Year 3034 AGD (After the Great Disaster)
Month: Orange Blossoms
Lion’s Heart Tavern
Continent of Telleros
City of Dun’Dalas
“Unbelievable!” one of the patrons of the Lion’s Heart Tavern said, watching the bard as one might a street magician, trying to figure out the exact moment that they had been fooled.
“Aye, it sounds unbelievable to those of us who haven’t had to survive on that hellish continent they call Terroval.” The old bard took a sip of his ale, sweeping the room with his eyes over the rim of his mug. He could see that he had the attention of almost the entire common room, the one exception being the cloaked figure in the corner under the stairs. For the life of him, he could not figure out if the man’s head was drooped in drunkenness or a need to conceal his face. A slight frown ghosted across the bard’s features, but he quickly got them under control before the mug moved away from his face.
If one were to make a list of traits often associated with bards, vanity would be near the top, and he was no exception to that rule. Being the center of attention and having the ability to capture an entire room with the resonance of your voice was one of the largest draws to the lifestyle. Even one head failing to turn felt like a personal affront to anyone in the trade, yet there always seemed to be someone who wasn’t in the mood to be entertained. As the bard was getting ready to speak again, a new voice joined the conversation.
“So, you’re saying that an average man from Terroval could best even the greatest of our soldiers?”
The bard turned smoothly, facing the direction the question had emanated from; he always found it best to look a man in the eye when you were trying to get a point across. Normally, he would have tried to laugh the question away, but as his gaze settled on the man who had asked it, he decided that might not be a good idea this time. His arrival at this decision was instant upon seeing the man’s size and current attire. The fellow was one of the biggest he had seen in this part of the world and also happened to be wearing the uniform of Her Royal Majesty’s personal guard. In his many travels, the bard had learned that it was best not to get on the wrong side of the local law enforcers, as it usually led to prolonged encounters and unplanned accommodations.
“Well, lad, as fine as the soldiers on the continent of Telleros are—the best of whom are right here in the city of Dun’Dalas, in Her Majesty’s Royal Guard—your question isn’t quite fair. You see, in the land of Terroval, there are more than a few female warriors, too, and I would put just about any one of them up against any of the regular soldiers in Dun’Dalas.” I’d put ‘em up against the royal ones too, you big ox. The bard kept that thought to himself, though, which he considered to be one of his wiser ideas of late.
“You’re crazy, old man. There’s no way a woman could beat one of our fine soldiers!” The barkeep’s statement led to a round of cheers from his patrons. He was expected to be patriotic; the majority of his clientele were soldiers. It looked like the bartender might have done some soldiering in his younger days, as well. Not only did he hold himself like a man who knew the benefits of being ready to fight at a moment’s notice, but the scar that traced his jaw from ear to chin spoke of a man who was no stranger to combat.
One of the patrons who had remained silent throughout most of the discussion decided it was time to put in his two coppers’ worth. “I’d listen to him if I was you, Sal. My grandfather became a sailor after he retired, and the ship he served on would dock at the city of Safeharbor, on the west coast of Terroval, once or twice a year. I don’t have to tell you that not many a ship would make that trek ‘cause of the creatures that dwell in those waters. We’ve all heard the tales of the squid what swallow ships whole, and that’s the most believable story out of the lot.”
The barkeep and many of the others nodded as he spoke. They had heard the stories, and most would consider you a fool if you didn’t believe at least half of them to be true. Too many of them had seen beasts that defied explanation over the years and had come to the realization long ago that, if there were such creatures on land or in the air, there were probably worse in the sea. The room fell quiet, everyone contemplating the man’s simple statement. The effect broke as the man shook himself, as if physically forcing such thoughts aside before continuing.
“Having a few days in port, the sailors decided to stretch their sea legs and explore the city. On the second day, they found themselves on top of one of the massive walls. As far as they could see, there were lush grasslands. Thinking it a shame to see such beautiful fields and not have a stroll or an afternoon nap in ‘em, they decided to explore the countryside. As the gates were getting ready to open, one of the guards at the gate looked at my grandfather and said, ‘May you always strike true, and your enemy falter.’
“My grandfather was taken aback by the statement and asked if it was really that dangerous out there. The guard said, ‘You’re not from around these parts, are you?’ My grandfather told me that simple statement made him feel smaller than any insult ever thrown at him in his entire life. The guard told them to wait while he got permission from the captain to accompany them on their walk, and it was a good thing for my grandfather that he did.”
