The Telian Chronicles

[Princess Cadance]

I actually don't know why it did that as I've been using the same font since I started this story. Would you like perhaps another post of the entire story so far,properly formatted and such in the next post I make?

[Princess Cadance]

the fruity jam from one of the many small ceramic bowls within the center of the table.

Leaning back in my chair I noticed a party sitting near the edge of garden’s boundaries. They wore the clothing of minor nobility and from the snippets of conversation I could hear I quickly pinned them as Imperial nobles. I remembered now some of the words of advice my father had given me to prepare myself for the journey to Enclavi. “Try and become one of the “favorites” of one of those rich nobles in the mainland. A noble family is rich and they like to show it. I remember how my father thought to make me one of the pet projects of a close friend of his from Celisia. It didn’t work out, my father changed his mind about moving back to the mainland, but I do remember some of the finer arts I had to learn while I was still actively training. Horsemanship, calligraphy, I even had some training in swordsmanship. You’d like that right a hunter like you?”

I had taken to this idea in fact. The exotic allure of the Empire was intoxicating and I imagined what I’d make as a gentlemen and noble of the Empire. As we finished off the last of our breakfast and began our trip to the front of the towers, I turned the proposition over in my mind.

“Well I’d best tell thee of what exactly thine father had planned for thee once you arrived shouldn’t I?”Kresor spoke up as we awaited the arrival of the coachman from yesterday, who he had arranged to be our personal driver for the duration of our indefinite stay in the city of Mastra.

I turned to look at him and responded, “Really? He had something planned out? Well I just thought he’d dump me here and hope for the best” I responded with a mocking tone and a smile to signify my joke. Kresor rolled his eyes and took out a rolled piece of parchment within his pocket as we now made our way once more along Mastra’s cobbled roads and pathways. Kresor flattened the paper out and read it over once, then twice, before flipping it over as if looking for more. He sighed in evident exasperation and then placed the paper back in his coat’s pocket from where he had pulled it out. “It seems were to meet a man by the name of Prestin Draster. He’s a local nobleman and according to this paper thy father gave me an old friend of thine family. Said he would gladly accept thee on as a ward of his and that he would like to be thy benefactor to guide you along the path of becoming an Imperial gentleman or something of the like.”

He handed the paper to me and motioned for me to do the same and give the paper to the driver. I did so and after looking at the directions to this Draster’s house handed it back to me. I looked at the paper again and began to read the note. The gist of it was simple enough: Draster was an old friend of my father’s, ours and the Draster’s family’s had known each other for several generations. Apparently it dated back to some relatives ten or something generations back and had involved an oath between our ancestors. I had never met any of them, yet my father had told of how the Italus and Draster family had become friends and brothers due to an oath made on battlefields of ages past when both our families had once served in the Imperial military.

But those were the tales of cold and long nights back him in Rzevor. The House of Draster was my ancestors friends, not my own and I could not recall of anything my father could have done for this man to warrant him owing me, my father, or our house anything in fact. Yet there was no more time to wonder about any of these things as I now saw that we began to approach the fence and walls of a wide estate. We had reached what was the edge of the inner city of Mastra and we now were at one of many noble estates which surrounded the city.

Long ago these were empty plains of grass and endless sky. This was hundreds of years ago now, and these fields were now covered in cobbled roads, stone walls, and examples of Imperial art paid for by their wealthy patrons. We arrived at the gates of one of these estates, after riding through a large stretch of virgin forest. This Draster must be a fan of the more natural elements as the land surrounding his estate was largely untouched. The gates in front of us were wooden and whitewashed, embossed with the golden seal I faintly remembered of the Draster line, a curved snake around a marble pillar.

The coachman jumped down, and rapped his knuckles upon the gate. Immediately it sprung upon. Passing through I noticed the tell-tale mark of a faint gold sparkle around the hinges. Enchanted gates for a private estate. Lord Draster certainly spared no expense. We traveled now over a dirt path and under numerous willow trees planted upon each side, blocking out the sun and creating a cooling atmosphere which made a stark contrast with the hot sea-side atmosphere of Mastra.

The estate itself was a long building, at least four wings and painted stark beige contrasting sharply with the green and brown surrounding it. The four wings created a square shaped building in the center a large gateway allowed our carriage passage inside the courtyard of the estate. Directly

[Heiro de Bodemloze]

Wow! This is just so much to het into. Maybe if you progessed a little slower?

