It wasn't a dark and stormy night. The bright full moon hanging loftily in
the sky shone down upon the world below, miniature specks of light, no
quite so glorious of the moon, easily overlooked on such a night. The moon
was huge, and the cloudless night sky allowed it's magnificent splendor to
shine almost as brilliantly as the sun upon the sleeping world below.
Small brick houses with thatched roofs littered the grassy slope. A castle crowned the nearby hill, the tallest pinnacle of which looked as though it was piercing the moon's side. Candlelight shone meekly through few various shutters, the night was at its peek and the common man was most likely asleep in his bed, resting for the labor of the next day.
The fields of the small kingdom lay orderly upon the level ground at the base of the slightly slopping land. Most peasants worked there. A river ran in lazy curls across the green meadow, irrigation ditches breaching off of its sides to provide life support for the crops that based the kingdom's economy. A marketplace, the other optional work place for the common man, was centered directly between the outer walls of the castle and the first rows of crop. It took up much room, and the buildings that lined the sides of the pentagon shaped market square were the largest of the village by far. Here there were taverns, hotels, trading posts and the likes.
The outskirts of the pentagon-shaped Market Square were the main stems of life for the village. Houses and shacks lined the crowded cobbled streets. Beyond these were the larger manors, the homes of the lords and dukes that owned significant amounts of property as gift from the king. Each of these was spacious, with personal cropping areas, gardens and, for the more ostentatious of these, shabby brick walls made in imitation of the castle upon the hilltop.
It is in these manors a story begins. One that would one day be printed as it's own fable. A small manor, it was nearer to the outer line of the last of the crowded houses and shacks. A simple gate of wood was constructed at the entranceway to the manor, and an oddly intricate gate pattern began to extend from each side, but only a few feet as if the maker of the gate had decided to drop the troublesome pattern. Instead, a rather simple and boring pattern had then begun, one that was made of three wooden posts hung between the two at either end. Past the gates, a garden of flowers layered the left side of the entrance road, one that included a marble fountain, a carving of something that looked much like a mix between a person and a fish and a single bench, half hidden by large fir trees.
Inside the house itself, a quaint little building, a small girl woke in screams of fear and hysteria, breaking through the silence of the peak of the night.
Lady Inque entered her young daughter's room, carrying with her a candelabrum of five flickering candles. A boy of but nine years or so peeked cautiously around his mother, rubbing a limp palm into one of his eyes, failing miserably at stifling his fatigued yawns.
"Need he-help mother?" He asked wearily, blinking up at the lady with a frown creasing his young features.
"It's quiet alright Jonasth, return to bed." She smiled lovingly at her oldest child who willingly obliged with her request and scurried off to his own room. The lady then entered her daughter's room and after placing the candelabra upon the floor, sat upon the edge of her daughter's bed, pulling the child against her side in a warm hug.
"Shush now Leiryh, mother's here..." She cooed consolingly to the young girl. Leiryh's sobs slowly faded into whimpers. "A nightmare darling, a dream." The lady easily read the child's whimpering and reassured her with soft words.
The girl could only shiver in reminiscence of the horrible vision. "Mommy..." She sniffled into her mothers arms. The lady gently cradled the girl in her arms, shifting to make herself more comfortable on the bed. "A story?" The girl's words were muffled, but hopeful.
The mother grinned, leaning her head back in thought. "Yes, a tale it is then. The one about Jon perhaps?" Only the mother could see the young girl smile. "Once upon a time, for it was quite a time ago indeed, there was Prince. He was a kind Prince, but also as most boys are, he was a Prince with a taste for adventure. On his seventeenth birthday, he was set out upon the adventure he so craved..."
The tale wove images of contentment into the young girl's head and she was soon fast asleep. The mother however continued the story until it's very end.
"And Jon returned home with his treasure and his friends to be welcomed by his entire village. He was then crowned king and lived happily ever after." The lady looked down at her child's peaceful face, smiling gently at her own thoughts.
Her daughter Leiryh, sweet Leiryh. After three sons the lady had been restless for a girl with which to bond. And now, the much-coveted child slept peacefully in her arms. Reluctant to leave her precious child alone, or rather reluctant to leave the room without her precious child, the lady took several moments arranging the child's head comfortably upon the soft pillows. She brushed the light brown hair from the fragile featured face, fearing to wake the child from such a beautiful sleep. Slowly, the mother took leave of the room, latching the door shut with regret.
