1 The prophecy

There is silence in the temple of Boar as the priest in charge makes his consultation to the oracle. King Salem Mohammed stood patiently with his seven grown sons. The oldest was twenty-five and the youngest was sixteen. He had so many children from his different wives and concubines; he receives more than ten concubines yearly as gifts from his well wishers. There were so many women in his Harem that he barely had time for all of them.

Some of them never got to see the king again after their first night with him, they just continued to live in the palace under the king's shelter. Some were lucky to bear children for him, but the king was so busy that he barely recognized some of his children.

He only had four women whom he recognized as his wife, one was the eldest queen, she was his favorite, even though her first son was the King's second child. She had borne children late so the second wife had a son before her.

In their present society, women were seen as commodities and properties so their owners could do with them in any way they pleased, and that included giving them away to rich men in exchange for money, power or connection. The women didn't have much of a say in it, and it was seen as normality.

The priest finally stopped his whispering incantations and turned to the men of the royal family. "My King, the oracle is pleased with your visit, you may proceed to say what has brought you here," he said with his head bowed.

"Priest, as you can see… I am getting old by the day, I don't know how long I have left and I do not want my children to fight amongst themselves when I am long gone, that is why I have come here. I would like you to find out from the oracle who the rightful King shall be amongst my sons," the King instructed.

"As you wish, my lord," the priest replied and bowed.

He turned back to the oracle which was carved out of stone. A beautifully made idol adorned with diamonds and other precious stones. It had a serpent sculpture curled and standing on its shoulder.

The priest picked up a chalk and drew a circle on the floor, he poured some liquid in the circle and muttered some incantations.

"Step into the circle, one after the other, sons." The old priest instructed.

The first son looked towards his father for consent and the King approved, so he took a few steps into the circle.

The priest muttered some inaudible words and shook his head. "No, step out son, you are not the chosen one," he informed him.

The prince walked out almost immediately, he was glad that the oracle did not choose him because he had no interest in being the King. He was Prince Sadiq, the first son of the King's second wife. He was the quiet type and was barely seen around the palace halls, but just like his father, he had an obsession for women.

The second son stepped into the circle with a smile on his face. He was very expectant that the oracle would choose him, he was the son of the eldest queen after all, and the King's favorite at that.

The priest made the incantations and once again, he shook his head in disapproval. "The oracle has not chosen you either," the old man announced.

Prince Mustapha was disappointed and upset, he shot the priest a stern glare and if his eyes were daggers, then they would have probably stabbed the aged man to death. After hesitating for a while, he stepped out of the circle, grumbling to himself.

The third eldest prince stepped in. He was Hassan, the son of the second wife, Prince Sadiq's younger brother. Their mother, Queen Fatima was the only one lucky enough to bear the King three sons, but that did not make her his favorite anyway, his eldest Queen still remained his favorite.

Once again, the priest rejected the young man and sent for the next. The remaining Princes were starting to get excited, they had not been dreaming of the throne because they all expected it would go to one of the first three sons, so this would be a big blessing to any of them that would be chosen.

The fourth came and left, then the fifth and sixth went as well. Now it was just the seventh prince left and it was obvious that he would be the one since there was no one left. He was Prince Malik, the last son born to the King by one of his concubines. The lad's mother was not a Queen but she was recognized in the Harem by the others.

"Son of a wh0re," Prince Mustapha cursed silently. He despised Malik so much and now had more reason to do so, how could the son of a mere concubine be chosen as the crown prince?

"Step into the circle, son," the priest instructed.

The young boy walked into the circle nervously. He was scared that his elder brothers would kill him if he was chosen to be the King, not only was he the youngest but he was born by a concubine. The king was the only one who cared about him, his half brothers all thought of him as unworthy.

The priest sighed and shook his head in disappointment. "Have you no more son, my lord?" he asked the King.

King Salam shook his head in the negative. "No, the rest of my children are girls," he announced. "Has the oracle not chosen any of my boys? Who then would take over from me when I am no more?" he queried.

"If you are certain that these are all your sons, then please give me a minute my lord, let me know what the oracle has to say." He requested.

The King sighed and gave his permission. Prince Mustapha was already getting impatient, he was quite the short tempered type, going hot and cold was his thing; that was a quality he inherited from his mother.

Queen Saudat was known for her temperament; she easily got angry with people and lashed out on them. The commoners were happy when she was unable to bear a child for two years in the marriage and the King had to bring in his second wife, Queen Fatima.

Queen Saudat had all the bad qualities anyone could imagine, she was a liar, short tempered, envious and greedy. She had even cheated on the King on several occasions, when she was caught by one of the concubines, she had the concubine falsely accused and thrown out of the palace.

The priest finished his consultation and turned to the King with a sad face. He tried to speak but the words were too heavy for his mouth.

The king noticed he was tense, "Go on priest, tell me what the oracle says," he urged him.

The priest went on his knees and bowed his head. "I have received a bad revelation from the Oracle, my lord… I would speak if you permit it, your highness," he said with fear audible in his voice.

"You have my consent, Priest… Go ahead and do not waste my time," the King instructed.

Prince Mustapha was pacing around impatiently, he just wanted to leave this filthy temple, he couldn't understand why his father had even sorted the help of the oracle, the King had the right to choose his successor himself. If that happened, Prince Mustapha had no doubt that he would be chosen, his mother was the King's favorite so she would have convinced him to make her son the next King.

"My lord, the oracle had revealed to me that the future King would return soon, he is your flesh and blood who had been cast out to the wilderness. He shall return with the strength of a thousand warriors, the blade of an avenger, with the powers of a demon running through his veins.

He shall bring destruction to those who had wronged him, he would bring the royal family to their knees and he shall murder his own father with his blades of vengeance. He would make his brothers prisoners and his sisters maids, the king's women would become his sex slaves His name would spread like wild fire throughout the seven kingdoms of the mountain lands and his power would bring them all face down at his mercy.

He shall be called conqueror, the son of the devil and the lord of the seven mountains. His enemies would be petrified by the mention of his name and Kings would bow before him…"

"Enough of your blasphemy," Prince Mustapha yelled and before anyone would see it coming, he drew his sword and sent the priest's head rolling down the rocky ground. He was panting in anger, breathing heavily. He has had enough of the Priest's stupid prophecy.

"You have performed admirably my son," the King said proudly and smiled.

"I wont be alive and watch someone say such words to the King of Manila, whoever dares to speak ill of the King would die!" he replied.

"Now that is my boy, maybe coming here wasn't a bad idea after all, I mean the oracle has already shown me the next King of Manila, you my son would sit on that throne after me," the king announced and Prince Mustapha smiled.

"As you wish father, it is my pleasure to continue what you have started, your highness," Prince Mustapha said and smirked at his disappointed half brothers; well, none of them wanted him on that throne because of his attitude.

To be continued!!