The Kingdom of Kupa Keep was, technically speaking, Craig's homeland.
He was born there, after all. It wasn't like he had much of a choice in such a thing.
"There are far worse places to live, you know," his father would say as he'd come home from a day on the fields. He'd duck through their wide wooden door after laying down his plough and would wipe a layer of sweat and dirt from his forehead.
Craig never responded to such comments. Why would he? He had no idea how the rest of Zaron compared. The High Elf Kingdom, the Southern Kingdom, the Drow Elves—might as well be made up words, as far as he was concerned.
To be fair, "Kupa" in and of itself was also a largely empty word to him. Sure, he recognized that he was tied to it, but it wasn't like that fact affected his day to day life much. So what if Kupa was one of the largest and most powerful kingdoms? So what if they had a large city for a capital? He was destined to live his whole life in a small peasant village miles and miles away from any of that. Hell, despite being a "kingdom", he wouldn't recognize the King or his Grand Wizard if they came up and hit him. They were nobodies to him.
"Don't say such things!" his mother would scold him when he pointed that out. She'd pull the spoon out of the stirring pot in the middle of their home and point it towards him, the soup dripping on the dirt floor. "As citizens, we're bound to serve them. Not showing them the respect they deserve is treason."
Her strict words never matched her expression when she said that. Her eyes narrowed not out of trying to scold him, but as if she were warning him. Craig didn't care. Fine, Kupa was his home. He'd profess his loyalty to it, even if by default. It didn't change the fact that Kupa City, where the royalty lived, felt like a world away. Though perhaps that fact allowed him to remain all the more ambivalent to it.
"Tell us a story!" Tricia would beg. She'd always ask their mother when it was late, just before the flame in their house would finish dwindling.
"Aren't you getting old for her stories?" Craig asked.
"Oh, Craig, you used to always love my stories when you were little," his mother said as she sat upon the straw bed the siblings were required to share.
"Yeah, when I was a little kid," he said. He was too old for them now. Tricia was too old for them now. They didn't need to hear stories about faraway lands and princesses. All it did was put too many ideas in Tricia's head. She was supposed to be working the fields now, not pretending that the scarecrows were the two Kupa princesses.
"Never too old for stories, Craig," his mother said, poking his nose. He scrunched his face.
"Craig's no fun!"
"Oh, just ignore him. What do you want to hear about, love?"
"About elves!" she said. Even with the dim light, Craig could see her blue eyes glow. "Tell us about how you met one!"
Their mother laughed. "Okay. But I don't know if met is the right word. Though yes, years ago elves sometimes came to Kupa City for special events. A handful did for the royal wedding."
"You were there, right?" Tricia asked much too enthusiastically. Of course it was a question she knew the answer to. She forced their mother to relay that story countless times.
"I was," she said, clutching the feldspar pendant she always wore around her neck. She smiled, but her gaze seemed far away. Sad almost. "It was lovely. Kupa City...it's ten times larger than Sundorham. Yet despite the size, everything was decorated. The stone castle surrounding the city, every shop and home...you name it. People from all over Kupa were there, dressed in their very best. Including a few elves."
"Did they do their magic? I heard from a bard that they all do it."
"No, dear. They were around the Grand Wizard, after all. They knew better than to try their luck."
"Well, it still sounds fun! I wanna go to a royal wedding or ball!"
Their mother ruffled Tricia's dirty hair. "I wish I could take you." She looked at Craig. "Both of you."
"I'll pass," he said, laying down on the bed. The hay poked at him and he could feel an insect crawling on his leg, but he didn't mind. He wanted peace and quiet so he could fall asleep.
Maybe the stories stopped appealing to him because he didn't mind his life in Sundorham. Sure, the farming life wasn't easy. Sure, it was uneventful and "boring" by most standards. But boring was fine. They had enough. There was an inn with a pub that he had minimal interest in. They had a small trading post where traveling merchants would trade their goods that he sometimes enjoyed. But most of their hours were spent working the fields, anyway. It was routine. He was used to it.
He heard his father grumble under his breath to his mother about how it wasn't fair how most of their farmland wasn't even their own. How the lazy nobility of the city should grow their own crops and leave them alone. Of course, only when Craig was out of earshot. Within it, he had nothing but praise.
Complaints or not, his father woke up at the crack of dawn every morning. Craig would watch him meticulously put on the proper clothing and gather his supplies to plough the land. He'd always check to make sure he had the proper seeds, that the plough itself was steady, and anything else he might need for the day was prepared. Craig watched closely because he knew one day that would be him, just as had been the case in his family for generations.
His mother would get ready to leave at about the same time. She'd straighten her kirtle and pin back her hair in an elegant manner. Other women in the village would braid and pin their hair up unevenly with loose hairs flying about. Not her. She'd pat her golden blonde hair over and over to make sure every strand was in place. This wasn't to say it stayed that way throughout the day. Working on the fields as a farmer herself, by the evening it would be as dirty and messy as anyone else's.
"Craig, Tricia, it's time you get going," she told them.
"I am, I am," Tricia whined, running her fingers through her messy strawberry blonde hair. In the morning light, it was clear that the little girl had the coloring of her father, but good looks of her mother. Her cheeky attitude, however, was all her own.
"Not that she's much help in the fields anyway."
"Craig!" his mother scolded. Craig ignored her. He grabbed his bag of seeds off of their small wooden table and tied it around his belt and headed to leave.
It was a sunny day, as it so often was at that time of year. He wasn't looking forward to standing in the heat all day, but while the grown adults plowed and tilled the land, he was to help plant the seeds. As someone so young, if he lived in the city perhaps he would spend his days in education. As a peasant serf he was expected to work. Even if it wasn't necessary for his village's survival, education of his kind was strictly forbidden.
It was just as well. His mom taught him and his sister to read in secret, spelling out words in the dirt with a stick on the ground.
"Mornin' Craig!" a voice called out. Clyde, his best friend. Though to be fair, he was his only friend. He pushed past two villagers walking by, nearly spilling the seeds from his own pouch in the process.
"Hey."
"Hot one today, huh?" Clyde asked as the pair began to walk towards the fields. They were expansive, dwarving the village proper.
"Could be worse."
"Guess so," Clyde said. He lifted up the latch of the short wooden gate that surrounded the village. "Though it really makes me wanna go back to the sea."
"Blame your dad. He's the one who got you stuck here," Craig said, holding the gate to the fence as he passed through it. There were already quite a few villagers out working already, horses and ploughs going up and down the dirt in rows. It was still early-they must have risen before sunrise.
"Well, you know how it is," Clyde said, swinging his pouch around in loops. A few seeds fell out, to Craig's dismay. "This is a lot more stable."
"Sure."
"But you know, it doesn't matter," Clyde said. He pulled the rope of his bag tight, securing it. "This is all temporary for me, anyway. I'm gonna get out of here one day. Make it back to that ocean. Hey, maybe I'll become a pirate."
"You're crazy," Craig said, bonking his friend on the head with his own seed bag.
"I'm serious! Just you wait! I'm gonna take the world!" A grin grew across Clyde's round face. "Maybe you'll join me!"