The man looked around the room and seemed surprised that everyone was listening to him.
“They’d been out of town for about an hour, walking through the green fields northeast of Safeharbor, when they felt the ground begin to shake. The sailors started yelling about tremors, and my grandfather was starting to agree before he saw what the guard who’d joined ‘em for their walk was doing. The man had his ear to the ground, listening to the earth. He was only there for a moment before he hopped up, slid the crossbow from his back, and commanded silence. My grandfather said he’d never seen sailors shut up as fast as they did when that man spoke.”
Barks of laughter burst forth from a few of the men spread around the bar; they knew how rowdy sailors could get when away from their boats. But as the story continued, the laughter quickly died.
“The guard said that the tremors were being caused by a pack of what he called grim’le—giant reptiles that run on their hind legs. Their talons are as long and sharp as swords, and they have rows of teeth like sharks. He explained this all in such a tone that not one man there spoke a word of doubt. Pointing to the nearest hill behind them, the guard ordered everyone to the top as quick as they could, another order they followed without question.”
At this point, the man took a large swig of his ale, and many in the room followed suit, their mouths suddenly parched.
“Atop the hill,” he went on, “the guard cocked his crossbow and placed the bolt moments before the creatures crested the next rise over. All of the men were in a panic at seeing the giant reptiles, and several of them started running in the opposite direction of the oncoming predators. My grandfather told me he thought about running, too, which I hardly believed, but he decided not to when he looked at the guard and saw him shaking his head at the fleeing men before turning his attention back to the oncoming grim’le and taking aim at the pack.”
The room was so silent that the bard couldn’t help but feel some admiration for the man who was now telling the story. Somehow, he had even managed to gain the attention of the man in the corner under the stairs, whose ear was now pointed towards the conversation.
“THWACK,” the man said suddenly, some nearby people jumping when he slammed his hand down on the bar. “The bolt caught the head of the lead reptile and ripped completely through, hitting the creature behind it, as well. My grandfather counted them as they came running at him; thirteen, including the two that the guard downed.”
The bard saw several men in the room making a sign against evil or mumbling a prayer under their breaths. Few soldiers survived long if they weren’t at least a little superstitious.
“The guard calmly cocked his crossbow, placed another bolt, and sighted in on the raptors twice more before they started up the hill the men were on. By that time, seven of the creatures were left, and my grandfather was wishing he’d run, after all. But he knew by the speed of the lizards approaching that he wouldn’t have been able to run far. He did the only thing he knew to do: he pulled out his short sword, wishing he had his war hammer instead, and said a prayer to Ragnós. The guard told him to stay back and defend the rest of the men before he dropped his crossbow, pulled his longsword, and charged down the hill.”
Everyone raised an eyebrow at that, even the big man from the Royal Guard. That guard had either been stupid or very good.
“Now, you’ve all heard about my grandfather when he did his time in the Queen’s Guard?”
Everyone around him nodded, and the burly Royal Guardsman surprised everyone by saying, “Aye, we’ve all heard of him. Hell, most of us want to be him. One of the strongest, quickest men who did ever protect the queen, and she was sad the day that his time was up. I’ve often heard Her Majesty say she wished she had a guard as good as her mother had.” He grimaced at that admonition but continued his statement. “His war hammer is still in the armory on display, and I’ll tell you, I can hardly lift the thing. ‘Tis said he could swing it like it was a light war hammer.” The giant of a man shook his head. “Aye, we’ve heard of him.”
The storyteller nodded and made sure everyone was listening before he said, “Then you know that my grandfather was unused to being told what to do. But, for some reason, he realized that this man knew his business. He saw the crossbow lying on the ground and picked it up, surprised at the heft of it, and he tried to cock the string into place.”
“What do you mean, tried?” the Royal Guardsman intoned.
“Just what I said… he tried to. I remember him shaking his head at the memory when telling me that he wasn’t able to pull it back even an inch, let alone the full foot or more needed to latch the thing.”
“Was there some sort of trick to it, maybe? A release?” the guardsman asked.
“That’s the funny part. My grandfather swept his eyes across it and couldn’t see one, and by the time he gave up looking for one, the ground had stopped shaking. He looked up and saw what was left of the pack at the bottom of the hill; the beasts were stopped and looking up at the lone figure running down towards them. Well, their confusion didn’t last long. What most of them probably saw at that point was an easy lunch.”
