Year 3043 AGD
Month: Preparation
Night of the Third Day
Continent of Terroval
City of Safeharbor
Royal Palace
“Nim, you scoundrel, where have you been hiding?”
“Obviously not where I should have been,” Nim said with a scowl.
“You know that Theodrik had to do that for the nobles to accept you as an advisor. Why, it would be scandalous to have Nim, the artist, bard, and most financially endowed bachelor of Safeharbor, advising the king. None of us has ever asked you where you acquired such a vast wealth, either. Now you see, though, that your nobility makes all of your talents laudable,” the queen said, smiling.
“Well, if I told you where I got most of my wealth, you probably wouldn’t believe it. Not that I’d tell you, anyway.”
“Spoilsport,” the queen said affectionately.
“Come now mother, leave Nimus alone.” Nim winced visibly again at the sound of his full name. “If you aren’t careful, she’ll have you betrothed before morning to one of the ladies in waiting,” the prince said in feigned confidentiality.
The queen’s eyebrow quirked like she hadn’t thought of that idea, and she opened her mouth to say something to Nim. Victor saw Nim struggling for an excuse to change the subject rapidly, so he figured it was a good time for him to interject.
“Nim, I know you’re distracted by the title announcement and all, but it feels rude of me to stand here listening to your conversations without a proper introduction.”
Nim gave an audible sigh of relief when the queen seemed to forget what she had been about to say and focused her attention on the boy in front of her. Not only did the queen look at him, but his voice seemed to have carried throughout the room, and his declaration was met by what seemed to be a lull in the various conversations. However, Victor knew that they had all been secretly listening to the conversation between Nim and the queen. A few of the members of the Council moved forward to become part of the group as the queen scrutinized Victor.
“Ah yes, I suppose you are right,” Nim said as he turned so that only Victor could see his face and mouthed Thank you.
“It is not of consequence, my lord,” Victor said, referring to the thank you and the spoken reply to his interjection.
“Little consequence! I think not. Who be ye, boy?” Dodrick Flanteel said to Victor.
“This ‘boy’ is my adopted son,” Nim replied in a flat tone to the high wizard and those assembled.
Victor knew that the royalty and the senior members of the knights and mages of the Protectorate possessed a great self-will, and they had also been trained not to let their emotions show. Looking around the room, however, he realized that must not fall into play in private settings. He noticed that besides himself and Nim, there wasn’t a face in the room that didn’t show open surprise, and there was a hint of disbelief on more than a few faces.
“Well, you don’t have to stare at me like I just told you the royal guard were quitting to become troubadours,” Victor said in a mock display of being hurt by the looks.
The faces in the room showed even more surprise at the comment before many of them broke into laughter.
“Well, if that doesn’t tell us Nim is raising the lad, I don’t know what would,” the arch magus intoned lightheartedly.
“That answers one question,” said the king thoughtfully, “but the how, why, and when are still running around in my head.” The rest of the group nodded in agreement to the king’s statement.
“Well, Victor and I chanced upon each other one night a few months ago. He wanted to know what it was like having a father, and I wanted to know what it was like having a son.” Victor almost laughed at the absurdity of Nim’s simple statement before a tiny voice in his mind said, Well, that’s really the short of it. Grudgingly, Victor conceded to his wiser inner voice.
“Leave it to Nim to compress what is probably one of the most complicated things in recent history into two sentences.” Zander Halcyon shook his head as he spoke.
“If this is a joke, Nim, I think it is in poor taste.” The queen looked like she was trying to grasp at facts that continued to elude her.
“No joke, I assure you.” Nim shrugged, “We just seemed to be destined to meet.”
High Commander Cantel groaned. “Now he’s talking about destiny. I can think of only three possibilities. He’s either really sick, he’s under some powerful enchantment, or…”
“He’s finally starting to understand,” High Priestess Lane interjected.
Now it was Nim’s turn to groan. “Give off, priestess. You may count Ashur and Dunnagan amongst your followers, but I am no one’s puppet.”
