A/N: Righty ho - I was informed by the Fictionist that my chapters were too long and extremely off-putting, so I'm going to try and keep these ones under the 2000word mark each and I hope that solves the problem. But anyway, down to business! A new story, I know, gosh silly me. I haven't even finished my other one yet! But I'm hoping that by putting more of my work out there more people will read it and become interested in others of my work.
PLEASE DON'T BE MISLEAD! I am NOT abandonning my other story at all, I am simply trying to generate more interest for it with teh help of other enterprises.
Right, now then, I feel I have some explaining to do. This - although called Game of Thrones - is not affiliated with the Game of Thrones world and for those hard-nosers out there, you may take this as my disclaimer. Some of the character posts may be inspired by Game of Thrones, but not based on them. (I apologise for the rambling, I'm ill today so feel the need to express myself liberally...) A few of the beginner plot functions might also have been inspired by, but I'm hoping - as I've never read/played/watched Game of Thrones, only heard about it - that the end product will be quite different. :)
-Enjoy.
Prologue.
"Oh, I am quite sure." The old crone stroked her crystal ball lovingly with a single finger, giving it a close-lipped smile. She was your typical-looking old crone, white frizzy hair liberally ornamented with little bone beads and glass droplets and – reputedly, somewhere – a little bottle containing the dried and shrivelled veins from the rete-merabile of a cow. She had few teeth, only one working eye and was swathed in all manner of multicoloured shawls make of all sorts of fabric, even – some said – human hair. Across from her, a King was mulling over his new information. It was as he had hoped it would not be; war was coming to his lands and in search of his crown.
The crystal ball began to mist again as the crone stroked it, drawing patterns across its surface and she shut her eyes. "When the next full moon rises, King Kramer will make his move."
"Then what should I do? Tell me that."
The crone ceased caressing the ball to poke a withered, bony finger at the King. He stared at the end of it with a mixture of disgust and fear, powerful magic could be dealt with those fingers and he did not appreciate them being waggled under his nose. "You are too hasty, Young King. You think I know all the answers, all the moves you should make. But I do not."
The 'Young King' frowned, grumbling under his breath as he fought with his temper. He was not young, he was nearly 55, fat and unfit, his crown and the power he held in his hand were the only things keeping him popular. The possibility of them being taken away from him had been looming for a long time in the form of assassination attempts and possible coup d'états, but he had overcome those threats with relative ease. A full scale war however, with the only other truly powerful kingdom on Gaia, was enough to rattle his cage. He needed a solution, whatever the old crone said.
"Then tell me who does know." He grit out. The old crone narrowed her singular eye and tapped an extra long nail on her ball.
"No one knows what you are to do; only you know that." She said, adopting an almost scolding tone and picking up a little square cloth to drop over her ball as the mist flickered and died leaving the crystal looking clear and watery. "No one can tell the future, so you're better off not asking for it." She stood up from her rickety seat and moved away into the gloom. The King got up and followed her, the noise of her chains and the chattering guiding his way. "I can't tell you what you're about to do any better than anyone else. Mind your head."
Thonk! "Well what would you do if you were in my position?" The King asked, rubbing his forehead with one hand and holding the other out in front of him to ward off any other obstacles he might come across.
Suddenly the old crone was back, appearing out of the darkness like a spectre and making the King jump. "Now, that's a better question." She said, taking the King by the elbow and spinning him in an abrupt about-face and beginning to frog-march him to the exit. It wasn't very far as it happened, although the walk in had felt like it had taken a hell of a lot longer. But then, when you enter into a world of voodoo and witchcraft, you ought to be prepared for all sorts of odd things to happen to you.
"I would look for someone else who might fight my cause." The crone said, throwing the King unceremoniously from her cell. She pulled the door shut with a clang. "Someone with no interest in me or my fortunes."
"The Horse Lords?" The King said, brushing himself off, not at all unhappy about his treatment now that some actual progress seemed to be being made.
"They would certainly fall into that category, though they are an expensive lot and unruly at the best of times."
"But I'd have to give them something in return," The King began to stroke his beard in thought. The crone rolled her eyes; these young things always seemed to think it was their idea to instigate all these wild plans and, alright maybe the slightly more idiotic ideas she would let them take credit for, but the real work was always done by her and never ever attributed. So she was blowed if she was going to help this Young King out any more. She turned and began to shuffle back into her darkness. Behind her, the King was still struggling with an appropriate form of payment. He grabbed onto the bars and called after the crone's retreating back, "What should I give them for my cause?"
"They're an easy lot to please," She called back, gathering up her precious crystal ball and tucking it carefully into her shawls, as a mother would her baby. "Into war, sex and drinking."
"War, sex and drinking...?"
"Or horses, they're into those too, but they've hundreds and hundreds of them so I wouldn't bother with any of those."
"Then what do I give them?"
"What would you want?"
"Well, something I don't have but-" The King stopped. That was the answer; give them something they didn't already have. He turned and left hurriedly, his cloak tails flapping behind him and the dampness that always inhabited the palace dungeons swirled in his wake.
A/N: If you felt that deserved a review PLEASE REVIEW! I FEEL MORE AND MORE THESE DAYS AS THOUGH MY PRESENCE ON THIS SITE IS FADING INTO INSIGNIFICANCE AND I NEED SOME REASSURANCE THAT THAT IS NOT THE CASE! (Also, review if that was read in a 'shouty-voice' :P (Yes I'm trying to generate interest here xD)).
-Iets