Book 1: Campfire Criminals
It was the 187th day of the year 490, that of the 4th era. Each era was made of 500 years, so in a mere decade, a new era would begin. Many hoped that it’d mean new beginnings for the people of Lepthalys, the name of their world. Unfortunately, life plays its own rules.
A faded light seemed to glow on the deck of the SIS Milestone. The old boat was the flagship of the mighty Scalsan empire, and while it seemed to be far past any expiration date, she was still very much a force to be reckoned with in open water. She had served during the Bogan War, which had plunged the world in chaos thirty years earlier. It may look old, but chances are it would far outlive any who may spot it in the heat of battle.
Although there wasn’t a single star in the sky, Lepthalys’s three moons continued to illuminate the ship, the cannons on it glistening like beacons in the night. The moons lay clustered together, not common for them, but nothing extraordinary. A few restless shadows on board the ship confirmed the crew was still very much active, and why shouldn’t they be? War was on the horizon, and it appeared this mighty ship which had once seen so much bloodshed might be in the center of where the first battle was about to take place.
Within the bowels of the creaking ship, a figure stood. The silhouette looked like that of a bipedal lizard, and as it left the shadows its greenish skin and scaled face seemed fairly reptilian. It’s face was contorted, seeming as if it was thinking. In front of it, a flickering image of a woman sat before it, dressed in a fairly expensive looking gown and adorned in gilded jewelry, her hair in a large bun tied behind her head. She was seated on a throne that seemed cut out of the very floor it sat upon, though what material it was is hard to decipher, as both she and the throne were made a light blue by the hologram she was portrayed through.
“I do hope you reconsider, your majesty.” The lizard spoke in a soft tone. “The Bogans have gained allies from very dangerous places across the seas. Soon they’ll have no need to negotiate with you and may simply attack. The Grand Duchies of the West will surely support an Anweos ally, and it may act as a deterrent for Sindelvan rebels from sparking civil war...”
The female form caressed her cheek as she sat in silence for a moment. “My word still stands. Neutrality is the only way to assure my people aren’t tossed into a conflict that doesn’t involve them, much like the mistake my father made in the Great war. Surely, you can understand wishing what’s best for your people, Admiral.” She adjusted her back farther upright in her chair before continuing. “Besides, with a navy such as yours it would seem plausible that you can contain any naval force that the Prophet or his allies may manage to bolster.”
The lizard put his brass-armored hand on the desk the hologram sat upon. The claws on it made a slight clicking sound as he thought. His gaze met with the figure as he spoke again.
“The Scalsa… we are proud. Our navy is the strongest in the world, and we are unrivaled within the seas… yet I feel there is more to what the Prophet has planned with his Bogans. Our navy is strong, yes, but his words seem stronger. I cannot describe why, but I feel that we are in danger.” His voice grew quieter with each word, as if still uncertain about what he was saying.
After a hesitant gaze, his eyes locked back on to the figure before him. His voice returned to it’s previous stoicness, not wanting weakness in his mind now filled with possibilities to be known. “We shall honor Anweon’s neutrality, Queen Beatrice, so long as you extend the same policy towards the Bogans and whoever they pull out from under their black cloud.”
“My words will not change for them, Admiral Ahab. I must say, however, that I wish yo-”
Both she and Ahab were interrupted by another Scalsan nearly crashing through the door. The second lizard’s fumbling seemed frantic, but Ahab was unaffected by the entry. The newcomer spoke in a manner as frantic as his mannerisms as he gasped for air between words. “Admiral, Verman warships have been spotted on the horizon, they’ve entered our waters!”
Ahab stood unmoved, staring blankly at the desk in front of him. He scanned his hands with saddened eyes before turning his attention to the image. “I’m afraid our attempts at peace have failed, Queen Beatrice. Verma has just continued what our predecessors had started so long ago...” he slowly stood up, his tail almost hitting the back of the wall. “We will… keep in touch,” he said, trying to make light of the dire situation. The Queen’s face seemed unhappy.
“Very well… Good luck, Admiral.” she said, her words surprisingly genuine for supposed neutrality. The hologram quietly flickered before Queen Beatrice's image disappeared off the desk. The golden glow of the circle that covered the top of the desk, the source of the hologram, slowly died, as well, leaving a single candle next to it the only light within the quarters.
“Admiral, we have to-” The Scalsan was cut off. “Load the artillery. In the time it took for you to get me we could’ve had half the crew ready for defense!” Ahab stood another moment before sighing. “Apologies, you were right to come here. Now, rally the men. We must prepare for combat.” He waved his hand to the door, and the Scalsan frantically stumbled out the room, yelling something incoherent about the ‘big guns’. Ahab stared at the desk for another moment before reaching for the top of it, pulling the lid to the hollow desk open as his eye twitched.
Inside it lay a saber, the bluish gray blade shining from the candlelight as a bright yellow stone lay smithed into the handle of it. The golden hilt blended into said handle, which formed the shape of a dragon, its tail curling to form the pommel. All this was visible while it lay within a withered sheath, a window of missing leather leading to the blade being visible. The Scalsan from before came stumbling into the room again. “The cannons are ready, Admiral, and the men are…” his voice faded as he saw the sword. Both he and Ahab knew the sword’s meaning.
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“For thirty years, Hengeblade lay dormant.” Ahab said, almost sounding as if he was talking to himself. “Many lives ended at the hands of this sword, and I prayed it would never have to see light again. Now such a moment is going to be wasted on a simple skirkish.” Ahab reached for the sword, his voice almost disgusted. His reach paused about an inch from it. His hand shook slightly and his right eye twitched again, but after a few seconds his fingers gripped it as he slowly pulled it from its resting place. Ahab put his other hand’s finger on the blade as he began walking towards the door, his eyes narrowing in anger. “Come, Straizo, it’s time to give the sword what it wants.” Ahab now seemed solemn. Verman ships. In his waters.
