Chapter 1
In the Royal City Ocoristo, on the other side of the continent Thesonyos, the sun was beginning to set. Red streaks of light were piercing the sky and illuminating the clouds in a similarly colored glow. Two figures stood in an enclosed courtyard practicing swordplay. They were standing in the center, where a thin layer of grass barely managed to cover the hard ground underneath. A fountain in the corner gurgled softly, adding only a little to the ambience of bird calls and the steady clacking of wood colliding. The two soldiers, as they obviously were to be practicing so late, had been going at it for hours. To the untrained eye, they appeared equal in speed and skill, but any true soldier could tell you that the older fighter was holding back. Careful examination of the sparring soldiers revealed many things. Although neither was in full uniform, their pants matched, implying that they were in the same company. Their faces were both worn and tanned from excess sun exposure, but the facial constructions differed enough to rule out direct relation. The younger of the two had jet-black hair that exploded out from his head. Underneath it, his brown eyes squinted in the failing light and sweat beaded on his forehead before streaking down the sides of his face. His companion, who was about five years older, had searing blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail. The most noticeable difference was the unnerving blue eyes partially hidden beneath a lock of hair. The battling duo finished another bout before the younger thrust his weapon into the dirt.
"Whew, Kylen. You run me down anymore and you'll be facing a court marshal for murder." The tired soldier set down heavily, resting on the training sword. The older fighter, Kylen, also sat down.
"You know as well as I do that we need to be in good shape in case this mess with the church comes to blows. If we were to actually see some fighting, you wouldn't last a minute. The Holy Guards are world renowned fighters. Not to mention all the high level mages that dwell within the church ranks."
"I won't be in very good shape at all if you make me too sore to move. My arms and legs already feel like wet paper. How would I fight then? Give 'em a nasty paper cut? THAT will send them all running."
"I highly doubt it, Zaion." Kylen looked over at his comrade with a disapproving glare. Zaion scowled back in return.
"It was a joke! I wasn't being serious."
"Neither was I. I doubt they would run away from a paper cut if they already survived your terrifying looks. Why run from a hare if you already survived the bear?" Kylen started laughing as Zaion tossed a rock at him. "See! You DO still have some fight left in you! That means we can train more!" Zaion groaned and laid down just as Kylen took to his feet, grabbing the practice sword as he rose. "Now up on your feet, before I show you why very few people ever win a battle on their back. Come on, come on. We haven't got all night."
Zaion was just getting to his feet, muttering expletives and other derogatory phrases when the double doors behind him burst open. A thin young man half ran and half stumbled in the courtyard. He had really short brown hair and his face was smooth as a baby's, meaning he wasn't yet old to shave; and therefore not yet old enough to wield a blade. Still, he was eager enough to join the King's army, and the recruiters were always looking for message runners. The boy stopped to briefly catch his breath, huffing and puffing enough for three marathons. Once he composed himself he straightened his back and gave a crisp salute.
"Colonel Kylen, Sir! All active members of the military are required to attend an emergency meeting! Both you and Lieutenant Colonel Zaion are ordered to attend, Sir!" Kylen gave an exasperated sigh as he closed his eyes and began massaging his forehead.
"Cut the crap, Mao. What's all this about?" Mao resumed his previous slouched posture, dropping the salute.
"Dunno Kylen. No one does. Some are saying that we're going to start marching. Others think this is just another promotion ceremony. I'm hoping for the latter. You two are both way over due to become generals. Probably the youngest in military history too!" Zaion snorted and he stood up and brushed some dirt off his pants.
"The higher ups would've given us a little more notice if it was a promotion ceremony. This has got to be pretty important for us to get a call from training. Do you still have some soldiers to catch?" Mao jerked upright, remembering his duties.
"Oh man, I'm gonna get the whip if I don't get more soldiers! I'll see you guys later…uh…I mean…Permission to leave Sir?" Kylen waved his hand and Mao took off back through the doors. Zaion walked over to the weapons rack and replaced the practice sword. He was grinning from ear to ear.
"Well Kylen, I guess the punishment will have to wait until later. We have a meeting to attend, you know." Kylen also replaced his weapon.
"Yeah yeah, don't get smug. We WILL resume practice later. Now here, wipe yourself off." Kylen threw Zaion a towel. "You smell like you died and came back to life."
