Thread:Austenasia/@comment-4555021-20120517192224

In the days of old, the Tale of Kings was taught to every child in every village, it told the tale of Tulk'àn, son of Talk'ùn the Dragon-God, Master King of the Western Horse Plains...

It is said that in the times before civilisation, and before the ages of men, the sun dawned on the land of Nirnan, a bright rainbow fell accross the fields, and from it, came the child Tulk'àn, son of the Dragon-God, Talk'ùn. Immediately, the people adored him, and recognised him as their rightful King.

He ruled over them for many years, wisely and benevolently. Fought, and won, many wars against the enemies of his people and Kingdom. All that he lacked, was a teaching, or a discipline, to make his Kingdom fulfil it's ultimate potential.

The time. Was now.

One fine day, while the King was riding his stallion of Kings, a wise man came unto him and said thus;

"Come to this chair, and sit upon't"

"Why?" Questioned the King, "Why must I sit upon such a chair?"

The wise man answered, "You must sit on it, because you, Tulk'àn, are the son of past Kings, and by divine right, are now the ruler of these vast plains".

Tulk'àn wisely looked into the man's eyes and said; "No."

The wise man seemed surprised, with a suggestion of inquisition; "Why do you choose not to sit on this chair of Kings?"

Tulk'àn did not reply, only whispered the words of his own creation, "Aśdårla, wise man, Aśdårla..." This word, this doctrine, this truth was a figure of Tulk'àn's own creation, a culmination of years of study and research, into the perfect description of all life, honour, battle, glory, friendship, and love - condensed into a word fit for a King and his people.

The wise man's eye glinted, as Tulk'àn's father, Talk'ùn, once did. And after a moment's contemplation, the wise man spoke: "You have passed the test..."

"What test?" Tulk'àn thoughtfully replied.

"The test... of the King".

Tulk'àn's eyes widened. "Could it be true? Are you the Wise-Wizard of Amałundär?"

"Yes, I am said Wizard..." he replied, "And due to your strength and wisdom, you shall be known throughout the land as the King of Kings, and creator of the belief... That is Aśdårla..."

Tulk'àn straightened his back, gripped his sword tight, and thanked the Divines, for it made him proud to be the son of Kings...

The wise man spoke once more, "There is but one last bequest of mine to give unto you before you begin you teachings, a new name... I give thee, the forename: Harry. In the tongues long forgotten to man, it means; Leader of Armies and Rule of the Home. The second name I give to thee, is the mid-name: Aram. Which, in languages spoken only by the silent Fuskarian Monks, means, High and Exalted. And the final name I give to you using the power of Rakūndoo Bestown unto me, is the surname: Nicholls. Which, in the forest-speak of the Djillians, means, Ruler and Conqueror of the People."

And faster than a Ülundel could jump accross a moor, the Wize-Wizard of Amałundär was gone. Leaving only a single note written on the paper of Kings, that the now, Harry, knew only too well.

Harry picked up the note, put it in the pocket closest to his heart, and walked away into great plains.

The note read only the word, the idea, the understanding:

'Aśdårla' 