Chapter 6: The King’s Trial

“I knew you would say that, my King.” Balam lets out a smile and kneels on his feet, with one hand crossing his chest as a sign of respect and obedience. “Then, let us embark on your destiny.”

Right as the last words are said, Balam, from his current posture, further bends down and touches the ground with his remaining hand. From that gentle touch, the earth suddenly shakes violently, and shards soon fly out in all directions. Within the seismic wave, I can see the spot on the ground with his hand glowing a radiant yellow, like the light of a secret treasure shining from its long slumber underground. The cracks soon grow wider and longer, as if the earth itself is being split apart. From within the chaos, I can see Balam’s hand holding something. A… sword’s hilt? But if its brown, jagged layer of rust is already this bad, I fear for the fate of whatever is inside. My imaginary worry doesn’t last for long, however, as it soon turns to reality with Balam’s act of pulling the object in question out of the earth. With a painful look on his face, Balam struggles to carry out the rusty hilt attached to a giant old boulder covered in dirt and moss, and almost immediately after, places it on the ground, seemingly breathless from the demonstration. Panting for air, he attempts to explain the best he can:

“This is… the original… Sword in the Stone… held by your ancestor… the legendary… sacred sword Excalibur…”

“Are you alright?” Fearing for his own well-being, I ask.

“Just… give me a moment… my King…” Still not done catching his breath, Balam answers. “My original form… is a lot easier… to do… stuff like this…”

“Is this because I said I prefer your human form?” I scratch my head in worry, a bit guilty that it was me that forced him into it. “If it’s troubling you, I don’t mind the other...”

“No, no.” Balam waves his hand violently in denial, seemingly better already. “I also prefer this form. It’s just that it’s been a while since I did any physical activities involving it.”

“Anyway,” letting out a cough to hide his flustered look, Balam continues and gestures towards the legendary blade. “Draw it, my King, and let our journey begin.”

“Alright.” I nod and start to approach the sword. The hilt is already rusted and dirty, so my expectations are low. But this is the sacred sword of legend… according to Balam. Is he playing tricks on me?... No, I can’t be thinking that. He has no reason to trick me. If I’m not equipped, he’s not going to gain anything. Trust your new partner, Peter. With a slap to the face to steel myself, I hold onto the hilt. The feeling of the rust getting on my skin is never comfortable, it’s like my hand is constantly being nibbled by tiny insects. Taking a deep breath, I draw the sword.

There’s no radiant light coming out from the blade, nor is there any earth-shattering roar or howling wind. The scenery remains quiet, and the sword remains unremarkable, if not underwhelming, as I expected. The entirety of the blade is also covered in the same layer of rust as the hilt, its point and edge are all dulled as a result, and it looks like it can break from just a simple breeze, let alone cutting through the enemy. However, as I turn to Balam with a questioning look, he, as if predicting my every move, stands back up and lets out a smile:

“My King, let your Trial commence.”

“My… Trial?” I ask. “What’s that? And why am I being trialed?”

“It’s a ritual of us Demons when we swear loyalty to our masters. Call us careful or doubtful whatever you want, but we wish to know if the one who awakened us can be worthy of us entrusting our everything to them.”

“Alright, fair enough.” Even though the reason for the trial itself is still far-fetched to me, I see no point in asking further, for I don’t see how there will be any loss if I do it. “So, what’s this ‘trial’ you speak of?”

“Your Trial is simple.” Answer Balam, who then gestures towards the rusted sword in my hand. “This sword in its current state is unusable, am I correct?”

“That would be an understatement. I can already feel it about to fall off.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Some sacred sword this is.”

“Therefore, you shall be the one to restore it.” Balam nods and concludes, unaware of the shift in the expression on my face. “Easy enough, right, my King?”

“Yeah… easy.” The sarcastic smile disappears on my face, as I, in a state of confusion, scratch my head. “So, uh, … how do I do it?”

“I thought you might say that.” Balam lets out a mysterious smile, then, with a wave of his hand, a flutter of flowers gathers around him, leaving behind a rolled-up scroll as they dissipate. Throwing the object towards me, he explains:

“This scroll contains the map of this sanctuary. Hidden within here is a magical hammer and anvil. Your task is to find the two items and then use them to return Excalibur to its former glory.”