Megan Lane bristled visibly. “Nimus Theromvore! We are not…”
It was Admiral Swiftflow who came to the rescue this time. “Now now, let’s not have a theological debate right now, the night isn’t long enough.” He put his hand on the high priestess’s shoulder in a calming gesture, and it earned him a change of focus for her glare.
King Theromvore coughed softly. Victor thought it might have been to replace a chuckle. “So what do we call this fine young man, Nim?” the king asked loudly.
“His name is Victor Deus.”
Coming out of her temper tantrum, High Priestess Lane said, “Interesting choice; your parents must have had great hopes for you.”
Victor raised his eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Though his question had been directed at the high priestess, it was the arch magus who answered. “Your name means ‘Champion of God,’ or maybe ‘the Gods,’ depending on how it is interpreted,” he answered offhandedly, like a teacher lecturing his pupil. Simon Windsbane was so distracted in his study of Victor that he didn’t notice the return of the high priestess’s glare, which was now focused on him—a fact that made her bristle more.
“The boy has already touched his powers for Shaping—I can sense it within him.” Victor frowned; they were talking about him like he wasn’t there, but he also hadn’t known that you could sense such things from others. He then noticed that the other mages were looking at him like a bug caught in a jar for examination. His frown became deeper.
“Yes, I know,” Nim stated nonchalantly. “I’m sure we have more important matters to discuss tonight, though, so let’s get the introductions over with.”
The arch magus was not used to people brushing him aside, and the man found himself staring at the door Nim and Victor had been in front of moments before. Nim escorted Victor down the line of people. The introductions were much the same as the announcer had given to the gathered crowd minutes before. Victor felt a much more profound feeling of awe as Nim introduced him personally to all of the members of the council.
Two of the group had been standing slightly apart from the rest as the conversation had developed and the introductions had started. The couple seemed to be studying him more intently than the others, and with expressions that Victor could only describe as barely restrained curiosity.
Nim brought Victor over to them and made the introductions. “This, Victor, is my cousin twice removed, Analya Theromvore. Or is it Daystar now?”
“Ah, no,” Lagelion stated. “We elves do not take the last names of our mates. We feel that to change your name would be denying who you are.” Victor knew that the elf was referring to Nim’s own disdain for his name.
“This, Victor, is Lagelion Daystar, former high elven guard of Eske’Taur.”
“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Victor said, taking Analya’s hand and kissing it as he had done with the other ladies, except the high priestess. Victor then turned to Lagelion and bowed respectfully. “Sir.”
“Well, aren’t you proper?” the elf quipped.
“How old are you, dear?” Analya asked calmly, if a bit too quickly.
He had been asked that question several times earlier in the evening, so he hadn’t been surprised to hear it. “I turned eight last New Beginnings.” Victor would have sworn he saw moisture gathering around the lady’s eyes before his attention was diverted to the king telling Nim that it was time to get down to business.
“Time for bed,” the queen said to her two youngest. They responded in kind with verbal complaints and physical gestures of resistance. “None of that, you’ll be a part of these meetings soon enough and then you’ll be looking for excuses to do something else, like your brother often does.” She turned towards her eldest son and raised an eyebrow. “You are over that, aren’t you?”
Prince Theodrik Theromvore the Third looked at his fiancée and gave her a look that said I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Mother, I can think of no other place I would rather be.”
Admiral Swiftflow sniffed, “That’s odd… I can,” which earned him a stern look from the high commander and high lieutenant commander. “What?” he asked innocently before he mumbled, “I can.” The commanders then looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
The younger prince and princess were now being led out by their nanny, and the queen then turned to Victor. “We can get you a room in the palace for tonight, too,” she said while visibly sizing Victor up. For what he couldn’t say, and he decided he didn’t want to know.
“Ah,” Nim said. “Actually, I would like Victor to stay. He’s a very patient lad when it suits him, and he won’t bother us.” Victor watched as the king’s eyebrow rose.
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“It’s probably going to be dreadfully boring to someone of your age, boy, are you sure you wouldn’t rather get a good night’s sleep?”
That clinched it—the only thing Victor hated more than being ignored while people talked about him over his head was being talked down to. Putting on the broadest grin he had in his repertoire, he looked at the king and said, “Gee Your Majesty, sir, I’m not very tired. I’d like to stay here with Nim, or I might get afraid and lost in such a big place. I promise I’ll be a good boy.”
