Chapter 3: A Crime; the Accused
Vale stumbled into Officius dead on his feet. His horse had stopped, exhausted a few miles out of town. He wouldn’t move until Vale had dismounted. Vale had to lead both horses; Aarden was asleep in his saddle.
Vale finally collapsed in front of an old, rundown, farmhouse just outside the city’s western wall. Farmland and grazing land surrounded the capitol. Merchants flowed in and out of the city gates, even at this late time.
Aarden, waking up because of the stop, saw Vale lying on the ground. He slid off his saddle and woke Vale. He helped him up and the two walked groggily to the front door and knocked gently.
They heard instant movement inside and, after a few moments of banging, the door flew open and Booruck glared out at them.
Booruck was supposedly the same age as the two friends, but the lines in his face made him look much older. His years of working as a farm hand left him slightly hunched over and his skin more golden than the Durvy nobles. His features were sharp and, along with his abrupt movement, made him look birdlike. He was a head taller than Aarden who was a hand taller than Vale. Despite his strange and weather worn appearance, Booruck was still regarded by most women to be attractive.
He towered over the two friends until his eyes adjusted. His face finally cracked into an awkward smile as he recognized Vale.
“Ah, wayward son, come in. What are you doing here in Officius?”
“Booruck, this is my friend Aarden.”
“So this is the noble gardener that I’ve heard so much about.”
“Hello sir,” Aarden muttered shyly. He took the seat Booruck was offering him.
“Sir? Did you hear that Vale? The nobleman called me sir.”
“He’s just a farmer Aarden,” Vale supplied. He sat down next to Aarden and took the warm ale Booruck was offering him.
“And despite my comely appearance, I’m still a young man.”
“I’m sorry si-, Booruck, I’ve never been very good at-.”
“Personal interaction,” Vale supplied.
Booruck pulled an armful of bedding out from a cubby and handed them to Vale. Vale started making up some beds on the floor.
“Thank you for-.”
“Stop nobleman, no need for thanks. What is a friend for?” Booruck handed him some pillows and exited to a bedroom. The door closed and Aarden looked down at Vale.
“Aren’t you exhausted?” Vale asked already on his way to sleep.
“Who is this guy?”
“He’s a friend, I trust him. He’ll get us to Rota faster. He’s taught me everything about hunting, fighting, riding, everything.”
“How did you meet him?”
“No more questions tonight. We’ll talk about everything tomorrow, I promise.”
Vale fell automatically into deep sleep. Aarden, although he was exhausted, struggled into his dream. Cool water trickled through his fingers and he began to cup them. If only he could get a cold, refreshing drink before the blood. He began to pull the water to his lips, but the red began to trickle. He tried to wake up, but the dream held him this time. And the nightmare would get worse.
* * *
Aarden awoke in a cold sweat. He struggled to remember what had frightened him, but his nightmare had already escaped him. A banging at the front door brought him to his senses. He realized it had been the knocking that had awoken him.
Vale was already on his feet at the window. He saw Aarden rise and held his hand out for Aarden to remain still. Aarden quietly drew a long dagger and moved silently over to the door. Booruck emerged and smiled calmly at the two friends. He gently moved Aarden away from the door and opened it.
A mob was standing at the door, torches blazing. A fully armored knight stepped forward from the group.
“Sir Bovin,” Booruck said, dripping with vehemence. “What can I do for you?”
“We’re here to arrest you.”
“And what have I done this time.”
Bovin sauntered past Booruck into the room. Aarden and Vale were still standing at the ready. Bovin’s hand drifted to his sword as he looked back at the mob. Booruck followed his eyes and closed the door, smiling.
“We tracked three horses from Jocha’s farm to here. We know you stole them.”
“I didn’t touch those mangy mares. They found their way here on their own.”
Bovin began backing towards the door, beginning to get nervous. His hand was fully gripping his sword now. Booruck looked between Vale and Aarden, trying to calm their nervousness.
“We will let the courts decide. Come with me; if you are innocent then you will have nothing to fear.”
“Your courts, the people of this quaint little township have hated and distrusted me since I came to live here. For three years I have been an outsider. It looks like you had no trouble mustering up that mob out there.”
“You are a suspicious individual. And who are these ruffians?”
