Chapter 1

Fiell was once a beautiful city. Nestled at the feet of the Kearn mountain range, and boasting close to six hundred thousand people, it was the biggest city in the country of Vaeland and its de-facto capital.

It wasn’t too long ago —it had only been little more than forty five years since the invasion that destroyed the old Vaeish capital Brinhold and its sister city of Portin— that Fiell had been little more than a mountain trade settlement.

But with the mountains to the north of the city, and the Lao river, the biggest inland trading route in Vealand, bordering the southeast side of the city, it had become a refuge for the survivors of the destruction of the capital and the other coastal settlements as they had followed the life-giving river inland during their mass exodus.

It was soon after the mass settlement of the mountain outpost that the new emperor who’d saved them from the calamity that had torn down so much of their country, declared Fiell the new capital city.

The burgeoning population had exploded after that.

Growing so fast so quickly was always a stressful on a city, and though Fiell had grown, it was far from a graceful sprouting.

Buildings had shot up like untrimmed weeds, and the valley was choked with a seething mass of people. Mountain men and sailors mixed together in a strange hybrid society that was often racked with tension between the various cultures that had been forced together by the mass exodus fleeing the destruction that had nearly destroyed their nation.

Fiell’s landscape had become an odd mixture of coastal design mixed with the much more earthy mountain aesthetic. What had once been a beautiful city of rustic browns and greens was now a confused mixture of the natural mountain colors and the light blues, reds, and tans of the seaside, dotted with the lifeless greys of a military city.

It was strange mixture but it was home.

As he looked over the city from the edge of his large estate, Aris Ravenscroft breathed a contented sigh.

The sun rising over the Fiell brought the mountains to life and the buildings seemed to shimmer in the light.

Aris saw the same view every morning and each day brought something different. It was a beautiful mess. He would never tire of Fiell. The city had become a part of him.

Aris Ravenscroft spent every morning the same way, he was a man of routine, and it was a very rare occasion indeed when he did break it.

His routine brought Aris Ravenscroft comfort and stability, and as he watched the sun rise over the city, it reminded him of the beauty that surrounded him.

Some might not see the haphazard buildings and mismatching colors as pleasing, but it spoke to Aris of the power, will, and ingenuity of man. It spoke of how his people risen from the ashes of disaster and had built a whole new empire.

How was that not beautiful?

His people had nearly lost their country forty years previous and here they were in a new capital city that had grown to double the size of their former largest city. This was the land that had raised him. Fiell was truly his home.

Born to minor nobility in Brinhold nearing the end of the fall, Aris' family had lost all their lands and titles during the exodus and had immigrated west with the rest of the survivors. Aris had been in Brinhold less than a year old during their flight. Fiell was the only city that he’d ever known and Aris loved it deeply.

It was this love for his city and the country that had born him, that had spurred Aris to join the military as soon as he came of age. His attention to detail and his rigorous self-discipline had helped him rise quickly in rank.

Aris had made captain at twenty and general by the age of twenty-five. At twenty-eight he’d been so distinguished that the Emperor himself had offered Aris a position as the Deputy of Internal Security for Fiell. He protected the capital of the Veaish Empire.

Fiell was Aris Ravenscroft’s city. He was its guardian.

After taking a deep breath of the fresh morning air, he made his way to the courtyard.

It was a brisk mid-spring morning. The weather promised warmth in the afternoon and a slight chill in the evening.

Despite the coolness, Aris had only put on a vest and basic trousers, as he always did for his morning drills.

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After his daily stretches and breathing exercises, Aris grabbed the nearest Metalvine stick. Metalvine was a plant that grew in the mountain valleys of the Kearn range in abundance, and was prized for its endurance, strength, and flexibility. It was taken while still green and whittled into a roughly two foot long stick and then slowly tempered over a low flame until it had a hardness close to that of iron, thus the name of the weapon.

“A clear, focused mind, a love for my leader and unquestioning dedication to my nation,” Aris mentally repeated the mantra as he started practicing his morning kata.

After half an hour of forms Aris called on one of his guards, all of whom had master rank in Falis, to spar with him.

The martial art had many forms, but every one focused on angles of attack. They taught intercepting and trapping angles of attack. It was perfect for the close quarters combat that Fiell required. Every member of the city guards under Aris was trained to deadly precision with use of the Metalvine.

His Falis training didn’t stop there though. Each city guard had to be lethal in unarmed combat as well. Aris demanded nothing less from his men.