It seems like a great fantasy, though.

[Princess Cadance]

Directly in the center of the yard was a large fountain, the same stark color as the building, it’s clear water splashing in the rays of the bright yellow sun.


Our carriage pulled around to the front of the fountain, stopping near a large door which I guessed to be the entrance to the building. Embossed upon this door was the snake and pillar again, the heraldic seal and symbol of the House of Draster. This one, unlike the plain white one upon the entrance gate, was painted the snake a vibrant green wrapped around a still white pillar upon the smooth backdrop of vibrant gold. The three colors did well in shining in the light of the mid-morning Celisian sun and the position of the house allowed the morning suns beams to come through the front, dance upon the sparkling water of the fountain, and then reflect back unto the gold engraved upon the marble seal.

We came to a slow stop, the coachman jumping down off his perch and coming back to open the door for us. I noticed now the figure of a small man, clothed in silken garments befitting that of a rich Imperial, if there purple and gold dye didn’t already give that away. He had a kindly face, aged, but with grace. The man could be no more than 60, his white hair pulled back in a smooth coif and his smile revealing a white smile reminiscent of what I imagine a grandfather having, if I had a grandfather. His build was slight and he sported a refined and perfectly trimmed white beard.

On seeing us he made his way back into the house from the walkway above and I caught a glimpse of his figure in one of the gem shaped windows of the house. He soon appeared himself out of the central door, held open by the foots-men who closed it behind him as he walked inside. The man walked up to Kresor and embraced him. It struck a humorous image the small and lithe elderly man, hugging the much more imposing and striking figure of Hilr.

“It’s nice to see an old friend again, old Hilr.” the man said as he stepped back and stared Kresor up and down. “Thou hasn't changed a bit.” Kresor smiled at this, before responding. “And neither have thee old man” he said in a joking tone. The man smiled at this, as if it was an oft told and fondly remembered joke. It was now that he noticed me again and stared in astonishment. He limply let go of Kresor’s hand and walked over to me and after staring quietly at me for several seconds reached his hand out, which I grasped in a slight bow to the older gentlemen.

He reached his left hand out, his right being the one I clasped and gently raised my head to stare at my face. “You’re the spitting image of Selthi, well at least when I knew him.” He continued to stare at me for a second, before letting go of my hand and straightening up as if realizing something. “Sorry for that. It’s just that just looking at you remind me so much of Selthi. Now I don’t even know your name yet, do I? Lord Prestin Draster and you are the grandson of Selthi Italus and I’m betting that you bear the name of the House of Italus?”

I nodded, before speaking up for the first time. “Yes my Lord. I am Marus Stellin Italus, son of Juli Italus, grandson of Selthi Italus.” Lord Draster smiled at this and patted me in a condescending manner on my shoulder. “You’ll fit right in here, Marus. Everyone takes any chance they can get to spout the entire lineage of their family. It almost always turns out that everyone in the Empire is the direct descendant of a Changeling lord of N’rith or of one of Achils Immus’ closest advisers and companions. Heck, half of my friends are apparently the descendant of the greatest ruler the Empire ever had. And let me give you a hint. There not all the same person.” Saying this with a chuckle and grin he beckoned us to follow him as he made a steady pace towards the house.

“So I’m sure you’re famished after that long trip, huh? I know you’d have to have eaten after docking, but still. I always found during my old travelling days that I had a great appetite for weeks after. Probably because I vomited everything out on my way there” he went on as we followed him inside the confines of the estate. The walls were unpainted revealing the polished brown wood that the house was made of.

“Oh no, were fine Prestin. Had a large breakfast”, Kresor responded to Prestin, yet I was paying little attention to their conversation. My eyes were on the many paintings that adorned the walls of the expansive halls. Numerous past lords and ladies of the Draster name watched on over their ancestral home from the gilded frames which hung upon these walls. There robes had the same characteristic of being made of elaborately dyed fabrics though the antiquated designs of the garments clearly showed the age of the family. If I remember right my father said they dated back to the 378th year or thereabouts of the Second Age…
“Beautiful paintings are they not?” Prestin’s mellow voice broke my train of thought like glass. I nodded at him, still staring at the elegant picture before me. Prestin walked up to the painting, staring at the painting closely. “This was painted by the most famous writer of the 500s. The Second Age if you’re wondering. Our family dates back centuries. If the records my father showed me are true, were descended from one of the original 72, the Lithin Helnis. Of the Shattering War? Ah you most likely haven’t heard of it. It does have some obscurity to it. Even if Helnis’ actions in those events were the reason we now bear the title of Lord.” I listened to his words half-heartedly still looking at the pictures scattered upon the walls.


