Author's Note: I came up with this particular story while playing Majesty late one night. I wondered what it would be like to be a young Sovereign thrust into rule, having to build a kingdom much as the Sovereigns in the game have to. Therefore, I wrote this with no specific plot in mind. It is simply a tale of the beginnings of an Ardanian Kingdom.
I do not own any part of Majesty. I do not make any money off it. Please don't sue. All you'd end up with is my tuition bills.
Please note that, though I have followed the game in many aspects including names, places, the Gods, and the creatures, the characters themselves, as well as the kingdom, are mine and I created them as I saw fit.
EXTRA A/N -- 2/3/2010 - You will note some "odd" capitalizations (such as the words Elf, Rogue, Ranger, etc). These capitalizations are INTENTIONAL and indicate rank, title, etc. As I said, this is MY story and I have created it as I saw fit. I also KNOW that my quotations are not "perfect". It was MY CHOICE to do them in this manner and not in the conventional fashion.
Far to the south of Lormidia, where Ardanian lands meet the sea, there is little but sand and swamp. The beach does not meet open plains or mountains as it does in other places. Instead, the sand gives way to mud, mire, and dense trees. The southern swamps have long been a haven for bandits and errant Rogues who wish to hide where few dare to enter. Those who go into the swamps seeking roots, berries, and healing herbs to make potions often do not return. Beyond the bandits, many evil and dangerous creatures call the swamps home. Harpies vie for space with rust spitters. Giant spider nests have been found with the bones of minotaurs trapped within them.
It was into this harsh land that a small caravan of wagons slowly creaked along. Each of the carts was heavily laden with a variety of supplies. Two score people populated the caravan, most of them human. Here and there, however, the sky-colored skin and mossy hair of an Elf could be seen. One, barely a teenager, sang softly to herself, composing a song that she tried to write as she was shaken around by the bouncing cart.
"Shh, Lyssana." An older Elf, her mother, warned.
"Yes, c'irah." The girl sighed. She looked around and tried not to wrinkle her nose at the ugly swamp around her. "This place doesn't look very fun."
"It's a swamp, kira'ka." Another Elf, her older brother, said from his place in the driver's seat. "What's it supposed to be?"
Lyssana sighed again and lay back against the canvas that covered the cart's contents. Even the cart didn't hold much of interest. It was mostly stray bits of furniture and farming tools. The Elven girl wished she was back in her old home in Dyrun. There, something interesting was always happening. She voiced this to her mother. Kyriana Charmbearer clucked her tongue at her daughter.
"Dyrun isn't your home anymore, little one. Not with Damon on the throne."
Damon, once Prince of Dyrun, had become king only a few weeks before. The Elves of Dyrun had not been pleased. Damon disliked Elves as much as they despised him. The moment he had taken the throne, the Elves were no longer welcome in Havan, the capital, or anywhere else.
"Thank goodness for Lilith." Kyriana said to herself.
Princess Lilith was kind and gentle with nerves of steel. Many had hoped secretly that Damon, once a sickly child, would not outlive his father and the Princess would take the throne. As King Garan lay dying, he split his kingdom in two, giving half to each. Damon had defied his father's wishes. He had taken nearly three quarters of Dyrun. He left the swamps for his younger sister. Lilith, who had always known when to fight and when to back away, accepted her tiny kingdom gracefully. Most of the Elves chose to seek new homes in other kingdoms. Six of them, Kyriana and her children among them, had come with Lilith to start this new kingdom.
Kyriana could see the Queen ahead of them, astride a white mare. The Queen was not a stunning beauty, as her mother had been. Lilith was far more plain, with the brown hair and eyes of her father. Still, she radiated calm and certainty. She had willingly left her royal finery behind, unafraid of the dangers within the swamps. Damon had forbidden any Dyrunian heroes from aiding her. Only a handful of palace guards had left their posts in Havan.
Kyriana worried to herself whether the creatures of the swamp would destroy them all. Already they had lost a woman to a band of harpies. The rest of the peasants had done all they could. The guards had managed to slay two of the five, but the remaining trio had carried their prize off into the undergrowth. Everyone was on their guard now.
The caravan finally halted in a wide clearing. The sea was just in view to the south. The sun was starting to set, playing its golden rays across the water. They were nearly a day from Havan and a half day from the edges of their new kingdom. Kyriana looked around. Despite the swamps, there was a certain beauty here. The sea was bright blue and the sand sparkled in the dying sun. The trees were brightly green against the sky and the few song birds that braved the swamps were brightly colored and sang warm greetings.
"Piryn." Lilith said, loud enough for those around her to hear.
"Majesty?" A guard said as he helped her down from her mare.
"Piryn." She repeated, eyes sparkling with determination. "Our new home."
"I like it." Brim was Lilith's oldest friend. He had been her page and then a guardsman. Now he was head of the young Queen's paltry defenses. He looked around at the peasants. "Let's make camp and set up some watches. We've not got much time tonight to worry about what to do next. We can start building tomorrow."
Kyriana let her son Nessan help her down from her cart. She smiled at the young Queen and nodded her approval. Piryn was an archaic Elven word. It meant home.