The sparring started easy, but as the two warmed up, the pace quickened and the fighting began in earnest.

Aris and his guardsman exchanged blows and bruises with each other, testing each-other’s guards and strengths. After a series of parried blows, Aris saw an opening as the guard stepped in with high sideways blow aimed at the his temple. With the grace of years of practice behind him, Aris drove under the wide blow, caught the guardsman’s arm and trapped his opponents lead hand to his side and then delivered a series of blows to his partners ribs as he stepped behind him, locking his shoulder. He playfully tapped the back of the guard’s neck with his Metalvine, letting him know that if he’d wished, his opponent would be dead from a spine crushing blow.

After half an hour more of sparring Aris called it quits for the morning. He allowed himself a small smirk of satisfaction as he wiped away his sweat and headed to the baths.

“It’s good to know I still have it,” he thought.

At forty-four years old Aris was beginning to slow, and was starting to know the true meaning of feeling something in your bones, so his mastery of the martial art was a boon to his spirits. He was glad to know that he could still take out masters half his age despite the age that was starting to slow him down.

*****

“Daddy!” Aris’ young twin daughters, Elan and Elise cried as they charged into his arms when he entered the dining room for breakfast.

“Good morning little darlings, did you give nanny Syra any trouble this morning when she was getting you ready?” he asked as he winked conspiratorially to his little ones.

“Oh we would never do such a thing,” Replied Elise, the more talkative of the two, while Elan giggled at the lie.

“You better be careful or Syra might just give you two to the cook so your mother and I can have a little extra meat for breakfast,” Aris replied, eliciting a series snorting giggles from the twins.

“Why don’t we just toss them in the oven now?” a soft but earthy voice called out.

With a smile Aris turned to see his favorite sight in the world; the face of his lovely wife Corrine. “I suppose we could do that,” he replied as he embraced his wife of twelve years.

“Good morning love,” she said, stepping in and squeezing Aris tight and playfully giving him a pinch on his bottom. “How was your sparring today? Did you realize that you’re getting too old and should learn to take it easy?”

“I doubt that will ever happen dear. I’ll still be just as stubborn in my nineties the blessed emperor willing I live that long,” Aris replied, giving Corrine a smooch, eliciting giggles from their young twins. “Weren’t you saying we should toss them in the pot for breakfast?” He asked as he swooped and grabbed his daughters in each arm.

They screamed in delight.

“Sadly it looks like they’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning. The cooks have already finished preparing breakfast,” Corrine replied as one of the cooks, a young twenty-something maiden who was just freshly married to one of Aris’ guardsmen stepped into the room and informed them that breakfast was ready to be served.

“Where’s Sephira?” Aris asked as they sat down at the table to eat.

“She said she was feeling ill this morning, so she didn’t want to come down,” came Corrine’s reply.

Sephira was Aris’ niece, the daughter of his disgraced brother who had spoken out against the Lord Emperor. Van’s hatred for the Emperor had always been a point of contention between the brothers. Aris’ older brother had insisted that the Lord Emperor wasn’t who he said he was, but he was never willing to say any more than that.

Despite his idiotic and frankly, dangerous opinions, Aris had sworn to never abandon his older brother, but despite the best Aris had done to try to convince Van of his foolishness, his part in the rebellion had ended up getting him captured and killed.

Sometimes Aris still ached when he thought of those days.

It was while he was still in mourning for his recently passed brother that Aris had met Corrine.

Aris had already taken in his brother’s daughter Sephira —who after her father’s execution had been orphaned— and started to raise her as his own when he’d first met Corrine.

It hadn’t been easy at first, but it wasn’t long before he wooed Corrine and she joined Aris on his life journey and for that could never be thankful enough.

Aris still remembered when he’d first saw her. He’d felt an instant connection. It was as if he had known her for years, and in the first meeting of their eyes, he knew that she felt the same way.

After a year of courting they married and Sephira had taken to Corrine as if she were her own mother. After six more years of marriage the twins had come along, and though they'd feared that Sephira would think that she was losing her place as their daughter, she’d naturally fallen into the role, and her little cousins adored her and never thought of her as anything other than their big sister.

“Do you think we need to bring her to a physician? She seems to be be falling ill quite often,” Aris asked.

“I don’t know,” Corrine replied with an edge of worry in her voice.

“Well, something needs to be done for her. Can you keep me up to date?”

Corrine nodded and the couple made light conversation for the rest of their breakfast then she gave her husband a kiss as he departed for work.