Prestin continued to look at the painting with me for several more seconds before walking over to the fireplace and gazed into it. Without turning around he began to talk to Kresor. “So Kresor the boy’s father thought the Empire was some sort of Promised Land, eh? Well I can’t blame him. In many ways it is. But it’s not that simple. It never is…” his voice trailed off at this and we sat in silence for several minutes.

Draster broke this silence by turning now to me and smiling. “Well we can’t have you be a gentleman looking like that” he said motioning to my clothes. In a way I took offense to this. True I wasn’t the most concerned with fashion, but still. “Plus there are some other things I’d like to provide you with before I accept you on as my ward. You’ll be a reflection of me you know. And I would that reflection to be flattering.”

///

We stood in the center of what Prestin had informed us was the mercantile center of Mastra. Lesser merchants peddled their wares in carts and boxes along the side of roads and in back alleys, while the established warehouses and shops of established merchants, guild houses, and luxury vendors took up the majority of space and gave off the greatest sense of grandeur.

It was in front of one of these shops, a boutique or tailors shop of sorts that we now stopped. Prestin quickly conducted me inside, where he greeted the shopkeeper with the air of a regular customer and friend. “Prestin Draster” the man began in mock amazement “how long has it been since I’ve seen you in here? I thought my clothing was too flamboyant and young for an old coot like you. Or maybe your trying to give off a younger air eh? But” and here he first noticed me “who is this

[Princess Cadance]

The Solaris Lordship

Capital: Solaris (90,457)
Largest City: Atens (197,856)

Official Language: Thesrian

Demonym: Solarian, Westerner

Government: Absolute Monarchy

High Lord of Solaris: Philistratus Freen Andros

Lord Presumptive: Selsis Ilian Andros


Independence: Established by Lithin Astris Solaris in the year S.A. 856

Area: 606,967 sq. miles

Population: 2,067,900

Currency: Dulcentens

Denominations: 15
30
45
60
75

[Boustrophedon]

Damn I'll be needing a bit of time to catch up on all the new stuff looking good though!

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

The last 2 updates were great. And as usual I'm amazed how you can come up with this.

+rep

[Princess Cadance]

“just who is this strapping young man here?”

He came up to me and offered his hand. “This is Marus Italus, grandson of my old friend Selthi, if you remember him.” At the mention of my grandfather’s name however the shopkeeper’s cheery demeanor faltered and though he did shake my hand it was with a clear reluctance.

“Jarod Farrel, Marus. It’s a….pleasure to meet such a fine young man.” Jarod was visibly relieved that he could now flee to the safety of his counter and he continued to eye me as he turned to Prestin. “Now Lord Prestin what exactly do I have to thank for your little visit to my humble shop today?”

“Why this young man, Erin” as his name appeared to be “You see his father has asked of me the favor to take him on as my charge and take him under my wing if you will. He wants him to have “opportunity” as he says it though I feel the man put’s too much faith in the state of affairs here in Celisia. None the less he’s an old friend and I’m happy to take the boy on as my charge. Of course if he is to be a gentleman of the Empire then he should look the part right? And what better tailor than you?”

At the mention of business and I can safely assume profit the man’s eyes lit up and he quickly conducted me towards the back of the shop. After measuring me and asking me of my color preferences, we were told that my garments would be finished in three days and were politely escorted out.

The process was boring and though I do admit a certain care to my appearance, it wasn’t the most interesting thing to undertake. Prestin however offered me an incentive for the mostly boring morning. “How would you like a gift, Italus? Anything you’d want could be found in Mastra and for a reasonable amount of rethens.” The offer of a gift from Prestin I found to be an indication of how quickly he had taken to me. Now I had never been hateful of gifts. And mine were often a step above that which the average kid back in Rzevor could have. Yet there still was an air of…usefulness isn’t quite the word, practicality to them.

The cloak my mother gave me before leaving, my bow which my father made for me as his gift to me for my 12th birthday, the book on Rzevorian legends my old tutor Garath gave to me.
Rzevor was a harsh place and one where survival was the imperative of the grand majority of people. And so many luxuries were denied me as a child and only attainable when I became 16 and was then treated as a man in Rzevorian culture.