“My friends, noblemen from Distrus, on their way to Rota to pay their respects to the late Tor Sambo.”
“He was friends with my mother,” Aarden added. The knight looked suspiciously at Aarden then turned back to Booruck.
“Please just come with me. The people are tense and need a resolution to this, one that doesn’t end with bloodshed.” Bovin had almost made it to the door.
“I think this will end in bloodshed, if only my own. I will come with you sheriff, but I can’t guarantee there won’t be an incidence. I will defend my innocence, first in the court, but if not, then bloodshed it will be.”
Booruck opened the door and stepped out. Several men grabbed his arms roughly and led him away. Bovin left, taking one last look at Vale and Aarden.
Vale immediately jumped into action. He quickly packed the few belongings he had unpacked and started towards the door. He was already fingering the arrows in his quiver.
“What are you going to do?” Aarden slowly began repacking his things.
“Hurry, I know the road they’ll take well enough. It passes through a patch of woods about a mile from here. If we ride quickly, we can ambush them.”
“Booruck said he wanted to try the courts first-.”
“He knew they would fail.”
“It will take a few weeks before any kind of decision is reached. We are on a mission to Rota. You were so worried about going. We need to stay the course.”
Vale struggled within himself then his reason caught up with his temper. He sat down hard and waited for Aarden to finish getting ready.
* * *
Aarden and Vale wandered into Rota overwhelmed. They had avoided Officius for the most part, but had to travel through Rota to get to Tor’s house. Distrus was quiet and small. Rota was completely different. The city was laid out in large crowded blocks. The streets were narrow and bustling. Street vendors lined every street and the roads were nearly impossible to navigate. Through alleyways or along a busy catwalk that floated around the top of the outer wall were the only ways to get from one side of the city to the other.
Aarden glanced at Vale who appeared to be a little nervous. Aarden started towards an apple seller, but Vale grabbed him and pulled him towards a staircase. Vale dragged Aarden up to the catwalk and they began pushing through the hordes of people.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Aarden shouted, trying to be heard over the buzz of the crowd.
“Just stay close. We have to be able to see where we’re going from here.”
Aarden struggled to keep up with Vale. Fortunately, Aarden could look over most of the crowd and could keep track of his friend. Vale’s shaggy red hair made it easy to find as well.
As he bumped his way through the crowd, he kept hearing bits of conversation about Tor; a mystery lover, a strange creature, a brutal murder. Whispers started to penetrate his thoughts; whispers of a suspect, a man from Officius; then the name Booruck. Over and over, Aarden heard Boorucks name being uttered by people passing. He tried to listen, but Vale was moving too quickly. Finally, Aarden caught up to his friend and stopped him.
“Are you listening? People are talking about Booruck.”
“What about him? They’re probably talking about the trial.”
“A horse thief? They’re talking about the murder, about Tor.”
“Booruck didn’t kill Tor,” Vale said a little too loudly. Several groups of people stopped and looked at them. Vale grabbed Aarden and dragged him behind a buttress. “These people will be accusing us by tomorrow,” he whispered severely. “There is very little trust of outsiders here.”
“What if he did though? How much do you know about him?”
“I trust him. Let’s just get to Tor’s.”
The two continued in silence. The bits of conversation continued to permeate Aarden’s conscious, and he couldn’t ignore them. The doubts continued to grow; all the way down the stairs and through the final crowded streets to Tor’s residence. The thickest crowd hovered around the murder scene.
Vale shoved his way to the front, dragging Aarden all the way. There were several knights guarding the entrance, but Vale continued to them authoritatively.
“Can I help you?” a young knight, clearly frustrated with this menial job, sighed.
“My name is Vale Drumond. I’ve brought Aarden, son of Lady Genish from Distrus.”
“We’ve been expecting you. After you’re finished here, there are some papers to go through with Minister Trong. Do you know your way?”
“We’ll figure it out.” Vale pushed his way through the guards and entered the quiet manor.
The manor was empty and in disarray. It was obvious no one had been here since Tor had been killed. Aarden had only been here to see Tor once when he was little. His father had brought him fishing with Tor in the nearby Pobul Lake. Tor and Aarden’s father had grown up together here in Rota. They had been friends through their schooling, but had a falling out when Genish came along. Aarden’s father had been in love with Genish since the first day they met. Genish however was infatuated with Tor. Tor was set to marry the daughter or the Minister of Rota, a girl he had been in love with all his life. Genish eventually settled. A few years after Aarden’s parents were married, shortly after Aarden was born, Tor’s engagement fell apart. His betrothed was found dead; she had hung herself.