"And get arrested by knights?" Craig asked, raising an eyebrow, "You and my sister both need a real reality check. You can't just go wherever you want. I know you grew up as a free traveling merchant and all, but now you're a serf. Act like it."
Clyde laughed. "Do you ever lighten up?"
"You mean stop actually being realistic?" Craig asked, making his way to the spot they were supposed to begin planting. "See this land here? It's not ours. It's the nobility's. They need us to make them food. They give us knights for protection from all the elves, barbarians, and whatever other awful group is out there. In order to make it all work, we have to become property of the land. We can't leave."
"I think I wanna do what I wanna do. Not what Kupa Keep tells me I can or can't," Clyde scoffed.
Craig began planting seeds. Clyde wasn't the smartest person Craig knew, nor was he the most attractive or strongest or...anything really. In fact, most things about him seemed to bring to mind one word-average. The only thing he wasn't average at was being a bonehead.
"Why do you hate Kupa anyway? I don't see any good reason. They take a ration of our crops, yeah, but we always have more than enough. I get that King's a drunk asshole, but none of this has really impacted my life for the worse, so I don't see why I should, you know...care."
Clyde stopped moving, allowing the seeds from his hand to fall limply to the ground. "Do want me to make a list?" he asked in a voice barely audible.
"Not really, if I'm being honest."
"Then let's not talk about it."
"Wanna come with me to the inn this evening after we finish working?" Tricia asked one morning as they dug for potatoes. Or rather, he was-she was mostly watching. It was late fall and there was a fear that frost was imminent, but she didn't seem to care about making sure all the potatoes were dug up by then.
"Not really."
He didn't say that out of not wanting to spend time with his sister or anything. She could be annoying, never knowing when to shut her mouth, but as far as siblings went he found her agreeable to have around. She was a well-intentioned girl who could be funny when she wanted to be, making the corners of his mouth twitch into an almost-smile.
Recently, though, she spent most of her time at said inn instead of the fields. Craig thought she was wasting her time there chatting away with drunks and passerbys, but their parents allowed it. They'd say that if she could become an innkeeper, that would be a respectable profession for her.
Of course, becoming innkeeper wasn't her goal. She set out hopes that one day a merchant or bard or prince would happen to come through and like her enough, willing to risk everything to whisk her away. It would never happen. No one cared that much about poor peasant girls and any that would offer were probably bad news.
"Well, there's a pretty neat bard there now. Good music, good stories. He's leaving tomorrow morning, so maybe you'd like to come. You can bring Clyde, too."
"Unlike you just standing there, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be exhausted by the time we're done." The whole reason she was on the fields was to help her brother with the harvest, and yet she mainly sat there chatting away doing only the bare minimum, going off about some bard.
"Okay, okay," Tricia said, halfheartedly focusing on the ground below her. "But actually, there's more to it. He knows things. Including some of the Kupa higher ups, if you know what I mean."
"So?"
"So," she said, arms gesturing for dramatic effect, forgetting that she was going to pretend to work, "It means he shared a few rumors. Apparently, word is the High Elf Kingdom is going to declare war any day now."
"At this time of year?" Craig asked, uninterested. He almost didn't humor her ridiculous statement with any response. He managed to pull up a potato from the ground. It was rotten. So many this year were. He sighed and tossed it aside.
"Apparently King Stuart is on his deathbed," she said, raising a finger up dramatically, "With the whole debate on whether Prince Kevin or Princess Kenny should take the throne after him anyway? If he dies, there could be civil war. The High Elf Queen wants to take advantage of that potential instability and-"
"Whatever," Craig said, continuing to dig with his hands. His shovel broke a while back and their family wasn't able to afford him a new one. "Even if that bard isn't lying through his teeth-like bards are known to do, I should add-who cares? Since when does any of that affect us at all?"
"It'll affect us when the knights come in demanding double the amount of our crops for the war effort."
"When has that ever happened? We're always at war," he said as he continued digging. There was a small rock jammed into his finger that was probably bleeding, but his hands were so caked in dirt and mud that he didn't want to attempt to get it out.
"The High Elf Kingdom with all the magic in the world isn't exactly like some lone Barbarian skirmish. According to the bard, apparently they're also pissed because the Wizard has the Stick of Truth. They want it back."
"Tricia, we've been over this. If that supposed all-powerful stick was real and was used to end the Dark Kingdom, it makes no sense that the Wizard wouldn't use it on the elves. Stop being so hung up on made up garbage and actually help me."
"It's not garbage! It's true!" Tricia pouted, "And the answer is that obviously you can't use an elven stick to wipe out the elves. But even if they did, that's the Wizard's problem. The McCormick dynasty always held him back! But if there's no strong ruler to come after King Stuart, that's a perfect time for him to seize control!"
"You're saying a bard told you all of this?" Craig asked. He instinctively rubbed his face out of annoyance. He immediately regretted it as he realized he rubbed the dirt on his hands all over his face. He used the sleeve of his equally brown tunic to wipe it off. He was pretty sure that didn't help at all.
"Why not go speak to him yourself? Maybe you'd learn things if like me you actually talked to the passing travelers. But no, you gotta always pretend like the outside world doesn't exist."
"Sorry that I don't like to listen to gossip from drunk travelers who like to make fools out of gullible peasant kids."
He didn't like to throw insults at his sister, but much as it was with Clyde, he could never understand how or why she constantly had her head in the clouds. By all accounts she was a smart and witty young girl, but was as gullible as could be. No matter how often she was told to stay in her place, keep her head down, and accept her life as a peasant farmer girl, she resisted.
More than anything, he feared that one day all of her wide eyed longing for the outside world would get her into serious trouble. His parents scolded him for "crushing her dreams" but in his eyes he was helping her.
"You know what? If you don't believe me, just wait and see when the kingdom sends its lackeys here. Ask them if we're at war," she said. She stood up from the ground and crossed her arms. It was clear from her posture she was mad and wanted to leave. Fine. Craig didn't mind her going. She wasn't being of any help anyway. Perhaps if she was gone, he could be even more productive..
"Fine," he said, "Next knight I see, I will!"
"Fine!"
"Fine."
As it turned out, Tricia was correct.
A good handful of knights regularly lived just outside the village in their own private encampment. Had the Lord of Sundorham wanted to reside in the land they owned, it would have been their manor. But of course, someone of that status didn't want to bother with a faraway nothing village and instead opted to live in the grand city. Instead of the potential grand manor going to the residents, they were forbidden from so much as visiting and it was instead given to the knights.
Only a handful lived there, and never for very long. It was a beginner's post, mostly for errand runs to collect the kingdom's share of crops and deliver it to where it was needed. But on that fateful day, it was more than a small handful that rode into the village. There were at least a dozen.
War, they announced.
In many villages, in war times peasants would need to take up the sword and fight in battle. Not in Sundorham. It had one of the largest and most fertile fields in the entire kingdom.
"So you will all need to double-no triple your efforts," a knight in the center of town said. He stood on a large box to make himself seem important. He looked around at the villagers with a smile on his face. Of course, to people like that war was an exciting prospect.
As the knight's gaze reached Craig's family, his mother gripped his shoulder tightly, pulling him a half step back. Tricia probably needed the reassurance from her more than him. So much for her bold and confident declarations. The girl was shaking.
He pulled his sister close and put his arm gently around her shoulder.
