Chapter 2: A Study in Fire


"…Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;…"


In Cerenian magic, there are three positive energies: blue, red and green. Green is the flexible energy, upon its summoning; it flows like water or gelatin. Mages often pair this property with clubs, war hammers, and pellets to shoot at opponents. Other uses vary from holding two items together or enchanting weapons to hold fast as opposed to flimsy leather bindings. Blue magic is the opposite, brittle and sharp like glass. Mages often summon swords using blue magic or summon spikes from their arms and jutting from the ground. Available enchantments are often to make swords sharper. Red magic is incredibly destructive. Having properties like fire or acid. Mages often lay traps with red and enchantments are often in the form of pseudo-poisons attached to the blade.

However, Tumas had heard legends of another magic to the western lands, the essence of fire conjured for the layman to use.

His caravan consisted of three pack luds, with the last of his remaining gold. He had no use for such items.

Through the rocky Mykozuman mountains, he, Rykovik, and three of his best bodyguards wandered a mountain path. Somewhere, the westerners were supposed to meet him.

Their subtlety pleased him, the grace in which they moved. Turning a bend around a crag that stuck from the ground, there was one arrow behind his head, another to his right as an archer laid on the ground with a longbow. In front of him, a man heavily armed held in his hand the once mystical firebreather.

The man gave a wide grin, behind him on the path were more pack luds with packages on their backs.

"I assumed you wouldn't show up," Tumas said.

"A westerner never forgets," he said, noticing Rykovik and nodding. Rykovik in turn gave a small growl, "And I see neither does an Illisian."

Rykovik put his hand on his sword, the man pointed the firebreather in his direction and pulled back a lever.

"That will be unnecessary," he said, then to Tumas, "I assume you have our transaction ready?"


It was gentle at first, but he was a light sleeper. Blue sunlight crept through the window and the seagulls from King's Harbor cried out. Perhaps the maid had left the window open, he was sick these last couple of days. The wind seemed cooler though, the seasons were changing. His advisors would probably advise him to start organizing grain stores in Kiliros.

He almost drifted back to sleep, but was awakened suddenly by rapping on the door.

'My Emperor, are you awake?'

'Yes, I'm fine, please wait a moment.'

Stepping out, he wiggled his toes along the shag rug, careful not to let his claws dig in too hard.

When he was dressed, he stepped out into the balcony to refresh himself for the day. Below him were the Illisian warships, pride of the crown and the Emperor before him.

Yes, that was a trip, wasn't it?

He walked back inside, to the door along the back of the room. He stood there, half asleep, staring at the door for a couple seconds, before opening it, revealing one of his advisors. The advisor stood in the bright hallway, already robed and carrying several sheets of paper: the morning briefing.

"Give me a moment if you would please, I have yet to prepare."

"Yes, but I advise haste. Several events have occurred this morning."


The last article of clothing to put on was the crown, a simple piece of jewelry, but the jewel and enchantment that it held were priceless. It sat in the hair, but instead of the female tiara which swooped downwards across the forehead, it stayed along the hairline with the single jewel extending upwards. Every time he put it on, a small twinge of guilt entered his mind. The journey to obtain it was…sketchy at best. His experience with leadership only rooted in governing a small parish in Dodier. Becoming emperor of the empire was the largest and most overwhelming step. By law of nature, he was in no way strong enough to rule over the empire, especially with a rebellion at hand.

A rebellion disputed over his rule of course….

It was moments like putting on the crown, he couldn't help but doubt himself, was this really the destiny Kisre laid before him? The more he dwelt upon it, the heavier the burden became, the more doubt entered his mind, the more the mistakes he made as Emperor magnified themselves. It was this moment in time, he felt like the page in the royal house of Dodier in his youth. He looked into the mirror, the teen that enjoyed innocence so much, the cares of adulthood non-existent, was now wearing the clothes of the most powerful man on the continent. He blinked, his ears perked in a semi-shock, the eyes were no longer filled with innocence, but the eyes of a man who made enough decisions in his lifetime.

Anger grew, he wasn't meant for this. His hand clenched into a fist and began to tremble. His anger, however, was quelled by knocking on the door.

"My lord, the court awaits your audience."

"Yes, I am coming"

He looked into the mirror one last time, his appearance changed again and there he was, Fodier un'reh Grund VIII, The Emperor-child.


The Syrikan Academy is perhaps one of the less grandiose school-houses in Illisia. Each city in each province always took pride in their own educational facilities; always building multi-story palaces sitting on the perch of a mountain or cove with effigies of Kisre or a long forgotten Emperor standing guard in front. Syrika, however, was a farming province, the wealth of the land, a good pipe of fireweed, and the simplicity of good company and good drink was enough to make any Syrikan content. Education was met only with a three story converted market house in the business district of the town of Syrika.

