Prologue: A Prince
Magnus, an Ayleid Warrior Prince, sat on his throne in the city of Narfinsel, on the border of the Great Forest. He contemplated how he would tell his people of the threat coming their way from the self-proclaimed Queen of the Imperials, Alessia. She had defeated the neighbouring cities of Piukanda, Ninendava, Lipsand Tarn and Moranda, and her other armies had conquered the Ayleid cities of the North-East. Magnus knew he was in a dire situation, for the king of Ninendava, Veloth, was a noted warrior and yet still he was defeated by the Slave Queen. And worse still, the Imperials had formed an alliance with the Nords of Skyrim, a savage and brutal race of fighters from the Northern lands.
Magnus' butler, Therius, pushed open the huge stone doors of his master's chambers.
'My Lord,' he called. ' The congregation will be arriving any moment now, are you ready? '
'Yes Therius,' Magnus replied. ' I'll be down in a minute, make sure that everything is in order. Tell the captain to deploy the guards at every entrance, this night is too important for any mishaps.'
'Yes Milord.' The butler turned and ran down the long flight of stone steps to the guard barracks. Prince Magnus was wearing his best clothes, red velvet robes and a huge amulet, set with gleaming sapphires to signify his high position as leader of an Ayleid city. He wore a light, Mithril shirt underneath the robes however, just in case an Imperial might attempt an assassination. He had to be extra vigilant because the prince of Piukanda was assassinated by a well known criminal, Numonius.
The young warrior walked down the narrow corridor into the Narfinsel Sel Baune (Halls of the Mighty), passing the tombs of his ancestor kings as he went. He prayed for awhile at his father's tomb, as he often did when he passed this way. An inscription was engraved upon the tombs face:
'Nou Adonai Aran,
Magnerius'
'Our lordly king, Magnerius,' recited Magnus. Magnus had never seen his mother. She died giving birth to him and his father died when he was only ten years of age. His uncle fostered him and trained him in preparation for becoming a prince until he died two years before. But by now he was well able to take care of himself. He had proved his skill and prowess many times in battles against the beastfolk from the South and the green-skinned Orcs from the Wrothgarian and Dragontail Mountains.