Chapter 1: Alan and Arcrelm

Part one: Sibland, Kingdom of Success

image [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53966786289_ca0cac218f_m.jpg] Map of Sibland, Capital of Azesh

16 years later…

Concentrate… Control your breathing. Just focus Alan, focus…

The young man thought, holding a bow and arrow in both hands, eyes closed as he felt the soft breeze pierce his lips. His toes were deep in the sand, occasionally washed over by the deep blue sea.

He felt the rhythm of life moving around him. It was all silent, every little thing… He touched his bow, feeling the energy around him pull closer towards him as if everything stopped. Taking a deep breath, he peeled back the bow and released it.

Instantly, the arrow left his bow. Swimming through the air as if it were an ocean, riding the waves to victory. The arrow zoomed past the air and contacted a large fish, which jumped out of the water.

If you were to look hard enough, you could also see the air get pierced alongside the fish. A small hole was made in the fish's stomach, deadly sufficient for it to plop down from where it jumped from, lifeless and floating.

Alan felt the force of the blow, smiling as he opened his eyes to see his prey killed. He jumped up, pumping a fist in the air. “Hell yeah! I knew I could! -“

Whack, Alan’s face turns the other way, forcefully turning from a hard blow. Punch or slap? It didn’t matter. He all but forgot about his father, who was watching him the entire time. A look of pure disgust was on his face as if his son had just come out of a whore-house drunk.

The man had a white goatee and short white hair. He was wearing hunting gear and hunting boots. The wrinkles on his face showed his age, which was either in his late fifties or early fifties.

“What do you think your doing!!” Shouted the man, staring at Alan with quite the malicious intent. Even though Alan was beginning to grow taller than his father, his force and aura made him feel like a shrimp compared to him. Alan didn’t answer, gulping loudly.

“I told you not to use your Virthi! It’s outlawed in every kingdom, every country in Escia! If you were caught using it in town, you’d be hung with the rest of them!” The man seemed only to get angrier. Alan thought for a moment- remembering how quickly the arrow came out. Ah Cherry-picks! I used Virthi, didn’t I!... The man thought, mentally facepalming. He knew something wasn’t right about the way he killed the fish.

He knew he had to respond soon, or else his father would grow relentlessly and barrage him with more insults and hits. So, he looked around, as if he were looking for a mysterious letter to get him out of this situation. In reality, he was conjuring up a viable response.

“You see… I uh… Just like- no- love hunting!” This sounded so half-assed. “I love it so much that I couldn’t contain my excitement and… Boom! Arrow flew past me.”

The white-haired man stared even more, which somehow made him even more upset; he shook his head from side to side as if he had already decided the younger man's fate.

“I’m telling the jacks to take the day off today. You get your sorry arse down the harbor and load up the fish for next months ceremony. And I don’t want one missing from the wagon!”

Alan looked as if he saw a geist. Gulping again, he began to plead. “Papa, please let me-“ “I told you not to call me that.” The man crossed his arms, standing with authority.

“You are a man in one month—a prince. You address your father formally. Now get on one knee and do it properly.” Alan stared momentarily before kneeling and hanging his head low. He was only just now realizing that he couldn’t measure out of this.

“My condolences, King Arcrelm, your mastery. I accept my punishment gracefully and will never make the same mistake. Please forgive me.” Those words seemed auto-generated as if he’d been practicing them every night.

The man standing above him uncrossed his arms with a grin. Pointing up the hill and past the tree line where they came from. “Good. Now hurry up and get to work. If you fast enough, you should finish in time to see the whalelions dart up.”

Alan nodded, turning away with an upset sigh as he grabbed his leather sandals and slipped them on over his feet. He grabbed the dead fish and headed back up the hill.

Alan was tall, with white skin with freckles around his cheeks and nose and light green eyes. His hair was brown and swept back, long enough to go over his two shoulders. Surprisingly, he has rounder ears than most Azeshians. For his age and race, he was on the slimmer side. He had muscle and was strong, but certainly was no brute or stone pusher.

The kingdom was made from refined materials that only the best cities obtained. Houses were made of stone, and street vendors were enclosed with windows, which were rare in Escia. The road was made of bricks of different colors: red, black, and grey. Walking into Sibland, you could tell it cared about itself and was worthy of having the name of Capital to Azesh.

