Three months earlier
The head of the Farchon senate ran his eyes over the paper again as he soaked in what he was reading.
Just now, a messenger ran into the senate room in the middle of a debate with a message of upmost urgency… it was about Rusher's mission exploring the Northern Ocean. As he read on and on, his expression got grimmer. It went like this:
General S. Rusher, head of the Farchonian military has discovered a new land about some two months sail away into the Northern Ocean. Disaster struck when a freak storm swept in the night before they were to land and capsized the ship and most of her crew. 239 members, sailors and soldiers are presumed dead. Only General Rusher, Lieutenant Mitch, and four others survived. General Rusher, Lieutenant Mitch, and three of the four others went on to explore the land. The last one turned back in a surviving life boat and traveled through the perilous conditions of the Northern Ocean to deliver this message. He is in poor condition and is not expected to survive. The only things known about this land, is that the only entrance to the continent is a gap in the mountains that border the ocean. It is only about a kilometer wide. The survivors also took note of natives that inhabit the land. Nothing more is known about them.
Rusher requests military reinforcements immediately and is going to start exploring the continent with the remaining survivors.
The senate head passed the brief message to his right to let the next member read it. He then passed it right to the next member who passed it to her right until the piece of paper made its way around the round table. Each member sat back in silence after they read it.
Once the message made its way around the circle, his fourteen fellow senate members watched him with intense eyes as they awaited his first words. He chose them carefully. Their yellow robes and hats shined from the light from the redstone lamps hung high above their heads.
"We cannot let this disaster become public." He said with a hint of malice. "General Rusher is the hero of our people. If news of this catastrophe makes its way out to the streets, there will be mass hysteria."
Another spoke. He was old and his words were weak. "Rusher was foolish, as we warned him to not venture too far into the unknowns of the north. He failed in his quest, losing over two-hundred of our finest in the process. He is asking for even more troops although he failed with upmost disaster. So, the question is, are we going to lend him even more troops for him to throw away?"
The room fell silent for a second.
"You all know he is not the military genius the common man thinks him to be." The old man added. "We shouldn't send more troops his way."
A woman on the other side of the table perked up. "What do you mean, Parth? Not send more troops? We cannot just leave Rusher up there to die." She said with a hint of anger.
The old man known as Parth spoke again. "That is not nor will it ever be my intention Martha." He sat further up as if to emphasize his next point. "We look elsewhere for help. We ask for volunteers from the people of Farchon."
"Ludacris!" Martha interjected.
Another member spoke. "Yes, and what do we say to the people; if we can't tell them Rusher is capsized?"
"Exactly!" Martha said again. "This is nonsense!"
"Maybe not so." A commanding, gravelly voice spoke.
Every member of the council whipped their head toward the left side of the table at a voice they rarely ever hear. The council head stared at the stoic figure who just spoke, from under his long bushy eyebrows, stuck in a perpetual scowl.
The man cloaked in shadow from under his wide brimmed yellow hat and hidden by a veil that covered his face, spoke again. "We lost ten percent of our forces in the war against the Southern nation. We have twenty percent of our forces down there now, rebuilding the countryside, and protecting the border, not to mention the remaining numbers are spread all throughout the continent protecting our interests. We're spread thin. We all know the Southern Nation could strike at any moment and start a second war. Especially with their new alliance with Gracton, they could now start rebuilding their army at a higher rate. This said, we need all our troops here, now. But at the same time, we can't abandon Rusher. If we ask for volunteers from the people, we don't have to sacrifice any troops and at the same time, give our citizens the morale boosting activity of helping their hero. Rusher is the only thing holding this country's people together. If we lose him...who knows what the result will be."
Martha slammed her fist on the dark oak table. "We can't just send civilians into unknown lands! There will be untold casualties and you all know damn well thousands will follow Rusher." She paused to take a breath. She then directed her anger towards the stoic, cloaked council member. "I think you're just biased and being paranoid, Kazara, because of what happened to you and your face during the war!"
"That is enough, Martha!" The council head yelled as spit flew from his mouth.
Martha snapped out of her rage to realize she had stood up sometime during her rant. She sat back down.
Kazara's eyeless face just stared at her, unmoving, unspeaking from behind his black veil.
A middle age member cleared her throat. "I think Kazara has a point. General Rusher must be protected but we must not spend any more troops on him."
The council head nodded "Since we gave Rusher the glory of leading the charge in The War, he thinks he's the shot caller. We all know he is not."
"Exactly." Another said. "We should ignore his call for military reinforcements and send in volunteers and say Rusher's quest was successful and he needs volunteers to start settling on the new land."
