The Bloodprince (Discontinued)

Chapter 1 - A hasty departure (remaking)

Map: http://img15.imgspot.com/?u=/u/06/308/16/MapChapter11162762178.jpg
Arin: http://img15.imgspot.com/?u=/u/06/309/09/Arin1162822366.jpg
Teros: http://img15.imgspot.com/?u=/u/06/309/09/Teros1162822401.jpg

Chapter 1 - A hasty departure

Version 0.5 - 6th November 2006
Version 0.6 - 7th November 2006 - After review by caliope (Thanks!)

Winter was on just around the corner waiting to enter the Westlands, and the first snow had already been sighted in the Mandor province. In the Daco province they yet had that to wait for, but the weather was getting harder. This night it was raining hard and the wint whisked it all around, making the muddy trail that ran through the village of Demon's Edge look like a swamp. It was not a weather for traveling, but this particular night in such a bad storm twelve horsemen were making their way into the city. One of them carried a water-soaked banner depicting a large dragon spitting fire - Soldiers from one of the Dragonlegions. From the safety in their houses the villagers could see how the group slowly made progress through the village. They looked like they had all the time in the world. The strangest part was that they did not stop to visit the local church and the cult priest. No, they kept on riding toward the landlord's farm a few miles north.

At the farm Teros straightened and leaned back from the table he was sitting at with a heavy sigh. Why couldn't he find sleep? He had spent hours now sitting in the study trying to read a book. He was tired, but something nagged him and kept him awake. Like if someone constantly slapped his face to make sure he didn't close his eyes. A sudden gust of cool wind made him shudder and he glanced at over at the fireplace, only to find it dark and silent.
"Bloody..." he muttered and stood up to walk over there, but toppled over the candle at the table because of his rash movements. Luckily the flamewas extinguished, but the candle itself fell to the floor on the opposite side of the table.
"For the love of it all!" he moaned and clenched his fists in anger. Why was everything turning it's back to him?
"I'm miserable, useless and with no future at all..." he said frustrated.
Teros was the youngest son of three to Lord Korgan, the landlord of the area called Pinetree Valley, and thus he had no future on the farm, unless he wanted to become an assistant to his older brothers for life. The eldest brother, Moran, would become the new landlord and would be the political chief in Pinetree Valley. His other brother, Gaar, was a good merchant, and would be responsible for the farm's economy in the future. Teros had no future here... His hope right now was to go to the Imperial City and maybe study to become a priest, or ask permission of the Cult to become one of the Dragonsworn. He was not much for becomming a priest, but he neither liked the thought of being a Dragonsworn either.
Dragonsworn were people who swore to uphold the laws of the Three Dragons and to protect the churches around the world. They were caretakers of the churches and made sure they were in good condition. Some were lucky enough to be sent to one of the Dragonlegions, and others could be sent to train amongst the Flameguards; elite soldiers and protectors of the Dragon Cult.