He shook his head and leaned on the bar before taking another swig. “My grandfather didn’t even realize how big the grim’le were until he saw that guard running down the hill and those creatures coming up it. They were twice the height of any man in this room.” He looked at the big guardsman and nodded. “Yes, even you, Ulysus. My grandfather was saying another prayer, to the god of death instead of the god of war this time, asking Ol’ Thom to watch his soul and guide it to the plains. The guard’s steps got faster and faster, and my grandfather couldn’t even see the man’s feet touching the ground as he lengthened his stride.
“About ten paces from the reptiles, the man jumped into the air, planting his sword firmly into the skull of one of those creatures. He’d pulled the blade back out and landed a few good-sized paces behind its body before it had even crumpled to the ground. Four of the six remaining beasts screeched and moved to surround him as he took down another of their number. The other two continued to rush up the hill towards my grandfather and his three remaining companions. All of them were good soldiers who had fought with him for years; none would leave his side.”
“The first grim’le was upon them in the blink of an eye, and my grandfather barely dodged out of the way of its talons, which instead caught the man directly behind him, who wasn’t fast enough. My grandfather told me that those next few moments were the longest of his life. The scaly beast moved like lightning, its claws and teeth sharper than any well-honed blade. By the end of the fight, two of the three men with him were dead, and the other would have to re-learn the sword. The creature lay dying from all of the wounds the men had given it, and my grandfather looked around for the second one. It had ignored them, running past the four armed sailors to go after the ones who had fled. It didn’t take long to hear their screams from the other side of the hill.
“As he looked down to where the last four reptiles had stopped to fight the guard, he expected to see the worst. Instead, what he saw was the guard facing off against the only grim’le still standing. The animals had moved like lightning, but this one seemed to move more like molasses when compared to the speed with which the guard moved. The man swept in and made three stabs before the creature could even swing his claw.”
Now everyone in the room drew a collective gasp. “You’re making that up, Leo. There’s no way anyone can move that fast,” a soldier said, but the way his voice raised an octave at the end seemed to make it more of a question.
Leo simply shrugged and said, “That’s the story my grandfather told me.”
If anyone else had any doubts about the truth of the account, they were not spoken. No one wanted to talk badly about the man’s grandfather.
The old bard walked over to him and clasped him on the shoulder. “Well spoken, friend, and every word of it rang with truth in my ears.” His vocal tone and sudden movement managed to gather all the eyes in the tavern to himself. “See, this is what I was trying to tell you. One of the greatest men you have heard of in Dun’Dalas, and he was outdone by a simple guard.”
He saw the arguments coming from the posture that some of the men had assumed and put up his hand to forestall the comments. “Hold, friends. I am not trying to demean you, and I do not wish a fight. My duty is simply to inform and to carry the truth amongst the common folk of the land. Have no doubt that the guard who accompanied this man’s grandfather into those lands was an excellent warrior, however, rank in Protectorate is determined by prowess and the deeds a soldier has accomplished. This man may not have been a low guard. Maybe he was a sergeant or a lieutenant. But he asked his captain if he could go, and his captain is even better than he is, and the line continues up the chain of command.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“But how is that possible?” another man who sat at one of tables asked resignedly. He looked around at everyone else in the room. “I don’t think there is one of us in this room who doubts the word of his grandfather, but how can men be so strong?”
The old bard scanned the room, noticing that the person in the corner now had his head fully up, but the bard still couldn’t catch the visage of the figure inside the darkness of the cloak’s hood. Now that the bard had everyone’s attention, it was time for the main event.
“Now, that’s where the real story begins,” he said with a grin and a flourish.
“About five thousand years ago, the world was in upheaval. Evil was growing stronger, overrunning the civilized kingdoms. The leaders of the nations convened with their military commanders and the Wizards’ Guild. They concluded that the evil had to be stopped at all costs before it destroyed all of Terrazil.
“The wizards argued that they could not simply wipe evil from the world because it would upset the balance, and somehow they persuaded the nobles and the military that that was the truth of things. So, instead of completely purging the world of the enemy, they managed to capture most of the armies in barriers and send them through spacial displacement traps—teleport traps, as the general public likes to call them. They were sent to the continent of Terroval, whose only residents at the time were several large tribes of orcs and some goblin-kin. Those enemies they couldn’t catch in their traps or who didn’t go to the continent when given the choice were eradicated.”