"It's going to be alright," he whispered to her. She said nothing as she gripped the dirty fabric of his tunic.
"Triple? What do you call what we're already doing?" a villager asked, "You have us working sunrise to sunset five to six days a week."
The knight's grin grew, flashing his yellow teeth. "And now it shall be seven. Until the war ends, you will not get a day off. Not just that, but be on the field before sunrise and stay until after the sun has gone."
Commotion grew amongst the villagers.
"You can't do that!"
"That's inhumane!"
"We have our lives to live!"
Clyde and his father stood next to Craig's family. Clyde's father looked nauseous, and at any other time Craig would have figured he was sick. Clyde on the other hand, as the crybaby he was, grew misty eyed.
"I told you this would happen," he said to his father, roughly wiping the tears from his eyes with his fists.
"Hush, Clyde."
The rest of the meeting was hard for Craig to hear. The knight spoke confidently over the villagers as if he couldn't hear him, but in turn it made him impossible to understand. Served him right. As he left the box, other knights had to form a human wall around him with their heavy metal armor, protecting him from the angry mob of peasants.
There was nothing they could do, ultimately. How could they? Their village was tiny, and even in times of war there were enough knights in Kupa that could be sent to quash any rebellion, doubling them in numbers. It happened before. Knights made sure it was known.
So the villagers could do was go about their day and attempt to enjoy their last full day off for the first time for what could be a long time. Clyde and his father went off, trying to exchange things they owned from their merchant days while traders still visited. Once the war was in full force, such visitors would be a rarity. Craig's own parents went off with several other village adults for their own unofficial meeting.
Tricia and Craig stayed alone in the heart of the village.
"I'm sorry," she said, still unable to control the tears running down her face, "I'm sorry I said it the way I did. I shouldn't have sounded like a know-it-all. I should have taken it more seriously."
"Hey, no. Don't be hard on yourself," Craig said. It was probably the most soft and sympathetic he ever sounded. It surprised even him. But still, she shouldn't be the one apologizing. Not after what he said.
"I hate this," she cried, "I wanted to be right to prove a point. Now I don't. I don't want to work in the fields every day."
"Well, I don't think anyone does." He wasn't used to people opening up and being emotional with him, let alone his annoying little sister. He sighed. "Though...you have an out, don't you?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, raising her head and wiping her tears on her dirty sleeve.
"You've been hanging around the inn, right?" he asked, "Why don't you go ask to officially start training to be the next innkeeper? That'd keep you working off the fields, right?"
"You think she'd take me on?"
"I don't see why not. You sure blabber on enough for the job, in my opinion."
Despite the tears not stopping, she smiled. "Maybe."
"Anyway," he said. He began to walk towards their house. "I'm sure the war will be short. A week or two, maybe. The knights talk hard now, but I'm sure we'll see few actual differences ."
"We're also going to need that barrel over there," the knight announced a few weeks into the war. They had always come every so often to take away rations, but now it had become a regular occurrence.
The knight was a new one that Craig never saw before. He held himself with class and stature in a way that made it obvious he thought of himself as important. He noticeably flinched when he entered his family's small, filthy thachet house, their old cow mooing in the center. It was an attitude that made Craig instantly dislike him.
Craig's father stepped forward. Ordinarily, the astonishingly tall and balding man was one of the strongest physical presences in the village. In terms of height, he towered over the knight. Yet somehow he and his dirty brown peasant garbs next to the sword and shiny metal armor of the knight made him appear small. "Sir, the barley harvest was very weak this year. You've already taken more than double-"
"Do not defy me, peasant," the knight interrupted, "Every day the High Elves approach closer and closer to the outskirts of the Kingdom of Kupa Keep while our Great King lay dying. I would have thought that even someone of your status would understand the concept of sacrifice for the greater good."
"The 'greater good' is my family starving this winter?" his father hissed, "This is ridiculous. We fought other wars! I don't remember receiving this sort of treatment when Kupa put an end to the Dark Kingdom. You have no damn right to starve out my family, my kids!"
"Perhaps we should take one of them off your hands then?" The knight asked. He smiled wickedly and stepped forward towards Craig and his sister. He reached out his hand and gripped Craig's chin. "The boy here seems old enough to be useful in labor." He pulled his head up to get a better look at his face, but Craig jerked away. The knight tsked and turned away to look at Tricia, his eyes carefully analyzing her from head to toe. "Or the girl…now she's a very pretty one, isn't she?"
He took a step away to face their parents again. Tricia ran to grip their mother's skirt. He grinned. "I wouldn't mind taking either one of them. You would be fully compensated, of course."
Craig knew exactly what the knight meant. The "workforce" as they called it. The McCormick dynasty made outright slavery illegal generations ago, but those in power found their ways to get around it in technicality. While a serf was tied to the land and unallowed to leave, they were ultimately allowed to live their daily lives how they pleased within the village so long as they completed the harvests.
That wasn't true if one was in the "workforce". There, one had no freedom. Workers lived in barracks without a single day off. Most were forced to do back breaking, dangerous work. Usually in potentially toxic mines or quarries, but there were other occupations equally unpleasant throughout Kupa. It was common knowledge that any fate short of death was better than that.
Craig glanced at his family. Dirty, hungry, and now having their much needed food carted away. They had been worried that Tricia would outgrow her clothes before they could get more, but now she appeared to shrink in them. More than one neighbor had died already from malnutrition not too long ago, their bodies carted away as if they were garbage.
The idea of leaving his family had always been inconceivable. But if his separation from them was to save them, wouldn't that be better than watching them die needlessly?
He opened his mouth to speak. "I'll-"
"Take the barley and get out!" Craig's mother said. Unlike his father, the presence of the knight did not make her seem smaller. He wondered if anything could.
The knight let out a hearty laugh. Without another word, he stepped outside to get some of his men to help cart their stored food away. His family was to exit the house as they did to prevent them from hiding things or protesting. Craig could see that the other knights visited all the other houses, all of them standing outside of their doorways as strangers took their hard earned food.
Taking rations was normal. It was part of the life of a serf. But this was a different level entirely.
"You'll thank us when we win the war and save your sad, sorry lives," a knight called out from on top of his horse. They all galloped away, the village's crops trailing behind on small wooden wagons. For a while, the villagers stood in their doorways frozen in silence. Craig could hear the sound of someone crying. Though before long, they slowly got back to work. It was all they could do.
"Shoulda given your boy up, Thomas. Mighta saved us all," the man who lived at the house next to theirs spat. He always looked at Craig with eyes of venom and a sort of contemptment as if he smelled foul. His mother always told him he mustn't take it personally. They had a child his age that was forcibly taken away at a year old due to magical ability, as was the case with any human baby born with the rare gift. It was nothing Craig did, she insisted, but rather their way of lashing out over a horrible situation. Being the only person born that year who wasn't taken away or died from illness until Clyde showed up, he was an especially easy target.
"Say that again and I'll make sure it's the last words you ever say."
"Thomas. Stop!" Craig's mother warned. She watched as the neighbor frowned but let it go, disappearing into his small, rickety house. She turned back to her husband and in a soft but stern voice spoke. "You have to be careful what you say. Anger the wrong person, and our children will be taken from us. You know that."