Forests surrounded the area, each leading to new places with new exotic creatures. On almost every side of Sibland, in virtually every forest, were a few lakes and ponds. Sibland was known to be a good trading port, and any significant water trade deal was usually dealt with here.

Two long streams of water existed in the middle of the kingdom, eventually connecting into one that led to the Bassin Sea west of the village. People have often argued about draining the water and replacing it with the same brick road the rest of the kingdom uses. But king Arcrelm has decided to keep the two streams. Saying, ‘It’s what makes the kingdom unique.’

Due to streams of water running in the middle of the kingdom, bridges were made so that people could traverse to one side or the other. Kids used to play in the water long ago, but some went missing and got swept up by the current and into the sea, never to be seen again. After that happened, swimming or playing in the water was outlawed.

The kingdom is one of the wealthiest ones in Escia, being funded by many others, and has a massive spot for trading. No matter your opinion of King Arcelm, he was undoubtedly a genius when it came to diplomacy and making his own people proud. Because of this, the crime rate was much lower than in any other kingdom, and poverty was barely a concept here,

One reason this was the case was because of the strict race laws here in Sibland. Large gates were present at every side of the kingdom, with guards always on duty. You needed either proof of citizenship or a direct letter from someone important to enter. This led to a few other races here. Much of the kingdom consisted of only the Azeshians, with few Xigrelians and Karins here.

Directly north would take you straight up to the other cities and towns in Azesh, and heading east and south would take you to other countries, such as Roykarinia, Xigrela, and many more. I’ve never been anywhere outside of the kingdom… It would be nice to go. Alan thought as he made his way up the hill and through the gate, entering Sibland—his home.

Entering the large kingdom, Alan first saw a large wooden stage off to the right near the gate entrance and outside the shopping district. On the stage was a man with a bag over his head and hands tied behind his back. His legs were chained to the stage, and he was naked. His private parts covered with a flimsy cloth. He was pale- paler than anyone else here. Ogian? The man thought. What is an Ogian doing all the way out here in Azesh?

His head was squirming through the bag, and guards were in front of the stage with bows, all pointing to the man. Around twenty people were watching the incident behind the guards. One girl in the front was crying on her knees as tears fled down her face. She was Azeshian.

Alan thought those binds were rather tight… surprised the man's hands hadn’t fallen off. He stopped to watch what was happening. The young man, however, knew precisely what this was: an execution.

A guard from behind grabs the man’s hands. He takes out a sharp, high-carbon steel sword, grasping the handle with two hands as he slices the man's hands off in one clean, strong swing. The Ogian man screams. Shouting in his native tongue. Alan knew all sorts of phrases in other languages. But from Ogia? He didn’t know a thing the man was saying.

The woman in front shouted something in Ogian as well, though her Ogian was much more broken and rougher, while the man's was fluent. The guard whacks the back of his head. He squirms more.

“Shut the fuck up! You damn pale bastard, answer my question! And I know you speak Azeshian. We heard you cursing us when you used virtue.”

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The man stopped squirming. His hands were lying on the wooden stage; mere stumps were all that was left on him, dripping blood at a fast rate.

Alan couldn’t help but wince. He was an empath through and through, and to see this happening was tough to watch for him.

“I’ll ask again. Swear never to use Virtue again, and we will let you go with your life.” Said the guard, giving time for the man to respond in Azeshian.

“Please, you must! Just say you won't-“Shut up, woman!” A guard cuts off the crying woman. She cries harder.

“…Never.” His Azeshian wasn't the best, though all twenty people, including the guards, understood him clearly.

“I’ll never abide by this corrupt country. King Arcrelm lied to you all! He outlawed Virtue not for the better of this world but for his own sake as king! You all are mere pawns to him… I’ll never swear anything to this sorry kingdom or this mistake of a country!”

Alan looked away. He knew what was next. And didn’t want to see it happen. He heard arrows pierce the air, at least fifty- and in seconds, the man was dead. Blood dripping through the cracks of the wooden stage.

The woman cried more as the guards took her away. Alan would sigh. Walking forward and into the kingdom, he steered his head in the opposite direction of the stage, not wanting to see the dead man. Before he entered the kingdom, he put his right hand on his chest, connecting his middle and index finger, creating an oval-like shape. It was a prayer.