He then affected to forget the king was there and skipped over to a bench and plopped down. As he pretended to look around at everything in the room in awe, he kicked his feet back and forth as he had seen other kids do. Nim let out a curt laugh before taking his place at the table.
The meeting on preparing for the upcoming battles and other possible threats went on through the night. Victor noticed that people at the table kept watching him when he forgot to play the ignorant child. He was deep in thought for a while about what was being discussed before he noticed the looks. After one such glance from the high commander after Victor nodded to an assessment that had been made, Victor laid himself on the bench with his back turned towards the council. He could feel the eyes on his back until the meeting came to a close and Nim came over to ‘wake’ him.
Year 3043 AGD
Month: Preparation
Eighth Day
Continent of Terroval
Northeast of Lakeshire
Scarlet Road
Shawnrik, Ashur, and Dunnagan had been traveling for six days and were now headed northeast along the Scarlet Road. The day before, they had stopped in the village of Lakeshire, and the small community had been an interesting experience for Shawnrik, who had grown up in a city whose population numbered in the millions. Dunnagan and Ashur had assured him repeatedly that Lakeshire was in fact a large community, as far as settlements outside the walls of Safeharbor were concerned. In fact, with a head count coming in somewhere near five thousand, Lakeshire was considered a city by many of the lesser communities in Protectorate lands.
It didn’t surprise the two older members of the party when Shawnrik decided to wander the streets of Lakeshire. Ashur and Dunnagan had both grown up in smaller communities such as this, and they remembered their first experience with the sprawling city of Safeharbor; they could only imagine what that feeling might be like from the other end. Shawnrik was surprised to find that there were few differences between the people of Lakeshire and the people of Safeharbor. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, so he stuck out like a sore thumb as he meandered through the streets. He almost welcomed the slightly hostile looks more than the smiles that the people gave one another, as the hostile looks were common in the Docks District. The only one who had ever smiled and nodded to him like these people were doing to each other had been Watchman Tanner, and even that smile had held a look that said, I’m watching you. These smiles seemed genuine and personal. It all felt... wrong.
What would it be like to know most of the people that lived around you? Shawnrik mused. He realized that these people relied on each other daily just to survive. The constant struggle against the inhabitants of this dangerous land had left little room for individuals that lived only for themselves. The walls around the city stood fifteen feet high. A few feet shorter, and the grim’le that roamed the area might be able to jump on top of it; Ashur had explained this to him as they entered the city earlier that day. Shawnrik had not seen any of the large two-legged reptiles on their journey north, and he was okay with that after hearing some of the stories from his traveling companions about their encounters with the creatures. The grim’le were only one of the many dangerous creatures that lived in the area and threatened the village on a daily basis.
Living under constant threat of annihilation took a sturdy type of individual, and when you gather a city full of people of a like mind, it makes that burden easier to bear. Shawnrik envied these people as he walked through the streets of Lakeshire, the evening sun tinting everything a light shade of red. Here was a place that everyone knew their purpose, and everyone had a role to fulfill; if one person failed to fill that role, the whole place would fall apart if someone else didn’t quickly pick up the burden. The trust that such a lifestyle would foster was difficult for a kid raised on the streets to wrap his mind around. In his life so far, Victor was the only one he had ever felt such a bond of trust with, and even that he hadn’t realized until he had seen these people interacting with one another. Looking around, Shawnrik couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to create and live in such a community.
Every person in town moved with the gait of someone who was trained well in the arts of war. Shawnrik knew that he would be hard pressed to last a few minutes with any of these hardy folks in a fight, and that thought did more to humble him than any of the beatings that he had received during training with Ashur. A young woman walking down the street, who looked only a few years older than himself, held herself with a poise that reminded Shawnrik of the lion statue in the front of Nim’s manor. Beauty and strength wrapped up in one deadly package. His heart almost stopped beating when the girl he had been admiring winked at him.