"I mean, if us staying together will make us starve to death, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea," Craig said, "I'd go. If it means saving the rest of you."
She let out an exasperated sigh. "Craig, don't be ridiculous. Family is the most important thing we have."
"Really? You gave up your status and left your family forever to marry a peasant," Craig said.
"That's different. I left everything behind for this family. I intend to keep us together."
"But-"
"We're not selling anyone! That's final."
"We're not going to starve anyway, right?" Tricia piped in. Although she was still visibly shaken from the whole ordeal, she still tried to bring forth her usual upbeat tone.
"I don't know," their father said, breaking his silence. He took one look at his two children and walked back into their small, sullen house.
"Well. Even if it's bad now, I'm sure the war will be over soon," his mother tried to apologetically offer. She turned to follow her husband inside. "Perhaps when it is over, they'll give us some of our supplies back and then some. We'll be alright."
Tricia kicked the dirt in front of her. She hid her face from him and turned to leave, probably towards the inn again.
Craig stood alone at the doorway.
When winter came, all of Sundorham struggled. A good number of people died, particularly the very young and very old. Craig and his family survived, as did Clyde and his father. Not that any of them prospered. Like everyone, they struggled to find enough food, which there never was enough of. Even if rations were taken at a normal rate, it would have been a rough winter. Let alone, this.
King Stuart died that winter. The former Crown Prince Kevin abdicated the throne as soon as he saw that Princess Kenny was in the Wizard's favor. That, at the very least, stopped a civil war. Still, it meant the Kingdom of Kupa Keep was now officially being run by a girl in her early teens, no older than Craig. Of course it was why the Wizard wanted her. It helped him maintain power. The war with the elves would proceed, as it did into the following spring and summer.
Still, talks about the specifics of war disinterested Craig. He didn't care how it went, he only wanted it to be over. He wanted the knights to stop stripping his village to the bare bones. What did politics of faraway lands matter? He just wanted to have a full meal again. He wanted everyone to stop looking like walking skeletons.
"Can you believe the elves are so cruel, attacking our kingdom when we are still in mourning?" his fellow villagers would say. Craig ignored their gossip. What difference did that make? War was war-being cruel was in its nature. He wanted to focus on the coming harvest, hoping it would provide enough food for winter. He wouldn't see his sister shrivel away.
"You know, our village is actually at risk," another said, "We're close to the path elves'd pass through if they go through the dwarven tunnels through the mountains."
"The knights will protect us," Craig said. The villagers mostly ignored him. They usually did.
Distaste the callous and arrogant knights on a personal level aside, they served their purpose. He remembered when they slayed a rogue dragon that threatened the village when he was a small child. The knights were ecstatic that they got real action out in their boring post, while the villagers were happy to be saved with meat to last them an entire winter.
As summer turned to autumn, so came the time to harvest the first of the barley. Craig hated harvesting barley almost as much as potatoes. The large heavy scythe required made his shoulders ache.
He didn't allow himself to complain outwardly and tried his best to suppress his negative thoughts. Their previous harvests were only just enough to save their village from total starvation and even in regular years, the barley harvest was one of the most important. It could provide them food for the winter, as well as bread and ale they could sell at the inn for extra profit. Not that they were getting many travelers in times such as those.
Craig liked the days he was assigned to work at the furthest reaches of the fields. The way the entire village with all of its flimsy wood and mud structures were visible was always odd to him, how his entire world appeared so small. Plus, out there things were quieter, more peaceful.
Except for the fact that Clyde and his mother came along with him that day.
Well, perhaps his mother wasn't worth mentioning. She wasn't hard to work with at all. On the other hand, Clyde sure was. As much as he liked spending time with him, watching him swing his scythe haphazardly to harvest the barley was always frightening. He waited for the day that idiot's bad aim would make Craig lose an eye-or worse.
At least it was better than watching the grazing cattle with his father. He got enough of those smelly animals in his house at night, he preferred having his fresh air without them. It also beat Tricia's job as apprentice to be the next innkeeper.
"Clyde, pay attention," Craig's mother scolded. She was sitting on the ground, taking her break. Her cheekbones jutted out more than years prior and her dress seemed to sag on her thin body, but her spirit was just as strong as ever. Plus, all of them had reason to be hopeful. The harvest was plentiful this year, far more the year before. Perhaps they would make it through the winter.
"Sorry ma'am," Clyde said, embarrassed blush forming across his puffy cheeks.
"We should hide some of this," Craig said, "We don't want Kupa to come in and claim they need even more because we're having a good harvest."
"We would need to be careful," his mother warned, "Hiding food is punishable by death."
"Yeah, we should have enough to survive regardless," Clyde said, swinging his scythe around with only minimally more care, "We should be safe this winter."
"No one in this village is safe with you swinging that around," Craig said, taking a step back from him.
Clyde grinned. "Oh yeah? Then watch this!" He lifted up the scythe around in a circle, cutting all the barley unevenly around him in full circles like a windmill propeller. To finish, he swung the blade directly into the ground.
BOOM! A noise went off the second as he planted his scythe directly into the ground.
"What the hell was that?" Craig asked. Thunder? But he saw no lightning, and there was neither a raindrop nor cloud in the sky. He stood up straight to look off to the horizon
"That wasn't me was it?" Clyde asked.
"No way, that was too loud and you're not that strong," Craig said, playfully shoving him over.
"Wanna go check it out?" Clyde asked, smirk growing across his face.
Craig's mother stood up. "Boys, stay here," she said. Unlike the boys, there was nothing playful or curious about her tone of voice. Despite her orders, Craig followed her.
"Craig, I said stay here," she scolded, her fearful green eyes piercing into his own.
Despite her intensity, Craig disagreed. "If something happened, I think I should be able to see what."
"If you think it's dangerous, I'll stay here, ma'am," Clyde announced, plopping himself on the ground cross legged.
Craig stretched his body upwards to try and clearly look to the village towards the horizon. From what he could see, the village appeared fine. He could make out a few people exiting their houses and saw the specks of other farmers in the distance running towards the village to check on the commotion. Other than that, nothing.
"I don't get it," Craig said.
"Shh!" his mother hissed, her hand put on his chest to hold him back.
It was then that he heard it.
A very soft sound in the distance, coming from far beyond the other side of the village. At first he wondered if he was imagining it. Even when it was clearly a real noise, it took time to make out what it was until it gradually became loud enough. It was music. A very sweet melody, like something out of a dream. The type of music that never graced a village like Sundorham, even by the more talented of bards that visited. Craig couldn't help but feel drawn to it.
"Music?" Clyde asked. His mother's face turned ghostly pale.
"Boys, I need you to run away as far as you can. Out of Sundorham, to anywhere that will take you," she instructed.
"What are you talking about?" Craig asked. The music was beautiful, Craig wanted to go towards it.
"I'm going to try and find Patricia. Then I will be right behind you. But even if I'm not, I need you two boys to keep running."
"What? That doesn't make sense," Craig objected, "Run from what? It's just some weird music. If it's something to worry about, we should come with you to find her. And what about dad?"
"Craig, listen to me."
As his mother began to run back towards the village the music only grew louder. Clyde stood up, unsure of which direction he should go. Craig on the other hand, made up his mind to go after his mother. None of this made sense. Why was she so terrified?
