Although the buildings in some areas of the city, were crammed tightly together, giving the impression of overcrowding, that was not generally the case. With a large market square in the northern district it and the many workshops and warehouses in the south, life could be considered somewhat hectic. With so much going on the city’s garrison was kept busy monitoring the flow in and out of the gates and keeping the streets as safe as possible for those that lived there. Moreover, with it also being the centre for the army’s recruitment and training, it was the place all new recruits were sent for basic combat lessons before being distributed to the areas of trouble. Sometimes this was into the elven lands to help in the continuing fight against the darkness, but more recently of late, many had been needed to go south to the small border the humans shared with the lands of the orcs.
Although technically allies in fighting the forces of the darkness, this small area of land had long been disputed between the two races. As orcs were naturally an aggressive race, always keener to fight than talk, this had ultimately meant several skirmishes between the two. As usual, it was the local citizens that had taken the brunt of these attacks, being caught in the middle and targetted by the orcish raiders that made forays into their lands. While there were two forts built on the border, neither was particularly large and reinforcing them was something the current monarch was currently undertaking.
The palace in Carison, home to the king was also the country's central hub of power. With its own protective walls, the building was generally considered one of the grandest. Built from white stone and set in immaculately kept gardens, it even boasted its own guard. These were usually battle hardened soldiers and magicians loyal to the king above all else, and numbering just one hundred they were called the Elite Royal Guard. Charged with the protection of the royal family, they were also responsible for the training of all new recruits into the city’s own guard.
King Willem was in his thirty-ninth year of age and had taken the throne after the death of his father, at the tender age of just nineteen. Marrying his queen, Clarice, just a year later, they now had three children. Two daughters, the eldest being Imogen, was seventeen and Laurel who was now fourteen. In between the two girls the queen had given birth to the young man who would one day inherit the throne from his father, their son James who was fifteen.
Being the crown prince to the largest of the kingdoms ultimately meant that James spent much of his time in lessons. These varied from day to day, and while some were enjoyable, such as practising with his sword and bow, others were unfortunately not so. Spending hours being taught how the financial system of government worked was not every fifteen-year-old boy's idea of fun. Nonetheless, the young Prince tried his hardest to be a good pupil aspiring to one day be a good king as was his father.
Always thought of as a fair man, being king sometimes meant being unfair to some members of society. Recruitment into his army was a must, and although he had often tried to figure out other ways of achieving the necessary numbers he had failed. The idea of parents selling their sons to his army did not sit well with him, but as his generals pointed out, it got them the necessary numbers they needed.
After taking breakfast with his family, Willem walked down one of the many corridors that linked the various rooms of the palace. With bright white walls and floored in a plush red carpet, he walked calmly towards the first of the day's meetings. Flanked either side by a member of his elite guard he bid one of his serving staff a Good Morning as he passed them by.
Stopping outside a set of wide doors, with polished brass handles and beautiful gold leaf scrolling around the outer frame, he waited while one of the guards on duty opened them for him to enter. Once inside those already sat waiting around the large oval table immediately stood as Willem made his way over to the chair at the far end. “Please be seated gentlemen,” he said as he waved his hand to one of the serving staff stood obediently waiting along the far wall.
The young man, dressed in the blue livery of the Royal House quickly walked over, “Can we have some refreshments brought in, I think this is going to be a long meeting,” Willem asked. The man bowed his head and headed off out of the room through a side door to carry out the king’s request. Meanwhile, around the table were sat the eight most powerful men in the kingdom, aside from the king.
To the right were the men from his military. The Commanders of both the Elite and City Guard, as well as his Chief Advisor and finally the man charged with the training and discovery of the magical element of his army. To his left were the officials who ran the day-to-day business of the realm. The Chancellor, the Treasurer, Municipal Advisor and finally a man who had been extremely busy of late, the king’s own Foreign Minister.
With the recent troubles on the southern border, the Foreign Minister had travelled to the Orcish Capital of Balrach and spoken to their leader on the king’s behalf. The Orcs did not have a king as such, and being such a feudal society, the one in charge appeared to change from year to year depending on which of the orcish clans was currently deemed the strongest. Willem understood that this often meant the raids against his border towns were probably nothing to do with any order from the orc’s leader, but merely from some smaller element that wanted nothing more than cause trouble. However, that did not mean Willem was simply going to sit by and let it happen. He had already reinforced the two main garrisons with a large number of troops, although he did not want the entire situation to escalate out of hand. Hence the Foreign Minister had been to request the orc in charge to see if he could perhaps intervene.