And of all the many things I knew I could purchase in Mastra and all the things I might want there was one that stood out as a symbol of my new found freedom and even a sense of freedom I now had away from the frozen confines of Rzevor.

“I want a sword.”

///

The insides of the shop were unpainted and starkly utilitarian. The floors, walls, and ceiling blended together into a dull brown. Yet even for these faults the store was vastly interesting. For arranged in orderly manner upon the many pegs and hooks set into the walls were weapons of several diverse makes and types.

It was an armorers shop. If there was anything that the people or at least nations of Celisia needed it was weapons. The kings and princes created weapons and armor for their troops on a large scale industrial manner. However for the nobles and lords who served as these leaders’ commanders and the wealthy sportsmen and eccentrics of the upper classes, weapons were wanted with a more artistic nature. Whether to be used in hunting or as simple extravagancies, the weapons of Western nobility was personally made and tailored for.

It was a somewhat childlike feeling of adventure which prompted me to ask of a sword. I had no practical use for it, having little chance of being called to serve my technical Lord and Sire, Prince Alfres Yalur of Rzevor. However the soldiers of the Empire and Lord Prestin’s stories of his military ancestors sparked the interest of the military I had had ever since I skimmed through the old “A History of Our World” by the great Imperial scholar of the 720s Alsius Acri. The book was a favorite of mine, both due to the fact that it had once been my grandfather’s and due to the glimpse it offered of a world beyond the dullness of Rzevor.

It was the old tales of great battles and wars, the Second Imperial-Changeling War, the Rebellion of the Redfeather tribe, the Pacification of Thiana, they all stood alongside the tales of the great heroes of the past and the gods and spirits of the Immortal Age. They were a window to a greater and far more vibrant world than mine. As boys, Havald, Ryock, Elsker and I had imitated their quest and legends. And now that I had a chance to own the object which we had perhaps naively assumed all heroes to own and use why pass up the chance?

“So you want a sword, do you?” The words rang out in the hollow exterior of the backroom of the blacksmith’s shop. “Well” the gruff blacksmith who had introduced him merely as “John” continued as he sat up and went to the back of his shop “I know your type. No insults intended, but I now you’re a tradesmen’s son. You can afford a little luxury. And I think I have something that will fit exactly what you’re looking for.” He came back with an oak box and after unlocking it, pulled what I recognized as an arming sword. The blades length was smooth, and running along the side were inlaid golden lines beginning as arrows at the tip and ending in curled flourishes near the hilt. The hilt was nearly flat and rounded at the ends, while the grip bared the mark of the forger, an intercrossed J.D. faintly seen at the bottom.

I held out my hand and with a nod of approval grasped the blade. It was lighter than it looked and was easy enough to lift.

[Princess Cadance]

Hello readers of "The Telian Chronicles." As I continue to write the story of Marus Italus and create the world of Telia,please know that I greatly appreciate and love all comments made on my story. Your input,even a simple sentence like "Good work,keep it up." means so much to me. Here you can all have rep+! I love all your input and that is why I now ask you these questions. Please fell free to answer them whenever convenient and know that all insight is helpful to me as a writer.Think of this as a poll.

1. What about the story/world keeps you intrigued in it? The setting,characters,feel,etc.?

2. What is your favorite elements of this story? Or of my fantasy world? Why?

3. What do you hate? This question may seem odd,but I actually find that it's important to know what an audience hates about a story and even more importantly loves to hate.

Thank you to all my readers and again please know it means a lot to me.

[Boustrophedon]

1. What about the story/world keeps you intrigued in it? The setting,characters,feel,etc.?

The very "fantasy" setting, it's not just another 'Middle Ages in space' kinda thing

2. What is your favorite elements of this story? Or of my fantasy world? Why?

The population figures and the statistics etc. Gives the feeling of a real and a dynamic world.

3. What do you hate? This question may seem odd,but I actually find that it's important to know what an audience hates about a story and even more importantly loves to hate.

I love to hate on disorder I have a thing with lists and overviews. A link in the OP to each addition to your world would be very helpful for readers/viewers, but that's just my view on things.

That being said, just keep updating! It takes a while to get a loyal viewership and comments are even scarcer here in the CW section haha

[Princess Cadance]

I held out my hand and with a nod of approval grasped the blade. It was much lighter than I thought it would be and thinner than it looked, as I turned the blade around in my hands. Passing it from my right to left hands, I settled on my right as the hand with which I would use it. The light glinted off the blade’s shined edge and as I brought it to my face I saw myself reflected in the blades’ surface. I smiled. “How much?”