“So, this is more like a treasure hunt, I see.” I nod, and my mind flashes back to the scenes of me, Pedro, and Bea playing around in my garden, finding the random stuff that we buried in various spots for fun. Meanwhile, Balam, unknown of what is going on in my head, continues his explanation:

“You don’t need to worry about any time limit. For the remainder of the Trial, time in this realm will remain separate from the outside. Food and water are also not an issue, as rest stops are also marked on the map, should you want to take a break.”

“Alright then,” I say, giving myself a light slap on the face to steel my spirit, while my feet turn to a starting position. “Well then, shall we begin?”

“Whenever you’re ready.” Smiles Balam.

“Okay. Here I go, then.”

As I open the map, I can see multiple spots have been marked and are blinking continuously, letting out a hazy light in the process. One large spot on the top left corner of the map, passes the dense woods filled with giant trees, and another towards the bottom right corner, passes a bridge over a big stream nearby. Both of them are shining a bright yellow, so they must be my targets – the hammer and anvil. Meanwhile, scattered across various other locations on the map are bright red marks, those should be the rest stops Balam mentioned. With the targets in my sight, I set off, first to the northwest.

Sunlight occasionally shining down from the leaves is not the best indication of how much time has actually passed. Even though Balam said that time would be separated, it only means that I presumably wouldn’t lose any time in the real world. Meanwhile, here, my steps still grow heavier and heavier, and sweat still pores on my face, despite the leaves from the trees blocking out most of the heat from the sun. I walk and walk until I stop thinking about the reason that I walk altogether. All I know is that I must stay in the one direction I’m currently treading. How long have I been walking? Minutes? Hours? Days? My feet are tired. I’m thirsty. I’m hungry. Why do I keep walking? What do I need to do again? Will I get the answer I originally set out for? Now, I don’t really know anymore. The only answer is forward. Until my legs are about to give up on me, however, I finally see the answer I’ve been looking for

Some of it had broken off. It’s covered in moss and rust. It’s been partially buried in the ground. But with the way it glows a gleaming yellow, like a miniature sun inside the darkness of the forest, I can tell. The anvil I was so desperate to get is here, in front of me. However, getting it out will be a tall order, as it is halfway beneath the ground. And I have no tools to dig it out. “No, think, Peter. Digging is not an option. You know you’re not strong enough.” I mumble. I’ve only done some menial work at school and home, so I’m only barely fit to lift a normal anvil for mere seconds, not dig up one out of the ground. There should be a way to do this Trial. And, per my expectation, an idea dawns on me after a brief moment of thought:

“Of course. I don’t need to bring the anvil anywhere. If I can’t move it, then leave it right here. Bringing a sword and a hammer to an anvil is much easier than the other way around.” Delighted by the new idea, a smile shows itself on my face as I go back to where I once came, and continue downwards to the southeast, the position of the hammer.

However, strength in spirit can only last so long. As I was already beat and tired after the journey across the giant forest, my feet are already sore, and pain courses through my entire body with each step I take. After another ten minutes or so of walking, my body has finally reached its limit, and the result to show is an inevitable fall, face-first onto the ground. Reopening the map after dusting off my clothes after the fall, I say to myself in a hoarse voice:

“Yeah, I can’t continue like this... I need to find one of those rest stops.”

Luckily for me, one of them is just around the corner, about a minute of walking at best. The wonderous aroma wafting in the wind is also an undeniable sign, and just the smell of it is enough for me to revitalize myself. I make my way towards the place where the smell emanates from, and its sight is a beauty to behold, especially for someone on an empty stomach and dry throat. On the stump is a neatly placed tablecloth, along with a basket of still steaming hot bread, stew, and various gorgeously ripe fruit: from grapes to apples and oranges. Like a traveler in a desert finally meeting his oasis, I jump straight into the feast, devouring everything that I see. And just on time as well, as the clear field where I’m sitting means that I can finally have a sense of time, and the first signal that I notice is the sum slowly descending the horizon, dying the scenery in red.

“It’s already a day inside here, huh,” I say to myself, putting another piece of bread in my mouth. “Well, better rest up then. I don’t want to continue with a tired body.”