Aarden followed Vale up a spiral staircase. At the top was an open balcony, overlooking the manor. Aarden looked over the edge and began to feel dizzy. This was why he always stayed on the ground.
“Now why are we here?” Aarden asked, turning to Vale.
“So you could see.” Vale looked nonchalantly over the edge and then began examining the room. Aarden watched Vale moving around the room like a tracker. He tested the dried blood, looked around the room for scratches, for any sign of entry. “I wish I could see the body,” he finished, under his breath.
“His body; you want to see his body? You’re thinking that this man might be my father and you want to see his body?”
“Your father? Where did that come from?”
“That’s why you wanted to come here right? You think Tor is my real father.”
“No, I-, how did you know?”
“I’m not stupid Vale. I figured it out. But I know that my mother never had an affair. You’re wrong.”
“Then why was your mother so anxious about you coming and seeing him?”
“I think we’ll find out at Minister Trong’s. Let’s go.”
* * *
“I’m sorry it’s taken so long for you to be admitted,” Minister Trong apologized as Aarden and Vale were let into his study. The room was a simple stone box with a few chairs and a desk. Minister Trong was all business. Aarden and Vale had been waiting to see Minister Trong for over an hour while court officials passed in and out of the room. The guard had made Aarden think that the Minister was waiting anxiously to see them, but it was obvious now that this matter was a trivial matter.
“I’m hoping you can shed some light on this situation,” Aarden said calmly. “My mother was anxious that I come and deal with this.”
“I understand her anxiety. You see, Tor has been your mother’s benefactor since your father died. Although he lived a simple life, Tor was actually quite wealthy. He left your mother all of his money and you now own his property. There are some things to go over, but you can take care of them with my aide.”
“So Lady Genish and Master Tor-.”
“No son, there was no impropriety. They both loved your father too much. Now please, I have a lot to do and I’ve already had to spend too much time on this.”
Vale and Aarden were rushed out and, after a brief meeting with the aide, were pushed out on the street.
“Well, let’s go clean up your house,” Vale said with a smile.
Aarden looked at Vale incredulously. “I can’t live here. I have to return to Distrus.” “Why, what’s there for you? You have all the land you could want; start your own garden
“My mother needs my help. She’s really helpless.”
“You really are a milksop. Your mother has a hundred servants and friends in all of the cities of Durvy. She now has Tor’s money. Why does she need you?”
“I’m her son. Plus, we left Spot there.”
“I’ll go get Spot and the rest of your stuff. You need to stay here and begin establishing yourself as a lord in Rota.”
Aarden once again gave into Vale’s charisma and the two moved excitedly towards Aarden’s new manor.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Book 1: Chapter 2
Chapter 2: Vale, the Mighty Hunter
“Distrus,” Lord Goan commented as the dessert was served at dinner, “is only a small town Lady Genish. If you were to move to Lacertus, you could experience real high society.”
“Why not move to the capitol?” Minister Tane said. “They live in true nobility there.”
“Traitor,” Goan mocked.
“You should move to Monachus,” Lady Jez, wife of one of Lacertus’s richest men remarked. “I’m sure you could meet a nice, secure General. The military is where boys become men.” She glared at Aarden as she heard him snort. “Do you have a problem with authority young man?”
Aarden glanced at Casia, Master Jez’s daughter. She was staring adoringly at her father who was watching the others, bored. Aarden returned his gaze to Lady Jez.
“The Wall protects us, not the military,” Aarden said flatly. He was now the focus of everyone at the table.
“What do you know about the wall young man?” Sir Kaltz, the oldest member at the table. He was an old, retired knight, one of only a handful from the military who had actually seen battle. His daughter, hunched at the end of the table, was quickly becoming an old spinster.
“I know that the wall has protected us for a thousand of years; we haven’t fought a battle in at least that long.”
“My great-great-grandfather helped to build that wall. Before that time, we were constantly in battle. One war lasted hundreds of years. That wall has saved hundreds of young men from war.”
