frenchymm
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- 2008
Prologue: A Tainted Past
The wind howled menacingly through the ‘Straights of Night’. Driven fiercely forth by the threat of a growing storm, the man’s boat, small as it was, stood no chance of withstanding the massive waves that the ‘Wind of Darkness’ was capable of throwing up. The man however, knew that this was fated not to be. He had been forced, by pain of death, onto the boat, in circumstances that even he could not have foreseen. Tonight the man knew that he would be undone. His enemies had made sure of that.
A huge pillar of rock materialised out of the gloom, directly into the boat’s path. A ‘Boulder of Volcan’, even the captain of a full beamed ship with forty years experience would not dare challenging the smallest of these colossal ocean stones. There was no way the man could avoid a collision with the monstrosity. The man shut his eyes, resigned to whatever fate was to be handed to him by Delento, goddess of the seas.
The boat struck. Hard. At the moment of impact, the boat, with an ear-splitting crack, broke into an innumerable number of fragments. The man was thrown away from the remaining fragments of his ruined vessel and swept swiftly away by a powerful cross-current. The man, in the last few moments before unconsciousness remembered of the terrors that pursued him and of his subsequent flight to sea and of the terrors that pursued him, emptied his mouth of saltwater and yelled for one last time, “Curse you, people of Wrönden! Curse you!”
The man’s head hit something hard, peaceful oblivion came.
The wind slowed, the storm calmed, leaving only the memory of the man behind, another victim of the straights of night and the terror that dwelled there.
1. Partings 1.
“Balriem, whether you like it or not, you are coming with me on this trip, I Bal abide no argument with me in this court, do you understand?”.
“Yes father”, answered Bal resentfully.
Bal was only 14, yet his position as prince in the court of Tröll was an unavoidable one, as were his responsibilities. His father, king Dane of Batröll, had managed only one son throughout all his years, making Bal’s station in the royal court one of absolute necessity as he would, one day, be crowned king of all Batröll. As such, it was also essential for him to attend the council of lords at Council Fortress, over 150km to the north.
After the sharp rebuke, Bal went back to his chambers to oversee the servants packing the last of his effects. Halfway along his family’s chamber hall he was waylaid by a high and piping voice that stood out over the noise of all the servants and pages hurrying to and fro.
“Bal, Bal! Do you want to come and play with us Bal?” The ‘us’ referring to Bal’s younger royal sister Anna and her ‘royal’ dolls.
“No thankee Anna,” he replied kindly “You know I would love to, but I have important business to undertake”.
“Oh…well…I suppose that’s ok then Bal, bye-bye”,
“Bye-bye Anna, I‘ll see you at dinner,” said Bal as he left the royal hall and entered his private chambers.
Bal’s chambers were a mess as a multitude of servants, being overseen by Bal’s butler, packed many diverse items of clothing and other personal items into travel chests and several saddle bags.
“They seem to be doing well enough without you Bal”
Bal glanced around to find his elder sister, Jessica, watching the servants going about their task in that slow careful way that was renowned throughout the King’s city.
Jessica was said to be the most beautiful woman in the royal city of Tröll, whether that was true or not, she was certainly the most desirable and sought after princess in all of the many eastern empires and kingdoms. Jessica was, however popular, still a kind and helpful girl to her brother and sister, and was currently the servants packed the things that she knew Bal most wanted and needed for his journey.
“I am to leave on the morn, beloved sister, and I shall sorely miss your company” said Bal with a heartfelt fondness.
“Do not be worried Bal, I shall stay at home being good and proper
whilst you are away having exciting adventures without me” Jessica
said laughingly.
“Do not believe that I Bal have many adventures Jess, Council Fortress is hardly exciting and is only seven leagues away” Bal replied.
“I am so sorry Bal,” said Jessica suddenly, “ But I must leave you now, let this be our unofficial parting”. Jessica rose and hugged Bal, planting a kiss on each cheek. “Know that my wishes be with you whilst you are away honoured brother”
“And mine with you Jessica, may the good god look after you as I am gone.” Bal prayed.
