C’gere
Minor Skyland Settlement
Population 377
“I apologize Prince Michael, we all talked it over but we are small settlement. Our neutrality is the only thing that keeps us in good standing with merchants as well as keeping pirates from pillaging our dear city. Joining your Empire is just… It could spell the end for us.” The old man, a dark skinned grey haired man whose clasped hands shake uncontrollably says, though from his confident tone doesn’t appear to be from fear. He stands firm on the edge of the small floating island opposite another who sits perched on the chair of a large white and gold but slightly damaged warship, that has made this aerial island its most recent stop. A mere three feet of open air separates the ship from the land of C’gere.
His conversational adversary, the prince, quietly swallows a sip of whiskey that had circled his short clear glass as he waited, watched and listened. Michael, a man in his early thirties sat silent as the gentle breeze shifted his golden shoulder length hair across his pure white imperial uniform, its gold trim and buttons reflecting the light of the morning sun.
“The Empire can provide you with everything you will ever need; protection, resources, manpower, sunspark. Any outlaws would be quickly dealt with permanently. All you have to do is submit. You can retain your lives, your individual laws, be left in peace if that is what you desire. But the Empire is the future Mr. Briche. Surely you must see it.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“Prince Michael, I assure you, we have discussed your terms fully with all members of C’gere. Your Empire is just not what we want to be apart of.”
Michael gently rolls his glass in his hand, the whiskey reaching the rim as it spins but never leaving the confines of its glass prison.
“When I was eight years old, I went skinny dipping with a lovely young girl named Penelope Swayd in the glowing lake of Liniastala; an innocent adventure for two young children at the time. Swimming and splashing around the bioluminescent waters under a crimson moon of a hot night.” Michael’s head twitched slightly though his eyes remained focused on the old man.
“My father was furious of course when he found us, a bear of a man redder than the moon above glaring down upon me. Soaking wet and standing before him naked as the day I was born, he grabbed my arm and pulled me close and in his usual gruff, though suppressed voice said, “even lions must stay vigilant with the sheep, for the wolves are rarely far away.” You are but one of many skyland settlements in a vast world. How long do you think you can survive without the Empire?”
Briche raises his brow and nods slightly, his hands separating and palms turning upward.
“Yes… But as I stated Prince Michael, we simply cannot do as you asked. I hope we can put this matter behind us and move forward.”
“Of course; well then, Mr. Briche, it seems our business here is concluded.”
Michael stands, raises his hand and snaps his fingers. Instantaneously an eruption of screams from men, women and children are quickly silenced as the entire landmass of C’gere just falls out of the sky and down into the endless mass of black clouds below. The captain and crew watch in shock while Michael turns and with a face bereft of emotion gives his order to the captain, “Set a new course, the pale drift: Enaia settlement.”
The captain and his command staff salute, turn and walk off into the ship. Michael reaches into his inner breast pocket and pulls out a bloodstained wax sealed envelope bearing his family crest, the Mystralwing, a mythical bird of ice and water and eyes it angrily. His thumb traces the blood stain across the surface and looks out toward the horizon as his heavenly cape begins to flap in the increasing wind.