///

Several rethens lighter than when we had arrived, our carriage made its way through the shadowed roads of the Enclavian countryside. The roads here were simply dirt paths, the cobbled streets ending at the edge of the city where the yellow fields of wheat, barley, and corn began. We had passed these carriages far back and now moved through the wooded countryside. Here there was nothing to indicate any sort of civilization. The Empire had planned and made the simple dirt paths which passed for roads in the Imperial countryside, more often than not simply clearly away branches and large stones from the old paths long beat into the forest by traders and travelers and leaving the rest to nature.

It was along one of these roads which we now passed through on our way back to Draster’s estate, where he would serve us dinner, before returning to our lodgings at the Delia.

Moving through a shaded glen, the noonday sun peeked from behind the oak leaves of the natural alleyway crafted by the Eles of nature, Lilith’s gentle hand and grace. The forest was quiet, the turn of the wheels and rhythmic sound of the horses’ hooves creating the only sound in the empty air.

I gazed out my window staring at the wild shrubs which threatened to erase the only mark of civilization in there realm. Strange really that it was so quiet actually. The forests of Rzevor were never so, unless it was in the grips of Milth, in which case there was not any sound but the roar of wind.

Kresor began to stir from his relaxed position next to me eyeing the side of the road with interest. I followed his eyes only to see the slight movement of the branches of the firethorn bushes which grew in abundance in Enclavi. I saw nothing of interest, yet Kresor obviously did as he had our coachmen stop and get down to check what, if anything was there.

“You had to bother him about it?” Kresor who had stepped out of the carriage as well and know stood along with me near the edge of the road as we looked at the bushes into which the footman had disappeared into.

“I saw something. And a hunter like me knows when it’s an animal and when it’s not. That was not an animal in those bushes and it was not the wind. Now it might have been nothing, but it’s always best to be safe.” Kresor turned away and looked back into the bushes, content at standing at the side of a road.

In boredom I began to kick a rock at my foot like I would have done as a child. After kicking it to the side of the road and into a natural ditch of dirt, I reached down to pick it up turning it slowly over in my hands. Our rest was interrupted by a sudden scream coming from within the forest. Immediately I set off not bothering to wait for Kresor.

The path made by the servant was easily followed and I followed him into a shaded glen. For a second I wondered what the cause of alarm was as all I saw was the driver bended on one knee his arms grasping his shin. Looking up however revealed a figure in a brown cloak, a tall man with a scared face and grizzled beard bending a bow back, ready to lose an arrow into my chest.

I dropped my face roughly hitting the ground as the arrow whizzed above me, burying itself into the dirt behind me. Looking up I saw the man staring at me in a strange amazement seemingly. It was now that I took my chance. Reaching for my belt I pulled out the sword and made a clumsy and badly aimed blow at the man’s chest. I was never trained in swordsmanship and the cloaked Divini easily stepped back.

He kicked me in the chest and I feel to the ground, the air leaving my lungs and my sword falling to the ground. I raised my head to see him smile and bring the bow level with my head. Just as he was about to let the arrow go, though a strange change came over his expression. His face turned from a confident sneer to one of immense pain, and just as quickly he began screaming.

My eyes turned to the direction that his hands were reaching for. Around his shin was the faint glow of grey light. This was then followed by the snapping sound of a branch which caused him to scream louder, before I saw the calf bone of the bandit’s left leg, snapped in half, break through his skin. Walking up to this painful spectacle rather calmly I might add, was an Imperial soldier clothed in scarlet and silver, an also silver helmet arching backward and covering his face.


The man’s left hand was placed over the hilt of a sword on his belt, his right, with a slight grey glow around it, was extended forward palm facing the howling Divini on the forest floor. With one quick movement he pulled his hand back closing his gloved fingers into a fist. The bandit’s calf and femur bones, albeit shattered into pieces were wrenched from his body and thrown across the clearing. The Divini fell to the ground, his screams of pain and horror echoing through the forest.

[Princess Cadance]

The armored figure was quite calm through all of this, the visor of his helm hiding all emotions which may have been playing across his face at the sight of a man clutching at the torn flesh of his leg. He eventually turned his attention to our wounded coachman kneeling over the man; his hand gently bathed the coachmen’s injured leg in grey light. After several seconds I watched the light slowly wrench the arrow’s head from his flesh, before it stitched the flesh back together.