After all the wars the two nations had against each other, through all these centuries, Ahab knew deep within that those rat-men would be the cause of more bloodshed. The Verma he knew from outside their nation were some of the finest men and women he had ever met, but something about Verma’s undying hatred for the Scalsan flag would always fester more conflict.
As the two traveled the rickety stairs leading to the deck, above them much shouting could be heard. The Scalsans were yelling commands to each other in their native tongue, many gripping muskets, swords, or whatever the closest thing to a weapon was near them. As Ahab took the final step onto the deck, most stopped. They quickly stood tall and saluted, those with muskets resting them on their right shoulder.
“Do you really think another war will start?” Straizo asked, his voice faint. Ahab stared ahead as he walked.
“Most likely, I’m afraid. The Prophet’s call will sway many to his side, and I fear the Verma may be among them already. At the moment, things don’t look too grand. Our navy is spread thin protecting our trading vessels from those pirates, and our only true ally through pen and paper is on the brink of a civil war.” As Ahab’s eventual successor, the Admiral thought it vital to relay his thoughts and thinking to the young Straizo, so one day he may think like him. Ahab’s tone quickly changed into a condescending one as he reached earshot of the Scalsan soldiers before him. “At ease!” He shouted, with which the stature of the men disappeared.
Ahab walked towards the starboard side of the ship, peering into the horizon. The moons shone bright upon the crystal shimmer of Scalsa’s tropical waters, and with it the distant masses that would be the start of a terrible conflict. A warm breeze was cast upon the Milestone, seeming to foresee the silhouette’s fueling of the fires of war that now seemed inevitable.
The Scalsa were a hardy race, and while their long tails, large clawed feet and lizard heads seemed inhuman, they held very human emotions and ideas. The scales on their body were tougher than normal skin, and allowed different pigments of color much like a human’s different skin tones. They may look monstrous, but the only monsters that stalked these warm waters were leviathans, krakens and greed.
“Are you certain that they’re Verman vessels?” Ahab asked the crowd behind him.
“Aye, the watchtower near Isaac’s Hollow called it in. They’re flying Verman flags!” One of the men barked. Ahab grumbled to himself a bit before turning around.
“Brothers of Scalsa, it appears our lifelong enemy, the Verma, think that attacking our flagship would put the Motherland out of the war before it had even begun!” Ahab’s remarks were met with a chorus of boos and curses. “These rats have long plagued our way of life, and it can only be assumed they allied themselves with the Prophet in order to take advantage of the situation and give reason to attack us!” The crowd got rowdier with every word that Ahab spoke.
“Let it be known, this may be the first battle of another war that grew from the first one thirty years prior, but it will be known as the first Scalsan victory!” With those words, he quickly drew the sword from its sheath. The crowd of Scalsans lifted their guns and weapons in the air and cried out in readiness. They uttered the lifelong motto of all the Scalsan military:
“We die, so the Motherland may live!” They cried, their weapons ready for blood.
With those words, Ahab’s sword began to glow bluish gray, not simply from the blade anymore, but seeming brighter than what light the moons could cast upon it. The magic imbued within the yellow stone pulsated as the sword’s bright blade pointed towards the Verma warships. He turned the sword slightly, eyeing it with the slightest hint of regret in his gaze. Hengeblade was prepared for battle. The cannons on board the flagship began turning towards the figures in the sea as Ahab uttered words that would likely go down in the history books:
“Now, lads… bring me their flags.”
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Four years have passed since that fateful day in the Scalsan sea, and the world was plunged into a new conflict, the Second Bogan War. The zealotic warlord known by many as the Prophet has retaken the lands his predecessor lost in the first war, although land isn’t his only goal. The Prophet believes that the world has no need of the Gods that the people of this world worship, and that through the technological advancements of the Bogans they can evolve into a new age for all.
Although the Prophet’s intentions seem pure, his Bogans have wreaked havoc across the lands, and his allies have used the war as a means to further their own agendas. The rat-like citizens of Verma wish to destroy their age-old enemy, the Scalsa, and the Prophet’s words are beginning to have traction across the other kingdoms of the land. The Prophet’s other ally is Briarteal, a nation in the central continent of Lepthalys and dangerously close to nations where natural resources run a plenty. In the southeastern corner of the world, the arid and dry kingdom of Sindelva (also called ‘Sandhall’ due to mispronunciations), one of the largest kingdoms in Lepthalys, has been divided in two over the conflict, the old regime of South Sindelva allying with Scalsa and the Grand Duchy of Barryland to form the Maxim Alliance. The rebellious North Sindelva allied with the Bogans, Verma and Briarteal to form the Liberation, a name many Maxim see as ironic. While other nations still consider neutrality, many fund and even supply troops to either side, putting said neutrality in question.
Of the central kingdoms, however, the most sought after is Anweon. The kingdom is one of great wealth, strategic location and a formidable military, and both sides have sought an alliance, much to Queen Beatrice’s discontent. Per her rules they are not to attack each other on her lands, and both sides send a constant stream of gifts, rumors and pleadings that heighten the tension. Most of the royal family have disappeared for fear of invasion, although some didn’t make it far. The Bogans had another plan for certain individuals, and the royal blood provides that exact need. One such member of the royal family is set to learn her true purpose in the world, and her long lost destiny.
At least, she thought that destiny was supposed to be hers...