This tale will cover the story of Sol, Rutherford, Priscilla, and the events that transpire on Sol's side of the story throughout Without a Rule. A different perspective to the novel, though it will not necessarily follow the Peradasia series. Or...whatever I feel like naming the series.
There were no heroes in those days. That is, the days when King Maximillian Pingsley ruled the country of Peradasia. There were no knights that led crusades of great justice. There were no prophets that claimed to be a son of God. There were only kings.
Four nations ruled the small continent. A powerful king at each throne in Syram, Peradasia, Risetta, and Porfiry. Syram was the largest. Peradasia was the most respected. Porfiry was the smallest. Risetta was something of an enigma ever since Porfiry broke away from it and became its own nation. Nevertheless, each king had something that the others wanted, therefore no king was thought higher than another. Everyone was to bow to a king, and the kings bowed to no one - not even another king.
King Maximillian was just another king when one looks back at history. He was proud, caring for his people, intelligent, and firm in what he believed. His decisions were absolute throughout his country, as it was for the other kings in their nations. Maximillian was recorded as nothing special, but some decisions he made would lead to a king that was far different from the others.
“Esteemed Father, I have just completed my studies for the day,” said his youngest son, Rutherford, as he walked into the throne room. The castle had just gotten a new red carpet for the room, so it felt very soft to walk on.
“Excellent. Send for your older brother right away,”
“Yes, Esteemed Father,” He took off to his brother’s room. He was worried about the occasion, because his father made a great effort to avoid Sol and would most certainly never summon for him. Rutherford was about sixteen. Sol was ten years older than him, but Rutherford was the more popular of the two brothers. He was Maximillian’s favorite son. Maximillian controlled his sons, but Sol would not always obey him. In fact, Sol never obeyed his father. Sol had different ideas for the future than Maximillian had been instructing. It wasn’t necessarily that Sol’s ideas were evil. It was just that his ideas were not appealing to his father. Rutherford strode down the hallway on the third floor and entered his brother’s bedroom.
“Brother, with all due respect. . .” Rutherford timidly began talking the moment he went through the doorframe. He saw that Sol was practicing with his sword. He closed his mouth and waited patiently for his brother to complete his training. Sol caught a look at his brother and threw his sword towards him. Rutherford jumped away from the doorframe and watched the sword fall to the floor.
“Sol! What are you doing!” Rutherford glared. Sol smirked.
“The same thing I always do. Checking if your reflexes are in shape. You spend too much time studying and not enough training your body for war,”
“We have no need to go into battle,” Rutherford leaned against the wall with his heart beating fast. Sol laughed and walked over to him. He wrapped an arm around Rutherford’s shoulder and ruffled his hair with his other hand. He kissed him on the cheek and smiled.
“Oh, why you never know when even a king might be called into battle. A king must be ready to do anything that he asks of his people,” Sol laughed. Rutherford leaned against him and sighed. He looked up at his elder brother warily as Sol continued talking. “Father would die if our castle ever went under siege. He’s let his body go. He’s frail, much like you.”
“I’m not at all frail!” Rutherford protested. It is true that he was quite buff for a prince.
“In comparison to me, you will never outlive me because you have a weak body. You need to train more,” Sol kissed his cheek again. “Now, dear brother, what did you want? Surely it’s not about our horrid father?”
“With all due respect,” Rutherford pulled away and looked at him seriously, “Father wishes to see you.”
“A wife! A political marriage! It’s all a scam! A wife! He wishes to kill me! A wife! With his chosen princess! A wife! A wife!” Sol swung his sword around angrily. Rutherford leaned against the wall, keeping his distance form Sol.
“It’s quite about time,” Rutherford remarked. “You are twenty-six, and you are to heir the throne soon! I think Father is nearing his end, sadly.”
“I don’t care!” Sol threw his sword down and glared at Rutherford. “I wanted to marry for love, not for that man’s convenience.”
“Think logically about this. I’m sure the princess is a pretty woman,” Rutherford rose to his feet. “Her portrait shall arrive sometime today. She will be here in a few days.”
“As if I could care less about looks. I want a woman with personality, not her father’s money,”
“No, it’s her uncle that is the king,”
“Very well then, her uncle’s money. She is probably spoiled and downright rotten, much like Mother,”
“Our mother was a saint!” Rutherford gaped in horror.
“She died when you were six. How could you possibly have known her?”
“I just know,”
“You need to grow up, Rutherford. You may not be of any immediate importance to this throne room, but if I were to ever die in battle, you would have to take my place. Peradasia cannot afford to have an immature king. Can you imagine the catastrophes that would occur from that?”
“Yes, Sol. I understand quite well,” Rutherford replied quietly and calmly, but he still felt hurt and angry. “Let’s go back to the subject of the princess.”
“I do not care to talk anymore about that,”
“I bet she’s a real gem,” Rutherford said, looking thoughtfully. “She’s from Porfiry. Those women are always pretty. They’re so exotic with their black hair and green eyes,” He started to sound very dreamy and jealous. Sol looked at him and smiled.
“Yes. I remember when the queen and king visited us. Isaac was nothing special, but Her Majesty with quite pleasing to eye,”
“It is quite a shame she passed away during childbirth,”
“It is. I wonder if King Isaac will ever remarry?”
“Doubtful. He’s so stricken by his wife’s death that he cannot possibly conceive the notion of another marriage. . . Much like Father, actually,” Sol glared at Rutherford.
“Father could not have possibly loved that wench,”
“Stop saying horrible things about her!”
“She never spent time with us,”
“Mother was busy,”
“She was busy casting her dark spells like some witch,”
“A witch! That is ridiculous!”
“She was different and made me different,”
“Different! What in the world do you mean?”
“She gave me these blasted gray eyes. She had gray eyes. No domination has gray eyes,” Sol stared into his brother’s piercing blue eyes. “In this country, we are characterized by having dark brown hair and brown eyes. You get your blue eyes because our father is from Risetta.”
“I understand that! You have no need to explain further about that. I’m not an idiot. Really, I’ve succeeded in my studies more than you have,” Rutherford protested.
“It’s that sort of attitude that makes me superior to you, Rutherford,”
“I will prove you wrong day someday, Sol,” Rutherford said angrily.
“We shall see, then, won’t we?” Sol smirked and hugged his brother. Rutherford leaned against him reluctantly. He could tell how upset Sol was with the matter of getting engaged. Their father entered the room, carrying a large picture frame with a portrait in it.
“Sol, this is the face of your future wife,” Maximillian stated and turned the frame around to show his son. The brothers both gawked with amazement at the incredible, realistic oil painting of Sol’s fiancee. She had long, curly, black hair and stunning green eyes. The artist who painted her made her light skin look like a stunning pearl. She had finely-shaped ruby lips.
“Wow. . .” Sol’s eyes were wide. He expected her to be pretty, but not this gorgeous.
“I wonder if she’s that pretty in real life. . .” Rutherford mumbled, his eyes affixed to her eyes. Sol ran his hand across Rutherford’s stubbly chin, looking at him curiously. He wanted to know if Rutherford was infatuated as well. Rutherford turned his head to face Sol. Maximillian gave way a twisted smile.
“Her name is Priscilla Poring.”