Another boom. The ground shook forcing Craig to stumble, nearly losing his balance. From the corner of his eyes he saw bright balls of light of many colors flying up in the air. At first he wondered if they were birds. He looked to the sky so he could see clearly.
"Arrows?"
Not just any arrows, but flame-lit arrows, lit in unnatural colors, colors that a normal flame could never produce. Did that mean they were magic?
They arose from the horizon, without signs of people who may have sent them. They were very fast, yet somehow it felt as if everything was moving in slow motion for Craig. It was as if his mind needed more time to register what he was seeing.
Slow motion or not, in a matter of seconds the arrows landed. They hit fields and buildings, the flammable materials instantly bursting into flames. Even more sickening, he saw them hit people, their small distant figures instantly dropping to the ground. Even as far away as he was, he could hear the screams and panic from those in the distance.
Craig's eyes grew wide. His village. His home. Tricia.
"Craig, get out of here!" his mother demanded, stopping in her place. She grabbed Craig, fingernails digging into his shoulders like tiny knives.
"Tricia is in there!" Craig yelled. He could see the inn in the distance, already catching flames. It was the sturdiest building, made up of more than just twigs and wood, but even still. He could see figures running out of it, though much too far away for him to distinguish if any of them were her.
"I'm going to find her, but I need you and Clyde to run."
"What's happening?" Craig's voice cracked.
"The war," she told him, "The elves."
"But the knights...they're supposed to-"
"This means they were probably all killed, Craig," her grip tightened as she shook him, "The knights may be strong, but they're not that strong. The High Elves...they...You have to get out of here."
"I should help. I'm going back with you."
"Craig, for Clyde. Run away. Find people who can get help. I promise, I'll try to get your sister, but I won't let you follow me into that. Hopefully your father has already run away. I need you to get to safety for me." Her grip tightened, yet somehow the franticness lessened. She looked long and hard at his face, as she was trying to memorize every single detail on his face.
"You want me to leave you?" he asked, feeling his voice shake.
His mother let go of his shoulders. Her arms flew to her necklace as she took it off, carefully yet with haste. She placed it into the palm of his hand and squeezed his fist around it.
"Craig, you escaping is the best thing you can do to help us. You were willing to be sent away for us before, right? Now is your chance."
This couldn't be happening. He wasn't one for showing outward emotion, let alone crying, but his vision clouded and tears escaped down his cheeks. This couldn't be happening. Fire circled the village, the barley they were trying to harvest immediately disintegrating. The flames only grew and he knew they would eventually reach where he and his mother stood. All of their hard work. All of their food.
Craig never saw so much fire in his life. This couldn't be happening.
Another boom. With that, his mother shoved him hard in the opposite direction, knocking him to the ground. She ran faster towards the village, the path to it becoming more and more engulfed in flames. He could smell the smoke as the winds blew it towards him.
"Run away and don't look back!" she yelled back to him.
Craig could see another blanket of arrows heading for the village from the sky. He couldn't watch. As if his body moved on its own, he stood back up and ran. Away from the village, faster than he knew possible. It was like he was was flying. His fist clenched his mother's necklace as if his life depended on it.
Clyde stood frozen in place as if in shock. His hand covered his mouth as tears ran down his face. Craig didn't want to know what he was seeing. With his free hand he yanked Clyde's arm as he passed him, forcing him to follow. Clyde was much slower than Craig, but Craig refused to let go.
Another boom. The ground shook but Craig ran even faster. Clyde yelped as the increase in speed yanked his shoulder, nearly causing him to stumble.
Craig's mind went blank as he ran. All he could think of was running. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he needed to get somewhere.
They ran wordlessly for hours. His mind was so engrossed with running that he wasn't even sure when he ran far enough to no longer hear the booms or music. Although every inch of his body begged him to stop or at least slow down, he wouldn't. Even when his lungs felt like they were on fire, begging him to stop to catch his breath, he carried on.
After an amount of time impossible for Craig to tell, it became dusk. Kupa was flat grassland, without any markers or landmarks to give them a clue where they were. Although Craig kept them going beyond his limits, eventually even the heightened adrenaline threatened to run out. Clyde ran out of it first. As if his legs locked he stopped, unable to run an inch further. The force of the sudden stop made Craig topple forward, nearly dislocating his arm and sending a sharp pain through it.
The boys huffed and wheezed. They were too out of breath to speak, both collapsing onto the soft ground as they tried to get their bearings. Craig's lungs ached even more than his sore legs. His vision was still cloudy, but he was unsure if it was from tears, sweat, dizziness or a combination of the three. He squeezed his eyes shut, seeing stars behind his eyelids as he wiped a layer of sweat off his forehead. He tried to breathe, tried to make his heart stop pounding as though it were about to jump out of his chest. He desperately needed water, but the canteen attached to his belt was empty long before the invasion.
"Cr-Craig," he could hear Clyde gasp for air. As Craig's own lungs ached and gasped for breath even harder, he was unable to respond.
He opened his left fist, making sure his mother's necklace was still there. It was. It was covered in sweat and left indentations on his palm, but it was there. He didn't drop it. A feeling of relief cloaked him.
His eyes shut again and he collapsed onto the grass. He was unconscious before his head hit the ground.
When Craig awoke he was sure he was drowning. Water was engulfing his face and entering his mouth, spilling up into his nose. Had he fallen into the river just beyond Sundorham? His father always warned him about standing on the unstable rocks of its bank.
"Craig…" a cracked, dry voice called out to him.
Craig opened his eyes. He was choking on water Clyde tried to force down his throat.
"What the hell?!" His voice was unrecognizably dry and cracked. His throat burned.
"Craig!" Clyde dropped his jug of water and hugged him, tears spilling down his face. "You wouldn't wake up! I thought you were going to die! Y-You scared the hell out of me!"
Craig was confused. Did Clyde rescue him from the river?
His vision began to focus. The lower half of his vision was obscured by Clyde's shoulder. From what he could see, he could tell that they weren't among the trees surrounding the river bank. They were among a grass field and-
The fire. Red, blue, green, yellow, pink flames that only magic could create, flying in on a blanket of arrows. The screams from his village, becoming engulfed by them. His mother running towards it, telling him to run.
His eyes instantly flooded with tears and spilled down his already wet face. He didn't sob like Clyde. In fact, he didn't make a sound at all. He cried in silence, gently wrapped his arms around Clyde, returning the hug. They stayed that way for a long moment. Craig stared aimlessly out into the distance.
"What are we going to do?" Clyde sobbed as he eventually pulled away.
Craig stretched his arms and back and could feel all of his bones crack. The muscles in his legs were sore from running for hours without break and his shoulder still hurt. He tried to inconspicuously wipe his tears on his sleeve. He wasn't a crybaby like Clyde was.
It was then he realized he was still tightly gripping his mother's pendant. Where was she? She hadn't caught up to them with Tricia yet.
"We need to help the village! People may still be trapped there. We have to find our families," Craig said, his voice still hoarse. He tried to stand up but he felt like a baby deer on wobbly legs. Clyde reached to his canteen on the ground and offered it to Craig, a few drops still in there. Craig swallowed in a single gulp.