“I Bal see you this time in three months then?” asked Jessica,
“Yes, I shall be back in time for winter”, answered Bal,
“Goodbye Bal” said Jessica as she walked out of the room with a tear on her cheek.
“Goodbye Jess” murmured Bal as the door swung slowly shut.
Bal went to bed as usual that night, however, he slept fitfully, dreaming of the voyage and the unspeakable horrors lurking, waiting for him in the darkness at the sides of the king’s road.
In the morning, as the palace bustled with numerous folk coming to see their king off on his voyage and with countless servants loading the baggage train, Bal thought of the evening before and smiled, knowing it would sustain him for the long days and nights until his return. It was not merely Bal and the King leaving for council fortress, but also an entourage composed of over a hundred servants and personal footmen along with an entire company of royal lancers, 50 all told.
As Bal’s royal mother kissed her husband farewell and handed him her kerchief, the royal lancers mounted their horses and the royal company was officially underway.
2. The King’s Road 2.
The first day of their voyage was uneventful, the road was well kept and wide (if a little dusty) and Bal found it very easy to fall into a doze, even when sitting on his thoroughbred. All Bal had to prevent boredom was the marching songs and chants of the lancers and the breathtaking views of the distant snow covered Maurton Carlil mountains. Bal had been hoping that there would be a little action as they passed between villages. However no highwayman alive would dare bringing down the wrath of an angry king, let alone take on a full complement of royal lancers .
As they passed many small villages and several towns people would come outdoors to cheer on their king. King Dane was well liked by his subjects, low taxes and decades without war, along with fertile fields for crops and a just judicial system set in place by the king, had ensured a healthy and prosperous place to live. Many of the inhabitants of Batröll were immigrants from the war torn empires of the east, seeking a peaceful way of life to forget the horrors of their old emperors and their ways.
In the eastern empires slavery was a way of life, as was poverty and famine. The olive skinned and gold skinned folk who inhabited those places had been at war for well over a hundred years, well before the time of the council.
The next couple of days were, for Bal exactly the same as the first, however, now they were coming out of the plains of Sekkar and were mounting and descending the gentle slopes of the northern foothills. Their baggage train was being sent up the Elgro River, a quicker yet more dangerous route. In places the river narrowed and sailing ships had to be punted upstream.
Their voyage passed peacefully with only making camp at night to relieve the monotony. The first night of camping Bal had been unsure of what was to happen. But with the multitude of servants and soldiers accompanying them they made short work of setting up the tents, taking care of animals, digging a privy trench and all the other menial and laborious tasks.
The last day was the most memorable for Bal and perhaps the only one he could recall with any clarity. As part of the travelling company, Bal’s father spared him no excuse for not working just as much as the other soldiers.
This morning of the last day of travel, Bal’s chore was to fill in the stinking privy. The guard commander approached him with some ill concealed delight at relegating this task on the young prince.
“Begging your pardon my prince, but your task today is to be … let me see … ah yes, of course, my prince you are to fill in the privy. We ride wh …”
“But…” Bal interrupted,
“Sorry, Highness but orders are there’s to be no buts about the privy, no pun intended,” The commander said apologetically, “We leave when chores are done my prince.”
Bal stomped off in ill humour to the privy trench. As Bal finished, after about twenty minutes, he heard the order to mount up. He ran over to the utility cart and threw the shovel on just as a couple of the guards threw over a canvas shroud.
“Better hurry up m’lord or we’ll be late getting’ to the fortress t’night” shouted the captain from astride his mount.
“Ok, Ok,” Bal shouted back. Just a minute. As he threw his bag over the saddle’s pommel the column started moving out and Bal was forced to scramble onto his horse to avoid getting stuck in the dusty rear end of the column with the pack horses.
The further they rode the more Bal wanted the journey to be over. Just as he started daydreaming again after the lunch break, Bal’s father reached across and patted him on the shoulder.
“Stay awake for this Bal, you surely would not want to miss it,” he said softly.