The kingdom was bustling with many faces, as usual. Most were white, and others were a bit tan. As mentioned earlier, Sibland was strict about who was allowed in. Alan would walk the brick ground, carrying the fish in one hand. His eyes were set on one location in particular: Osbald’s clearance shop.

As Alan walked, some stared at him. The whole kingdom knew that he was the son of King Alcrelm and the upcoming prince. Though everyone knew if they tried anything funny, they’d be hung or shot with arrows before they could say the word ‘execution.’

Walking into the shop was the best part so far. Feeling the controlled air as he opens the door, the bell ringing as he does so. It closed behind him as the man at the counter turned to see who it was. Flashing his gold tooth, he would smile.

“Alan! Great to see ya bud. What ya bring me today?”

Alan didn’t smile, as he walked inside and towards the counter. Osbald was a friend of Arcrelm, and sort of like a father figure to Alan. Well, more than his actual father was, at least.

Alan plopped the fish he had killed earlier on the counter. It was huge—16 inches. That typical fishy smell filled the shop almost immediately. The shop was cozy, with a fireplace in the back and different creatures and treasure hung on the walls.

The man spotted the slight frown on the green-eyed man’s face, shaking his hook hand in the air. “What’s wrong bud? You seem down.”

“Nothing much… Just Papa being a pain in the arse again. Not to mention another execution… I wish they’d stop with those already. Or, at least do them somewhere where I can't see them.

Osbald would sigh. “Well, they are called public executions for a reason.” That was an attempt to humor the upset boy. It didn’t work. Osbald cleared his throat and pointed to the wall behind Alan.

Alan looks behind him, spotting a creature's head he’s never seen before. Osbald would smile. “Yep, that’s a new one. Came in from Tinshingia- rewarded the man five gold Lithin.”

Alan would spike up. “Five!? That’s like… Over one thousand copper lithin!” Alan was surprised. Osbald laughed, shaking his hook for a hand.

Alan has always been intrigued by other countries and their customs, including seeing new species he'd never seen before. Osbald knew something like this would cheer him up.

The man had a large black beard, a wrinkly face, and tanned skin. He was wearing a pirate hat. His clothes were raged and smelled funky. His left hand was missing—replaced with a hook attached to some rusty metal.

He stared down at the fish, then at Alan. “Bud, go look at the new find on the wall there. I’ll go and price this fish for ya.” Alan nodded, walking over and looking at the exotic creature from Tinshingia.

Its head was high up on the wall. Underneath it was a description of it, written in poor handwriting. Alan curiously read the entire thing.

The Armoured Athesmi

Appearance

A colossal, unique, tauric reptile with a narrow head, two narrow light green eyes, no visible ears, no visible nose, and an indented jaw.

It has a serpentine neck,and it has two long, bony arms. It has a muscular chest, muscular stomach, a segmented waist and a skeletal lower body. It has two athletic forelegs with two-toed hooves and two slender back legs three-toed hooves and a spindly tail.

The Armoured Athesmi's whole body is covered in thin scales, except its bare hooves.

The majority of its body is dark gray, while the rest is black with pale red diamonds.

Armoured Athesmi Stats

Average Height:

82 feet / 25.0 meters

Average Lifespan:

2 years

Maturity:

3 months

Breeding age:

6 months

No. of young:

4 eggs every 6 months

Population:

Numerous

Temperament:

Disdainful

Diet:

Herbs, Other Armoured Athesmi, and Eggs

Family life

Breeding pairs mate for life; if their partner dies, they will never mate again. The males's appearance changes significantly when they are ready to breed.

The Armoured Athesmi usually lives in massive family groups led by the mother. The grandmother takes care of much of the child-rearing.

General

- They can leap forward as far as 205 feet / 62.5 meters.

- They use scents to communicate.

- They do not need to drink at all.

- Males are particularly aggressive.

What a beast… Is this what the creatures are like in Tinshingia? I’ve heard it’s reasonably hot down there. Alan would continue to stare at the ferocious beast’s head. Just as he was about to turn away, the man behind the counter would shout out.

“Alan! Got the price for this baddie. Might like what ya hear.” Alan’s round ears perked up. Turning away from the armored Athesmi and walking back to the counter.

“So.” Osbald would stroke his beard with his left-handed hook. “This right here is a Scabdol. These are usually found in the Bassin sea… You didn’t go that far out did ya bud?” The man would ask curiously.