The head spoke again, raising a hand. "Let's vote on that, whether or not to send in volunteers to go support General Rusher."
They went around the table, one at a time. "Yay" "Yay" "Yay" "Yay" "Nay" "Yay" … The head counted the total as each member voted. Martha voted with an energetic "Nay" but it did not matter. The final vote came out to eleven "Yay" and four "Nay".
"Then it's settled." The head decreed.
He waved his assistant over before leaning over to speak into his ear. "Spread the word."
Present day
Rusher pushed up the front of his iron helmet to wipe sweat from his forehead as he dropped his pickaxe to his side and leaned against the stone wall of the mine. This was grueling, especially for him. He had hardly ever mined in his entire life, let alone do it for his survival.
"Mitch!" He yelled back through the mine to his lieutenant. "Anything good?" A few exasperated moments later his comrade responded from down another branch of the mine. "Only two more iron ore, Rusher." A few seconds later, Rusher heard the sound of Mitch's pick go back to work. They had abandoned the 'Sir' and 'Lieutenant' crap months ago. No need when they are with each other 24/7 and have relied on each other for survival for months.
Rusher turned back to the wall he was working on, reluctant to go back on working. He had expected that they would have found at least a few diamonds at this point. They had been digging for over two days, hardly going more than ten blocks an hour in these conditions. The mine was hot, very hot, and on top of that, they only had a couple damaged iron picks. They were hardly even finding enough iron to make new ones.
They had been struggling through the territory of the savages in hopes of eventually getting out far enough to set up a small camp and get established, but had taken two weeks, alone, to get out of the wasteland of spawn.
Mitch estimates that they have traveled about thirty-five thousand blocks so far. Animals were rare and the ones they found were scrawny, so they rationed their food hard. They also needed more ores to go any further, but lacked the energy to do it efficiently.
He took another puff of breath, letting sweat drip from his brown hair under his helmet onto his slender, light skinned face before rising his pick back up and swinging it down to break another chunk of a block away.
As he saw another chunk hit the ground, he got that feeling again. A feeling like he shouldn't be here. Like the land doesn't want him to be, not just the savages, but the land itself. There was something off about it. Something evil.
He slammed his pick back into the stone. It stuck. He pulled on it for a few raging seconds before it came loose and he fell onto his unarmored butt. He yelped in pain as a sharp rock jabbed him. He cursed it before standing back up, exhausted, checking himself for injury. He was fine besides a small scrape. He went back to mining.
They wouldn't have to be doing this, mining, if their ship hadn't capsized in a storm the night before they landed.
His mind wandered back, months ago, when they arrived at a new land, never seen before by the world. They had pulled up to massive sea bordering mountains then followed the coast to see if they could find an entrance to the landmass. It was the middle of the night when they came across what the savages call "Spawn". The crew of about two hundred-fifty men and women had unanimously decided to wait until morning to venture onto land, it was too dark after all. It was that night when the storm hit.
Rusher picked up pace as the memory of the events that had run through his head time and time again, came back.
Rusher stayed awake all night that night, despite his officers urging him to get some sleep before the big day the next morning but he couldn't. This was the dawn of the day that Farchon extended its reaches beyond the northern ocean, the dawn of Farchon becoming a thousand-year empire.
The storm came from the mountains…hidden from view by their ungodly height. He alerted the crew to the sudden intensity of the storm. In a matter of minutes, people were rushing for the life boats. Rusher and Mitch urged all the crew and soldiers onto the life boats before them. Before anyone could react, wind tore one of the sails down which led a chain reaction to the hull of the ship, tearing it in half. Rusher fell and slammed into the deck as the ship started capsizing, the life boats not yet deployed. He grabbed the railing as the deck tipped past forty-five degrees. The rain whipped him as his hand started slipping from the railing, the only thing stopping him from falling into the raging ocean which at this point was full of debris and sailors, trying to grab onto something to float on. He couldn't hold on much longer.
The pickaxe slammed into the stone at a higher rate as Rusher angrily recalled that night. Stone shards fell away from the front of his pick. He placed another torch onto the wall as the tunnel started to get dark. The sweltering heat from them wasn't helping. A trail of sweat fell down his face as he took another slumped rest against the wall.
Twelve iron ore. Eighteen coals. That was all they had between the two of them. The two military men were utterly shocked when they staircased straight down to diamond level, only to hit an old mine tunnel. The entirety of the underground of this land seemed to be almost completely mined out…even thirty-five thousand blocks from spawn. It had been the same story every time they stopped to mine. Abandoned mines were eerily common.