The bard paused there, raising his eyebrow and giving the room time to absorb what he had just said. After he saw that some of them were beginning to understand that it was their ancestors that had done such a thing, he continued.
“Everything went well for a time. Even crime became more uncommon than anyone had believed possible. To those foolish enough to believe so, it seemed that evil was losing its power.
“But that wasn’t the case in Terroval. All creatures of an evil nature or with malicious intent had been sent to live on one continent, and it became a proving ground. Kill or be killed became the new edict of Terroval, and only the strongest would survive.
“The wizards monitored the situation sporadically over the years and finally realized that something had to be done. A thousand years after the creatures had been sent away, the same three groups who had worked together to trap the evil came together again for a conference on what should be done about the new situation.
“And so the Terrazil Protectorate was formed. It was comprised of the wizards, to be the guiding force; the military, to be the physical might; and the nobles, to be the face of the Protectorate. The wizards would come to be known as the mages of Terrazil when they started allowing other magic users into their order, and the military would soon become the knights of Terrazil. Several royal houses came together during that time and somehow figured out a pecking order. From those castes, the royal house of Terrazil was born. Two hundred years after the process began, the first true members of the Protectorate touched Terroval soil.”
The bartender put a drink down in front of the bard, giving the man tacit approval. Nodding to the barkeep, he took a swig and let his enjoyment of the beverage show on his face before returning to his tale.
“The early years on Terroval were tough, and many men were lost. The members of the Protectorate could see that they were fighting a losing battle, but they struggled on. It has been whispered that the good dragons of the world took note of these men’s courage and tenacity in the face of certain doom. The dragons knew that their own time was soon coming to an end. Fewer and fewer of their kind were being born every generation. They knew that in 10,000 years, hardly any of their kind would remain to sentinel the world as they had since the beginning times.
“Those who believe these stories say that the Great Golden Dragon Elyalyas was the first to come forth with a plan for dragonkind and the future of all of the races of the Protectorate. The Council of Nine decided in secret that the dragons would mix their blood with the good creatures of Terroval. Dragons who agreed to this willed themselves to permanently take the form of the race that they held in the highest esteem, thereby changing their base structure, allowing the blood of the mighty dragons to flow through the veins of the lesser races while still maintaining the chosen race’s visage…”
Every eye in the tavern remained fixed on him in rapt attention as the bard’s voice rose and fell in an almost hypnotizing pattern. His purr of satisfaction was almost audible.
3784 years ago
750 years BGD (Before the Great Disaster)
Continent of Terroval
City of South Harbor
Alexander Dalton was surprised to see ships sailing into the bay of South Harbor. There were no ships expected, and thus far, surprises on this continent had been anything but good. Two dozen large ships coming into view on an unfriendly coastline was, in fact, not something he was equipped to handle. Immediately, he issued orders. The guards who didn’t want latrine duty for a month would report to the courtyard in ten minutes, battle ready. There was no hope of sending for a mage before the ships were in firing range, and it was too early to rouse the king or any of his lackeys. He hoped such a display of readiness would dissuade any hostile actions.
Five minutes later, all four thousand men who weren’t on duty at the walls or bedridden stood at attention in thirty-two rows in the courtyard. Some were still donning their armor, but they were there. Alexander was proud of his men and the discipline he enforced amongst his ranks.
He marched them down to the harbor, where the ships were waiting about two hundred yards off port, arranged them in four lines of a thousand, and told them to have their crossbows at the ready. He didn’t have to tell them not to fire until he gave the command; they were trained well enough for that.
A small boat was making its way towards the shore. There were seven people in the craft, three of whom stood looking towards the shore, while the other four rowed the vessel. Alexander could see no weapons on board, but something made him uneasy. The woman in the boat caught his eye immediately, and he had the feeling he had seen her before. She looked stronger than most of the women he had known, but her curves declared to all, without a doubt, that she was a woman.
Her hair reminded him of sunset—light red from one angle, darker red from the next, and always changing. She looked directly into his eyes as the little boat approached. He was sure that she hadn’t looked anywhere else before that. Just straight into his eyes. Hers were the color of a calm sea, blue with just the faintest hint of green. Those eyes tickled the wisp of a memory in the back of his mind, and the look she gave him was one for an old acquaintance too long unseen.
