The Sleeping Viceroy and the Silver Dam – A Tale of Arrogance and Redemption
By North Uldra | Retold for TaleTreasury.com
Long ago, in a kingdom steeped in grandeur and pride, there lived a ruler named King Edison, known across the lands for his authority, his accomplishments—and his overwhelming arrogance. Though admired for expanding his empire, the king was feared more than loved. His heart had grown hardened with time, and he harbored a deep disdain for anything he considered unscientific or “mythical,” especially ancestral beliefs and tribal traditions.
His wife, Queen Gretta, was the gentle balance to his fire, revered by the people for her kindness. But it was their son, Prince Jacen, who won the kingdom’s true affection. Where his father dismissed ancient customs as superstition, Jacen showed quiet respect for all beliefs. He was wise beyond his years, curious about the world beyond the palace walls.
One day, the royal family set sail to Aræni Island, a lush paradise famed for its blooming landscapes and peaceful people. The islanders believed their ancestors’ spirits lived in sacred flowers—each bloom representing a human virtue. Jasmine stood for purity, hibiscus for joy, edelweiss for eternal devotion, and so on. These flowers adorned every home, shrine, and offering table. Their petals were whispered prayers and their roots sacred ties to generations past.
Prince Jacen, mesmerized by the island’s natural beauty and spiritual energy, wandered alone through a forest dense with fragrant blossoms. There, by a riverbank, he encountered a young girl playing a harpsichord beneath a canopy of edelweiss.
“You play beautifully,” he said, stepping softly closer.
The girl looked up and smiled. “Thank you. I play to honor the spirits of our ancestors.”
Jacen tilted his head with interest. “You believe your ancestors hear you?”
“Of course,” she replied. “In every note I play, I speak to them.”
“My name is Jacen,” he offered with a warm grin. “And yours?”
“Amelia,” she said gently, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jacen.”
From that moment on, the two grew close, meeting in secret. Amelia taught Jacen the sacred melodies of her people, and in return, he shared tales from his own kingdom. But peace would not last.
When King Edison discovered his son’s friendship with an islander—and worse, the ancestral beliefs behind it—he was furious. Seeing the islanders’ traditions as foolish and dangerous, the king ordered the construction of a Silver Dam at the heart of the island. It was meant not just to divert the river, but to erase the cultural significance of the sacred lands. Workers uprooted flowers and scarred the soil. The spirits, the people believed, were being disrespected.
The Aræni people begged for peace, but King Edison responded with force. Enraged by their defiance, he unleashed his army. Battle erupted on the flowered hills. Fire clashed with music, steel with spirit.
In the chaos, Prince Jacen fought beside the islanders—but was struck down and fell unconscious. As his limp body collapsed in Amelia’s arms, King Edison declared him dead, his voice devoid of sorrow. Yet a villager placed his hand on Jacen’s chest. “He lives! His heart still beats!” they cried. “How can you not see, Your Majesty?”
But the king would not listen.
Then, the spirits responded. In a flash of divine judgment, the sacred flowers unleashed their wrath. Vines turned to stone. One by one, King Edison’s soldiers and bodyguards were transformed into boulders—cold and silent reminders of their arrogance.
Amelia, desperate to protect Jacen, dragged his body away from the battle. With trembling fingers, she placed him on a bed of jasmine petals and ran to her harpsichord. There, under a sky torn with smoke and sorrow, she played.
Her song pierced the noise of war. Its tones were pure, reverent, echoing the pain of loss and the longing for peace. Even King Edison—blinded by rage—was forced to pause. As the final note soared, the earth beneath him gave way. The tyrant fell into a ravine and vanished, swallowed by the very land he sought to control.
When silence returned, Amelia played a second song—a gentle lullaby for Jacen. As her fingers glided over the keys, warmth returned to his cheeks. Though he did not wake, his breath softened, his heartbeat steadied.
Amelia carried the unconscious prince back to his homeland. Word spread quickly of their return. The people, grieving their prince and the loss of their queen’s quiet influence, gathered in mourning and hope. In a rare and emotional ceremony, Jacen was crowned king while still unconscious, resting upon a throne he did not yet know he had earned.
He became known as “The Sleeping Viceroy”—a monarch chosen by fate, crowned not with gold, but with belief.
Amelia remained by his side, loved by the people for her bravery and compassion. And though Jacen’s eyes stayed closed, flowers began to bloom again in the kingdom—roses in the courtyards, jasmine at the gates, and hibiscus by the palace fountains.
Some say it was Amelia’s music. Others say it was the island spirits finally blessing a land that had once rejected them.
🏆 Moral of the Story:
Arrogance leads to ruin, but those who honor the past and lead with humility can inspire a brighter future. Respect for others’ beliefs and traditions is the true foundation of peace.