As he wandered, Shawnrik overheard several interesting conversations. A lot of the talk he heard had to do with how good of a year for planting it was going to be, as well as other trivial things one might expect to hear in a place that supports itself nearly completely. There was one conversation that stood out above the others, however, and he couldn’t help but linger in the area to listen. Several of the older men had been sitting on a porch enjoying a pipe and talking to each other and anyone who else who would listen. They had just finished having a conversation about how little the young men seemed to know when one of them chimed in about the town’s growth. Being a topic that was freshly on his mind, Shawnrik found a seat nearby as the men talked to one another.
“I tell ya, our population has nearly doubled since I was a kid,” the oldest man of the group said.
“What was that? Two hundred years ago?” his friend next to him jibed; Shawnrik thought he couldn’t have been too much younger than the older man.
“Oh, you’re funny, Amar. I’m not a day over one twenty and you know it! I still have a few years to go before I kick the bucket.” The older man laughed and puffed out his chest, showing he was still in fine shape. The effect was ruined by the racking cough that followed.
“Forgive me, young man!” Amar said mockingly.
“Well, he’s right you know. It won’t be long until these walls won’t be able to support the whole city. Another generation or two and we’re going to burst at the seams,” a third man added.
“Well, from what the mage says, war is brewing in the east. War always seems to thin populations a bit,” Amar stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
The other men winced at this remark before nodding sadly to themselves. The men sat for a time without another word, and Shawnrik was just getting ready to move on when the third man spoke again.
“Our men shouldn’t be pulled into the ranks until the army loses a few companies. Some of the younger men who have been thinking about enlisting will go. They’ll seek glory and honor just as we did in our day. I’m glad our sons were spared the wars, but it seems our grandsons and great grandsons will learn what it is.”
The three men went on sharing war stories, which Shawnrik had a feeling they had told many times before from the way one would pick up the story or finish a punchline to a joke. He had been sitting for some time, listening to the old men retelling portions of their lives, when he noticed that the sun had gone down over the horizon. Shawnrik decided he had listened enough for one day and headed back to his own companions.
The only other thing of note that occurred was a small brawl that was just coming to an end as he walked up to The Friendly Maiden, the inn they were staying at that night. The offending parties had been tossed out of the inn by the large innkeeper and his even larger sons. The men picked themselves up off the ground, made a few rude gestures towards the front door, and then began to laugh and sing as they wandered down the street physically supporting each other.
Shaking off his thoughts of the previous day’s outing, Shawnrik’s mind returned to the present as the group traveled along the Scarlet Road. He had heard Ashur and Dunnagan talking about the road earlier, but he hadn’t expected that it was a literal name at the time. The road was such a deep red that Shawnrik almost felt like they were riding along a large tract of blood; if it wasn’t for the clopping of their mounts’ hooves, he might have had to dismount to prove to himself that they weren’t.
“What makes the road this color?” Shawnrik asked in a voice just above a whisper, not expecting anyone to hear him, or reply.
“Well, laddie,” Dunnagan replied, having heard the question. “’Tis said that when the lords of the other continents decided to come and see if the Protectorate was facing the threats they claimed to be, the fools landed their armies not too far from here. Some say this road marks the furthest point that those armies were able to make it into this harsh land. Their folly would remind people for generations that this is a foolish place to walk into unprepared.” Dunnagan laughed, finding humor in the destruction brought down upon those foolish lords by their own stupidity.
“For those of us that are a little less cynical, we know that it’s a clay easily found in the foothills to the east of us. ‘Tis easy to mold, light, and it dries quickly without cracking. Once heat is applied, it becomes as hard as bedrock, and some even say it is as hard as good steel. As you can see, it holds up well to time, a fact that lends credence to those that tell such tales. It has been here nearly a thousand years, and has been worn down an inch or two, but there are few scars along the way.”
“That has got to make even you a bit humbler, my friend.” Ashur grinned at Dunnagan.
“Ho ho!” Dunnagan shouted. “We dwarves work with the rocks in the mountains enough to be humble, but we take our attitudes from Terrazil herself!”