"Are you serious Craig?"
"Of course I am! Sundorham is in danger, Clyde. We have to help them!" Craig took his mother's necklace and carefully put it around his neck, concealing it under his dull brown tunic.
"Craig, I don't think Sundorham exists anymore."
"I mean they probably burned down all our buildings, but maybe we could help put out the fire in the crops. I mean the people -"
"Craig, you're the logical one. Do you really think the elves would use magical fire arrows that you could just put out?"
"Well we should still meet up with the others who-"
"Craig! There were like a bajillion arrows! Straight for the town! The only reason we didn't get hit and killed is because we were at the part of the field that was furthest reach from their approach possible. Otherwise we'd be dead!" Clyde's voice cracked with the last word as a new batch of tears ran down his face.
Craig didn't believe him. His mother said that she was going to grab Tricia and run. She was going to catch up to them. Craig and Clyde just ran haphazardly straight, as far as possible from the village.
Craig never stepped foot out of Sundorham before.
"We should meet up with the others in another village," Craig continued, ignoring what Clyde said, "Do you know where we are? Didn't you say as a merchant your dad taught you navigation?"
Clyde sighed, knowing better than to argue with Craig's stubbornness. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "We went west, and the capital was northwest from Sundorham. There're other small villages like our own that are technically closer, but that's guessing they weren't attacked too. Plus, poor villages aren't going to want to take in young kids of no relation to them. I think the capital is the only place we can go."
"How far?"
"I would guess maybe several days. That's if we are going in a straight shot, which we probably won't. We could end up hopelessly lost forever."
"It's the best we can do." Craig stretched some more, trying to get used to standing on the weight of his sore legs. His skin felt hot. He figured the mix of overexertion and stress gave him a fever, but he did his best to ignore it. He wiped off more excess tears from his face. He wasn't crying anymore.
"Even if others survived, a lot of people died, Craig. Our village is destroyed. We'll probably never get to go back."
"Where did you get the water?" Craig asked, motioning to the jug he friend was holding. They both always carried jugs of water with them, but he knew there was no way Clyde would have a full bottle to force down his throat.
"There's a pond nearby," Clyde relented, "I went looking to see if I could find anything while you were out cold."
"Take me there, and then we'll go. Walking this time. No more running."
"I want to take a break today. I think we both should, given what just hap-"
"No."
Clyde sighed in defeat. He picked up his jug and started leading the way with a slight limp.
The pond was very small and probably not of the most sanitary water, but Craig didn't care. His legs may have hurt but the burning thirst in his throat was worse. He picked up speed and ran directly into the meter deep water. He splashed his face and drank as much as he could possibly force down his throat. Clyde sat down at the bank, refilling his jug as he sniffled.
Craig floated on his back and ran his fingers through his wet black hair, wishing he could stay forever. Tricia and him both loved to swim in the river back home. They didn't get to go there often, and most times they went they were only able to stay long enough to finish whatever chore they were given. Swimming was a rare excursion. The sudden wave of nostalgia both cheered him up and made his heart ache.
Tricia was okay. She had to be.
Craig stood up in the pond, letting the water drip off his clothes. "How do we figure out what way to go?"
Clyde looked up at his friend, the dark circles under his eyes prevalent in the direct sunlight. "The sun rises in the east. Given the sun's position and the time of year, it's probably about ten or eleven. We ran almost exactly west for hours, probably going on what would be a day's walk by foot. We need to go north, which is that way." He pointed off into the distance.
"How sure are you?"
"I'm not sure of anything, Craig. We don't have a map or compass and could be wandering forever. Zaron is huge. Kupa is huge."
"You're going to need to do better than that."
Clyde closed his eyes. "Stars are a better navigation."
Craig adjusted his necklace, ensuring that it was secure around his neck."So we'll head north and once it gets dark out we can better our positioning before we go to sleep."
Craig started off in the direction Clyde pointed. He could hear Clyde scramble up in the grass and try to follow him. The sameness of the flat grassland was good for farming, but terrible for navigation. This wasn't going to be easy, but they'd do their best. They had no other options.
"We're going to starve to death," Clyde whined several hours in. He collapsed down onto the ground.
"We're not going to starve to death, Clyde." Craig squatted down next to him. He figured that today they could take breaks.
"At least I'll be able to be with both my parents again," Clyde's voice cracked, tears pooling in his eyes.
"Your dad is probably fine."
"I saw the flaming arrows. I saw them hit people. It was too far to tell, but I saw a grown man with hair like his get hit straight through the torso and fall."
"There are a lot of brown haired men in our village," Craig said. Clyde didn't have an answer.
Craig found a few dandelions on their journey for them to eat, but it wasn't nearly enough to fill them up. The even bigger problem was that they ran out of water.
It wasn't a completely clear night, but Clyde determined that they should go slightly more east the next day before crying himself to sleep. They slept in a small thicket of tall grass that would hopefully conceal them from any potential elves or bandits.
"The capital isn't going to let orphaned peasant refugees just live there, you know," Clyde told him the next morning, "Unless you want slave labor."
"Well, good thing we're not orphaned peasant refugees then."
Clyde reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flattened round stone that reminded Craig of a coin. It was engraved with an intricate design as well as his name: Clyde.
"What's that?" Craig asked. His voice was rough-he needed more water badly.
"You know how I always so confident I'd get away from the village one day? It's because I kept this," Clyde explained, "My merchant identification. It's how they're able to freely move across Zaron. We were supposed to give it up once we became farmers, but my dad hid ours. Sorry I didn't tell you, he told me not to tell anyone. Glad I always kept it on me."
"So? What does this have to do with anything?"
"So, I can say that I was just an unfortunate merchant who happened to be in Sundorham at the wrong time and managed to escape," Clyde said. He squeezed the stone in his fist. "You should think of a cover story too."
"I won't need one," Craig said.
"What if you're wrong?"
Craig's chest felt tight, but he kept his resolve. "I'm not."
The third day it poured rain. Given how thirsty they were, it was a blessing. Clyde ran around like a small child, trying to catch raindrops in his open mouth. Ordinarily, Craig would have teased him, but seeing him play around like his normal self made Craig smile-probably the first time he did since their village was attacked.
The fourth day they got worried. It was sunny again, but their bodies were caked in mud from having been forced to sleep on the wet ground. The fatigue from walking for days without proper food also got to them. It was now past Clyde's projected time to reach the city and they still didn't reach the official road.
"Living was nice while it lasted," Clyde said. He wasn't crying anymore, but his voice was weak, very different from his usual boisterous tone. Perhaps he ran out of tears.
Craig didn't want to admit it, but was also starting to feel that their journey was becoming pointless.
He could feel the orange feldspar stone heavily against his skin. He wanted to go home. He wanted to collapse in his uncomfortable, bug filled straw mattress. He wanted his sister to kick him in her sleep hard enough to bruise him. He wanted the sheep to painfully yank out some of his hair right after he finally fell asleep again. He wanted his father to scold him to be quiet and let him sleep, even if Craig was annoyed that it wasn't his fault.
He wanted his mother to wake them both up in the morning with a bowl of pottage and a side of barley bread. He wouldn't care if it was painfully watered down from their lack of food. Having her cooking again would be enough for him.