“It also keeps us in,” Vale said loudly, bounding into the room.
“Vale!” Aarden jumped up, directing him to the chair next to him. Vale paused to say a few gentle words in Weeley, the daughter or Minister Tane. She giggled then sighed as she saw Aarden watching them.
Vale was dressed in an old borrowed tunic that Aarden had given him. His shoes were worn as were the rest of his clothes. Vale bounded boldly over to Aarden and shook his friend’s hand. Aarden showed him to his chair and the two sat at the table.
“My guests, this is Vale Drumond, son of Seth and Chaylie Pesth,” Genish said, pointing.
“Ah, the orphan,” Master Jez said, dismissively.
“Yes, the orphan,” Vale responded. “Lady Pesth has been very kind to me, more than I deserve I’m sure.”
“At least you’re not on the street,” Goan quipped.
“Vale has been hunting for the butcher Carmine.” Vale glared at Aarden. He always hated it when Aarden defended him. “He’s one of the best hunter’s in the five cities-.”
“Merely a hobby,” Vale added. He looked shamefaced towards the young women who were looking enthralled at him.
The rest of the table turned away from Vale and Aarden. Conversations sprung up all around the table. Aarden apologized to Vale in a whisper. Vale brushed it off, but continued watching the young ladies silently.
Aarden drowsily listened to the bits of conversation he overheard. Lord and Lady Goan were talking with his mother about Prime Minister Tomal and his daughter. She had been caught walking and holding hands with a common painter in Lacertus. Aarden knew his mother still held out hope that he would end up with the young debutante. Vale was thoroughly enjoying a heated debate against Sir Kaltz over the true purpose of the wall. Vale would have left Durvy long ago if it hadn’t been for that wall. The Jezes and Minister Tane were discussing the roles of servants and the possibility of slaves. The question had long been debated by the Durvies, but never seriously considered. The upper-class always enjoyed discussing it however. All the young women looked the same, trying to sit with the proper posture, trying to listen and understand the various conversations, and really trying to stay awake.
“Murder?” Mistress Tane suddenly let out. Everyone stopped their conversations and looked at her in shock. She blushed and hid her eyes.
“What was that?” Genish asked.
“Last night, Tor Sambo was murdered,” Lady Jez filled in. “He lived in a small manor on the edge of Rota.”
“Yes, I know Tor quite well.” Aarden’s mother whispered, visibly shaken. “He and my husband were like brothers.”
“Who would kill Master Sambo?” Vale asked, equally shocked.
“It’s a mystery,” Kan, the daughter Lord and Lady Jez supplied.
“There were no clues, no sign of entry. It was as if someone flew in through the window.” Lady Jez shuddered. “He was up in a tower watching the birds or something.”
“In the middle of the day even,” Kan finished. She seemed to have a morbid fascination with this.
“Who would be so bold?” Lord Goan asked, standing and thumping his fist on the table. He sensed a lively debate coming. “Surely the man must have been a brilliant criminal. No Durvy has that kind of talent.”
“It was really brutal,” Kan chirped. “Tor had scratches all over his chest and neck. His blood had almost completely drained out-.”
And with that, Genish, the renowned social woman, fainted and landed face first in a piece of chocolate cake.
* * *
“I’ll be fine,” Genish reassured her guests as she shuffled them out the door.
“Are you sure Genish?” Lady Jez asked. “We are happy to stay and help.”
“No, please. I was just a little overwhelmed.” Genish ushered the others out and shut the door quickly once they were gone.
Genish aroused almost immediately after fainting in her cake. She mumbled apologeties as she left, embarrassed. The group sat in tense silence, no one looking at each other. Vale kept nudging Aarden, trying to get him to become host, but Aarden remained comatose.
Finally, Genish returned in a flurry. She had put on another extravagant dress and redone her face. Her guests fawned over her, but she quickly deflected the apologies and rushed them out the door; only Aarden and Vale were left.
Vale began to excuse himself when Genish stopped him. “I need your help, both of you.” She suddenly became conscious of her overdone dress and makeup. She began removing a lot of her fluff. “You must go see Tor immediately.”
“Mother-.”
“He was your father’s closest friend. He was as much a father to you as that pedant.”
“Mother-.”
