The Westhill Advantage

Chapter One

Balingar Westhill sat with his back to a wall surveying the dank and dusty tavern he had located in the lower sections of Magnimar. This ancient city was known for its many monuments; including the ruins of the Irespan, the giant bridge that once reached from Magnimar all the way to the Mordant Spire. But Balingar wasn't interested in seeing any of these sights. All he wanted was a quiet drink and a moment to relax. A moment to relax, something he had not had many of in recent years. Ever since leaving home after his mother tried to poison him, his life had been one of hard work and servitude.

Balingar was born the only child of Aris and Cynthia Westhill. While not wealthy, the Westhills owned a decent sized farm on the outskirts of Sandpoint, a small port city in the realm of Varisia, and rarely wanted for anything. Aris and his son were close, and would often spend hours working on the family farm, out in the woods hunting, or just enjoying a quiet day of fishing. When Balingar was 12, Aris began to school him in swordplay. It came as easily as breathing to Balingar. Aris even promised Balingar that on his 16th birthday Aris would gift him his sword; the mighty blade Angavir. But like all good things, this life was not to last forever. War came to Varisia. Aris left to serve in the army and repel the invaders, but he would not return from that war. Not even his body was found, the only thing that the other men were able to return was Aris' sword and belt. These Cynthia locked away in a chest in the attic.

As if this was not enough for a young boy to face, the death of his father, his mother's attitude toward him changed. Balingar did not know what brought about this change, but it seemed that his mother's ire of him developed as his hair, which was raven black color, began to lighten. First to brown, then blonde, then platinum, and finally pure white. Balingar did not know why this occurred, but he found that he liked the color. Something about it gave him peace, like some otherworldly power had taken and interest in him and this is how it chose to mark him. For some reason due to this physical change, Cynthia could barely stand the sight of Balingar now. Balingar was forced to work the farm by himself and live out in the barn with the livestock. To pass the time Balingar would honed his sword skills by using the different farming equipment. At night he would sneak into the house and take a book from his father's small library. He would stay up all night reading it by candle light and then sneak it back before Cynthia awoke. Only Fenris, an old family friend kept Balingar from going insane. Fenris was mage and would often stop and check in on Balingar. The two would talk as Balingar rested from a hard days work. And Fenris would tell him news of the surrounding realms. As time pasted Balingar grew in size and strength. Often protecting the flocks and herds from wolves, bandits, and other dangers with nothing but his bare hands. Time past slowly for Balingar. He would often find himself pondering on the time spent with his father and the lessons that Aris taught him.

On the eve of his 16th birthday, Cynthia came to Balingar as he worked in the field and announced she would be making a special dinner to honor his birthday. Sure enough, the next day Balingar was summoned to the house and told to sit at the table. The aroma of stew and salted pork filled the air. It was as Balingar turned to ask Cynthia the reason for all this that he noticed her hand linger over a bowl of stew. She set the stew in front of him and set one for herself. She smiled warmly telling him to eat and enjoy. Balingar simply smiled and asked for a bit of bread. When Cynthia turned her back to him, Balingar switched the bowls. Cynthia smiled as Balingar ate the stew. She too began eating, but when she looked curiously toward Balingar and her hand went to her stomach; realize dawned on her. That look of realization was the last that would ever cross her face. She fell from her chair to the floor, dead from poison.

Balingar rose and went straight to the attic to where his father's items were kept. He broke open the lock and donned his father's belt and sword. He then searched and collected what gold he could find. After securing a pack and supplies for himself. He buried Cynthia, offering her a last kindness that she never showed him. Then, after opening the gates to the barn and animal pens, he set fire to his child home. He walked away into the evening as the fire ate away at the house and the memories that lay within.

For the next few years Balingar traveled north through Varisia, picking up various jobs where he could find them. He began hearing rumors that someone was reestablishing Erastel, the ancient kingdom of Davin. But these were things that mattered little to him. His wandering brought him to Southmoor in the Lands of the Linorrm Kings. There he found a good living as guard for a man named Cassavyr. Balingar enjoyed his work. Very few times did he ever need to draw his weapon, the pay was good, and the people that he met often told him the news from various other lands. Soon Balingar had enough gold saved, and he left Cassvyr's employ to make his own way in the world. After about a year's travel Balingar now found himself in a dank and dusty tavern in the seedy part of Magnimar.