“Excuse me, but may we come ashore?” The question came from the man who stood at the front of the boat, his voice sounding more used to oratory than casual conversation.
As if the man’s voice were an alarm bell, Alexander pulled his gaze from the woman to fully take in her companions. A small part of his mind rebuked him. Good thing you looked for weapons before she looked up, or you could be a dead man. The next thought that occurred to him in that brief moment: She’s gonna be trouble.
The man who had asked the question was one of the largest dwarves Alexander had ever seen. His skin was a golden hue, his beard had a golden sheen, and he possessed arms that looked as worked by the forge as they looked used to working one. The old dwarf looked from Alexander and back to his female companion, shaking his head with what Alexander would later swear was a slight grin.
The third of the strange company was a tall and well-built elf whose hair was like spun silver and whose eyes were deep pools of mercury. Alexander waved them towards the shore. As they got out of the boat, he noticed that they moved awkwardly. It reminded him of a butterfly just emerging from its cocoon, newly formed and unused to having wings. He wasn’t sure why that image came to mind, but it felt right. Except that it might be the other way around this time. Assuming it was from their being on board a ship for too long, he shrugged that thought away.
Given the signal, his lieutenant welcomed the party ashore and brought them over to face the assembled knights. The lieutenant saluted sharply before speaking. “Gentlemen and lady, I have the honor of presenting you to High Commander Alexander Dalton of the Knights of Terrazil, last in the line of defense against the evils that would ravish our world.”
Alexander groaned inwardly at the last part, and all three of the newcomers quirked their eyebrows at the statement, but no one argued the point.
“Commander Dalton, it’s good to meet you. I’ve heard many good things,” the dwarf said in his gruff, yet commanding, voice. “My name is Elyas, and this is Ranadin and the lady Tyrdra. We’ve come to help you, and we’ve brought some five thousand odd men and women to do it.”
“Five thousand!” the lieutenant said excitedly before regaining his composure. The three looked at him as if he were a fly under a magnifying glass.
“You’ll have to forgive Lieutenant O’Hearly. We brought fifteen thousand here to begin the fight, but we’ve already lost five thousand in skirmishes across the plains. How many of your men can fight, and where are you from?” Alexander grimaced at the admission of the losses they had suffered thus far. He wasn’t happy that they had so greatly underestimated the dangers that this land possessed.
The dwarf put a grin on his face and tucked his fingers behind his belt. “All of us—men and women both—are here to help you, Commander, and I think you’ll find we make good soldiers, though I’ve been told about five hundred want to train with your mages.” He didn’t sound too pleased at that, but it was understandable. Most dwarves didn’t enjoy thoughts of magic.
Five hundred… Light! “That would be more than appreciated if they have the talent for it. There are currently only twenty-five wizards stationed here. There were thirty, but we seem to have bitten off a bit more than we can chew. If it isn’t the Dracair killing my men, it is some other horror that this land has managed to spawn. I just want your people to know what they’re getting into, should you decide to stay.”
“Oh, lad… we know what we’re getting ourselves into, and we welcome it wholeheartedly.” A whimsically sad look came across his face. “If our peoples are to survive, this has to happen.”
At that sentiment, all three of them nodded solemnly, and Alexander couldn’t help but feel like he had missed something in the quiet exchange.
“Yes, it’s vital work,” Alexander said, needing something to fill the silence, before giving the signal for his men to relax. The signal meant that they still needed to be prepared for anything, but hostile intent wasn’t suspected.
As the ships docked and started unloading, it seemed that every race Alexander Dalton had ever seen in his well-traveled life disembarked the vessels. There were even orcs. He almost commanded them to be held captive, but Elyas explained that they would be going into the hills and working with the orc tribes, who were also victims in this affair. Alexander couldn’t quite think of orcs as victims, but he was glad to be getting rid of them. And an ogre! The forces at his command were comprised mainly of the populous races that were considered civilized. He was proud of the fact that his numbers included a few of the races that normally didn’t mingle with humankind, but the variety of creatures coming off of these boats was staggering. He was watching that flow of bodies coming out of the ships when Tyrdra walked up beside him.
“Shall we walk, my lord?” she said in a sweet, sultry voice, eyeing him like a butcher appraising a slab of meat. From what he could tell, she liked what she saw. He didn’t see any harm in going for a walk. My goodness, it is a nice day. Of course, he would be quoted later as saying he never could quite think clearly when she was around and that he agreed to just about all of her suggestions. She was usually right, anyway, whether he thought so at the time or not.