Resources in this place were rare…very rare. It was unlike anything Rusher had ever seen in his forty-three years of life and twenty-five years of military service. No conditions were ever this dire.
Rusher set down his pick and took a few more breaths before turning his head and calling to Mitch. "Mitch! How about you say we end this for today. Let's go to the surface and get some fresh air; see what else is around."
He didn't need to be asked twice. The slightly husky man clad in iron boots and helmet came out of his side tunnel with his makeshift pack slung around his back which carried the ores, dragging his pick at his feet. He made his way back towards the staircase. Rusher hiked his own bag up off the tunnel floor and followed his friend.
When they made their way to the surface, a withering forest unveiled in front of them. Rusher soaked in the fresh air but the smell of the mine was stuck in his sinuses. They plopped down furnaces and smelted their iron. Only enough for a pair of leggings and another pick. They already had swords but weren't getting much use out of them since there were almost no animals. Plus, even with each of their extensive fighting experience, they wouldn't be able to land a hit on the savages since they all seemed to have enchanted diamond gear and elytra.
Rusher thought back to the few encounters they had with the savages. Something was different about them. They seemed to be able to do things Rusher had seen no person ever do before. They seemed to have inhuman speed, strength, accuracy, and uncanny tracking skills. Most of the time the group was running from them so Rusher couldn't get a good glimpse at any of them so maybe he just imagined it…but he didn't. He had a cool head and a smooth eye, that's why he's general and what he saw them do wasn't imaginary.
Right before his hand slipped off the railing of the ship, another hand grabbed his wrist. Rusher looked up to see Mitch above him, left hand holding Rusher, right hand holding a rope that was tied to a mast…a mast that just started to break.
"Mitch!" Was all Rusher could yell before the splintering sound rattled the ship. The mast fell towards them. Rusher mustered up the strength and, in a flash, brought his other hand up to grab Mitch and pulled the surprised lieutenant off the deck. Rusher fall backwards towards the violent sea with Mitch in his grasp.
They crashed to the ocean only to immediately get slammed by a wave. Lightning cracked overhead, connecting with the ship and nearly deafened the two. Debris hit Rusher in the head, dazing him, knocking him out.
Rusher woke up to darkness, then shot up with a gasp, taking massive breaths. He was on land. Mitch was next to him along with four other crew members, completely soaked, rain still drenching them.
Rusher rolled over and spat up water from his lungs then rolled back, still taking in big gulps of air. Mitch was just staring out at sea, unmoving. Rusher slowly followed his gaze. His heart sank. A bright light emanated from the sea, his ship. Fire had enveloped what was remaining above the water, casting a reflection of orange onto the raging water. No life could be seen amongst all the wreckage.
"We're the only survivors." Was all Mitch said as he remained still, breaking Rusher out of his trance.
Rusher sat back in the forest as he watched the furnace cackle as it smelted their iron. He thought about the four survivors from the sinking that didn't survive the trip out of Spawn. One starved, another fell down a chasm to his death, another was picked off by a savage. It was just a miracle that he and Mitch had made it out of that confrontation alive. As stated before, he had noticed that the savages have uncanny tracking skills…
Rusher had sent the last, fourth soldier back to the shore of spawn to grab one of the remaining life boats that survived the ship sinking. He told him to travel back to Farchon and spread the news of the land and to send reinforcements. He probably didn't survive the trip back. A three-month trip by ship was difficult as it was, but alone with no supplies by row boat?
He cursed himself. He should have sent two of his men back, not just one. Idiot! No one should have to spend three, maybe more, months alone with only a makeshift fishing pole to provide for them and to hope for rainwater for fresh water. Inhumane.
But he couldn't give up his quest to settle on this land. Hundreds had died to recognize his dream of making Farchon stronger and extending its reaches. They can't die in vain. He just has to have faith that his message reaches Farchon safely.
The fire burned bright as two hundred-thirty-nine lives perished. It was like a memorial.
Rusher stared at the ship, burning bright through the rain. It continued to sink as he watched, all their supplies and men going along with it.
He stared on, a deep chasm opening in his soul. He had lost men before, lots. But this was different, like this was a rude awakening to this place…this…unnerving place. Rusher got goosebumps.
The ship didn't completely sink for a long time. It stayed floating for over half an hour. The remaining crew stared on in complete silence the entire time. Right before the ship sunk completely, still burning just as brightly as when he had first seen it, Rusher could only think one, little, insignificant thought.
How is the fire able to burn so brightly, through all this torrential rain?