It was as Balingar sat back remembering his past that a barmaid with red hair and emerald green eyes set a tankard of ale down on the table in front of him. "Forgive me miss, but I didn't order this." Balingar said as he smiled at the barmaid. "It's on the house." She said and stood there watching him. Balingar understood what was happening. He was in an Olfin tavern, and it was considered an insult to not drink what another paid for. Balingar smiled and reached for the tankard, his eyes scanning the tavern. It was not a busy day and the tavern had only a few patrons, and Balingar was sure the farmer who had a pig under his arm was of no threat to him. He thought he may have just been paranoid until the saw in the shadows of a corner booth a group of people. There were two dwarves and a human sitting there with their eyes locked on him. Their cloaks did a poor job of hiding their weapons.

Balingar picked the tankard up and stood. "To the honorable one whose charity I have just received I thank you," he spoke loudly and with a smile. Balingar raised the tankard to his lips, and keeping them firmly pressed together began pretending to drink the ale as it spilled over the corner of his mouth. It was when Balingar dropped the now empty tankard and leaned onto the table as though suddenly needing it for support that the group jumped up from their booth and drew their weapons. The dwarves, each now carrying an ax began to move toward Balingar. The human simply stood and smiled as he drew a rapier.

Balingar kept up his charade, grabbing his throat as though the poison was closing his windpipe. The dwarves began to move toward him. The pig farmer, realizing that the safety of this place was about to be interrupted, grabbed his pig and made a hasty exit toward the door. The barmaid and bartender both dove for cover behind the bar and Balingar "fell" to one knee, the whole time keeping his hand gripping the edge of the table and his eyes on his unknown attackers. Balingar was unsure of his attacker's intentions, that is until the human said, "Remember don't kill him, he is of no value to us dead" that Balingar realized his attackers intention was to capture him. They were gonna need more men.

It was only when the two dwarves were within four feet of the table that he was leaning on that Balingar did away with his charade of being poisoned. What he did next neither the dwarves nor the human were prepared for, Balingar threw the table. Although the heavy oak table probably weighed a good 200 lbs, Balingar threw it with ease. It flew toward the two dwarves. One was able to dodge and roll out of the way. His partner wasn't so lucky. The table caught him full in the front and the dwarf was thrown back against the stone wall. He didn't have anytime to react before the massive table slammed into him flattening him between itself and the wall. While the dwarf's armor protected him from the initial blow, it could stop the concussive force that shattered every bone in his body. The dwarf was dead before he hit the floor.

The second dwarf rose to his feet as Balingar drew Angavir and advanced toward him. "You get one chance, surrender now and you will not be harmed," Balingar said as he took a stance in front of the remaining dwarf. The dwarf opened his mouth to retort, but Balingar didn't hear it. The human raised a hand toward him and a blast of arcane light flew from his fingertips. Balingar caught the magic missile in the chest. Thankfully his armor was able to lessen the effects, but it still felt like his insides were on fire. This gave the dwarf time to leap onto a nearby table in order to swing at Balingar's head. As the dwarf swung the flat side of his ax toward Balingar's skull, there was no time to dodge. Balingar swung Angavir, hoping to parry the dwarf's attack. Balingar's blade caught the ax just below its head. The force of the dwarf's swing, combined with the force of Balingar's parry, caused the dwarf to loose his grip on the ax handle. It flew into the air and embedded itself into one of the wooden rafters.

Balingar swung his free hand at the dwarf's head hoping to knock him unconscious. He had questions that he needed answers to. The table the dwarf had hoped would give him a better angle of attack now proved to be his undoing. For as he tried to dodge, his foot slipped off the edge of the table. This caused him to teeter and try to catch his balance. It was at this moment that the back side of Balingar's closed fist made contact with the under side of the dwarf's jaw and sent him flying back towards the booth he and his comrades had previously been occupying. The dwarf slammed into the floor at the feet of his human ally. He didn't get up.