“I am not a lord. I was born in the country,” he said before offering her his arm.
“Ah, but you are a commander of men, and a good one from what I’ve seen, thus making you a lord of men; thus, making you a lord,” she said, all while smiling up at him with eyes that held too much wisdom for her age.
By Arroval, she is beautiful! he thought before replying aloud, “Well, be that as it may, you may call me Alexander.”
“I would rather call you husband.”
Instead of tripping over his own feet—which, at the time, was one of two options—he stopped and stared at her. “I’m sorry, I think I missed a step… can we go back to that?”
“I said I would rather call you husband, and I think you would rather call me wife. I have known you for years, and you have known me.”
I have known you… by the light, we just met. How would I—his mind raced back to childhood, to when he had first seen his guardian, that great winged beast. Those to whom he had described it had called it a dragon. It had saved him from a fall that would surely have ended his life. From there, his mind sped forward to a long-ago dream in which a beautiful woman sat on his bed, telling him not to go into battle the next morning, for it was a trap—a dream that had saved not only his own life, but the lives of his men, as well. Forward again, to a familiar voice in the back of his head telling him to apply for the commission to the continent of Terroval to command the knights, a position for which he had thought himself unqualified.
The sea danced at sunset as she smiled, knowing he had remembered. “See, my love? I’ve been with you since you were a child, and I shall be with you until you die. Our children shall be the salvation of both of our peoples, and your name will be remembered for as long as our blood flows through the veins of our progeny.”
That night, the men and women of the Terrazil Protectorate had two things to celebrate: five thousand men and women had arrived to help in the fight, and their commander, whom they had thought lived and breathed war, had found himself a wife.
Back in the Lion’s Heart Tavern
“Thanks to the newcomers, the Protectorate’s numbers grew, and their chances of defeating what was previously thought to be a vastly superior enemy seemed to be increasing exponentially.
“No one knew for sure where those five thousand and more people had come from. Some speculated that they were the gods themselves, come down to aid mankind. Others said they were manifestations of Terrazil herself, brought forth to aid in the battle. I, for one, believe the story that the newcomers were, in fact, the good dragons of the world who had taken the form of the races of Terrazil. We may never know if this is true, but one thing is certain: the five thousand reinforcements are what kept the people of what was then called South Harbor alive.
“For seven hundred and fifty years, they defended the land. The city of South Harbor grew prosperous and expanded greatly. They produced enough children and had enough outsiders migrate in from the mainland to bring their population to upwards of a million people. Three fourths of the city’s population were in the Protectorate in one form or another, and the other fourth fulfilled the necessary duties to keep the city working efficiently.” The old bard looked at all of the expectant faces and smiled.
“What happened next?” a kid who had managed to sneak into the bar without anyone noticing asked. This made the room erupt in bursts of laughter. The bard ruffled the boy’s hair and grabbed a new drink before walking to the center of the room. Chairs screeched on the floor as people moved so that they could see this grand spinner of tales more clearly.
“Ah, yes, what happened next? Well, we have all heard of the Great Disaster that occurred three thousand odd years ago, and we know the upheaval that it brought, but the tribulations faced in the civilized lands were trivial compared to the disasters that were wrought upon the land of Terroval. Winter is a common thing in Terroval, and the harshest winter was welcome compared to some of the dangers the people of the Protectorate often faced there. This, however, was unexpected. And, as we all know, it’s the thing that sneaks up on you quietly that you need to be the most cautious of.
“People had begun referring to Terroval as The Anvil and to the creatures that inhabited the continent as The Hammer. Over a few generations, changes had become more apparent in the people that lived in South Harbor. Since the land was harsh, only the strongest survived, and this had an effect that was unexpected by most. The people were getting stronger, faster, smarter, and more adaptable than ever before.
“Yet, to their misfortune, this phenomenon was also occurring amongst the enemy’s numbers. In point of fact, they’d had at the least a thousand years more of this effect than did the members of the Protectorate. They had been sending their weakest into battle against the forces that opposed them and using their strongest to oppose the enemies from within.
“A semblance of calm had settled on the land, and the members of the Protectorate had seen this as a sign that they were winning their war. However, there were a few amongst them who knew what was coming; they had inherent abilities from their parents and grandparents. Some could feel the coming storm. Some could feel the approach of death…”