However, the problem with the orcs no longer was the main topic of conversation. Instead, the Minister was now updating them on a far greater threat to the west, that being the increasing number of incidents regarding the forces of darkness. A big believer in helping his elven allies, knowing that if they were to capitulate then the human lands would be next in line, Willem was already preparing more troops to head that direction. The problem now being he was overstretching his army to try and accommodate fighting on three fronts.
The news that the dwarfs had been attacked had come as a shock, and although he only had a very small contingent in their lands to help the fight, it was something he may have to consider bolstering to alleviate the calls from the dwarfs for them to help. With the elven lands seeing a significant increase in attacks, it was now clear to Willem and his advisors that the forces of darkness were once more about to launch a major offensive.
Fortunately, at least for the humans, the elves were always the ones to get hit first, being as the beasts of the dark appeared to originate from around the area of ‘The Wastes’. Reinforcing the elven outposts was now a priority for Willem, wanting to keep the fight as far away from his own lands as possible, despite knowing how selfish that may have sounded. With his military staff already informing him that he would need to start recruiting far more if he was to have any hope of taking the fight to the enemy, Willem, somewhat reluctantly agreed to announce a conscription.
While he had hoped that the call for volunteers the previous week might have seen decent numbers added to the ranks, it seemed the people were not keen on coming forward. A compulsory conscription, he knew would mean trouble, as there were always those who objected and would inevitably try to avoid their duty. Punishment for such an offence was usually quite harsh, and while the thought of having men publically flogged as an example did not sit well with him, he was aware it was something that would be necessary.
After waiting for one of his serving staff to pour his tea, Willem made a suggestion to his council. “We only conscript those over eighteen years. I’ll not have innocent children being subjected to this war,” he stated although he could already tell none of his military commanders seemed to agree, although each kept their opinions to themselves. They, like the king, knew that by making such a decree, Willem was protecting one person, in particular, that being his own son James. Under current law, if a conscription were called, that usually meant any m
ale over the age of fourteen being recruited, evidently not something the king wished for his only son and heir.
Queen Clarice was a well liked and respected royal, both by the ladies of her court and the public in general. Eldest daughter of a wealthy trader, she had been a surprise choice especially as it was the norm for the king to marry to those with royal blood. However, Willem had stood firm, despite the wishes of some of the more senior members of his council to keep with tradition.
While the role of Queen was somewhat less demanding than that of her husband, the part she played was no less important. Although entertaining guests at the palace may not have seemed like work, these occasions were often for a greater purpose. The king, although wealthy in his own right, could never afford the vast sums of money it cost to raise, equip and supply a large army, and hence it was during these gatherings that the queen often sought assistance from the wealthier members of her guests. Now she knew her husband was conscripting, she would have to work even harder to cajole money from the nobles and wealthy merchants she entertained.
Clarice and her closest circle of friends were sat in the long room, embroidering and chatting as they did at least twice a week. While these ladies of the court may not be the ones controlling the money, Clarice knew that each was married to a wealthy man, and as such held influence over their respective husbands. To show a united front, this morning she was also joined by both her daughters, the youngest of which was missing lessons to attend. Imogen, the older of the two princesses, had attended several such events before and was quite familiar with the protocol, and hence was there to show her younger sibling how a lady of court behaved.
After lunch, Imogen was also to accompany her mother and venture out of the palace into the city. Their purpose was one of importance, and something Clarice had insisted she does at least once a week. The poorest in society were often overlooked by those who needed for nothing, yet Clarice, since becoming queen had always tried to help in any way she could. As a result, a small kitchen had been opened under her sponsorship, not long after she had married and been open ever since. One afternoon a week, she would venture down there and help out, serving soup and bread to those who struggled with the cost of life's basic needs. While Clarice knew this did not alleviate the problem of people going hungry, it had shown the public that the royal family did have a caring side to them, and as a result of this gesture, their popularity amongst the poorer members of society had never been higher.
Unfortunately as the poorer parts of the city were the neediest, they were also the areas where the crime was most prominent. As a result, the Queen always travelled with extra guards, made up of the Elite core whose job it was to oversee the protection of the family members. With the notices of conscription soon to be placed around the city, it would likely be this area that would see the most trouble. Whereas those from wealthy families often considered it an honour to serve one's king, those from the opposite end of the wealth spectrum found fighting for their mere survival much more important.
James, as the heir to the throne of the human kingdom, was that morning partaking in one of his favourite activities, that being sword practice. Although only fifteen, not quite sixteen he could already better many of the men he trained with. Slim and tall for his age, he had inherited his mother's good looks and brown hair, which he kept cropped short. Dressed in only the finest clothes and having been pampered from the day he was born, James was surprisingly not the spoiled little boy many assumed him to be. Down to earth and friendly, he never looked down or ridiculed any of the men who trained or taught him, nor those that served under him.