- - - - - - - -
King Mateu Tobakado was young to be the ruler of a country, let alone a continent, as the situation currently stood. He had yet to see even twenty summers, despite being the Crowned Ruler of Thesonyos and father of a young prince. He didn't have much choice in the matter. When his mother and father both contracted a rare and deadly disease, it was left to him to lead. After their deaths he was required by custom to have an heir and secure the bloodline. The Prince Aedan was born when King Mateu was barely fourteen. But no matter his actual age, the king held himself in such a calm and composed demeanor that he seemed wise enough for fifty summers. His prodigious military sense and exceptional political mind enabled him to reunite the continent under one banner. From the hardened nomads of the Daeil Wastes to the pirate raiders of the Western Coasts, peace had finally been reached. And yet it couldn't last. King Mateu's infamous luck must have wavered at just the wrong time. Now he sat overlooking his armies and preparing to tell them most dire news: war approached. The soldiers were milling about, talking excitedly about the nature of this address. They numbered in the tens of thousands, some in full uniform while others had only pants and shirts. They had all gathered here, near the palace walls, to hear this new declaration from their king. Rylynt, the King's personal advisor and attendant, cleared his throat.
"Sire. Sire? Your Highness? King Mateu?!" Rylynt was almost yelling to get the young King's attention. The King just sighed and closed his eyes in a tired manner.
"I've told you a million times Rylynt, call me Mat, like my father did. Lord knows you are about as close as I have to a parent anymore." Mat looked at the advisor and sighed again. "Lucky me."
"Yes, well, sire…erm…I mean…Mat. I believe your army is awaiting your speech. They seem to be growing impatient.
"So they are. I was merely waiting for everyone to be in attendance. What I have to say is too important for anyone to miss." He stood and started for the balcony. "Better get to it, I suppose.
As the King approached the balcony, the massive armed force began to cheer. The shining palace walls glared red in the waning sunlight, but, through clever manipulation of mother-of-pearl in the design, they illuminated the King's regal figure. He stood at the balcony suspended a hundred feet in the air. The setting sun cast a blood red hue on the military force below, giving the false impression that they were already in full uniform. The Ocoristan soldier was known for his reddened armor. It hid blood, making the soldiers seem invincible in battle. Still, the soldiers weren't currently IN uniform due to the urgency of his summons. He might as well start.
"My loyal subjects and countrymen! Brothers and Sisters-at-arms. I have called you here in the utmost urgency to inform you of an issue at hand. As of today, the Church has gathered an army to march on Ocoristo." A low murmur spread across those gathered. "I know it seems illogical, but our own scouts confirmed it. More likely than not it is an Abbott or Abbess jumping to conclusions. He or she probably holds us responsible for the recent assassination of Archbishop Elias. As such, they do not represent the church. I cannot stress this enough. Since this is only a minor force, we must assume the defensive. A direct assault could provoke the church into all out war. I am requesting a small force to dispatch as the front defensive lines. I cannot spare a general, or too many soldiers, as either would cast suspicion on our motives. It has been brought to my attention that there is a Colonel in our ranks on par with our current Generals. Would Colonel Kylen please step forward?"
A soldier made his way through the throng of soldiers. He was wearing only training pants and a towel around his neck. He was of muscular build, but lean enough to achieve deadly speeds. Even in the failing light, his golden hair shone like the noonday sun.
"I am Kylen, your highness. If you ask it of me, I would gladly give my life in service to the crown." Mat just laughed.
"Yes, as would many here today. But you can serve me better alive than dead. I'd not delve into the Forbidden Arts just to raise you back from the dead."
"I understand your majesty. If I may be so bold, might I ask a favor in return?" A few soldiers gaped in surprise as another murmur of conversation spread through the ranks. Rylynt stood hastily and approached the railing.
"You insolent cur! To openly make demands of the king could be considered treason! You should be honored to even talk to the King!" Mat placed a calming hand on the Aide's shoulder.
"Hold, Rylynt. A General would do well to show as much initiative. And," Mat's gaze returned to Kylen, "Should he succeed I would gladly see him become one. Now ask your request."
"Your Majesty, I simply ask that I might choose my own men to accompany me. Loyalty accounts for much on the field of battle and I feel that doing so would greatly increase our chance of survival.
"Spoken like a General already. You may choose your own men. Just be sure that your own loyalties never falter." A hint of a smile briefly touched his lips. "I would rue the day someone of your caliber ever found themselves among the ranks of my enemies. Now that this is settled…" Kylen bowed deeply, muttering his thanks as he blended back into the crowd. "the rest of you must be prepared for any eventuality. Should the church itself take up arms, we need to stand ready. War would ensue, followed quickly by civil unrest among the citizens as their places of worship close. Continue to train hard and push yourself through the pain, for the sting of death would be worse tenfold. You are all dismissed." Some of the men bowed as they left, but most pretenses of ceremony had been abandoned after Kylen's shocking request. Mat returned to his chair with a smile on his face. Rylynt, however, was anything but happy.
"Sire! Mat! How could you let him talk to you like that. You are just encouraging his behavior! Letting him talk to you in such a way could also lead to people seeing weakness in your rule. If you give men like him an inch they will take a mile."
