CHRONICLE
BOOK ONE: LYDIA
PART ONE: OUT OF THE GOLDEN CITY
Chapter three: Plotting
Present Day
The priest had stopped writing hours ago. He had meant to polish up the notes he had taken earlier, but now that he was reading the diary in detail, he couldn't help but to be drawn in by it. There was a broad gap in time between entries as he went on, as though Lydia had lost interest for a time after she turned eight. Then they came back in full force when Lydia was eleven.
The priest saw something that startled him before- he had marked the page for reference and was going back to it now. It was something that twelve-year old Lydia had written down that suggested something incredible. At first, she just called it 'that night'. It was something that she wrote down in detail apparently some time after it had happened. Something she didn't know about until she was much older. The priest read the handwritten words over and over, making sure he was absolutely certain before making any conclusions.
Lydia and her family fled the city as Herobrine faced down crowds of angry people in the golden city- what was it called?- Luminara. That was 'city of light' in an old tongue. That implied several things- first of all, Herobrine was not completely evil. Not in the way some people thought. The priest thought back to the rumors that had spread from the East out of the desert- the ones that began with a very old Son of Steve, possibly the last one alive. What was his name? The priest couldn't remember.
Someone was knocking on the door to his room in the inn. The priest shut the diary in annoyance.
"Yes?" he called, and a young white-robed man walked in. One of the apprentices in the town. "What is it?" The priest tried not to be too prickly after being disturbed.
"I have the reports you sent for," he said, withdrawing a roll of papers from his sleeve and handing them to the priest. The priest thanked the young man, and sent him away again.
"Can you tell anyone else that I need to be left alone for a while? Perhaps a 'do not disturb' sign on the door? I need time to focus." the priest asked.
"I'll see what I can do," the man answered, and left, shutting the door behind him. The priest took a look at the roll of pages he now held in one hand.
These were several accounts from various kingdoms in the domain of the Sons of Steve. Few were actually written by the Steves themselves- few survived long enough to tell their tales. The priest leafed through the reports and then threw them down on the desk in exasperation. All of them said the same thing, over and over with few real answers. Then he stopped for a moment. One of the reports...
He picked it up again. It was marked 'Fall of Arrenvale'. The name on the signature was one that he knew he recognized, he just couldn't remember where. He checked the diary, in the back near the last pages. Yes, that was the name. Corren. This report was written by a Steve- the nephew of this very Lydia, in fact. There was no mistaking it- all the facts matched when he checked.
The priest decided to take another look at the places in the diary. He looked at the date on the report- 339. It was written this year. Maybe he would be able to meet Corren in person. That would help things, surely.
The priest made careful note of the locations of his destinations, and then packed up his things. His donkey awaited him outside. Scrambling up onto the saddle, the priest made for Lydia's homestead in the mountains.
Perhaps he could sort out exactly what happened in the tragedy fifty years ago.
Year 252 F.E. (First Era)
There are some things that were never recorded in the green diary. Many truths, and many devious plots lying under the surface of what was commonly known. Lydia never knew what began that night before she and her family fled the city, but what happened that night was earthshaking. The Overworld was never the same again.
The courier slipped down the alleyways of Luminara as quickly as he could, avoiding the pools of torchlight from the windows and the street lamps. His message was rolled up and tucked in his shirt. Nothing moved on the streets around him- it was deadly quiet. The quiet ruffled him. It made him think that he would be more easily caught. If anyone was watching him...No. No one was watching him. Even if someone was, he could think of an excuse. A friend of his had left something at his house, and he couldn't wait until morning to return it...
After a few more breathless strides, the messenger turned a corner and flattened himself against the wall, waiting for his breath to slow. He strained his ears listening for any sound of a pursuer or a trail, but the night remained heavily silent. Good. The man peeled himself off the wall and stalked to the third door down, tapping a pattern of beats on the wood with his fingertips. Someone immediately cracked open the door.
"Who hails in the starlight?" A gruff voice called. 'Starlight' was the codeword. The messenger softly cleared his throat.
"One who would like to get out of the fog." he answered. 'Fog' was the response if he was confident he had not been tracked or followed. If he had, he would have answered 'rain'.
"Enter." the voice said, and the door opened fully to allow the man inside. The messenger stepped gratefully into the light, and the door shut behind him.
The messenger stood in a large common room with a roaring fire in the brick fireplace at the end of the room and a pair of benches just before the blaze. There were four other men in the room. One leaned on the warm bricks by the fire, a tall, burly man in a cyan shirt and blue pants. He had the marks of a miner, and a scratched diamond pick leaned against the wall beside him. Another was pacing the room behind the benches, wearing dark pants and a the green tunic of a forester. There was another sitting stiffly on one of the benches in the same uniform. A man in red lounged easily on the other bench.