Craig's heart began to pound and his eyes grew misty. He bit his lip hard.
"Wait a second," Clyde said.
"What?" Craig asked, snapped out of his own self-pity.
"Is that-WE'RE SAVED!" Clyde yelled, running forward despite his exhaustion.
"What are you talking about?"
"IT'S THE ROAD!" Tears of relief ran down Clyde's face. He ran up the way a little more, and sure enough Craig too could see a long strip of brown dirt across the endless prairie. It was untouched by grass, extending seemingly infinitely in both directions. As soon as Clyde reached it, he laid down on it as if it were the softest mattress. In actuality, the rocky road hurt Craig's feet, especially given that the bottom of his shoes had worn holes. Still, it was something new. Craig never saw an actual road before. Sundorham wasn't attached to one.
"I don't see the city," Craig said.
"Well no, and we might still be far," Clyde answered, with a smile still on his face, "But I know this road! It connects to the capital! We just need to keep continuing down it, and eventually we'll hit it."
"Eventually?"
"I don't know how far, but we're on the right path! We're not-We're not wandering aimlessly anymore!" Clyde let out a sob of joy.
Craig wanted him to get up and continue on to reach the city as quickly as possible, but decided after all they've been through to let his friend have his moment. Craig sat down on the ground next to him and looked up to the sky. He closed his eyes and took a much needed deep breath.
Before long, they began to head down the road. As luck would have it, it only took them a few hours down it before they could see the city in the distance. At first Craig wondered if his eyes were playing cruel tricks on him, perhaps the thirst and exhaustion finally getting to him. He knew it wasn't when Clyde announced that he saw it too. Or rather, he screamed.
Craig knew from his mother's stories that the city was one of the largest in Zaron, surrounded by a very grand mote and intricate stone walls, the highest in any human territory. Despite knowing about it in his head, as someone who only ever saw a small village of less than 200 people, nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it.
It was as if the sight of the city in the distance made the layers of filth and grime over them feel heavier. There was nothing to wipe his muddy hands and face on. His tunic may have already been brown, but the layer of dried mud over it made the original linen impossible to see. Clyde's more expensively made red tunic was in a barely better state.
Beyond clothing, his entire body felt disgusting. He was used to the stench over the course of their journey, but a guard of the city wouldn't be. The sweat on his forehead made his shaggy black hair stick to his forehead as if he just finished swimming. Thirst and heat chapped his lips until they bled. Dark circles shadowed both of the boys' exhausted eyes. All of this, plus their bone-thin bodies from the food rationing of the war, they looked more like zombies than humans.
"We were unfortunate people who just happened to pass Sundorham when everything happened," Clyde said as they approached the gate.
"No, we're two citizens of Sundorham looking for our families and neighbors. Hopefully they didn't get as pathetically lost as we did."
"You can just say you're a traveler or something. It makes sense that you'd lose your identification in the mess of things. Just be sure to make up a name or whatever, in case they have a birth registry for Craig of Sundorham."
"Clyde, enough," Craig scolded. Still, his heart pounded. His family was in the city, right? Surely they were. They were probably worried sick about him. But they'd figure things out. They would find a way to rebuild Sundorham. It would be long and hard work, but they had to.
Due to the large moat and castle walls surrounding the city, there was only one entrance into it. The iron gate was as tall as it was imposing, though it sat across from a simple, understated wooden bridge. The gate was closed-Kupa Keep's city didn't let anyone in willy nilly, especially in times of war.
"State your business," the gatekeeper demanded as the two boys approached. He wore simple yet expensive looking cloth clothing, clearly not a knight. Or at the very least, not the type Craig was familiar with. There were armor-clad knights standing around the gate on either side, tasked to defend the city from potential intruders.
Clyde reached into his pocket and tossed his stone over to the gatekeeper. "I'm Clyde, son of a merchant called Roger. This is my friend. We're citizens of the Kingdom of Kupa Keep here to give and gather information on the state of Sundorham."
The guard laughed as if it were a funny joke. "Sundorham? There isn't much 'information' about that place anymore."
Craig's chest tightened. "What do you mean by that?"
The guard continued to snicker as he closely examined the stone. After looking at it carefully from all directions, he tossed it back to Clyde. Relaxed in posture, he walked over to the gate and used the lever to raise it.
"You kids are in luck," the gatekeeper said. He signaled towards two knights standing on either side of him. "The Grand Wizard wants any information on the attacked villages. Follow the knights here and they'll take you to where you need to go. They'll give you your answers."
Giving them no time to respond, Craig and Clyde were pushed along by the knights towards the city. Craig opened his mouth to protest, but Clyde grabbed his arm and gave him a firm look not to.
Once they entered the city into the square, all thoughts in Craig's mind went blank. There were more people in his line of vision than he came across in his entire life combined. He saw women in elegant gowns like his mother described, only more detailed than he ever could have imagined. Next to them were women in rags, no different than that in his own village. There were smells he never smelled before. Store windows were full of colorful things he didn't know the use of. Merchants peddled goods in cards on the street, making transactions with people strolling past them. There were little children running with toys in the shape of animals and creatures he didn't recognize.
Of course, he couldn't stop and take any of this in. The knights pushed him and Clyde along, not caring about the sights in front of them all. They turned to a door in a tower within the great wall and nearly shoved the boys inside. It was dark and damp, lit only by torches on the wall. To the right was a large staircase that they were promptly ordered to go up in. The only staircase Craig had ever been on was to the second floor of the inn, yet this one spiraled up seemingly endlessly. They were led into a better lit room with a large candle lit table, guarded by another knight.
"Sit," a knight ordered, signaling them to two chairs. In front of each was a bowl full of water and a wet cloth. Clyde quickly abided, sitting down and washing some of the layers of grime off his face and hands. Craig sat down slowly, unsure what to make of such a thing. As soon as he was firmly planted in his chair, the two original knights turned to leave.
Craig shot up from his chair. "But what about-"
"Sit down," the same knight barked, "Someone will be with you shortly. You should clean yourself up first."
Craig balled his hands into tight fists but complied. This was stupid. Why were they sitting here? How could Clyde sit there and clean himself off without a sign of concern? Craig left his own wet rag untouched.
The wait felt like forever, but eventually a tall figure entered. He was an adult man who didn't appear to be dressed as a knight. Instead he wore intricate clothes, the most notable being a striped blue cape. He appeared to be about the age of Craig's parents with jet black hair and a mustache which, despite the apparent value of his clothes, did not appear to be neatly shaven. In fact, his entire demeanor appeared to be somewhat haggard.
"Hello boys," he said as he took a seat. There was a slight slur to his speech.
"This is stupid," Craig said flatly, "We just want to know the damage that happened to Sundorham and where all the survivors are."
"Survivors?" the man asked, his voice even more obviously slurred.
"Yes you drunk asshole. That's why we're here. We want to know what happened to Sundorham."
"Sundorham doesn't exist anymore, kid," he laughed, "The buildings were all burned to the ground. They say every last person-every last child was killed."
Craig froze, yet his heart pounded like a drum. He wouldn't be surprised if the entire city heard it. "I don't believe you. There have to be refugees that've escaped."
