Arthur
How We Roll Winner
Dec14
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Alverlance
Prologue
An unusually peaceful winter night it was, bearing much resemblance to the ones that people mostly witnessed around the mountainous regions of the country of Orvestraal. Something was different today, there was an eerie calmness in the airs of Geirmuth, the massive seaside city that sat at the western edge of the mainland. The peaceful sounds that the Sea of Loren made in its many little ways only added to the peace.
The City of Geirmuth was asleep this night, a very rare phenomenon that confirmed the very fact that the Dread Wars between the Danavas and Humans had finally ended after almost two decades. The chaos that had arisen in the war’s wake had settled down and the land of Orvestraal was once again at peace. Many men had lost their lives, and still many were injured. These soldiers were the only battle scars that had remained even two years after the war had seen its end. However, these were all things of the past, things only to be forgotten. A new dawn was at hand.
Somewhere in this massive city sat a tiny shack made only of bricks and straw, unlike the many big stone houses that surrounded it. Inhabiting this little shack was a middle aged youth who only presently had fallen asleep at his very study as he wrote a review on the book, “My Travels: Alverlance, Volume One”, a world famous epic written by Head Scribe and adventurer Mailay Alcoff. The man had authored a number of fine travelogues and childrens’ tales in the past, but Alverlance was one of his most recent books, a trilogy that he had written over a course of nine years during which he had stayed with the Danavas.
A cold breeze suddenly blew in through the open shutters and ruffled the pages of this weared-down leather book, its yellow pages proof that it had been read through many a times by fervent readers and adventurers alike. The wind turned the pages until it died down and all was still again.
The pages of the book finally settled down on the five hundredth page.
“~The Fifteenth of Chapters~”
“The Treachery”
It read. The words that followed were of an account written in blood, an account that had etched for itself a place both in the legendary and equally bloody “Book of Bloodletting: Accounts Across Time”, and also in the minds of the many children who wouldn’t shut their eyes at night without first listening to a fine bedtime story.
“‘King Balvigor,’ the young Danava entered the Danava King’s study. “I have an important message from the Emissary of the Southern Fortress.”
“Ah. Young Kaime, it is good to lay my eyes upon you after so long. Where have you been these past few months?” ,King Balvigor stood up from his wooden stool where he sat looking out the window at the moon.
He walked up to the young page and embraced him wrapping him in his own massive arms. Then he parted and stood back admiring the Danava boy.
‘I... I have been adventuring out in the world. As instructed by Your Highness, I have been meeting the humans and talking to them. I... I believe your message of coexistence with the humans is worthy of further propagation and so, I have been out on this very venture.”
“Ah,” the King’s pale, old face lightened up at the boy’s words. “You make an old man happy with your thoughtfulness. I shall certainly give you some of my own gold before I die just to show you how grateful I am that you are doing your part to help my venture. Now, what have you brought me?”
The boy shuffled at the spot as he drew from within his pocket a black envelope with the Steward’s Seal on it. It was clearly from King Balvigor’s brother, Steward Ailan who was responsible for looking over the massive city of Alverlance in the King’s absence. He had situated his fortress at the southern end of Alverlance while the King’s own fortress was at the northern end with the towering mountains at it’s back.
‘An important letter from your brother. He says that it’s most urgent that you read it now.’ The page, Kaime said in his shrill, childlike tones.
The King took the letter from the boy and tore open the seal revealing a tiny rolled up parchment within. He unrolled it and read.
“Look out the window...”
This was the very short message written in Ailan’s own handwriting.
As instructed by the message, the old King turned and walked towards the window that overlooked the city of Alverlance, then called Danavara.
He stopped right in front of it and looked out at the the city beneath.
Shwock! Shwock! Shwock!
A trio of arrows whizzed towards the window and embedded themselves in the King’s breast even as a sharp, and excruciating pain shot down his higher back drawing from within him a cry of sorrow.
He turned around even as he desperately grabbed onto the edge of the window only to find that Kaime, his trusty young page had stabbed him with a black, jewelled dagger. The boy stood there, smiling a malicious smile.
‘Success... At last’, the boy skipped about in his excitement. “Master Ailan, I have carried out your order...!”
“W...Why?” The King slowly edged back towards the window.
‘For our honor... Your Highness...’ The boy stood back and bowed low.
“TRAITOR...!” The King sighed as he keeled off the edge of the window. As he fell, he saw a dark shadow entering the room.
The last thing he heard before he died was the loud blaring of war horns and drums. Were they celebrating his death?
All went black.”
Back at Geirmuth, the youth jerked upright from his sleep. He was covered in sweat and breathing heavily.
“What a terrifying nightmare...!”
He shut the book and went away.
***
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