"Our messenger has arrived," the pacing forester announced, and the other three looked up at the courier. That was the gruff voice that had opened the door for him.
"Let's see it," the miner impatiently grumbled. The messenger fumbled for the scroll in his shirt, handing it to the forester. The man snatched it immediately in one leather-gloved hand and unrolled it, reading aloud.
"The southern quarter has started sending out guards to keep the peace. The rangers of the forest have been asked to help guard the borders of the Kingswatch construction site, and I now give the order to move the bands away from that sector for the time being.
The street hands have been hard at work in the city council, and unrest is growing against H. I have received word from L, keep harrying the satellite settlements to the North.
Be ready in three days. L is coming here."
The forester rolled up the scroll as his companions gawked.
"He's coming here?!" the seated forester exclaimed. "Ari, you know what this means-"
"Of course I do," Ari said nonchalantly, tossing the scroll into the fire. "Amand, come sit down." The messenger carefully came to the bench where the red-shirted man moved over to make room.
"Don't get too worked up, Jortis," The miner warned. "He doesn't like doubt you know. Remember what happened to Surya?" Jortis shivered. A mine had collapsed only a few weeks earlier, and Surya, the only one of the group to try and leave, had been crushed to death. Beor, the big miner that stood in the room now, had witnessed it happen, and had known exactly who was responsible. Ari turned and faced the group, the firelight gleaming in his black hair.
"Now, this is what I have planned to do..." Ari began.
Through the entire meeting, none of the men realized they had an eavesdropper on the roof, listening through the chimney. The tall, dark-eyed figure rose from his perch as the men emerged from the building in pairs and went off into the night, and focused on the black-haired forester.
He had been watching these meetings for some time now, not knowing exactly how to act. It had all begun with just a few rogues vanishing into the countryside, but now there were men like this in the city. Men like this who would bring about the downfall of his people. He had to act. There was no longer any time. They would overthrow his laws and his appointed leaders, and bring the peace of the city crashing down. He was reluctant at first, but deep in his heart there was a growing anger. Better to follow the anger, he reasoned, then that other feeling. That black pit of guilt and regret. These were his people- was it his fault they became this way? Herobrine brushed the thought aside. He needed to move. The man was getting away.
Breathing in deeply, Herobrine lifted off of the roof tiles and floated gently in the air, just a few fingers up in the air. Silent as a shadow, he stayed low to the rooftops as he trailed the black-haired man, waiting for the messenger to leave him and catch him on his own.
Herobrine narrowed his eyes. This was the man- the leader of this group. He would use this one to find the one really orchestrating the growing evil.
The black haired man-Ari, he said his name was- said farewell to the messenger at a crossroads, and walked alone down the main thoroughfare in the bright pools of light of the street lamps. Herobrine flew silently ahead of him, confident he would not be seen with the lights below, and dropped down into an unlit alleyway. He drew out his pick, waiting with his back to the wall for the man to pass.
Footsteps scraped on the stones just before the corner. Herobrine whirled his pick out into the open, hooking the man across the chest, and yanked him into the alley. Instantly, he had his hand over the man's mouth and the pick firmly secured so that the forester couldn't use his arms. The forester grunted and struggled, and instantly froze as Herobrine turned his head far enough to see his face.
"Shh," Herobrine whispered. "I wouldn't need you waking the city. As a matter of fact, you wouldn't either. Not with what I know." Ari paled. "That's right. The raids from the forest. The missing children. You saw what happened to the men who kidnapped them. You saw what I did at the shrines. And do you know what will happen to the man that gave the order?" The forester visibly swallowed, but he looked Herobrine steadily in the eye. He was confident in himself, Herobrine had to give him that.
"You can save yourself, perhaps," Herobrine mused, moving so that he had the man pinned with his back against the wall. "There is one last piece of the puzzle I need. One more name I have not yet located. I will, eventually, without help, but I would prefer to do things quickly. Who sent you that note?" And who is L? But he left that much unsaid. Better find that out from the next one. Herobrine pried his hand off the man's jaw. Ari smirked.
"Whatever I tell you isn't going to change much for me." Ari said in a low, mocking voice. "This city needs change- and we don't need you." Herobrine slapped him in the face.
"A name, Ari," Herobrine spat, "And nothing more. Allow me to make this clear- you will die here and now if you do not." Ari rolled his head back up to face Herobrine again.
"Will I?" Ari retorted. "You'll probably want me to lead you to the rat hole- no, you won't kill me-" Ari jerked suddenly, shoving out against the pick holding him in place and then back again, and then down. Herobrine's pick rattled against the wall with the man suddenly gone, rolling himself off the ground and running out onto the street. Herobrine followed.