"Nope," the man said, "We had people check. They even got the animals. Damn magical elf fire apparently won't stop for anything. They say the current High Elf Queen is nasty, but geez."
"I don't believe you," Craig repeated. His body trembled. "People can run away. People run away from things all the time."
"Not even the knights could outrun this magic," the man said, furrowing his bushy black brows in annoyance, "The entire battalion meant to guard them were slaughtered. Knights everywhere are being slaughtered."
"How would you know anything about this magic?!" Craig said through gritted teeth.
Without hesitating, the man looked towards one of the candles in the center of the table that was unlit. He snapped his fingers, and from them came out a small orange flame. He brought his hand to the candle and lit it. It was a normal flame, unlike the multi-colored ones he saw engulf his village, but it was very clear to Craig what just happened. His eyes grew wide. The man used magic.
Craig's heart sank. All elves used magic, sure, but not humans. Especially in the Kingdom of Kupa Keep. The Grand Wizard didn't want competition, after all. They could claim it was for the peoples' safety, but everyone knew that was the real reason. The babies Craig saw being ripped away from their parents were far from a threat to his village.
They could get away with stealing magical babies of peasants, but that obviously wouldn't fly with nobility. If they were too magical then exceptions wouldn't be made, but if their abilities were enough to be useful without being a threat to the Wizard? Those lucky magical nobles would find themselves becoming some of the most powerful people in all of Kupa.
"You were saying?"
He bit his lip hard. "We escaped. We were in Sundorham when it happened!"
The man's eyebrows raised. The look almost appeared sober. "Is that true, Clyde?" he asked.
Clyde's eyes were red and puffy and he sat low in his seat. He wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeve, but the tears continued to fall. Still, he swallowed hard and tried to answer in an even voice. "Yes, I was there on business. With my dad and...friend. But I...My dad was inside the village. We were on the outskirts, opposite of the invasion. We ran away as soon as we saw it, while everyone else ran towards the city to help. That's how we got away."
"You're how old now?"
"N-Neither of us know our exact ages being c-commoners and all, but both about...fourteen, sir," Clyde sniffed.
"And you two ran together?"
"Yes," they both said in near unison.
"And you." The man looked Craig in the face. His eyes were bloodshot, but they were attentive. "Are you a peasant serf? You should know we don't allow them to come into the city gates without reason. Unless, you're wanting 'work' ."
"He's not!" Clyde interjected, standing up from his chair, "He was traveling with my family. H-He's not a merchant either though but-"
"Do you have any identification?" he asked Craig directly.
"No," Craig answered. His shaking and anger already subsided. He only felt cold. Numb.
"If you don't have identification or that you're a freeman, by Kupa Keep law you're not," the man explained, "And if you don't have a family to claim you, you're probably gonna be sent to the 'workforce'."
Craig blinked, but continued looking down at the wood table. His parents not letting the knight take him back then was for nothing, huh?
"I'm sorry. If I could help you, I would," the man said. His voice was gentle and his gaze soft.
Craig didn't care about anything he had to say. He cared about his family. His father, the hard worker who worked the fields from dawn to dusk nearly every day. Craig wasn't as close to him as his mother, the two having little in common, but he respected him. He knew at the end of the day he'd do anything to put food on the table for his family.
He cared about his mother. The beautiful young noblewoman who grew up in this very city that gave it all up for love. Others may think she was crazy for giving up her comfortable life and freedom to be a plowman's wife, but he knew she wasn't. She was wickedly intelligent and brave and did her damndest to pass that on to her children. Her necklace felt heavy on his chest.
He cared about his sister. She was cheerful that morning, nearly skipping as she left to head towards the inn. She loved it there. Even though there were few people coming through due to the war, she still enjoyed her training as innkeeper. When visitors came, even better. She loved learning about the world around her. She wanted to be a part of it, to see all of it. Craig always said she was foolish.
"Your friend is free to enter the city, though," the man said.
His mother said she'd catch up to them. Yet, she gave him her necklace before he ran. If she really thought she'd be able to catch up, why would she give it to him? Did she want to be with her daughter as the fire consumed them?
They didn't escape.
"Wait no!" Clyde stood up. The knights guarding the door came forward and approached them. One grabbed Clyde by the arm, pulling him back. Craig was apprehended, but he didn't resist.
His mother never had hope of finding their father again, Craig realized. She didn't mention him meeting up with them. He was in the fields with the cattle nearest to the city. The initial arrows came crashing down to near where he would have been.
They were gone. All three of them. Deep down, he already knew it the second he turned away from his mother and began running. He just wouldn't allow himself to believe it. Now he had no excuse.
"HE'S EDUCATED!" Clyde screamed, "He can read! If he was a peasant serf he wouldn't be able to!"
Craig looked up, as if Clyde snapped him out of a trance.
"Really?" the man asked. Craig could swear he saw his eyes light up.
"Yes," Craig answered. He sounded soulless, as soulless as he felt.
The man rummaged through a he carried. It took him a moment, but was able to fish out a large paper scroll. He handed it to Craig. "Read this."
Craig's hands were trembling , but he carefully opened it.
"By Decree of the Grand Wizard Eric Theodore Cartman, acting Head of State to Her Highness the Royal Princess Kenny," Craig read carefully but fluently through his soft voice, "In retaliation of the destruction of Kingdom lands Sundorham, Broken Arrow, and Heatherworth, the Kingdom of Kupa Keep declares absolute war on the High Elf Kingdom and seeks the death of the current reigning High Elf Queen."
Two other villages. Sundorham's destruction wasn't even an isolated incident. It was just one of many casualties. How many more would there be?
The man looked at him with big eyes and slowly took back the scroll. "Good enough for me," he said, rolling it shut with a snap.
Craig didn't even see that Clyde was let go. He wrapped his arms around Craig and sobbed into his shoulder. Craig instinctively rested his arms gently on his back. Clyde felt more relief over this situation than he did.
"Lord Marsh, with all due respect, literacy alone is not a sufficient factor in determining lineage," a knight objected.
The man-Lord Marsh's-face grew increasingly softer, his bloodshot eyes full of a look Craig couldn't describe. "I said it's enough."
"You prolly just feel bad for him because he kinda looks like your dead son," the other knight sneered, "The Grand Wizard won't like that."
In the blink of an eye, Lord Marsh raised his arm up. With a flick of his wrist, his hand ejected a bright light of energy that pushed the two knights back. They both hit the dark stone wall hard and fell limply to the store. He walked over to them both and lightly prodded them with his feet, making sure they were out cold. Craig's eyes grew wide. If this man was a "weak" magic user, he could only imagine the power of someone like the Grand Wizard. No wonder the knights didn't hold up against an army of magic elves.
"Ignore them," he said, acting as though he hadn't just used magic to knock out two knights. He walked over and stood in front of Craig, staring him down with his dark eyes. "You haven't told me your name." He reached for a large book at the edge of the table. "We need it for the registry."
Craig already felt frozen in place, but the question didn't help. Why didn't he follow Clyde's advice and come up with one? Now he couldn't think. How could he think? His hand instinctively flew up to his chest to where his mother's orange pendant was hidden beneath his muddy tunic. He felt the stone against his beating, painful chest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"Feldspar," he said. "My name is Feldspar."