Steampunk city, Fantasy city, Fantasy landscape [https://i.pinimg.com/originals/77/77/e6/7777e62a82ee8b73e0e269e2c7c94376.jpg]
https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/278097345720533362/
Arms pressed to his side, Bomberdel, Highchamberlord, Master of the Key, and Wordsmith Majore, stood tall at his window wearing a bright green robe and red sash. Formed from a single sheet of glass, it was a window like no other, created from a mineral called jade that allowed him to peer into the auras of the people below. Glowing with unnatural green light as he stared down, Bomberdel saw his people as they truly were, mystical, and unique, their auras fluctuating before his very eyes.
Gazing down at its bustling streets, he remembered a time when this city was nothing more than a midden heap of corpses, a place where people went to die. It had been a sad place with an even sadder history, one that had been changed by the hardwork and determination of a few individuals such as himself. The golden spires that now soared up into the heavens, the steam vehicles that rode through paved streets, and the flying zeppelins that flew through the clouds a testament to their handiwork. But unfortunately however as progress steamrolled forward, there were those who were determined to stop it like the Archmages of Preternia, The Order of Saint Lucius, The Dark Sorcerers of Morg, and the Old Republic of Aurai. Each one sought to claim this city as their own.
His gaze drifting to the borders of his realm, he sensed the dark clouds of war on horizon, foresaw the hammering of cannons at his gates, and knew one day his people would need to choose a side or be destroyed in the coming war. For if he hoped to save his city he would need allies. Allies powerful enough to shield his realm from danger. For if he failed and his city fell, they would unleash an evil unto the world. A creature of blood, spite, and bile. Or so he was told as a child by his father and his father before him. And while a part of Bomberdel did not wish to believe in the old tales, he also knew that there was something down there. Something that slept beneath the bedrock of his city. Something that allowed them to create wonders never before seen in the world, filled their soil with wealth, and offered them rich harvests.
Lost in thought at these implications, he heard a light cough come from behind him, and turned to see young Talvos.
A bright young lad with straight brown hair, he had light blue eyes, and a well muscled body that had been trained for war.
His feet set apart as he stared straight ahead of him, Talvos spoke with a voice devoid of emotion, “My lord, you sent for me?”
Gesturing for the young man to take a seat, Bomberdel was reminded yet again of the boy’s mother, Yelena. A gifted and remarkable woman, she had helped to found this city. A city where magic and science co-existed.
“I hear you have done well for yourself. Becoming a paladin in the Order of Gerant is no mean feat. Is it all that you had hoped for?”
His brows furrowed in confusion at the question, Talvos replied, “My lord?”
And unable to help himself, Bomberdel snapped back, “Answer the question, boy! You said you wished to become a paladin! And so you are. Now, I am asking you, is it all that you imagined it would be?”
His head still shaking from side to side, Talvos shrugged his shoulders, “It is my lord, but–”
“--but what?”
His blue eyes creased in worry, he shrugged his shoulders again, and half raised his arms. “I had hoped we would do more.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Releasing a light chuckle at that, Bomberdel pointed to two pieces of parchment on his desk, each of them addressed to the ambassadors that resided in his city. “That is good to hear, because there is indeed more that you could do for your city.”
His gaze drifting back to gaze out the window, he continued on, “You know your mother had a vision once, a vision in which magic and science could work together, a dream she brought to life here. But now, that dream is being threatened. To the west the Allied Republics of the Commissary wish to stamp the world with their science, and to the east, The Ancient Empire of Preternia seeks to reclaim its lost power. Our world, my dear boy, is about to be plunged into chaos and war, and in order to survive we must act.”
“But what do you want me to do?”
“Now that is the question isn’t it, my boy. What can we do to save the world from the blind arrogance of man? What can anyone do?” He finished in a low whisper. Watching the blazing sun on the horizon, Bomberdel knew what he had to do. But was he truly willing to sacrifice the life of this boy? Perhaps if he had been a young man, he would have undertaken such a dangerous task himself. But as it was, age and time had withered his bones, and what life was in his long golden hair was gone.
Turning once more to him, Bomberdel smiled at the burning determination in Talvos’ eyes and knew he had chosen rightly. “I have a request for you, my son.”
~*~
Born in the small village of Radcopse, Walter was by the very definition of the word a failure. He had failed in his apprenticeship to become a blacksmith. He had failed to become a fisherman, and much to the chagrin of his mother and father he had failed at becoming a butcher. Just the thought alone of seeing a headless chicken had caused him to regurgitate his guts out into the butcher’s yard and that had been the end of that. And now to make matters worse, he had failed at becoming a thief, a last desperate act to do something with his life. Captured over half a dozen times by Constable Ludwig the village protector, the people had taken to calling Slow footed Walter, or Pig Headed Fool.
But even that did not compare to the embarrassment he had felt after stopping a charging boar and almost getting himself gored to death. It didn’t seem to matter to anyone that he had saved Penny’s life. Oh no! Since then they had taken to calling him Brave but Stupid Walter. But he would show them all! He would make them eat their words, but first he had to get out of this darned prison.
Enclosed in a cage no bigger than several feet in diameter, Walter sat huddled off in a corner, his head brushing the top of the bars, when Constable Ludwig arrived with a dry smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his light blue eyes. “How many times is it now, Walter?”
Shoulders slumped down in defeat, Walter muttered, “Fifteen.” And he heard Ludwig chuckle in reply, “Lad, you have got to give this nonsense up, you're no good at it. Too slow on your feet, you are. Not to mention thick as an ox.”
A pretty big man himself, the constable was a broad shouldered figure with weathered face, and a lustrous black moustache. Dressed in a finely tailored black and brown uniform with yellow epaulettes at his shoulders, he was the very definition of what Walter thought a nobleman would look like, not that Walter had ever seen one up close. He also had kindly blue eyes that always seemed to twinkle with mirth, a trait that had always annoyed him.
Wriggling about in his cage to get a better position, Walter grumbled, “I could have gotten away if I hadn’t tripped over that ditch.”
Chuckling as he brushed a finger through his thick moustache, the constable smiled, “Aye, and what was it last time that stopped you? Let me remember, it was a shallow puddle in the middle of the road. Face it, lad, you’re not meant for a life of crime. You’d be better off becoming a rifleman in the service of Lord Huxelberry. He’s a good man, and he is always looking for decent men to join his ranks.”
Already hearing the voice of his father and mother, Walter replied with a sullen grimace, “Father, says I would only get myself killed.” And a part of Walter was afraid that would be true. But as soon as he saw the look of pity in Ludwig’s eyes, Walter felt angry at himself. “I don’t want to become a useless blasted guard like you. Protecting a village in the middle of nowhere from nothing,” he spat back hoping to hurt the man.
But if anything Ludwig ignored the jibe, shrugged his shoulders and sat down on an upturned bucket beside him. “Lad, I have lived through two wars, and I can tell you now, that this is the only place I would rather be. Some people may wish to be heroes, some may wish to be remembered, but me, I would like nothing better than to live out the rest of my days here in peace. A goal you yourself should want for yourself.”
Smiling genially again as he stood back up, the constable pulled out a set of keys, and unlocked the bars of his cage. “Anyway, lad, you’re free to go, just remember your choices have consequences.”