Alan shakes his head. “No, sir. I found it in the forest, in a quiet little pond, out fishing with Papa. It kept jumping out of the water, so I readied my bow and got it.”

“Well, that explains the hole…” Osbald mutters, touching it with his right hand, feeling it. “And the forest ya said? What in escia is a Scabdol doing so close to town?”

Alan shrugged. “Beats me. How much is it worth?”

Osbald would scratch his beard with his hook again. Pondering. A few seconds later he answers. “I can offer three silver lithins.” Alan’s eyes widened. He mentally took a step back.

“That’s it? That’s only about sixty-three copper Lithins.” Osbald would nod. “I know, bud. Trust me, that’s more than I should be giving in the first place. It’s just… I can't give any more with that hole in the middle.”

Alan would sigh once again. His day just kept getting worse and worse. He nodded, understanding the man across the counter. “I know… I’ll take the silver.”

Osbald nodded, walked back, and dispensed three small silver lithin. They were shaped like casino chips and just a little bit bigger than a fingernail. He placed the three things on the counter.

Alan took them, pocketing them in a small satchel he carried around his waist. Oswald frowned at the young man.

“Cheer up bud. It’s not the end of the world. Cruel of your old man to make you work for your own profit, though. He’s one of the wealthiest men in Escia, after all.”

“I’m not upset at that. I understand his reasons for not making me privileged- It's just that after this, I got to head to the harbor and load up all the fish for tonight.” Osbald would frown harder. “Fish? For the ceremony, I assume. I thought that was in a month.”

“It is. But Papa wants it now so that it can be preserved in the castle's freezer until then. The fish is best served that way.” Osbald nods. Well, that part is true. I would help you, bud, but I can't close the shop until a few hours. You're going to be on your own.”

“I know. It’s – fine, I deserved it anyway.” Oswald decides not to question what that means. Alan would turn to leave, saying his goodbyes to his friend as he headed down the harbor.

The harbor was near the bottom of the kingdom. Alan walked for around forty minutes to even reach down there. Once he did, he saw the many docks and ships that plastered the harbor. This was where travelers and merchants of different kingdoms would dock. Many ships come through here to drop off and pick up slaves as well.

It was busy. Too busy for Alan’s liking. Grabbing the nets and the wagons, he spent hours catching fish across the large, blue sea and throwing nets filled with bait, attracting the fish to it. Once they were in, he’d close the net and raise it back up to the dock, letting the fish flop around until they died due to the lack of breathing.

Alan always felt a little bad doing this. Of course – Hes been hunting his entire life, so it was only just a little bit. Fish were lower than him. Fish couldn’t talk. Fish couldn’t plead with Alan about why they should survive. And because of that, he didn’t find much harm in turning them into a tasty meal.

He loaded all the fish he caught for the day into a large wagon. Around ten nets were stacked on top of each other, and loads of dead fish were inside. The sun was starting to set now. Alan made it just in time to see the whalelions jump up and sing together. He kicked his sandals off, bare feet slapping against the docks as he sat, legs dangling over the water.

He swiped his arm over his forehead, catching sweat dripping through his long hair. It was a hot day- and Alan had been working for hours now.

When the sunset, whalelions would appear. Jumping up and talking to each other. Their unique sound was like a musical rhythm, always calming Alan when he had a rough day.

What Alan liked most about whale lions is that they aren’t regional—appearing anywhere through Escia. Some are different and make different singing noises depending on where you are. The ones in Azesh made this harmony that sounded like waves crashing down on some beautiful pipes.

As he was thinking about them, they came out. They had the bodies of whales but long, majestic whiskers around their cheeks. And a protruding snout that let them smell anything and everything. Whalelions were known to be some of the most peaceful creatures in Escia.

Alan listened to their beautiful sounds, his eyes bouncing back and forth as he watched them jump up and communicate with each other. He thought to himself. These guys are so free… They can go anywhere they please. They are always happy…

He couldn’t help but think. They are free…? Alan wished he were a whalelion. He wished he could go anywhere he wanted, meet new people, and explore Escia to his heart's content… He wondered what kind of things were out there. What kinds of people were out in Escia?

He thought to himself again, as the sun settled and the whalelions danced and sung. Ah… That’s what I want. To be free.