As one rides over the final ridge approaching the Council fortress the view is said to be the most magnificent in this part of the world. To their right, one might see the huge, ponderous Lord river. To the left, the dark and brooding Forest of Tronjheim. Behind it all lie the majestic, giant, snow-capped, Barrier mountains also known as the ‘Maurton Carlil’. But perhaps the most impressive of all these sights is what lies directly in front. Surrounded on three sides is the Fortress of Lords, sitting imperiously upon its rocky peak. On an island in the centre of the Lord River, directly across from the fortress towers the Palace of Lgro, its spires and walls tapering towards the sky. The palace was easily the most appealing to Bal, not because of its beauty, but because that was where a comfortable bed and hot food awaited him. But as the palace was situated on an island and only accessible via a bridge extending from the bowels of the fortress, he still had to enter the fortress.
3. Fortress of Lords 3.
As Bal and his entourage walked into the fortress and passed through the gloom projected by the massive gates he felt a tingling all over. Bal went suddenly cold, then hot, then cold again. He moaned in discomfort as he fell to his knees and began to call out to his father when he realised that nearly all the guards and servants were also shivering, sweating or moaning on the ground. Bal tensed and put his hand to the hilt of his sword, but when he looked at his father in confusion his father slowly shook his head as if to say all was well. As Bal relaxed another dizzy fit hit him and as he was about to fall the tingling stopped and the dizziness vanished.
A voice boomed out into the courtyard, “Welcome to the fortress of Lords good king Dane and royal Prince Balriem,” the one talking was a giant of a man, built like a barrel with hands clasped together large as a bear’s. “My name is Skell, seneschal of this fortress. I am sure you are weary after your long trek. Your highnesses, if you would care to follow, I shall usher you into the palace where hot food and warm beds await.” he turned to the sundry guards and servants. “Fear not for your king for nothing will harm him in this fortress. If you would all pass through that door, you will find several servants who will show you all to your quarters.”
He spoke all this deep and fast with a slightly western, earthen, accent. “If my lords should come this way?” Skell bowed deeply and turned in the same breath before striding off leading father and son into the fortress. As will crossed the bailey and passed another, slightly smaller gateway, Skell began a commentary.
The wind howled menacingly through the ‘Straights of Night’. Driven fiercely forth by the threat of a growing storm, the man’s boat, small as it was, stood no chance of withstanding the massive waves that the ‘Wind of Darkness’ was capable of throwing up. The man however, knew that this was fated not to be. He had been forced, by pain of death, onto the boat, in circumstances that even he could not have foreseen. Tonight the man knew that he would be undone. His enemies had made sure of that.
A huge pillar of rock materialised out of the gloom, directly into the boat’s path. A ‘Boulder of Volcan’, even the captain of a full beamed ship with forty years experience would not dare challenging the smallest of these colossal ocean stones. There was no way the man could avoid a collision with the monstrosity. The man shut his eyes, resigned to whatever fate was to be handed to him by Delento, goddess of the seas.
The boat struck. Hard. At the moment of impact, the boat, with an ear-splitting crack, broke into an innumerable number of fragments. The man was thrown away from the remaining fragments of his ruined vessel and swept swiftly away by a powerful cross-current. The man, in the last few moments before unconsciousness remembered of the terrors that pursued him and of his subsequent flight to sea and of the terrors that pursued him, emptied his mouth of saltwater and yelled for one last time, “Curse you, people of Wrönden! Curse you!”
The man’s head hit something hard, peaceful oblivion came.
The wind slowed, the storm calmed, leaving only the memory of the man behind, another victim of the straights of night and the terror that dwelled there.
1. Partings 1.
“Balriem, whether you like it or not, you are coming with me on this trip, I Bal abide no argument with me in this court, do you understand?”.
“Yes father”, answered Bal resentfully.
Bal was only 14, yet his position as prince in the court of Tröll was an unavoidable one, as were his responsibilities. His father, king Dane of Batröll, had managed only one son throughout all his years, making Bal’s station in the royal court one of absolute necessity as he would, one day, be crowned king of all Batröll. As such, it was also essential for him to attend the council of lords at Council Fortress, over 150km to the north.