This show was interrupted as Kresor burst through the ferns surrounding the clearing, out of breath and flustered. Both I and the soldier turned towards him, our coachman still lying on the ground next to him, though he was no longer screaming, simply panting heavily.

The soldier was the first to talk. “Greetings sir. I’m assuming you two are friends?” he said gesturing to me. “Yes. Yes he’s my, err ward. He followed our coachman’s screams. Is he alright?” The soldier turned to the coachman and began to converse with him. Forgotten in all this was the Divini bandit still scrabbling at the ground, in some vain attempt to escape.

The soldier stood up, and pulled our coachman up with his hand. The coachman thanked the soldier quietly before moving to a nearby tree and leaning against it, his head back. The soldier turned to Kresor and me for the last time. “Yes he’ll be fine. He’s in shock, but he’ll be fine. I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may have brought to you two Sirs,” and here he stopped awkwardly “I’m sorry what your names are?”

“Krsor Hilr and Marus Italus, my good soldier” Kresor responded as he moved to grasp the other’s hand. “Dain Ransi, legionnaire of the Enclavi Legion and glad to be at service to citizens and friends of the Empire.”

“And thank you Marus. Your no soldier, but you showed more aptitude at it than most of the travelers and tourists who come through here. Good night to you three and may the Divines bless you.”

Kresor nodded at Dain and walked away from the clearing with the coachman without another word.

I prepared to follow them, after grabbing my sword from the grass where it lay and placing it back into its scabbard. I looked back to the soldier now moving towards the prostate form of the bandit still crawling in great pain upon the ground. I turned away. No need to see Imperial justice. Whatever that may be.

///

“You have been found guilty of brigandage and banditry. As such I take you into the custody of the Empire and Enclavi Province. You are to answer all questions I ask and resist in no way possible. Now, are you associated with the group that has been preying on the merchant houses which travel alone the N’rith-Imperial border and the Empress’ Walls of Enclavi?” The Divini turned to Dain and regained his composure enough to yell “Bastard Imperial. What do you think and why would you think I’d tell you?” before losing his composure to the pain in his leg.

Dain looked at the convulsing form at his feet and in disgust began to walk away. He stopped, and remembered something. He closed his hand into a fist the aura of his grey magic constricted around the bandit’s back and with a crack the bones of the man’s spine burst through his chest.

“You have been found guilty by Imperial law and the will of the Seven Divine. May the Eles judge you with mercy.” Dain turned away from the broken corpse and walked out of the clearing and the shine of Lunoia’s gentle light.

///

The clearing stood empty, the only reminder of the recent trial and execution the shattered body of the Divini bandit, his eyes clouded over in death’s shadow. Disturbing the forest’s newfound peace, a flash of flame appeared at the clearing’s edge and from the same direction three cloaked figures, there black hoods brought down over there face’s walked towards the body. The center figure was the first to speak.

“Obviously it was wrong of us to believe that a brigand’s band could be trusted. This one has probably blown there cover by attacking Imperial citizens. Imperial nobles” the voice hissed out stressing the word Imperial.

The figure on the right nodded its agreement. “There are crude tools for the work true, but they work. They do their job. Haven’t you been listening to the rumors? People doubt the Empire’s strength. They doubt there power. They ask how the glorious Immortal Army can fail to stamp out criminals from some backwater county. How can we trust them, when they can’t even protect themselves?”

The figure on the left, the smallest of the three and the only one who had yet to speak gazed up at the moon ignoring the bickering of its companions. Finally the figure spoke out, interrupting the arguments of the other two.

“We have to leave soon.” This statement was obviously one the other two were not expecting as they stopped talking and turned to the third figure. “What, but what of the plan? We were to strike at the Empire, show them that all the pomp and grandeur of these new deployments was hollow. Worthless. Like their promises. But we’ll make them remember.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve done all we can here. Mastra has nothing more to offer. We’ll leave it shattered. And with the Empire’s shield in the east broken, there will be nothing to stop the lance of our vengeance from striking the heart of the Empire. Trust me.”

The other two nodded in agreement at the other’s words, who appeared to be there leader. “Were leaving” the first figure stated and with a green flash the three disappeared, leaving the clearing behind.

Chapter 5: The Lord of Mastra

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

A lot of catching up to do.

