I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!
I apologize, procrastination is quite a pain.
With that said, here's a chapter.
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A dozen white-clothed maids, and a gruff man, all of them hurrying about frantically like villagers trying to put out a fire - fetching water, towels, this and that. Angry little raindrops smashed against the windows like the hands of angry spectators wanting to break into some special occasion;
How hard had these faithful folks worked for the past few days, running to and fro for the sake of this woman.
The stubborn prince, centerpiece to this tumultuous occasion, chose to have mercy on them and leave his watery abode . This being a signal to the hard-working men and women present, all loyal workers from the looks of it, the end of their long struggle. As for the maiden who had, laying upon the bed, struggled the most of them all: she hoped never to bear child again, if all were so miserly and cruel. These unkind thoughts skittered about her tired mind, like children jumping about in the presence of a mother too tired to impart discipline; sleep tugging at the sleeve of her neck, pulling her forcefully into the land of dreams, she unwillingly indulging it- after sending towards her lively-looking offspring one tired glance.
The looks etched on the faces of the maids was the last thing the delivery of a healthy child would bring, however, unless in this world children were all hated devils. Perhaps it was so, as they all gazed upon him with trembling faces.
'Why does the child not cry?' This question had run through the midst of them, splattering white dread across all their faces. A smack on the stubborn prince's cute little butt was all it took to get him to relent and entreat them with his cries- sighs took off left and right, like burps that begged to leave stomachs too full with food; only these stomachs were full of trepidation. It worked somewhat; a few rose-painted lips curled into smiles, and young men resumed their stoic look.
Amongst these well-dressed young women stood an old woman; her manner of dress nothing that would inspire praise. Like a perverse inspector of ancient treasures that pale hand of hers inspected the round belly of the child - such a sad fate, to be touched first by a hand riddled with nerves blue and green- a new life invited in by one already in cohort with death.
If this old lady had one redeeming feature, it was that her wrinkled face possessed those agreeable eyes whose corners exhibited a gentleness only the old could. Those crinkles left soon, pulled in another direction by what one can guess was disgust and contempt.
Shaking her wrinkly old head, she exclaimed, "This one, my lady, is cursed by-"
Their leader's gruff eyebrow quirked up sharply. That must be why the decrepit woman spoke faster, words spilling forth, "His eye, sire, is not present! Not just that, it seems to have been burned by magicks, no doubt the work of the Gyl-"
"Leave." came the rather curt reply, "I will do what needs doing."
With that, the woman could say nothing more, because his back was already turned to her, and his red mane would most certainly not be answering her.
"B-but m'lord, this is.. is your first and only child-" chimed in a soft voice, carrying with it hesitation. Had the young maids already taken a liking to the tyrant prince who worked them to the bone even before he was born?
"That's an order. For all of you!" Came the reply, this time louder.
With that, all of the maids bowed once, then left through the door curtsying still like a group of Chinese dancers; the men-soldiers amongst them bowing stiffly, followed behind.
The Seul'for, to whom belonged this couple, had long been engaged in a long-drawn, brutal war with those known as the Gyldinae. It had been long enough to rob their opponent of their patience: enough for them to resort to what was seen even by foreigners as underhanded, brutal methods; one such method manipulated children's vitalities from within the womb, transforming them in various creative and beautiful ways: one commonly used method resulted in the city having to watch noxious plumes of green rise out of homes at least once every month.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
In return were the victims forced to resort to equally crueler tactics: that of abandoning children suspected of being these carriers of bombs, or even worse, frying their 'core' - the part of a person from which regulates magical energies. This was what the father had in mind in this case. The leader of the clan in these harsh times had been expected to lead from the front, whether in battle or at home, and his child would be no exception to the rule.
White was showered across the warlord's grief-filled face by a flash of lightning, jolting him out of his reverie. Turning his face towards the table upon which laid the child, he walked with reluctant steps towards it. His calm hand rested upon the child's face, a wall of trepidation forcing away his magical energies whenever he tried to force them into his hand.
"They really pulled the wool over my eyes this time, didn't they?" He muttered in a low voice, looking at the arm that would soon be bloodied; electricity whirring within his nerves, coiling up and around his arm like a spring waiting to explode out.
-
They stood lined up against the wall, mostly staring at the floor. Some found their hands on their mouths, as if wanting to stop something from spilling out. Others held their foreheads, and the less composed fell to their knees and were rocked by sobs. The rumble of thunder shook the floor and pounded against their ears, but they knew that there would rumble forth a sound far greater than that soon enough: that of the magic of their lord who possessed among them all the keenest instinct for the manipulation of electricity. It was no small feat, considering almost everyone in the tribe possessed an innate talent for it.
They knew to close their eyes when white lights shone from under the door.
Forced open their eyes were against their will by the door flying off its hinges, their lord himself slumped in their midst against the wall. They all were quite quick to notice how his arm was adorned with red- not blood, but burnt skin rising up around it in a circle.
For him to have a misfire would not be unheard of, but a rebound was nigh impossible unless his magic was repelled by someone with far greater ability than his. Such men and women were rare to say the least, and the presence of one among them was dire news. Therefore they formed up quickly in neat circles, spilling into the room and taking positions they had practiced a thousand times.
Their eyes peered into the room filled with smoke, the veins of their arms puffing up with power as they prepared for meeting their enemy-
"Look!" Said a young man with his finger pointed towards the grey smoke in front of him, "The child!"
"Don't worry about the child! The rotten enemy's here!" said a voice from within the fog as his footsteps ran towards the table.
He had not seen the translucent barrier surrounding the child and was promptly sent wheeling back towards the wall next to his lord.
"I told you to look, didn't I? We don't have any specialists with us.. this is an utter disaster" the voice from before spoke again.
The tightly-formed circles moved slowly towards the table- so slowly, in fact, that the fog had all but cleared up, revealing the child as well as the mark on his temple that held up the barrier - the mark of Seo-Lofor, the great founder of their clan. That was enough for them to lower their arms, since such well-trained men could not be stupid enough to never have read the Silver Manuscript, in which this mark appears as a sign of protection from their founder.
So they collectively sighed for the second time that day, and the women left to tend to their lord. His arm would need some working with, but perhaps he'd be thankful to the little prince for the lovely design work done on it.
The prince cried, the maids rushed in, and the black night sky smiled its devious crescent smile as it had the whole time, satisfied by the show put on before it.
As for the child, his name came to be Isenordal.