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Locke
Prolouge

Prolouge

Spoiler: Spoiler

 Hello everyone! Thank you for reading Locke and I hope you enjoy my story. If you have constructive critsim please leave it as I am always striving to become a better author. I currently have enough content for three more chapters and have one book completely planned out at the moment. Once again thanks for reading and feel free to leave a comment

    “Is it done?”, a raspy voice wrapped in a dark cloak called out. Standing in the middle of the room surrounded by hooded and hidden figures stood a small man in dark leather armor shifting nervously under the intimidating gaze of the speaker.

“Aye my lord, they're in place and ready to be unleashed upon your command.” quickly replied the servant “Excellent, you have proven your abilities and usefulness to the Order, you have nothing to fear, for now.” The voice answered with harsh laugh.

“Return to Maston and await further orders, until such a time you will resume your previous role in preparation for future events.” Silently bowing low to the ground, the servant quickly backed away from the center of the room towards the exit taking every precaution to not lift his eyes lest the unintentional sign of disrespect cause his death. Once outside the dark room Jorm silently drew his hood over his brown hair as his eyes adjusted to the dim blue torchlight in the corridor.

As usual the master of this castle showed an impressive display of both magic and wealth as priceless artifacts and floated up on pedestals lining hall. Not wasting any time as he exited the manor Jorm applied his glamour changing his appearance to that of a younger man seemingly just come of age with bright orange hair and a scratchy beard to cover a freckled face and weak chin.

Jorm’s eyes glowed green as his bonded mount Skurti appeared from the shadows with a flutter of black wings larger than the man himself and a matching curved beak that seemed to drink in what little light the crescent moon provided from behind the thick clouds of the northern duchy. Climbing upon the back of the large roc he said, “Come Skurti, we fly south to Maston on the orders of our Master.”

Five days later- Strenn Manor, Duchy of Strenn

Cries of pain filled the chamber stone chamber as Gwen, a beautiful woman with eyes of emerald green and hair as black as coal screamed in agony as she struggled to push along to the rhythm of her midwife’s counting to bring a new life into the world. Pacing uselessly in the corner of the fur lined room was her husband Grant Strenn lord of Strenn. The large, leonine man stood with broad shoulders and a tight jaw, dark, brown hair fell to worried, golden eyes as he watched his wife cry out, his helplessness at the situation only made him increase his pacing further.

Finally, much to the relief of everyone in the room the cries of Gwen were added to by the softer and higher wail of a newborn child. Willum Strenn the firstborn and heir to the all lands of the Duchy of Strenn had just entered the world. Tears fell from Grant’s eyes as he was handed the newborn to hold and looked down upon his own golden eyes staring back at him, and when all seemed right with the world panic struck once again as he heard the frantic cries of the midwife, “Milord, I’ll send a servant at once for a healer the bleeding will not stop!” and saw that the love of his life had ceased moving and was staring weakly at the father and son pair.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Gwen knew she had but a few moments left as the midwife ran from the room and her husband bawled as he stroked her hair and let her hold their son, she smiled as she looked lovingly into eyes and whispered, “Raise him the right way, with all the love you can give. Lead our son upon a path to greatness and show him how to be worthy of his name. I love you Grant, forever and always.” With a final shudder Gwen closed her eyes with a peaceful smile on her face and the only sounds in the chamber were the sobs of a desolate man and the soft coos of an unaware baby. Grant was unsure how long he knelt by her side until he felt the comfort of a blanket being placed on to his shoulders,

“My lord, the baby must be cleaned, and fed. Lady Gwen will be tended to my lord, but you must rest.” Pleaded the midwife as she took Willum from the arms of his dead mother. Grant stood wordlessly and walked out of the room leaving only the sounds of a suckling newborn and the crackling of a fire. As Grant wandered the halls of his manor, he noticed how stale the air seemed to taste and how dull the colors upon the paintings and tapestries of his halls were now that he had lost the only thing he had lived for.

Maston, Duchy of Strenn

Jorm peeked out from behind the ancient oak tree that he had been hiding behind for the past three hours as he watched the pair of fools Whern and Crasch try to once again mark down the damned patrol times. Following the wishes of his master, Maston was to be their biggest prize yet, but unfortunately for Jorm and the men under his command, pressure from the Kingdom of Einkir along the border had increased the security of all towns within 50 leagues of the border. “Fuck, these peasants actually have a decent watch system in place for once.” spat Whern “Well, sometimes I like to fight before I fuck so maybe there will finally be someone to keep us entertained eh brother?” replied Crasch with an almost toothless smirk.

Standing each at over two meters both large brothers made for an intimidating sight. Whern stood a half a hand taller than his brother but was nowhere near as broad and seemed to be made of whipcord and roped muscle instead of the hulking mass that was Crasch who stood wrapped in his leathers while the large battle axe he carried rubbed against his cloak. The dark headed brothers were born with large brows and protruding jawlines, so much so that some idiotic people had even made the mistake of asking if they had been cursed by some God or Goddess before birth when too deep into their cups. Whern laughed at his brother’s lechery and replied, “Aye, and it looks like they’ve let the fool back onto the night rotation. The idiot hasn’t been able to stay awake once the past three nights. Tell Jorm and get the boys ready Crasch we attack tonight.”

Bjorik smiled as he pulled his golden hair out of his face revealing clear, ice blue eyes and a warm smile covered in a thick beard. He never imagined that the southern breeze could be so fresh and clean here when compared to the cold mountain air that he called home, but after his son was born everything around him seemed to be bathed in a new light and the whole world seemed to have a sense of clarity.

As he left his forge for the evening, James one of Maston’s guardsman called out to him in greeting from the door of the tavern as he passed on his way home to his family. He could hear the clear alto notes of his wife's voice singing in their native language before he saw Treja attending the garden with their newborn son, Locke, sleeping peacefully while swaddled in cloth and slung across her small chest as her long, golden hair came dangerously close to tickling the babe’s nose.

“Evening love”, he called out with a grin “you wouldn’t happen to know where a man could find shelter for such a cold night do you? Perhaps even share the bed of a beautiful maiden such as yourself?” Bjorik could practically hear her eyes roll as she scoffed a reply, “For a horrible brute of a barbarian such as yourself? I’m quite sure you’d just eat me out of my home and leave me for some other pretty thing that catches your fancy!”

“Nonsense, for there is no other woman as beautiful as you, and no other’s cooking could compare.” he laughed as he grabbed his wife and child in his arms leaving a kiss upon each of their heads and an extra upon Treja’s lips causing her to blush and giggle. “Come love, it has been a long day and would love to make it a long night as well.” he said as he carried his family inside with a swagger.

Several hours later the couple lay asleep in their bed holding one another and covered in sweat as the child lay in his cradle at the foot of their bed unaware of the carnage soon to befall the city around them.

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