Outside the window, a shadow shifted against the thatched roof. The moon lit the moving blackness as it took to the air.
Small brick houses with thatched roofs littered the grassy slope. A castle crowned the nearby hill, the tallest pinnacle of which looked as though it was piercing the moon's side. Candlelight shone meekly through few various shutters, the night was at its peek and the common man was most likely asleep in his bed, resting for the labor of the next day.
The fields of the small kingdom lay orderly upon the level ground at the base of the slightly slopping land. Most peasants worked there. A river ran in lazy curls across the green meadow, irrigation ditches breaching off of its sides to provide life support for the crops that based the kingdom's economy. A marketplace, the other optional work place for the common man, was centered directly between the outer walls of the castle and the first rows of crop. It took up much room, and the buildings that lined the sides of the pentagon shaped market square were the largest of the village by far. Here there were taverns, hotels, trading posts and the likes.
The outskirts of the pentagon-shaped Market Square were the main stems of life for the village. Houses and shacks lined the crowded cobbled streets. Beyond these were the larger manors, the homes of the lords and dukes that owned significant amounts of property as gift from the king. Each of these was spacious, with personal cropping areas, gardens and, for the more ostentatious of these, shabby brick walls made in imitation of the castle upon the hilltop.
It is in these manors a story begins. One that would one day be printed as it's own fable. A small manor, it was nearer to the outer line of the last of the crowded houses and shacks. A simple gate of wood was constructed at the entranceway to the manor, and an oddly intricate gate pattern began to extend from each side, but only a few feet as if the maker of the gate had decided to drop the troublesome pattern. Instead, a rather simple and boring pattern had then begun, one that was made of three wooden posts hung between the two at either end. Past the gates, a garden of flowers layered the left side of the entrance road, one that included a marble fountain, a carving of something that looked much like a mix between a person and a fish and a single bench, half hidden by large fir trees.
Inside the house itself, a quaint little building, a small girl woke in screams of fear and hysteria, breaking through the silence of the peak of the night.
Lady Inque entered her young daughter's room, carrying with her a candelabrum of five flickering candles. A boy of but nine years or so peeked cautiously around his mother, rubbing a limp palm into one of his eyes, failing miserably at stifling his fatigued yawns.
"Need he-help mother?" He asked wearily, blinking up at the lady with a frown creasing his young features.
"It's quiet alright Jonasth, return to bed." She smiled lovingly at her oldest child who willingly obliged with her request and scurried off to his own room. The lady then entered her daughter's room and after placing the candelabra upon the floor, sat upon the edge of her daughter's bed, pulling the child against her side in a warm hug.
"Shush now Leiryh, mother's here..." She cooed consolingly to the young girl. Leiryh's sobs slowly faded into whimpers. "A nightmare darling, a dream." The lady easily read the child's whimpering and reassured her with soft words.
The girl could only shiver in reminiscence of the horrible vision. "Mommy..." She sniffled into her mothers arms. The lady gently cradled the girl in her arms, shifting to make herself more comfortable on the bed. "A story?" The girl's words were muffled, but hopeful.
The mother grinned, leaning her head back in thought. "Yes, a tale it is then. The one about Jon perhaps?" Only the mother could see the young girl smile. "Once upon a time, for it was quite a time ago indeed, there was Prince. He was a kind Prince, but also as most boys are, he was a Prince with a taste for adventure. On his seventeenth birthday, he was set out upon the adventure he so craved..."
The tale wove images of contentment into the young girl's head and she was soon fast asleep. The mother however continued the story until it's very end.
"And Jon returned home with his treasure and his friends to be welcomed by his entire village. He was then crowned king and lived happily ever after." The lady looked down at her child's peaceful face, smiling gently at her own thoughts.
Her daughter Leiryh, sweet Leiryh. After three sons the lady had been restless for a girl with which to bond. And now, the much-coveted child slept peacefully in her arms. Reluctant to leave her precious child alone, or rather reluctant to leave the room without her precious child, the lady took several moments arranging the child's head comfortably upon the soft pillows. She brushed the light brown hair from the fragile featured face, fearing to wake the child from such a beautiful sleep. Slowly, the mother took leave of the room, latching the door shut with regret.
Outside the window, a shadow shifted against the thatched roof. The moon lit the moving blackness as it took to the air.