The clever forester, however fast he was, was no match for Herobrine. Herobrine flew up over his head and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, lifting him up and up into the air, high over the city. Ari gasped but did not scream. He immediately went rigid, grasping the collar of his tunic with both hands.
Herobrine went far enough that they left the city itself and came upon a small lake. Herobrine dropped Ari, and the forester howled as he fell and splashed down into the water. Then the god watched with contempt as the man swam desperately for shore, and dropped down on the sand just as the man dragged himself out of the water.
"It seems you underestimated how serious I am," Herobrine said softly in a tone that gave Ari chills. He slowly approached the man, who scrambled to his feet and started unconsciously backing away. "You and all the others you work with are trying to destroy the peace I have made. Don't bother with explaining-" He interjected when Ari opened his mouth. "I already know. You want more than this, and not just for yourselves. You want less for others, too. You want to be above other people, the ones you call weak and useless. But you are equal to them in my eyes- I created all of you. Do not try to hide this from me. Who is your leader, who sent you a messenger and a note tonight?" Ari spat at him.
With a wordless cry, Ari charged at Herobrine with his fists raised. Herobrine dodged aside, but Ari attacked again, picking up a large fallen limb. Herobrine arced his pick around and knocked it away. On the backstroke, the sharp end of the pick drove into Ari's chest and flattened him on the ground. He coughed once, shuddered, and was still.
Herobrine sighed. This was not the first time he had dealt with this. He had captured numerous conspirators, judged them, and often as not, executed them. He had closed off mines and created restrictions to winnow out the evildoers. But he found himself no closer to the root of the problem. Not for the first time, he wished his brother were here. While Herobrine could not see fully into the hearts of men, Notch could. It would be so much simpler, if only he were on the Overworld.
Removing his diamond pick, now glistening red, he dropped it aside and let one hand hover over the dead man's heart, close but not touching. A faint light drew out of the wound, gathering into a tight sphere under Herobrine's hand. This was the man's soul, and all he could do now, was send it on its way to be judged by his brother. Lifting his hand, he sent the orb into the skies where it would rise to the Aether, to await Notch.
"Now, you bastard, I'll make proper use of you." Herobrine muttered. "You know who to seek out. Now you'll spend the rest of eternity destroying the very evil you allied with. Go, and know you can never touch innocent blood again." Herobrine drew power from his mental reserves and pushed it in a steady stream into the lifeless body. The eyes darkened, and the skin fell loose and rotting. The corpse became reanimated, and Herobrine sent it in the direction he knew a band of raiders camped. Other bodies followed, rising up out of the dirt, fueled by Herobrine's rage.
He could not find the leader- but he could show whoever it was his power. His hand had been forced. Now it was time to teach his opponent not to play with life and death. That was the game at which Herobrine was best at.
And he wasn't yet finished. He flew up into the air once more, landing in a desert basin. Many cacti stood in the lonely sands. Herobrine went up to one and let it animate just as the body had before. The plant at once sent out vines that wrapped into four small feet. As a subtle touch, Herobrine gave it openings that imitated an expression of anguish.
"Go and spread your spores." Any evildoer that met with one of these would find a nasty surprise- the plant would explode, killing its attacker and spreading spores to grow more. Another creature followed- a spider, enhanced to man-size. No walls could keep such a creature out.
Herobrine would protect all of his people from these horrors. He swore that night that no righteous man or woman or child would come to harm from his new creation, but any that shunned his laws and his protection would find themselves swarmed by the deadly creatures of the night.
Wearied, Herobrine flew once again into the starry skies, back to Luminara.
He had warned the rangers of this ahead of time- he was confident that any that needed to know what he was doing would know. He decided to get some rest with his work done- he had an appointment the next day with one of his loyal followers, and his two delightful children.
Herobrine thought of little Lydia and smiled.
If only more of my people were still like you.
A dark figure watched Herobrine fly past and nodded in satisfaction. Herobrine, he thought, was so predictable. Everything was going just as planned. Then he vanished without a trace.
Ooh, this is getting fun! Who sent that letter? Who is this "L"? What does it mean? Things are definitely starting to heat up around here! Maybe this will clear up some of the things that happened in the wars and the fall of you-know-who. (I never dreamed writing prequels could be so much fun!)
We have...wait for it... MONSTERS! Now what?! Things are about to get messy!
I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I liked writing it. If you did, please leave a REVIEW. I have a goal of FIFTY (count 'em, 50) reviews before I finish Book One of the Chronicle. Can I make it? That's up to you! Fifty reviews, and make 'em good! The more I get, the faster I update (and the more I add.) Any extra details and characters you want me to toss in and play with? I'll need them before long. (Think about it. I've got a whole city of people about to start a civil war. I need extra character ideas- I can't just pull these out of a hat.) Leave that in a review. I'll see what I can add.
See you next chapter! Huntress out.