The story is developing great, and the updates have really come on. +rep

Now about these questions...

Hello readers of "The Telian Chronicles." As I continue to write the story of Marus Italus and create the world of Telia,please know that I greatly appreciate and love all comments made on my story. Your input,even a simple sentence like "Good work,keep it up." means so much to me. Here you can all have rep+! I love all your input and that is why I now ask you these questions. Please fell free to answer them whenever convenient and know that all insight is helpful to me as a writer.Think of this as a poll.

1. What about the story/world keeps you intrigued in it? The setting,characters,feel,etc.?

2. What is your favorite elements of this story? Or of my fantasy world? Why?

3. What do you hate? This question may seem odd,but I actually find that it's important to know what an audience hates about a story and even more importantly loves to hate.

Thank you to all my readers and again please know it means a lot to me.

1.) The intrigue is what keeps me intrigued! I really want to no more about this world, and how you came to create it.
2.) Same as Boustro, I love all the background information about the world, the past events etc. I find it remarkable about how you made it all up.
3.) I wouldn't say no to more distinction between actual story updates and background information. Maybe a different font or something?

"Good work,keep it up."

[Princess Cadance]

The Calm of War
The air blew through the field of wheat slowly, the breeze ever so gently ruffling the sheaves of grain and ever so barely disturbing their existence. This was the life of the plains. Unmoving, unchanging, untouched. Untilled by the hands of man these wild plants simply grew as they wished and pleased. It was enough for them to exist. What more could they want? What more was there? Yet it was fated to be this day that there seemingly eternal rest would come to an end. Running swiftly through there stalks, uncaring of the heads of golden wheat that it crushed beneath it a white stallion ran swiftly through them. This stallion and the rider decked in scarlet cloth and silver armor upon it would bring to these golden fields something they had not seen for a thousand years. War.

Thasius Dresen stared keenly at the treeline before him. His eyes scanned there length looking for something, anything of interest. The scout, whose rank was more accurately grenadier ran the words through his head over and over again, anything of interest, anything of interest. There was nothing of interest out here. The trees were as quiet as the fields. There was no sign of the enemy army, no clank of their armored troops in movement. The air carried with it no trace of the lilting, sharp tongue the soldiers of the opposing army spoke. No smoke burned in the sky, signaling the placement of camps. The plains and forests before him were as empty as the heads of the idiots back at the fort who had sent him on this fool’s errand. However just as he turned his eyes away from the forest ahead he noticed something. High above him the faintest spark glimmered in the light and a large, black bird swooped in the sky circling the ground beneath. He gazed for a minute as its form moved through the air and pass a cloud, before looking forward once more and starting off. It was only after he had begun to ride away; only after he had turned his back to the creature did he realize something. Feathers don’t reflect the light. Metal armor does.

Dross watched the white horse run swiftly through the fields of grain. He hesitated for a moment. Would it reach the Imperial lines? Would it even head back to camp? He fluttered his wings in thought, a nervous habit of his. It was only now that he deemed it appropriate to wrench the blackened lance of his from the spine of the soldier beneath. A second’s resistance and the vertebrae snapped the lance’s point tearing out the bodies’ side. He once more turned to the horizon and smiled at what he now saw. The scarlet-clad troops of the Immperia could be faintly seen at the edge of his sight. There pace was slow, he would know, but why let the enemy come to them? The Empereur would be pleased. The Crystalline army was ready.

[Princess Cadance]

This short story was an entry of mine to a recent TOTW. It's basis in the world of Telia is the Second Imperial-Changeling War of S.A. 790-800.

[Princess Cadance]

I took down the map of Telia a while ago,because I was planning on replacing it with a finished version as that one was still a draft. This is the finished version. Any comments and feedback are appreciated.

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

That map looks really good.

How do you come up with all this?

+rep, and I'll look forward to the next chapter.

[Princess Cadance]

The Flag of the Islumic Reslic Vrytheria

[Princess Cadance]

Okay guys I need to ask you something. I've been thinking of stopping for a while at least the updates of the nations statistics. Why? Because I have already done all the Western nations.(The nations on the continent of Celisia.) I feel that leaving the nations of the other continents unexplained to an extent will help to further create a sense of mystery,I guess? So what do you guys think? Update tomorrow.