 

 Morning comes in what feels like a swift breeze as the gentle rays of dawn dance on my eyelids. Opening my eyes completely refreshed, I continue my short journey. However, the trip to the riverside is much, much harder than the trip in the woods, as even though I don’t have to worry about stray branches on the ground or thorny bushes blocking my path, the constant beating sunlight on my head proves to be much more of an issue. I may have severely underestimated the intensity of the sun, as my entire body sweating like a fountain is hardly the issue anymore. Instead, what I truly worry about is the splitting headache I’ve been suffering from the moment the intense heat started to show itself above my head. Being tired and thirsty was one thing, but now, I don’t even know if I will lose my balance due to dizziness. Each step feels wobbly and unstable as if I was struggling to stay afloat on top of a pile of quicksand. However, by some miracle, my objective can still be seen not too far from where I am. As if my legs are unshackled and life flowed back into my body, I run towards my target as fast as possible.

By the side of the bridge lies a lone hammer. It has a big handle, almost as tall as myself, and the head, while also rusted away due to the passage of time, still feels strong and heavy as the size suggested. However, it’s too heavy, as I realize when I try to lift it off the ground. Carrying this thing around must be nearly as hard as carrying that anvil itself, assuming I could get that off the ground. However, it is precisely because it is hard that I believe this is the correct solution to the problem, for bringing the anvil out of the ground is impossible without the correct tools for the job. Therefore, dragging the hammer on the ground, I continue my way back to the anvil in the woods.

Another day of walking, but alas, the object in question appears in my eyes once again. However, this time, it’s as if it’s mocking my attempt, laughing that I took so long to get back to where I am right now. No, I’ve come this far. I can’t give up here. I finally draw out the old sword and put it on the mossy anvil. It’s a bit unstable, but ironically the thick layer of rust on the sword makes the surface coarse and rugged enough to prevent slipping. With the hammer in both hands, I muster all the strength I have to finally lift it off the ground, ready to pound down the sword at any time.

“All right then, let’s get you back into shape.” I let out a laugh and say to myself, before swinging the hammer down with full force.

A large cracking noise.

Not clanking, but cracking.

The sword breaks.

It doesn’t even get broken in half like how it normally goes. The sword shatters like glass; with its old, rusty shards flying all over the place. Nothing is left besides an ugly hilt.

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Oddly enough, I feel nothing.

It’s as if my brain has given up thinking altogether. I don’t feel anything from my failure. No tears are shown, no fatigue hits me causing me to curl up in pain, nothing at all. I just stand there. Where did I go wrong? I wonder that myself. But whatever it is, it doesn’t matter now, as I have no result to show anymore.

Or so I thought.

The shards of the sword suddenly all vibrate together in unison as if the whole earth is shaking itself. Then, by a mysterious force, they all float up in the air. With a deafening screech as the trigger, the pieces fly towards the hilt still sitting on the anvil, and the sword is whole again, albeit still in its rusted state. Is it another chance for me? Or is it supposed to be this way, for I still haven’t learned the right conditions? Either way, another chance is still another chance, and I’m not planning to give it up.

Putting my strength in the hammer, I lift it again.

Once more, the hammer strikes down.

Once more, the sword shatters.

Time and time again. The hammer keeps on delivering the blow, and the sword keeps on breaking and regenerating like a vicious cycle. The more I fail, the more I see red. The more times the blade breaks, the hotter my head feels. The more times my ears almost bleed out from the screech, the more I can hear my veins popping off. My grip grows stronger, my teeth clench harder, and my swing grows harder. However, the result doesn’t change by guts alone. I swing and swing, but the end is still the same: an endless loop of breaking and recovering. And, as my anger reaches its maximum point, I feel like just one more action, no matter how small, can easily make me burst out everything like a raging volcano.

Suddenly, a flash of thought runs across my mind.

I slowly put down the hammer and sit down next to the anvil. I don’t know why myself, but I want to take a break, gazing at the soothing greenery. I only stand up after a good while, until I can see the sun shining through the small spots of the leaves, signaling the time of noon. Putting my hands around my mouth, I call out:

“Hey, Balam! I know you’re here!”

To my expectations, as soon as I utter the words, a gust of wind carrying flower petals comes from seemingly nowhere, and as the wind dies out, the male figure wearing a bear hide once again appears before me. With a smile on his face, Balam asks:

“What is the matter, my King? Have you finished your Trial?”

“… Yes, I have.” After a small pause, I firmly say.

“Oh? But I don’t see the old Excalibur? Or do you mean to tell me that this rusty old thing is the only result you’re able to show me?”