No matter what, his life was miserable! Teros bent down to find the candle but stopped dead in his tracks as his eye catched some strange markings on the floor. Most of the floor on the study was covered by a large carpet from the Thunder Throne. The carpet was heavy and it had been there for as long as Teros could remember and now he discovered this! Most of the markings on the floor were hidden by the big carpet, but some of them were just visible at the edge.
Teros leaned closer and strained his eyes to make out what it was. The only light in the room was to torches hanging on the wall, and they were not nearly enough. He grabbed the candle and quickly went to the torch where he lighted it anew, and returned to the spot with the markings. He could now just see the markings that were not hidden by the carpet. They were very faint and not carved into the floor. More like if they were painted. But when Teros rubbed his fingers on them, nothing happened.
"Strange..." he whispered and straightened a bit. The markings that were clear looked like an old symbol for the sun. A symbol now illegal in the Mandorian Empire. It were the old Solarian symbol for the sun. A circle in the middle with lines stretching outwards. The lines symbolized the light that came from the sun and one of them was longer than the others. Teros didn't know much about the Solari; the subject was forbidden.
Slowly he lifted the carpet to reveal more of the drawings. The patterns that emerged were complex and had no meaning to his eyes. No matter what they were illegal and he couldn't understand why his father would have such symbols on his floor in the study? Was he secretly honering the old Solari and their belief? Teros couldn't believe it. What should he do? Report his own father to the authorities? Now that would make him look well in the eyes of his brothers... But maybe it would help him in his quest further? No! Such thoughts were disgusting! He couldn't report his own father. They were family, and family stick together.
Suddenly Teros heard faint footsteps in the hall outside. He quickly put the carpet back in place and placed the candle on the table. He had just grabbed the book and taken a few steps toward the bookshelf, when the door opened and his father entered.
"Teros? Now why in the name of the Dragons are you up this late?" he chuckled and closed the door behind him. Teros was dumbfounded and tried to find something to say.
"Its a beautiful carpet, father..." No! Wrong! He should have kept his mouth shut!
"Are you allright, Teros?" Korgan asked and looked at his son with kind eyes. Teros grabbed a hold of himself and pushed his worries aside.
"Yes, father. I just had trouble sleeping, so I decided to try and read a little," he said and pressed a faint smile.
"I see... Well I sometimes have trouble sleeping as well. There are so many things troubling me at times. And sometimes I wish I were back in Rigorwell. At least I did something I was good at back then..." Teros' father sighed and looked at one of the paintings on the wall. It was of the grand city of Rigorwell, pearl of the south, as it was called. Teros glanced down at the carpet again.
"You never told us quite what happened at that last fight, father..." Teros said and studied his fathers features as he was enjoying the painting.
"It is hard to talk about. I lost most of my friends that day. We were proud and foolish to stand against the enemy."
"How can it be foolish to protect what is yours?" Teros asked and walked to the fireplace to try and light a fire.
"Because the price can sometimes match the prize... And what did we gain from one battle?"
"I remember you telling us once, that hope was one of the greatest prizes you could win, and that it was almost always worth the fight?" Korgan chuckled and seemed lost in memories of the past. Teros had taken a torch and had started ignited the wood in the fireplace. As he straightened his eyes fell on the wall infront of him. His father's uniform from the time he served as a High-Captain of the Rigorwell army, during the War of Istar, hung there shining and beautiful as ever. In his childhood days, Teros had bragged about his father being one of the heroes of the war, and one of the highliest decorated and respected High-Captains of the Empire. If he ever got a chance to win such respect himself, he would grab it, and he couldn't see what was troubling his father.
"We had met the advancing army two times one the battlefield, and both times had cost a good number of lives. The High-Lord ordered us to retreat to Rigorwell and meet the enemy on the walls, but they were well-prepared. They cut off our sea-routes, and soon we were out of food. During a series of attacks they killed many of us because we began to be tired and too hungry to put up a sturdy resistance. Their army was about seven thousand men strong, and our numbers were being reduced at a quick pace." Korgan halted and bit his lip. Seemingly remembering things that hurt his heart. Teros put the torch back in place of glanced at the uniform once again. There were twelve provinces, and each were led by a High-Lord and a High-Captain. High-Lords were the only nobles allowed a private standing army of two thousand men. Korgan had been one of these; a powerful man.
"As our numbers fell I began enlisting civilians who wanted to fight as well. I gave them the arms and armor of the dead soldiers. But those men were no good on the walls, and after a week a thousand civilians had been slain and no more wanted to enter my service. It came down to me and the last three hundred soldiers. The High-Lord had been killed during one of their attacks, and I had to do something. Either surrender or put up a strong fight. I choose to fight, and promised my soldiers honor and eternal glory.
Then came the day where the enemy wanted to make they final attack, and I had no intention of trying to meet them from the walls. We fell back to the palace and position at the gatehouse, line after line ready to repell them as they came. They tried to break us three times, but each time they were beaten and forced to retreat and plan a new attack. At the same time they burned down houses and looted to city, but that was their weakness. As the third attack was repelled, we ran forward and hunted them. They were unorganized and confused as their own men fled in all directions, and soon we had the upperhand. We drove them out the gate and unto the plains where we saw them scatter in all directions. That day they lost two thousand men, and were split. We succeeded in capturing their general and a couple of his closest officers. They were executed and we could sit down and enjoy the fruits of our victory; which were none. Sure we had survived, but only 50 of us remained, and if they decided to attack again, we would be doomed. Fate had it that after three days the Dragonsworn came from the south and helped us find the remaining troops hiding on the plains of Daco. I lost so many friends and loyal soldiers, and Rigorwell was burning and half destroyed by their siege equipment. Many civilians had been killed or died because of famine and decease. I didn't feel like we had won, but instead just prolonged the pain."

Bwabwabwa

As the lights from the farm faded behind them, the thirteen riders rode slowly along the dirt path northward. It was cold and windy, but even then, the thoughts of a new life filled Teros' mind to the fully. He still was a little shocked, because it had all happened so quickly. Looking at the general in front of him, he could only smile and shake his head in disbelief. He was riding on a dirt road, in the middle of the night, with one of the most powerful men in the Empire, on his way to become a Legate. But there were also other things to consider. Legates were there to make sure that the Dragon Lords did not begin to act on their own accord. Why would one of the lords actually want a boy to become a Legate? It was not an answer he could find now and here. Maybe it would come later...

Next part will be: Chapter 2 - Trouble in Westport