was wide-eyed with surprise. "Why did you do that?"

Darian rose, "My mother taught me to thank people when they are good to me."

Alfred smiled. "There is something I must show you, young master Darian." Alfred walked toward a bookshelf. He pulled out a red book and pushed a button behind it. The wall parted in two and opened.

Darian's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow!"

"Shhh," Alfred placed one hand in front of his lips to stop him. "Not a sound. Now, follow me."

Darian did as he was told. He followed Alfred down a dark tunnel lit up by fire torches. Soon, they were standing in a martial arts training ground. "Wow!" Darian exclaimed as his eyes swept around the place.