As a result, the young prince was actually quite well liked and certainly well respected by most of the people he came into contact with. Not afraid to get his hands dirty he also often volunteered when it came to clearing away and even mucking out the royal stables. He always thought that as some of the horses therein were his, it was only fair he contributed to the work involved in keeping them.
After being put through his paces by his Sword Master, James wiped the sweat from his brow. The morning was fine with clear blue skies with barely the sight of a cloud to obscure the welcome sunshine. Once he had thanked his tutor for the lesson that morning, he replaced his training sword in one of the long wooden racks situated against the barrack wall and headed towards the rear doors of the palace. As he was feeling a little peckish, he thought he might stop off at the kitchens on his way through and see if he could perhaps acquire a little something to tide him over until lunchtime.
However, before James had made it that far he stopped suddenly. He thought he could hear screaming, and although not in the palace grounds it was still an unusual sound to be coming from the city outside. Listening, he heard several more, and always the inquisitive one thought to investigate further. Turning and running around the central building and across the lawn, earning him a shouting at from one of the gardeners, he made his way to the main palace gate.
As he neared, it was then he heard the sound of bells ringing, something that had not happened before in his lifetime aside from special occasions. Without delay, the young prince waved for the two Elite Guards at the main entrance to follow him, and despite their apparent concern, that the young prince was venturing out of the palace grounds they obeyed without question.
James looked about and could see several people running about shouting and screaming but could not see the cause of their alarm. However, one of the guards with him soon pointed out the reason and veered the young royal to look skywards. Circling above the city were several large, winged creatures, the like of which he nor the guards had never seen before. Without further delay he and his guards ran back into the palace grounds, avoiding the soldiers that were already forming rank in the yard.
Chapter 20.
Abalyon’s threat was growing, his forces slowly amassing, he would soon be able to strike. For now, though he was content in merely putting on a show of power and causing the pathetic lifeforms of the world to run about in fear of who and what he was. Having already given a show of strength to both the elves and the dwarfs he thought it only fair to share his new creations with the humans. After all, they covered more of the land than any of the other races, crawling around like cockroaches thinking themselves out of his reach.
Now his flying balgraf had already shown him their worth he was working on producing more, much more. Although not great at fighting in their own right they had proved their use in helping to capture the mother of the very person he needed to ensure a complete victory. Once Zerus Maldhor was on his side, the only person that could actually stop him, his victory would be once and for all complete. No longer would he have the mockery of the other gods, now they would be the ones to bow to his power and rule and watch as their precious little beings bowed to his will.
However, it was not only his show of power that Abalyon was currently working on. While his army of Balgraf was readying itself for conflict, he was now ensuring that not all the races were getting on as well as perhaps they might. Utilising the orcs need for power and greed he had started haunting the dreams of one of the clan leaders. While this particular leader was not in command of one of the more prominent clans, it was their location that had been the reason for Abalyon’s interference.
In the lands bordering the humans, the leader of this group was a young orc who aspired to much greater things. However, being fewer in number and owning less land than its rivals, Abalyon had carefully suggested to the Orc through his dreams that great wealth and land gain could be made elsewhere. Not only would attacking the human controlled areas risk the very peace between the two races, but it would also mean that the humans would have to divert their forces to counter any threat. Thus meaning that when Abalyon attacked in force against the elves, their longtime ally would be helping on a much-reduced scale.
Abalyon had deemed his plan so brilliant he had wondered why he had never thought of it before. In the centuries he had been trying to overrun th
e world he had always tried to fight all the other races combined, and it had always been their support of each other that had ultimately seen them to victory. The only time he had deemed victory was inevitable for him, was when the half-breed known as Zerus Maldhor had been coerced into fighting for him. Initially allowed by the other gods to exist, the crossbreed had developed powers far greater than any other before him and had at first decimated Abalyon’s minions.
However, once Abalyon had gotten into the mind of Zerus Maldhor making suggestions, offering domain over the races and to rule on his behalf the being had changed allegiances. Abalyon had linked all the forces of darkness to Zerus Maldhor, making him the master of death, and all who had stood before him were merely brushed aside. However, Abalyon had been careless, and after the halfbreed had accidentally killed his own mother and brother, the half-human, half-elf had gone spiralling out of control. Such was the grief caused, he then took his own life, and with it, any chance Abalyon had of winning. Due to the magical link between the minions and Zerus Maldhor, something that was needed for command, when he died, many of the beasts with him merely fell where they had been standing. What remained had then been defeated by the combined forces of the coalition and the war ended, resulting in Abalyon to once more creep back into the shadows to rebuild and try again.
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