The human raised his sword and began to slowly advance on Balingar. "One last time," Balingar said painfully. He could still feel the human's magic attack. He gripped Angavir with both hands. "Surrender and you will not be harmed." The human smiled and revealed pointed incisors. It was then that Balingar noticed the red eyes of his opponent. Vampire! The word flashed though Balingar's head. "I would offer you the same chance," his opponent retorted, "but you owe me for the destruction of my property, namely my two servants. And I am going to take my compensation out of your hide!" The vampire lunged and swung his blade at Balingar.

Balingar managed to duck under the swing. He tried to counter attack but the vampire easily blocked the attack. Again and again the vampire swung at Balingar. It was all he could do to block and dodge the attacks. Balingar realized his opponent was toying with him. The vampire's speed easily exceeded Balingar's. Balingar finally thought he saw an opening and swung. It was only too late that realized it was a feint. The vampire's blade met his and with a quick motion easily disarmed Balingar.

The vampire brought the tip of his rapier to Balingar's throat. "Very well done. Were I only a few hundred years younger you may have bested me, but with age comes experience Balingar," the vampire said as he smile. The vampire stepped up so the blade was pressed against Balingar's throat. "I am under orders to bring you to my master alive. But they never specified as to your condition." The vampire laughed and swung his sword toward Balingar's face. With speed he didn't know he possessed, Balingar ducked under the swing and caught the vampires arm. He pulled down with all his strength, and was reward with a howl of pain as the vampire's arm shattered at the elbow. He dropped his sword as his now useless arm dangled limply at his side, but Balingar wasted no time.

In one quick motion he grabbed the vampire by his throat, lifted him up off the ground, and slammed him onto a table. The were audible snaps as multiple bone in the vampires back were shattered as well as several of his ribs were cracked. Balingar kept his hand on the throat of the undead wretch as he looked deep into those crimson red eyes and asked "Who sent you?" His voiced layered with anger and strength.

The nosferatu simply looked back and spat in Balingar's face. "You will soon join your father Hell!" the vampire roared. Before Balingar could ask anymore questions the vampire bit down hard and there was a soft pop. Foam and smoke began to pour out of its mouth and Balingar quickly released it. It was as the vampire began to shake and twitch as his body appeared to burn from the inside out that Balingar realized that there had been a capsule filled with what he could only assume was holy water in his mouth. Before long the vampire was little more than an ash covered coat. Balingar picked up the coat and rummage through the pockets. He found a pouch containing several hundred gold, and the remains of a piece of paper. If there was any information to be gleamed from it, it was impossible to tell now. Balingar picked up the vampire's coat. It was far too small for him, but it was trimmed in gold and made of silk. It would fetch a pretty price, so Balingar stowed it in his bag.

After checking to see if the barmaid and bartender were alright, the area behind the bar was empty though as they had escape during the fight, Balingar retrieved Angavir from were it had fallen. He had just sheathed it when the door to the bar was kicked open and five Magnimar city guards rushed in with swords drawn. "Don't move!" they yelled at Balingar. Two of the guards moved toward Balingar, one checked on the unconscious dwarf, and the remaining two checked the remains of the first dwarf.

One of the guards on Balingar asked him. "Alright, what happened here?" Balingar looked at the broken tables and the damaged they had caused. "I was attacked and defended myself." Balingar started. "Oh really?" the guard asked sarcastically "And who are you to warrant such an attack?" Balingar looked at the guard, "My name is Balingar Westhill and I don-." Balingar didn't get to finish. For as soon as his name left his mouth the guard he was talking to threw up his hand. "Did you say Westhill?" Balingar nodded slowly, and was confused by the looks the guards were now giving him. "Don't say another word," the guard ordered. He looked at his comrade. "Go get Mazzerran, now!"

The guard he had spoken to turned and ran out of the tavern like he was on fire. Balingar tried to ask questions, but he guard told him to remain quiet for his own protection. Balingar was just beginning to think about making a break for it when the guard returned. "He's waiting for him," he told the guards. They five guards led Balingar out of the tavern and into the street. There a black carriage was sitting, it had no horse. The door opened and a small flight of steps descended. The guards motioned for Balingar to enter. They kept looking around as if expecting danger to jump our from every corner. Balingar wearily climbed into the carriage. As soon as he entered the door slammed shut and the carriage took off slamming him into the seat.

