Third and final draft of chapter one.
Mar. 16th, 2020 05:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cypsiman2King Quorm, first last and only of his name, had been dead for a long, long time, dead of a knife in the heart. His court necromancers, the greatest in the world, had wasted no time in summoning his spirit back and binding it to that very knife. Then, by sacrificing the vile assassin to the knife, they were able to hear the king’s voice once more, and his command was to declare war on the one’s behind the assassin. So the court clairvoyants, gifted with visions by ingesting the right substances while staring at a map or at entrails or whatever else worked best for them at the moment, discovered the enemy nation behind the assassin, and the allies of that nation who’d backed the attempt, and their allies in turn. The whole world had turned against King Quorm, and the reason why did not matter; the dead king had ordered vengeance, and so the kingdom would have its vengeance. The court enchanters saw to that, weaving spells on the farmers and laborers so that their minds and bodies would be dedicated only to working for the good of the kingdom, and completing the summoning circles that the court warlocks demanded. The court warlocks needed their summoning circles in order to summon the “Fell Beasts” which they needed to win the war for the good of the kingdom.
Travin wanted the kingdom to lose the war, for the good of the kingdom.
In order to achieve that goal, Travin was spying on the court warlocks as they discussed their plans. He wasn’t worried about being discovered, thanks to the Fine Mist enchantment that allowed him to hide in the cracks in the wall. He’d obtained said enchantment from a black market peddler who’d assured him that even if he didn’t get out of the wall in time he would simply be shunted out wherever he happened to be. He hoped the peddler hadn’t lied to him; he was running out of time and the court warlocks still hadn’t given him the information he needed. “Kilvm wants us to focus our efforts here,” Selgk the head warlock said with a sneer as he pointed down at the Nalathos Mountains on the Eastern border of the enchanted map, “but I say the head necromancer should stick to hearing the king’s voice and not bother about speaking his own.” He pushed some boulders down the mountain, then brought his finger to the southwest corner of the map and settled on the Valifore Forest. “This is the true heart of the resistance, and it is here that we will summon the “Red Fell Beast” to wipe them all out.” Even behind closed doors, the warlocks stuck to official nomenclature; if word slipped that the “Fell Beasts” were in fact demons from the pits of hell, even enchanted laborers might pause in their duties. Travin studied the map; Valifore forest was two hundred miles away and there were numerous checkpoints between Castle Quorm and there, so he was going to need to go to the royal stables and get himself a pegasus if he wanted to beat the royal messengers to the punch.
THUD! Well. It turned out that the black market peddler hadn’t lied about what would happen if Travin was still in the wall. He’d only lied about how long Travin would have in the wall. Travin had landed on his back with his hair over his eyes. He parted his hair and saw the warlocks glaring down at him. “My apologies for interrupting your meeting.” Travin said in a smooth, melodious tone. He picked himself up off the ground and pressed his back against the wall. “I’ll be on my way and you can go back to summoning demons in the name of our zombie king Quorm, long may he rot.” Travin had circled his way to the door when the court warlocks made their move. The door was locked on the inside and the cursed sigil had been placed on the outside so it was easy for Travin to slip out the door before the warlocks got anywhere near him.
The guards coming down the hall were already charging at him, their spears pointed right at his torso; the court necromancers kept plenty of disposable prisoners on hand to fuel their magic, so capturing intruders alive was not a priority. Travin fled the guards but they were catching up to him. He grabbed an ornamental spear off the wall, and while the guards did slow a step to snicker, that wasn’t why he did it. No, there were high stained glass windows lining the halls depicting King Quorm overseeing the many great victories of the kingdom following his death and Travin needed some leverage to take advantage of that.
SNAP!CRASH! Travin vaulted up to the nearest window, breaking the spear and then the glass. He’d brought his arms over his face, but even thick leather armor only did so much. Especially when it came time for him to land in the broken glass. At least there was some soft lush grass to cushion his fall. Travin had a healing potion in his pocket, but you had to hold still for those to work properly and this was not the best place to hold still.
“Who are you?” There was also a middle-aged woman with a sword at his throat. She’d come off the nearby path, no doubt drawn to all the shouting and shattering and other noises associated with his arrival. She was finely dressed, with scars under her eyes and a steady hand holding her blade. And her eyes were looking at him so intently; if he could just remember who this woman was...
Travin gambled. “I’d love to answer that question, but there are angry guards being shouted at by angry court warlocks and they all want to kill me so the court necromancers can get the answers out of my soul. If you want to be first to learn the answer, you need to help me to the stables.”
The guards came out the door, and with them were Selgk and the rest of the court warlocks. “Thank you for apprehending the intruder Lady Wilhemina.” Ah, that’s right, she was Prince Klendl’s tutor. A kingdom needed princes, even kingdoms with dead kings who refused to leave the throne, and those princes still needed tutors to prepare for the day they’d never take the throne. “Just hold him still for us and we’ll have him Skewered in a moment.” One of the guards stepped forward, his spear aimed right at Travin’s heart.
Wilhemina pulled Travin up and away from the spear by the collar. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. This man has a soul-blight enchantment on him.” Travin nodded along and smiled smugly; a soul-blight enchantment would destroy your soul when you died so that a necromancer couldn’t do anything with it. Highly illegal magic, much more so than the Fine Mist enchantment that Travin had actually used. “If Elivk and her court enchanters don’t remove it properly, there will be no getting information out of him.”