[Princess Cadance]

The rains had come to Mastra. Rolling in from the north the darkened clouds promised a storm. The farmers praised it. “Bless the goddess Stilina for her waters of life!” were there cries of praise. Less enthusiastically were the waters received by the inhabitants of the inner cities and urban areas of Enclavi. They simply shut their windows and pulled up there cloaks to the howling winds and biting rain. The city’s streets filled with water, each carriage and coach heading through the streets throwing up a small wall of water upon whatever unlucky traveler happened to be walking on the side of the road at the time. The rain was most worrisome to the owners of the trading warehouses along the coast and docks. Rain meant less travel. Less travel, less profit. Such were the worries of the merchants and traders of Mastra.

///

The morning which I awoke too was grey and dull. The white curtains placed over the windows blocked all light from coming in. Awaking slowly I simply stared for probably half an hour at the simple pattern carved into the room’s ceiling of many small gem shaped lines. My admiration of the intricate work of the stone masons and cutters of Mastra was interrupted by the gruff admonition of Kresor to “Hurry up and get ready to go.” Oh well. I couldn’t lie there forever.


It had been three months since the Resplendent Dawn had brought us into the docks of Mastra. It was now the beginning of Thyren as the last vestiges of Thrine melted away in the spring sun. In the ensuring time Prestin had gone through a process in which he promised would end in the eventual death of Marus Italus the Rzevorian son of a Northern minor noble and the birth of
Marus Stellin Italus, an Imperial gentleman of the West.
The process included the learning of the “cultured arts” as Prestin put them. This included the reading of the classical works, the A History of Our World, the Song of Selth, the Farthest Tales and other works passed down by the artists of Celisia. I enjoyed all of it. The cloistered existence of the small city in Rzevor experienced by the son of minor nobility was torn away like a tattered shroud. Or perhaps like the curtains of my room.

My benefactor the good Lord Prestin had also provided for my learning in several more physical arts. Equestrianism, swordsmanship, he had even helped with certain aspects of my archery which he felt that I was lacking in. Kresor and I’s close call in the Mastra forests with the “scum of the Empire” as Draster had called the bandit had convinced him of the need to be able to defend myself beyond the basic skills I could use from my experiences in hunting.

It was also of the man’s opinion that socializing with the upper crust of society was a skill and art all of its own. In Rzevor the nobility was far smaller and my family’s interactions with the other nobility of the island was usually through my father’s business transactions for the Northern Trading Company. As such I was at best unsure at the abilities I possessed to socialize with the Empire’s nobility.

Yet it seemed that was what we were to do today.

///

Lord Draster had met us at the Delia that morning. Overcast and cloudy the 3rd of Sute was continuing to put an end to the tradition we had once had of taking most of our meals outside in the Delia’s courtyard. This would soon change. Sute was the last month of Thrine; spring would soon be upon the lands. And with spring came the spring equinox, the return of the sun, and the rebirth of Celisia, eles of spring and summer. The Spring Equinox was always an important holiday in the North. Though Celisia was not our patron god those honors going to her sister and counterpart, Lunoia the princess of the gentle moon and night, Celisia the eles of the sun and daughter of the heavens lights was loved as the bringer of life and rebirth to the frozen north.

In the Empire, one of many nations who claimed the honor of being the sons and daughters of Celisia and the sun, the Spring Equinox was a holiday in celebration of the divine guardian of their prosperity and for the Empire the mother of Achils Immus’ heir the second Emperor Theophilus Immus. At least according to the ancient legends of the past. It was the gentle sun of her creation and light which gave life to the crops of the West and it was her guidance which gave the West its light.

We had the pleasure of enjoying our breakfast with Lord Draster that morning. I had come to be attached to the man, much as he had become attached to me. I had never known my grandfather. Selthi had died three years before my birth and my mother’s father, a Rzevorian nobleman by the name of Matthew Orin had passed away when my mother was only 16 and thus he never met my father. I never had any grandparents so I began to think of Prestin as an adoptive one. He certainly fit the image in my mind of what a grandfather should be. Or would be.

Calm, kind, gentle, with a much younger sense of mirth in his eyes then that which you would think a man that age would have he fit my idea of a grandfather perfectly.




He enjoyed talking to me and regularly would add anecdotes to the books I read in the expansive library he kept. He was my teacher and tutor, but he did show a certain lack of belief in the credibility of the books he had insisted were essential to an Imperial education. For one Alsius Acri apparently had a deeply entrenched grudge against the House of Draster as he was constantly underrating the achievements and contributions of the house. At least that was Prestin’s opinion.