“I’m sorry Aarden. I’m very flustered right now.”
“Is something going on Mother?”
“No, but something must be done. There was no inheritance from your Grandparents-.”
Vale suddenly interrupted, dragging Aarden into the other room. Genish gave a fleeting smile to Vale as she waved and started up the stairs. Aarden stopped and pulled away from Vale.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re going on a trip. We’re headed to Rota. You need to pay your respects to Tor.”
“Rota is on the other side of Durvy though. It’ll take us four days to get there.”
Vale dragged Aarden into the pantry. He grabbed a knapsack and began filling it.
“If we leave tonight, we can stay with my friend Booruck and be in Rota a day and a half after that.”
“But why?”
“You will someday. Just know that your mother needs you to go. Get the rest of your gear together and meet me on the east edge before night fall.”
Vale hurried out the back door. Aarden stared dumbfounded after him.
“Distrus,” Lord Goan commented as the dessert was served at dinner, “is only a small town Lady Genish. If you were to move to Lacertus, you could experience real high society.”
“Why not move to the capitol?” Minister Tane said. “They live in true nobility there.”
“Traitor,” Goan mocked.
“You should move to Monachus,” Lady Jez, wife of one of Lacertus’s richest men remarked. “I’m sure you could meet a nice, secure General. The military is where boys become men.” She glared at Aarden as she heard him snort. “Do you have a problem with authority young man?”
Aarden glanced at Casia, Master Jez’s daughter. She was staring adoringly at her father who was watching the others, bored. Aarden returned his gaze to Lady Jez.
“The Wall protects us, not the military,” Aarden said flatly. He was now the focus of everyone at the table.
“What do you know about the wall young man?” Sir Kaltz, the oldest member at the table. He was an old, retired knight, one of only a handful from the military who had actually seen battle. His daughter, hunched at the end of the table, was quickly becoming an old spinster.
“I know that the wall has protected us for a thousand of years; we haven’t fought a battle in at least that long.”
“My great-great-grandfather helped to build that wall. Before that time, we were constantly in battle. One war lasted hundreds of years. That wall has saved hundreds of young men from war.”
“It also keeps us in,” Vale said loudly, bounding into the room.
“Vale!” Aarden jumped up, directing him to the chair next to him. Vale paused to say a few gentle words in Weeley, the daughter or Minister Tane. She giggled then sighed as she saw Aarden watching them.
Vale was dressed in an old borrowed tunic that Aarden had given him. His shoes were worn as were the rest of his clothes. Vale bounded boldly over to Aarden and shook his friend’s hand. Aarden showed him to his chair and the two sat at the table.
“My guests, this is Vale Drumond, son of Seth and Chaylie Pesth,” Genish said, pointing.
“Ah, the orphan,” Master Jez said, dismissively.
“Yes, the orphan,” Vale responded. “Lady Pesth has been very kind to me, more than I deserve I’m sure.”
“At least you’re not on the street,” Goan quipped.
“Vale has been hunting for the butcher Carmine.” Vale glared at Aarden. He always hated it when Aarden defended him. “He’s one of the best hunter’s in the five cities-.”
“Merely a hobby,” Vale added. He looked shamefaced towards the young women who were looking enthralled at him.
The rest of the table turned away from Vale and Aarden. Conversations sprung up all around the table. Aarden apologized to Vale in a whisper. Vale brushed it off, but continued watching the young ladies silently.
Aarden drowsily listened to the bits of conversation he overheard. Lord and Lady Goan were talking with his mother about Prime Minister Tomal and his daughter. She had been caught walking and holding hands with a common painter in Lacertus. Aarden knew his mother still held out hope that he would end up with the young debutante. Vale was thoroughly enjoying a heated debate against Sir Kaltz over the true purpose of the wall. Vale would have left Durvy long ago if it hadn’t been for that wall. The Jezes and Minister Tane were discussing the roles of servants and the possibility of slaves. The question had long been debated by the Durvies, but never seriously considered. The upper-class always enjoyed discussing it however. All the young women looked the same, trying to sit with the proper posture, trying to listen and understand the various conversations, and really trying to stay awake.
“Murder?” Mistress Tane suddenly let out. Everyone stopped their conversations and looked at her in shock. She blushed and hid her eyes.