Selgk groaned. “Very well, but see that you take a security detail with you; this man has a clear disregard for all life.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Wilhemina said as she bound Travin’s hands behind his back. “He’s unarmed, the only life he’s disregarded is his own...and any possible accomplices still hidden in the castle.”
Selgk and the guards stormed away, shouting demands to find any other intruders hidden in the walls or anywhere else. Wilhemina took Travin away to the royal stables.
Travin wanted the kingdom to lose the war, for the good of the kingdom.
In order to achieve that goal, Travin was spying on the court warlocks as they discussed their plans. He wasn’t worried about being discovered, thanks to the Fine Mist enchantment that allowed him to hide in the cracks in the wall. He’d obtained said enchantment from a black market peddler who’d assured him that even if he didn’t get out of the wall in time he would simply be shunted out wherever he happened to be. He hoped the peddler hadn’t lied to him; he was running out of time and the court warlocks still hadn’t given him the information he needed. “Kilvm wants us to focus our efforts here,” Selgk the head warlock said with a sneer as he pointed down at the Nalathos Mountains on the Eastern border of the enchanted map, “but I say the head necromancer should stick to hearing the king’s voice and not bother about speaking his own.” He pushed some boulders down the mountain, then brought his finger to the southwest corner of the map and settled on the Valifore Forest. “This is the true heart of the resistance, and it is here that we will summon the “Red Fell Beast” to wipe them all out.” Even behind closed doors, the warlocks stuck to official nomenclature; if word slipped that the “Fell Beasts” were in fact demons from the pits of hell, even enchanted laborers might pause in their duties. Travin studied the map; Valifore forest was two hundred miles away and there were numerous checkpoints between Castle Quorm and there, so he was going to need to go to the royal stables and get himself a pegasus if he wanted to beat the royal messengers to the punch.
THUD! Well. It turned out that the black market peddler hadn’t lied about what would happen if Travin was still in the wall. He’d only lied about how long Travin would have in the wall. Travin had landed on his back with his hair over his eyes. He parted his hair and saw the warlocks glaring down at him. “My apologies for interrupting your meeting.” Travin said in a smooth, melodious tone. He picked himself up off the ground and pressed his back against the wall. “I’ll be on my way and you can go back to summoning demons in the name of our zombie king Quorm, long may he rot.” Travin had circled his way to the door when the court warlocks made their move. The door was locked on the inside and the cursed sigil had been placed on the outside so it was easy for Travin to slip out the door before the warlocks got anywhere near him.
The guards coming down the hall were already charging at him, their spears pointed right at his torso; the court necromancers kept plenty of disposable prisoners on hand to fuel their magic, so capturing intruders alive was not a priority. Travin fled the guards but they were catching up to him. He grabbed an ornamental spear off the wall, and while the guards did slow a step to snicker, that wasn’t why he did it. No, there were high stained glass windows lining the halls depicting King Quorm overseeing the many great victories of the kingdom following his death and Travin needed some leverage to take advantage of that.
SNAP!CRASH! Travin vaulted up to the nearest window, breaking the spear and then the glass. He’d brought his arms over his face, but even thick leather armor only did so much. Especially when it came time for him to land in the broken glass. At least there was some soft lush grass to cushion his fall. Travin had a healing potion in his pocket, but you had to hold still for those to work properly and this was not the best place to hold still.
“Who are you?” There was also a middle-aged woman with a sword at his throat. She’d come off the nearby path, no doubt drawn to all the shouting and shattering and other noises associated with his arrival. She was finely dressed, with scars under her eyes and a steady hand holding her blade. And her eyes were looking at him so intently; if he could just remember who this woman was...
Travin gambled. “I’d love to answer that question, but there are angry guards being shouted at by angry court warlocks and they all want to kill me so the court necromancers can get the answers out of my soul. If you want to be first to learn the answer, you need to help me to the stables.”
The guards came out the door, and with them were Selgk and the rest of the court warlocks. “Thank you for apprehending the intruder Lady Wilhemina.” Ah, that’s right, she was Prince Klendl’s tutor. A kingdom needed princes, even kingdoms with dead kings who refused to leave the throne, and those princes still needed tutors to prepare for the day they’d never take the throne. “Just hold him still for us and we’ll have him Skewered in a moment.” One of the guards stepped forward, his spear aimed right at Travin’s heart.
Wilhemina pulled Travin up and away from the spear by the collar. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. This man has a soul-blight enchantment on him.” Travin nodded along and smiled smugly; a soul-blight enchantment would destroy your soul when you died so that a necromancer couldn’t do anything with it. Highly illegal magic, much more so than the Fine Mist enchantment that Travin had actually used. “If Elivk and her court enchanters don’t remove it properly, there will be no getting information out of him.”
Selgk groaned. “Very well, but see that you take a security detail with you; this man has a clear disregard for all life.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Wilhemina said as she bound Travin’s hands behind his back. “He’s unarmed, the only life he’s disregarded is his own...and any possible accomplices still hidden in the castle.”
Selgk and the guards stormed away, shouting demands to find any other intruders hidden in the walls or anywhere else. Wilhemina took Travin away to the royal stables.