After the sharp rebuke, Bal went back to his chambers to oversee the servants packing the last of his effects. Halfway along his family’s chamber hall he was waylaid by a high and piping voice that stood out over the noise of all the servants and pages hurrying to and fro.
“Bal, Bal! Do you want to come and play with us Bal?” The ‘us’ referring to Bal’s younger royal sister Anna and her ‘royal’ dolls.
“No thankee Anna,” he replied kindly “You know I would love to, but I have important business to undertake”.
“Oh…well…I suppose that’s ok then Bal, bye-bye”,
“Bye-bye Anna, I‘ll see you at dinner,” said Bal as he left the royal hall and entered his private chambers.
Bal’s chambers were a mess as a multitude of servants, being overseen by Bal’s butler, packed many diverse items of clothing and other personal items into travel chests and several saddle bags.
“They seem to be doing well enough without you Bal”
Bal glanced around to find his elder sister, Jessica, watching the servants going about their task in that slow careful way that was renowned throughout the King’s city.
Jessica was said to be the most beautiful woman in the royal city of Tröll, whether that was true or not, she was certainly the most desirable and sought after princess in all of the many eastern empires and kingdoms. Jessica was, however popular, still a kind and helpful girl to her brother and sister, and was currently the servants packed the things that she knew Bal most wanted and needed for his journey.
“I am to leave on the morn, beloved sister, and I shall sorely miss your company” said Bal with a heartfelt fondness.
“Do not be worried Bal, I shall stay at home being good and proper
whilst you are away having exciting adventures without me” Jessica
said laughingly.
“Do not believe that I Bal have many adventures Jess, Council Fortress is hardly exciting and is only seven leagues away” Bal replied.
“I am so sorry Bal,” said Jessica suddenly, “ But I must leave you now, let this be our unofficial parting”. Jessica rose and hugged Bal, planting a kiss on each cheek. “Know that my wishes be with you whilst you are away honoured brother”
“And mine with you Jessica, may the good god look after you as I am gone.” Bal prayed.
“I Bal see you this time in three months then?” asked Jessica,
“Yes, I shall be back in time for winter”, answered Bal,
“Goodbye Bal” said Jessica as she walked out of the room with a tear on her cheek.
“Goodbye Jess” murmured Bal as the door swung slowly shut.
Bal went to bed as usual that night, however, he slept fitfully, dreaming of the voyage and the unspeakable horrors lurking, waiting for him in the darkness at the sides of the king’s road.
In the morning, as the palace bustled with numerous folk coming to see their king off on his voyage and with countless servants loading the baggage train, Bal thought of the evening before and smiled, knowing it would sustain him for the long days and nights until his return. It was not merely Bal and the King leaving for council fortress, but also an entourage composed of over a hundred servants and personal footmen along with an entire company of royal lancers, 50 all told.
As Bal’s royal mother kissed her husband farewell and handed him her kerchief, the royal lancers mounted their horses and the royal company was officially underway.
2. The King’s Road 2.
The first day of their voyage was uneventful, the road was well kept and wide (if a little dusty) and Bal found it very easy to fall into a doze, even when sitting on his thoroughbred. All Bal had to prevent boredom was the marching songs and chants of the lancers and the breathtaking views of the distant snow covered Maurton Carlil mountains. Bal had been hoping that there would be a little action as they passed between villages. However no highwayman alive would dare bringing down the wrath of an angry king, let alone take on a full complement of royal lancers .
As they passed many small villages and several towns people would come outdoors to cheer on their king. King Dane was well liked by his subjects, low taxes and decades without war, along with fertile fields for crops and a just judicial system set in place by the king, had ensured a healthy and prosperous place to live. Many of the inhabitants of Batröll were immigrants from the war torn empires of the east, seeking a peaceful way of life to forget the horrors of their old emperors and their ways.
In the eastern empires slavery was a way of life, as was poverty and famine. The olive skinned and gold skinned folk who inhabited those places had been at war for well over a hundred years, well before the time of the council.