“What was that?” Genish asked.
“Last night, Tor Sambo was murdered,” Lady Jez filled in. “He lived in a small manor on the edge of Rota.”
“Yes, I know Tor quite well.” Aarden’s mother whispered, visibly shaken. “He and my husband were like brothers.”
“Who would kill Master Sambo?” Vale asked, equally shocked.
“It’s a mystery,” Kan, the daughter Lord and Lady Jez supplied.
“There were no clues, no sign of entry. It was as if someone flew in through the window.” Lady Jez shuddered. “He was up in a tower watching the birds or something.”
“In the middle of the day even,” Kan finished. She seemed to have a morbid fascination with this.
“Who would be so bold?” Lord Goan asked, standing and thumping his fist on the table. He sensed a lively debate coming. “Surely the man must have been a brilliant criminal. No Durvy has that kind of talent.”
“It was really brutal,” Kan chirped. “Tor had scratches all over his chest and neck. His blood had almost completely drained out-.”
And with that, Genish, the renowned social woman, fainted and landed face first in a piece of chocolate cake.
* * *
“I’ll be fine,” Genish reassured her guests as she shuffled them out the door.
“Are you sure Genish?” Lady Jez asked. “We are happy to stay and help.”
“No, please. I was just a little overwhelmed.” Genish ushered the others out and shut the door quickly once they were gone.
Genish aroused almost immediately after fainting in her cake. She mumbled apologeties as she left, embarrassed. The group sat in tense silence, no one looking at each other. Vale kept nudging Aarden, trying to get him to become host, but Aarden remained comatose.
Finally, Genish returned in a flurry. She had put on another extravagant dress and redone her face. Her guests fawned over her, but she quickly deflected the apologies and rushed them out the door; only Aarden and Vale were left.
Vale began to excuse himself when Genish stopped him. “I need your help, both of you.” She suddenly became conscious of her overdone dress and makeup. She began removing a lot of her fluff. “You must go see Tor immediately.”
“Mother-.”
“He was your father’s closest friend. He was as much a father to you as that pedant.”
“Mother-.”
“I’m sorry Aarden. I’m very flustered right now.”
“Is something going on Mother?”
“No, but something must be done. There was no inheritance from your Grandparents-.”
Vale suddenly interrupted, dragging Aarden into the other room. Genish gave a fleeting smile to Vale as she waved and started up the stairs. Aarden stopped and pulled away from Vale.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re going on a trip. We’re headed to Rota. You need to pay your respects to Tor.”
“Rota is on the other side of Durvy though. It’ll take us four days to get there.”
Vale dragged Aarden into the pantry. He grabbed a knapsack and began filling it.
“If we leave tonight, we can stay with my friend Booruck and be in Rota a day and a half after that.”
“But why?”
“You will someday. Just know that your mother needs you to go. Get the rest of your gear together and meet me on the east edge before night fall.”
Vale hurried out the back door. Aarden stared dumbfounded after him.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Book I: Chapter 1
Aarden’s eyes flew open. Disoriented from the dream, Aarden quickly looked around. He was back in his garden. His nostrils were once again accosted with the dark earth, his vegetables almost ready to be harvested. He slowly got up, found his awkward straw hat.
“Spot, Spot!” Aarden called out. His pet Ingot bound over to him, carrying a crow in his clawed front paw. Ingots were small, human-like creatures. They stand hunched over, but even standing straight would only reach four feet. Their hair was thin, making them look bald. They were biped creatures who could also walk on all fours. They’re hands had retractable claws and they’re hind legs were short, almost ape-like. The Durvies had domesticated them. Spot followed Aarden as they wandered from the garden onto the main road.
The dream was a recurring one: Aarden drinking from a crystal river flowing over an old stone wall. He cups the water in his hand when a stream of blood starts tainting it. Fear grips his heart and he starts to panic, then wakes up, sweaty. This time, he woke himself up before the blood came. He always gloated when he outsmarted his dreams.
Most people who met Aarden considered him a commoner. The tall and lanky albino was the son of the powerful noble woman Genish Tallate. His father had died of a heart attack when he was a boy. Genish allowed her son his eccentricities which mainly focused on his love of gardening.