Taking on a more somber tone, Dunnagan continued. “Now, you two listen good to this, ‘cause I’m not likely to ever explain it again. The mountains rose from the ground knowing that someday they would crumble and fall. They also knew they would have a life of constant struggle against those forces that would bring them low. Wind, water, trees, and eventually even parts of themselves would test their fortitude in a way that is hard for any creature to imagine. Even knowin’ the struggle that was to ensue, they stood tall, tauntin’ those forces to do their worst. Wind and water slowly tore away at the edges, and patiently, unrelenting, they would stand. Though their battle seemed a blink of an eye to Terrazil herself, she would take strength in the knowledge that against all odds, they had stood.” Dunnagan’s look was thoughtful as he stared off into the horizon before continuing.
“Terrazil took strength from each pebble that fought on through the years to help her maintain the fight against the cosmos itself. She would face debris from other worlds that fought through the very air itself to damage her. The sun’s light, which brought life, also brought death as it dried up the water and baked her skin. When she herself should eventually perish, as all things do, the Universe would know that through it all she had never wavered, and she had no regret—she had taken it all to protect the life that had been put in her charge. Should all that remains somehow fall into darkness, that spark of resistance would give birth to a new universe to continue the fight. As the mountains know that they stand, we know they will continue their vigilance in the countless years to come. Not because they must, but because they can. So yes, there is plenty to be humble about...” Dunnagan looked at them both in turn before finishing in a firm voice, “... but we stand.”
Shawnrik and Ashur were left speechless for many minutes after their companion finished speaking. Dunnagan had just explained how the universe itself was grand beyond all measure, and yet linked each of them to its eternal struggle. Shawnrik and Ashur realized at the same time that they had been holding their breath, and each took a deep lungful of air. Shawnrik thought he understood what his newest mentor was saying, but his mind couldn’t seem to grasp the enormity of the idea just yet. To be compared with the cosmos itself was awe-inspiring. To find that no matter the vast difference in size or the fact that his life would be but a blink of an eye for the universe, the fact that he shared a common bond was indeed humbling yet empowering at the same time. It was the most profound idea Shawnrik had ever heard. And the most profound idea that I’m ever likely to hear, he thought solicitously.
“My friend, I never realized that dwarves were so philosophical.” Ashur’s voice seemed to startle even himself after the profound silence only moments before.
“Well, laddie, when you live as long as we do, you get a lot of time for introspection and philosophy.”
Shawnrik couldn’t think of anything to add to the conversation that had just occurred, so he found himself mulling over the idea in his head as the day progressed into evening.
Ashur leaned over toward Shawnrik and Dunnagan, making it look like he was checking his stirrup. “Looks like we have some un-friendlies.” Ashur indicated a direction with his hand, keeping it out of view of anyone watching the group. Shawnrik stretched his neck, and then his upper body as his eyes did a scan of the thicket that Ashur had indicated. His gaze fell across several shapes that stood out in contrast to the trees around them, but he gave no indication that he had seen anything amiss. Ashur’s head nodded in approval at how natural Shawnrik had made his examination look. “I make out at least five. Blood orc hunting party, from what I can tell. This road curves up on the other side of the grove, that’s where they’ll jump us. We can ride through and maybe avoid a confrontation or… we can fight.”
As Ashur gave them their options, Shawnrik found his thoughts drifting back to the idea that Dunnagan had laid before them earlier in the day. Those thoughts mingled with the threat of the orcs, and it all seemed to click together in his mind. He realized then that Dunnagan had been speaking to him especially. ‘We stand’ didn’t simply mean facing needless odds or a futile battle with things that you could do nothing to control. That was fine for things like mountains or the planet, which didn’t have a choice in the paths that they followed, but it was the perfect ideal for a protector. The mountains and the planet stood protecting what they held most dear. They didn’t do it out of a self-possessing urge to face the inevitable stoically; they did it to allow others the time and chance to do the same.
“If we don’t fight ‘em, they will just jump the next group to pass by.” Shawnrik looked from Ashur to Dunnagan and smiled. “We stand.”
As they began to round the bend, Dunnagan pulled his axe and said, “Aye lad, I knew ye’d get it. Now, let’s whittle away at the ragged edges.” He winked.
The three were laughing together when the charge came.
The orcs never knew what hit them.