"I'm sorry for all the secrecy but it was vital for us to get you out of there." The speaker was an elderly man who appeared to be in his mid-50s. He had dark brown hair and a beard to match. His eyes were blue, and though aged still had a spark of youth in them. He wore a set of fine tailored robes and at his site was an ornate staff. "I know you are probably confused Balingar, yes I know who you are. Let me explain before you ask questions. My name is Cullen Mazzerran, I am the Prime Minister of Magnimar." Balingar was confused as to why the leader of Magnimar was here conversing with him but he held his questions. "Your father was Aris Westhill. Do you remember his elder brother Kieran?"

Balingar did in fact remember his Uncle Kieran. He also remembered his cousin, also named Kieran. The two use to play together. Balingar was only a few years younger than Kieran, so he was always the tag along. Where one went the other went. Kieran always had some crazy idea and Balingar was always ready and willing to follow it. When Aris had left for the War in Andoran, the elder Kieran joined him in the army. He remembered hearing that his uncle had also died in the war alongside Aris. Balingar often wanted to go visit Kieran, but Cynthia would always refuse. One day Cynthia showed him a letter that had arrived saying that his cousin and aunt had died, killed by bandits. Balingar had believed himself to be the last of the Westhills.

"Kieran had a son that shared his name," Mazzerran continued. For some reason Mazzerran smiled before saying "You could say he is the reason you are here." Balingar looked confused. The carriage bounced a little as though it had hit a hole in the road. "Kieran started as a tobacco farmer in Andoran, but events have unfolded and he has become so much more. You see your cousin has not only proven himself to be Davinkin, but has managed to reestablish the ancient kingdom of Erastel. Let me explain. Davin was a man who lived centuries ago. He created an empire and united nearly all of the north eastern part of this continent. He believed that freedom was the right of all peoples and that peace was an idea worth dying for. He ruled for many years before dying, but sadly his heirs did not often follow his beliefs. Within 5 generations Erastel was no more. But thanks to your cousin and his comrades, Erastel has once again been reborn. And Kieran is showing himself to be a true heir to Davin's throne. Now I bet you are wondering what dos this have do with you? You see, Balingar, you are also Davinkin. It's through your father. The Westhills are direct descendants of Davin. There is a power within your blood that can reshape the entire world, for good or for evil. That was the purpose of the failed kidnapping. Someone wanted to try and use you to overthrow your cousin. But thankfully they weren't successful. There are some in this world who would do anything to get their hands on someone who is Davinkin. That is why the first duty of the King of Erastel is to protect those who are found to be Davinkin. Now, I suppose you have many questions. You may ask them now."

Balingar sat for a moment thinking about what he was just told. "So I am descended from this great king, Davin?" Mazzerran nodded. "And Kieran, my cousin who I thought to be dead, is also descended from this ancient king and has restored or is working on restoring his kingdom?" Again Mazzerran nodded. "Why hasn't he tried to seek me out before?" Mazzerran looks down. "We were unaware that you were alive. We had planned to come and get you on your 16th birthday but when we got there your house was destroyed. We found a fresh grave and thought you were dead." Balingar chuckles dryly and explains what had happened.

"Your own mother tried to kill you?"Mazzerran asked shocked. "Well I am glad she failed." Balingar feels the carriage come to a stop. "Now, there is one more thing. The kingdom of Erastel was founded on an island north of Magnimar called Portsmouth. It's capitol is a town call Falcrest. That is were your cousin is right now. They are having a great festival in honor of Erastel. I would like to take you there is that is alright with you." Balingar nodded calmly. Inside though he was bursting. He was no longer alone. He had family left in this world after all. "I would like that very much Prime Minister," Balingar said. "Please call me Cullen," Mazzerran said with a smile. "Thank you Cullen," Balingar replied, "So when do we leave?" "Leave?" Cullen laughed loudly. "My dear boy," he said as the door to the carriage was opened to reveal a massive castle overlooking a sprawling city,"We are already here." In the distance a sapphire blue ocean stretched out beyond the castle to the horizon, and peoples of ever race and gender were entering through the portcullis into the castle proper which was decorated with banners and ribbons. Cullen was still laughing as he stepped out of the carriage and motioned for Balingar to follow. He held his arms up in front of him and motioned toward the castle. "Behold, Battle Crease. The fortress of Falcrest. Home to Kieran Lord Westhill III, King Of Erastel."