“No, it’s not the old Excalibur.” I shake my head, remaining calm after his attempt of taunting me. “However, this thing isn’t the result I mean to show you as well. What I bring back isn’t the object, but the conclusion to this trial.”

“Now color me surprised.” Balam, still with a smile on his face, nods in excitement. “And what would that be?”

“This task is impossible,” I say with a firm look.

“And what makes you think that?”

“First of all, the position of the anvil and the hammer.” I start my explanation. “For the task of finding them to restore the sword, you put them too far away from each other. At first, I thought you were just testing my endurance and strength by doing so, but when I saw the anvil being half-buried in the ground, I had my first doubt. Of course, I also had the thought of you just testing me to think of a smarter solution than just mindlessly following the map, but that thought also perished when I saw the hammer being much larger than I expected it to be.”

I pause for a bit to catch my breath, glancing towards Balam to check on his reaction. However, his expression hasn’t changed from before, and when our eyes make contact, he only says:

“Do continue.”

“But what arose my suspicion the most was the fact that I kept breaking the sword, but it kept regenerating. At first, I thought that it was some sort of fail-safe measure in case I failed my first time, but the second time proved that wrong. Then there’s also the possibility of the sword requiring a specific number of hits before being able to restore itself, but if that’s the case then you would have given me some sort of hint pointing that out at first, or some words of encouragement saying that I shouldn’t give up even if it looks bad or something.

Therefore, I only have one conclusion left to this trial. I was never supposed to restore the sword, but my real task was to realize that restoring it was impossible the whole time.”

“Hmm.” Balam’s smile grows wider before he finally burst out laughing of loud, holding onto his stomach as if he’s in pain. “Ahaha… So that’s your final answer? I see! I see!”

“What’s so funny?” Worried and annoyed, I ask.

“That answer… is absolutely correct. You passed, my King.” Retracting his laughter, Balam nods in agreement. Upon hearing the news, as if a large weight has been removed from my back, I fall onto the ground, tired but overjoyed.

“I can’t believe that worked,” I exclaim. “Even until the end, I was still thinking that it just sounded like a bunch of excuses from a sore loser.”

“When you remove all of the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, is the truth.” Balam smiles at my confession. “A king must be wise in every decision, never overestimating or underestimating his abilities and his enemies. Strong enough to pull through the toughest situations, yet smart enough to know the impossible… Although, you’re the first to actually come to the truth. Most of the others just threw a fit of rage and accidentally came to the right answer.”

“Even Arthur himself?”

“Oh, please.” Balam chuckles. “That fool was the fastest to give up. Made a scene and everything too. But I digress. For you have officially passed your Trial, I hereby declare that you are worthy of being my King. And now, your reward.”

With a wave of his hand, flowers engulf the rusted sword. However, this time, a shining light comes out even before the flowers leave their place. Unlike its previously old and ugly state, this one is truly what you would call a sacred sword: its blade shining with a silver light, running along the blade is a dark blue decorative pattern. Its hilt shines a golden light, while on the base and the end are two emeralds made by only the finest of craftsmen.

“Behold, the true Excalibur,” Balam says with pride and joy. “Now, I would teach you about how to use its magical properties, but I believe you must be on your way now.”

“… Right. I almost forgot.” I embarrassingly admit. The days I spent on the Trial have made me forget about my original promise to my family of leaving at night in order not to cause further trouble to them. “Then, maybe another time?”

“Until next time.” Balam nods in agreement, leaving behind one final piece of advice before saying goodbye. “By the way, your first destination in your journey should be to the southeast. Take care, my King.”

 

I wake up, with the sheathed sword in hand, from my dream and look out the window. The sight of the full moon and starry sky makes me breathe out a sigh of relief, as it means it’s still the same night when I first entered the cross’ realm. Packing only a few pieces of clothes and a bag of coins – the allowance I’ve been saving for a year – I leave the house through the front door.

“Mother, Sister… I’ll be out now, but I’ll return after I’ve regained my freedom. I promise.”

However, my first step into the street has already proven to not be easy, as two familiar figures stand tall, blocking me in the middle of the road.

“Bea, Pedro? What are you doing in front of my house in the middle of the night?”

“That’s our question,” Bea answers with a worried look on her face. “… Peter, where do you think you’re going?”

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