"Rylynt, what do you think is the main difference is between him and my other generals? He has plenty of experience and could match if not best many of my current generals. His men obey him and, despite his slightly rash tongue, he is loyal to me. Why do you think he is unworthy for the title?"
"It is not his qualifications, sire, but more his age. He is…" Rylynt made eye contact with his king and realized what he was saying. "Ah…what I mean is…"
"What you mean is only people of a certain age can be great leaders. What you are implying is that I myself am not worthy of the title king. What you have spoken is both treason and insulting! You would do well to guard your own tongue better, lest I take it from you. And from what I hear, mute advisors don't last very long." Mat's gaze never left the advisor's eyes, and Rylynt couldn't look away.
"My humblest apologies sire. I didn't mean–" The king cut him off.
"Forget it. Now go check on the prince. He should be asleep by now. Quickly! Before my forgiving mood should turn for the worse." Rylynt fled hurriedly, almost breaking into a run as he headed for the stairs. Mat's smile grew and he leaned back in his chair. That pompous airbag needed to be deflated regularly to keep his strings within reach. The king stood and returned to the palace, satisfied of the day's occurrences. If Kylen was as good as he thought, then his luck might hold yet.
- - - - - - - -
Back in the practice yard, the two soldiers had resumed their training. The steady wooden clack was accompanied only by the incessant chirping of crickets and the rumbling croaks of nearby bullfrogs. The two bodies almost danced in tandem, becoming blurs as they whirled. Instead of the normal practice swords, the two were using quarterstaffs, the long straight poles that were weighted on each end to feel more like a spear. Their intricate display of skill seemed all the more impressive in the dim shadowy light cast by the nearby lanterns. Kylen, seeing an opening, took a chance and jabbed forward. Zaion skirted sideways, the tip of Kylen's weapon grazing his chest. Zaion looped his arm around the weapon and fell backwards, wrenching the quarterstaff from Kylen's grasp. Once Kylen's weapon touched the ground, Zaion used it as a launching point, shooting back up towards Kylen. Zaion also went for the stab, but turned it aside at the last second. As Kylen was still strafing to avoid the stab, he came into contact, headfirst, with the butt of Zaion's staff. Kylen fell to the ground, dazed by the blow. Zaion laughed as he assisted Kylen back to his feet.
"Heh, maybe you'll finally learn something now that I've beaten it into that thick skull of yours. Try as you might, you won't be able to best me with the spear."
"Maybe not, but pick any other weapon and I'll come out ahead." Kylen held his head, rubbing the spot where the staff made contact. "I've been thinking about how many men we should take and where exactly we should meet the enemy." It was about that time when Mao came bursting into the clearing, again.
"Kylen! Zaion! Look! I've finally done it, I've finally been admitted into the Army! I have the papers right here!" Mao was bursting with energy, waving the papers everywhere. "Now you can take me with you to help fight!" Kylen quickly closed the distance between them, taking the papers from Mao's outstretched hand.
"Let me see those. Hmm…well, I guess it's official. Congratulations, I hear Colonel Joido is very good at training new recruits." Zaion also joined the pair as Kylen returned the papers. He was chuckling to himself as Mao's eyes opened wide in realization.
"Joido? That old goat? He will send you running back to your mother's apron, likely as not. Come now, Kylen. Surely you can find it in your heart to let our little fighter-in-training join us." Mao looked back up at Kylen, hope beginning to register on his face.
"Yes, Kylen! I can help you guys! Zaion can help me train with the bow and spear while you teach me the sword and unarmed combat. I already know how to ride a horse, so I won't slow you down. I promise to learn quickly, especially since I know the basics from watching you guys all the time. Please?" Kylen just sighed, lowering his head.
"I wasn't planning on having to look out for a novice while fighting some of the most reputable fighters in Thesonyos. Very well, I guess we have no other choice. I would never knowingly commit someone to the cruel and unusual torture of Colonel Joido."
"YES!!" Mao leapt into the air, nearly crushing his assignment papers. He ran over to give Kylen a hug. Kylen stopped him with one hand, eyebrows raised in a questioning manner. Mao cleared his throat and tried to contain his excitement. He bowed deeply, murmuring his thanks to both Kylen and Zaion. Zaion laughed, tossing Mao another quarter staff.
"We should get started if you want a chance at surviving against Holy Guard or any of the Church's spell casters." Kylen also readied his weapon.
"Two on one, then? It will force you to divide your attention, strong against me and lenient on Mao. Confuse us once and you could either injure our protégé or fall to my attack. This way we all become more prepared for Pyth Laeorem." Mao lowered his weapon, confusion registering across his face.
"Pyth Laeorem? The small town on the edge of the Daeil Wastes? Why would we go there?" Zaion answered, but his face never left the concentrated focus as he prepared for the duel.
"That, young Mao, will be lesson two: Strategy."