Aarden’s clothes were mainly dirty, simple and useful. He usually wore a loose cotton shirt filled with pockets. The pockets he filled with small plants and seeds, things to fill his garden. He usually wore a light green burlap poncho and this straw hat perched on the top of his thin face.
Aarden was greeted with smiles and waves as he wandered down the main street of the Durvy town of Distrus. The sunlight beamed down on him as a cold breeze brushed his straw blond hair away from his face.
“Beautiful day isn’t it,” Pagel, the town’s blacksmith chirped at Aarden as he passed him. “The sun is really shining today.”
Aarden glanced up at the bright brown sky and smiled. “Perfect for planting those rhododendrons you gave me.”
“Every day is a perfect day for something young man.” The blacksmith waved and turned into his shop. Aarden waved back and continued on his way.
Aarden wandered into his mother’s manor. The servants looked up and smiled at the young master and he waved back. He stepped into the main house, brushing the dirt off in the doorway as he removed his poncho and folded it carefully. His mother emerged from her grand bedroom and quickly ran down to her son.
“Aarden, where have you been? You know how important tonight is to me.” His mother was in a panic once again.
“I’m sorry mother, I fell asleep.”
“In that garden again. Why I allow you to have that cursed thing is beyond me.”
“My father gave that garden to me.”
Genish gently touched the poncho and smiled, then hid the smile and turned once more on her son. “Your father! He always wanted to be a peasant. The Gods alone know where he spent all of our money. If I hadn’t kept my inheritance from my parents, I would be begging for food and you would be gardening for someone else.”
“Father didn’t leave us broke and you know it.” Aarden’s voice never raised to his mother. He had had this argument many times before. “Besides, Father never spent any money on himself.”
“Yes, I know. He should be made holy.”
Genish pulled the straw hat from Aarden’s head and threw it into a pile with his poncho.
“Mother-.”
“Aarden, no more talk of your father. I know you loved him as you love me. And if you do love me, you will get ready. I have invited the four noble families from Lacertus to dinner tonight. All of them have eligible daughters for you to court.”
“Mother, why do you insist on doing this to me?”
“Because that’s what young men your age do.”
“I’m different than them.” Aarden snuck into the kitchen and snatched a couple of rolls, his mother following him all the way.
“You should not be ashamed of being an albino.”
The cook, hearing the mistress’s voice, swung around. She saw Aarden and smirked, then gave him a mock glare. Aarden gave the servant an apologetic shrug and stuffed a piece into his mouth. He dropped the second roll to Spot.
“It’s not my skin, although I see the girls cringe when they see me.”
“Stop talking with your mouth full, and I told you to keep your pet outside.”
“He will be quiet in my room.” Aarden finished swallowing and moved towards his room. “I’m just different. All they can talk about is gossip; who is marrying whom, what she wore, what she said. The military seems to be just honorary. What good is it if they receive rank simply to improve status in the community? Even common soldiers are there simply to impress their benefactors.”
Aarden found a wash basin already filled with water. He began rinsing his face.
“What would you prefer? I’m thankful that we enjoy peace and my son doesn’t have to go off to be killed in war. We are truly blessed. And what topic would you prefer; your garden, the dirt you lay in?”
“Politics, life, art, the Gods-.”
“Oh, the Gods take you; you will drive me to an early grave.”
She threw a towel at him. He dried his face slowly.
“I’m sorry mother. I will be civil.”
“I assume Vale will be joining us as well?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Why you hang around with that orphan-.”
“I’m sorry mother, I need to get ready.”
He gently pushed his mother out of the room and closed the door, finally free of his mother’s questions. A bath was waiting for him and his gaudy, ceremonial clothing was sitting on his bed, waiting for him. He sighed deeply and sat on his father’s old chair.
After his father’s death, Aarden’s mother had become more interested in her son’s future. This was the fifth dinner party she had thrown, inviting the most prominent families from the five major cities of Durvy. Even Prime Minister Tomal’s daughter Gwen had come to meet Lady Genish’s albino son, but the results were always the same, women without substance. Likewise, they found Aarden a simpleton. It was only because of his mother’s name and reputation that they came.
Aarden pulled a flower, still in soil, from his pocket. He pulled a small pot full of dirt from under his bed and planted the flower in it. He set the pot on a window sill and began undressing. Steam rose from the drawn bath and Aarden cringed as he stepped into it. The water was nearly boiling and every dry crack in his hands and feet burned. He would be sufficiently pink for his mother’s dinner.