The next couple of days were, for Bal exactly the same as the first, however, now they were coming out of the plains of Sekkar and were mounting and descending the gentle slopes of the northern foothills. Their baggage train was being sent up the Elgro River, a quicker yet more dangerous route. In places the river narrowed and sailing ships had to be punted upstream.
Their voyage passed peacefully with only making camp at night to relieve the monotony. The first night of camping Bal had been unsure of what was to happen. But with the multitude of servants and soldiers accompanying them they made short work of setting up the tents, taking care of animals, digging a privy trench and all the other menial and laborious tasks.
The last day was the most memorable for Bal and perhaps the only one he could recall with any clarity. As part of the travelling company, Bal’s father spared him no excuse for not working just as much as the other soldiers.
This morning of the last day of travel, Bal’s chore was to fill in the stinking privy. The guard commander approached him with some ill concealed delight at relegating this task on the young prince.
“Begging your pardon my prince, but your task today is to be … let me see … ah yes, of course, my prince you are to fill in the privy. We ride wh …”
“But…” Bal interrupted,
“Sorry, Highness but orders are there’s to be no buts about the privy, no pun intended,” The commander said apologetically, “We leave when chores are done my prince.”
Bal stomped off in ill humour to the privy trench. As Bal finished, after about twenty minutes, he heard the order to mount up. He ran over to the utility cart and threw the shovel on just as a couple of the guards threw over a canvas shroud.
“Better hurry up m’lord or we’ll be late getting’ to the fortress t’night” shouted the captain from astride his mount.
“Ok, Ok,” Bal shouted back. Just a minute. As he threw his bag over the saddle’s pommel the column started moving out and Bal was forced to scramble onto his horse to avoid getting stuck in the dusty rear end of the column with the pack horses.
The further they rode the more Bal wanted the journey to be over. Just as he started daydreaming again after the lunch break, Bal’s father reached across and patted him on the shoulder.
“Stay awake for this Bal, you surely would not want to miss it,” he said softly.
As one rides over the final ridge approaching the Council fortress the view is said to be the most magnificent in this part of the world. To their right, one might see the huge, ponderous Lord river. To the left, the dark and brooding Forest of Tronjheim. Behind it all lie the majestic, giant, snow-capped, Barrier mountains also known as the ‘Maurton Carlil’. But perhaps the most impressive of all these sights is what lies directly in front. Surrounded on three sides is the Fortress of Lords, sitting imperiously upon its rocky peak. On an island in the centre of the Lord River, directly across from the fortress towers the Palace of Lgro, its spires and walls tapering towards the sky. The palace was easily the most appealing to Bal, not because of its beauty, but because that was where a comfortable bed and hot food awaited him. But as the palace was situated on an island and only accessible via a bridge extending from the bowels of the fortress, he still had to enter the fortress.
3. Fortress of Lords 3.
As Bal and his entourage walked into the fortress and passed through the gloom projected by the massive gates he felt a tingling all over. Bal went suddenly cold, then hot, then cold again. He moaned in discomfort as he fell to his knees and began to call out to his father when he realised that nearly all the guards and servants were also shivering, sweating or moaning on the ground. Bal tensed and put his hand to the hilt of his sword, but when he looked at his father in confusion his father slowly shook his head as if to say all was well. As Bal relaxed another dizzy fit hit him and as he was about to fall the tingling stopped and the dizziness vanished.
A voice boomed out into the courtyard, “Welcome to the fortress of Lords good king Dane and royal Prince Balriem,” the one talking was a giant of a man, built like a barrel with hands clasped together large as a bear’s. “My name is Skell, seneschal of this fortress. I am sure you are weary after your long trek. Your highnesses, if you would care to follow, I shall usher you into the palace where hot food and warm beds await.” he turned to the sundry guards and servants. “Fear not for your king for nothing will harm him in this fortress. If you would all pass through that door, you will find several servants who will show you all to your quarters.”
He spoke all this deep and fast with a slightly western, earthen, accent. “If my lords should come this way?” Skell bowed deeply and turned in the same breath before striding off leading father and son into the fortress. As will crossed the bailey and passed another, slightly smaller gateway, Skell began a commentary.
