“How old are you, young prince?" inquired the human.
“Fourteen years old," said the giant proudly, as if he were already a respectable adult.
This time it was Lirieth who asked.
“My father keeps yelling at me, reprimanding me and punishing me, he never lets me do anything I want to do," protested the big boy, as if he were the victim of the greatest injustice in the world.
“Well, perhaps your father would like to prepare you well so that tomorrow you will be a good king," said the princess sweetly.
“But… I don't know if I want to be a king," responded the young lad.
“And giant? Have you ever thought if you want to be a giant?" asked Syriel.
“Giant…? But… I can't help being a giant," replied Sergiker in surprise.
“Well, the son of a king can't help it either, and he has to help and obey his father so that, in the future, he can reign with justice and wisdom. If you renounce that, the greed of others who do want the throne can provoke wars and bloodshed and, in the end, there will be a king who will be neither just nor wise, as surely you would have been," concluded Syriel.
The young giant digested the prince's words and ended up looking embarrassed.
“You're right, I'll go back to my kingdom," answered the giant with a look of gratitude and admiration.
“Well, but first I'd appreciate it if you'd tell us what friend you've come to see," Syriel wanted to know.
“To the White Magician. He lives about two days from here. Well, I suppose four or five days in your steps," said Sergiker without being able to disguise a clearly condescending tone, though lacking in malice.
“Do your parents know this magician?" Lirieth asked with great affection.
“Yes, the White Magician regularly visits our kingdom and tells me many adventures, teaches me tricks and informs me of the future of your kingdoms," said the giant prince in a careless tone.
“Then, if it's all right with you, we'll go to that magician and find the best way to get you back to your parents in the safest way possible," proposed Syriel.
“All right," responded the boy, already with a big smile drawn on his huge face.
And they set out to continue on their way to the abode of the White Magician, already seeing in the background the colossal Dragons’ Mountains.
This mountain had been an ancient volcano that had not erupted in more than three thousand years. It was, without a doubt, the most gigantic mountain known in all of Frienia. It was so colossal in height that, when perhaps it was not even halfway to its summit, the air ceased to be breathable for any being who attempted to surpass that point. Something that no one had ever achieved, not even the dragons that populated the mountain and also needed air to breathe. Only from a considerable distance and on very clear days, with no clouds in the sky, could one glimpse the towering peaks of the massive mountain.
The brawl with the harpies did not cause any casualties to the princes’ company, only a few wounded and none serious, so they resumed the march as soon as possible in case those monsters came back with more reinforcements.
During the day, guided by the giant, they left that region behind to enter a more uneven region with hills and mountains.
The White Magician
Frienia, year 1815 of the second era.
After a couple of days of tireless march, they reached Crystal Lake, not too large a lake but incredibly transparent and totally still that gave it a polished glass appearance, where they decided to stop over. Anyway, Garin advised everyone to stay away from the shore, as respectable-sized fish with strong jaws and fairly sharp teeth emerged from the water with large jumps, which could cause considerable injury to anyone who ventured into the waters.
However, Sergiker disregarded the advice of the dwarf and went into the water gathering a large number of these fishes, which he caught in flight, showing the giant an outstanding dexterity and thus offering his liberators a succulent dinner. The fish turned out to be very tasty once roasted.
The next day, very close to where they spent the night, they came across the remains of the camp of the somber group that preceded them and that little by little increased the distance between them.
Leaving the Crystal Lake behind, and entering a leafy forest, they continued the march under an heavy and annoying rain that did not stop afflicting them all day.
The downpour ceased at sunrise, but left the terrain too soft, where it was more uncomfortable and tough to advance.
At mid-morning they saw a column of smoke on the horizon, as if coming from a large bonfire, and decided to move cautiously in case it was the sombers.
At dusk the next day they could see that the bonfire was directly related to the sombers, but in a very different way from what they had originally thought. It was not a fire for cooking or heating, but a funeral pyre. The group of sombers, who had been able to avoid them for many days in the Peaks Pass were not as lucky with some effective enemy who, after defeating them, piled them up and set them on fire.
In analyzing the marks and footprints of the battle, Syriel pointed to the others:
“This has been done by a very powerful squadron, be alert at all times.”
“I know who did this," said Sergiker with pride. “The footprints and marks are unequivocally my father’s; he must be around here looking for me. So, don't worry, you have saved me and you are my friends, you have nothing to fear from my people,” the giant tried to calm his new friends.
“Well, that reassures me and matches those huge footprints. But don't stop watching, just in case," added the prince.
They left the funereal bonfire, expectant, and so on for the next two days, until they entered a gorge that made its way through a not so large mountain range.
“At the end of this gorge, in a huge camouflaged cave, lives my friend, the White Magician.”
But before anyone could answer, they were surrounded, from the irregular and not too high elevations flanking the gorge, by a hundred chunky giants measuring about thirteen feet height and brandishing their weapons in a threatening attitude.
Sergiker advanced to the giant with the most majestic bearing.
“Father, this is Syriel and Lirieth, princes of Delfia and Teberion. They and their men, orcs and dwarves, showing a distinguished bravery have saved me from the claws of the harpies I was held captive by and are escorting me to the White Magician’s abode to find the best way to bring me home," announced the giant prince, with a marked affectionate tone and thanks to his liberators.
Then he added, turning to the princes, filled with pride:
“I present to you my father, Magellan, the king of Granlesia.”
“I am indebted to your highnesses for saving my son," thanked the enormous king as he approached his heir and the rest of the giants relaxed, lowering their weapons.
Father and son fused in an embrace for a few seconds, then the giant king rebuked his offspring, affectionate but forceful.
“What am I going to do with you? How can you abandon your people and expose yourself to the dangers of these lands? When are you going to learn? When are you going to assume the role of prince that corresponds to you?” almost begged the giant king, with a certain harshness, although without ceasing to show a clear fatherly affection.
“Father," replied Sergiker, solemnly and expressing deep repentance, "I am very sorry for all the affliction I have caused you with my acts of immature rebellion. I give you my prince's word that it will never happen again and that from now on I will submit with illusion and desire to the learning tasks proper to my condition of future king,” promised the boy, looking furtively at Lirieth and Syriel.
“What made you change so radically? asked the pleased