Although her father was in town, Krystal still attended classes every day. She would sit in the benches, staring outside while the denizens of the town scurried around like ants, preparing for not only the harvest festival, but to host the nine grand generals in a martial summit, the first to take place in Syrika in over a century.

The golden light floods in from the side of the room, the students seated at tables in front of the teacher who stands in front of a map of Illisia with different flags and pins punched into it. He fidgets with two pins, then proceeds to his lecture.

"…After the tribal period of Illisia, Emperor Kiliros established the Kiliros region, binding the clan together. To the immediate north of Dachio, he fought the battle of Mochikayo where his victory over the Dachian clan was assured..."

The history of the Kiliros clan, Krystal had heard this story a million times from her father. The teacher, however, was more focused on the political aspect of the establishment of the empire than her father who laid down a story of greed, obedience, and honor.

Next to her sat Liska, her closest friend. She had her head leaning on her left hand and staring down at the table. When Liska looked around, her eyes met with Krystal, and she gave a look that had boredom written all over it. Krystal in turn gave a little shrug and smile.


Lunchtime was free, the first floor was open air having been the former market, and stalls once lined with racks of food were now turned into tables for students to eat.

Krystal waved goodbye, as Liska behind her disappeared into the crowds of other students. Krystal walked off, then reaching into her messenger bag, pulled out a coin purse, pouring it out in her hand, she counted off 20 gold coins and then felt content.

She walked through the crowd of people at market, although normally she would be on the lookout for her father's servants, she was more careful than ever now that her father's sergeants were in the city.

Over her tunic she had robes for the chilling weather. Pulling over the hood, she disappeared into a side street.

After walking a short distance, to the left there was a single door. She knocked on it and it opened quickly revealing an older man. He looked around for a bit, but then looked down at Krystal and smiled.

"You know, usually my students like to meet in the front, you however, seem to have a knack for secrecy," he smiled.

"I'm sorry, my father is in town, and I'm sure you know about the meeting he has."

"Of course, of course, this brings me to my next topic however. Sida did provide payment for this month," Good, she could save the twenty gold pieces, "but she as advised against further training until your father leaves the city. Of course, I'm sure you'll be spending time in the temple than in here."

True, when father was at the brink of a dangerous battle, Krystal and Sida often spent their time in the temple in prayer.

"It is fine then , my training can continue afterwards," she paused, "Did his sergeants come to this place?"

Then, the elder man stepped aside. Inside seated at a table was Gian, her father's top lieutenant.


Dinner at the house was very quiet. Her father had a twinge of disappointment in his eyes. Their meal was silent, save for the sound of chewing and the occasional clink of silverware echoing through the dining room, the only light coming from the moonlights in the window and a fire burning in a hearth at the center of the room. The dining room was large with a rounded table that sat fifteen; in the middle was a fireplace that kept the room warm in the winter. The two sat across from each other, and were the only people in the room.

Finally, her father set down the silverware.

"You know, your mother would be disappointed…"

"…I know," Krystal said, with a growl.

"You're still young, still only ten winters old, and you're already trying to learn the ways of the blade. Warfare is an adult matter, you don't need to be jumping into it…" he trailed off, then, "…You remind me of your mother, always headstrong…"

That was it.

Krystal slammed her silverware down on the table. Anger filled her eyes.

"I never met my mother! Why do you keep bringing it up like she's still alive?"

"Krystal, beca-"

"Please! Whenever I do something wrong, you always bring up how she would've done it, how she would have faced the challenges, how she would be disappointed.

"Krystal, I…"

"Every time you bring up the nation, every time you bring up the empire, all I hear about is how peace can bind the separations. How my mother could've done it, how she would have done it."

"Krystal…"

"Yet here you are, the Lord General, not only a leader in war, but you're the highest ranking…."

"Enough!" His voice boomed in the halls, Krystal's heart skipped a beat, he rubbed his brow, then with a whisper, "that is because it is my job, and my duty. I did not choose this position, it was appointed to me and even I do not approve of it. This however, is not your business, nor is it your position to question it. My business is a cruel one, and I wish for it not to linger here in my home."

Krystal stood there, wide eyed, as her father leaned back in his chair and then dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

"Excuse me," She got up, and left, her voice shaky. She walked to the door, hands folded in front of her and looking down at the ground.

When the door was closed, Kigios slumped back in his chair. As much as he loved his daughter, he wished only the best for her. Combat training at her age was much too young. Even though he started his training at the age of eleven, he only had wishes for a better home for his daughter…

Taking a sigh, he reached for the ale and poured his chalice full.