“Spot, Spot!” Aarden called out. His pet Ingot bound over to him, carrying a crow in his clawed front paw. Ingots were small, human-like creatures. They stand hunched over, but even standing straight would only reach four feet. Their hair was thin, making them look bald. They were biped creatures who could also walk on all fours. They’re hands had retractable claws and they’re hind legs were short, almost ape-like. The Durvies had domesticated them. Spot followed Aarden as they wandered from the garden onto the main road.
The dream was a recurring one: Aarden drinking from a crystal river flowing over an old stone wall. He cups the water in his hand when a stream of blood starts tainting it. Fear grips his heart and he starts to panic, then wakes up, sweaty. This time, he woke himself up before the blood came. He always gloated when he outsmarted his dreams.
Most people who met Aarden considered him a commoner. The tall and lanky albino was the son of the powerful noble woman Genish Tallate. His father had died of a heart attack when he was a boy. Genish allowed her son his eccentricities which mainly focused on his love of gardening.
Aarden’s clothes were mainly dirty, simple and useful. He usually wore a loose cotton shirt filled with pockets. The pockets he filled with small plants and seeds, things to fill his garden. He usually wore a light green burlap poncho and this straw hat perched on the top of his thin face.
Aarden was greeted with smiles and waves as he wandered down the main street of the Durvy town of Distrus. The sunlight beamed down on him as a cold breeze brushed his straw blond hair away from his face.
“Beautiful day isn’t it,” Pagel, the town’s blacksmith chirped at Aarden as he passed him. “The sun is really shining today.”
Aarden glanced up at the bright brown sky and smiled. “Perfect for planting those rhododendrons you gave me.”
“Every day is a perfect day for something young man.” The blacksmith waved and turned into his shop. Aarden waved back and continued on his way.
Aarden wandered into his mother’s manor. The servants looked up and smiled at the young master and he waved back. He stepped into the main house, brushing the dirt off in the doorway as he removed his poncho and folded it carefully. His mother emerged from her grand bedroom and quickly ran down to her son.
“Aarden, where have you been? You know how important tonight is to me.” His mother was in a panic once again.
“I’m sorry mother, I fell asleep.”
“In that garden again. Why I allow you to have that cursed thing is beyond me.”
“My father gave that garden to me.”
Genish gently touched the poncho and smiled, then hid the smile and turned once more on her son. “Your father! He always wanted to be a peasant. The Gods alone know where he spent all of our money. If I hadn’t kept my inheritance from my parents, I would be begging for food and you would be gardening for someone else.”
“Father didn’t leave us broke and you know it.” Aarden’s voice never raised to his mother. He had had this argument many times before. “Besides, Father never spent any money on himself.”
“Yes, I know. He should be made holy.”
Genish pulled the straw hat from Aarden’s head and threw it into a pile with his poncho.
“Mother-.”
“Aarden, no more talk of your father. I know you loved him as you love me. And if you do love me, you will get ready. I have invited the four noble families from Lacertus to dinner tonight. All of them have eligible daughters for you to court.”
“Mother, why do you insist on doing this to me?”
“Because that’s what young men your age do.”
“I’m different than them.” Aarden snuck into the kitchen and snatched a couple of rolls, his mother following him all the way.
“You should not be ashamed of being an albino.”
The cook, hearing the mistress’s voice, swung around. She saw Aarden and smirked, then gave him a mock glare. Aarden gave the servant an apologetic shrug and stuffed a piece into his mouth. He dropped the second roll to Spot.
“It’s not my skin, although I see the girls cringe when they see me.”
“Stop talking with your mouth full, and I told you to keep your pet outside.”
“He will be quiet in my room.” Aarden finished swallowing and moved towards his room. “I’m just different. All they can talk about is gossip; who is marrying whom, what she wore, what she said. The military seems to be just honorary. What good is it if they receive rank simply to improve status in the community? Even common soldiers are there simply to impress their benefactors.”
Aarden found a wash basin already filled with water. He began rinsing his face.
“What would you prefer? I’m thankful that we enjoy peace and my son doesn’t have to go off to be killed in war. We are truly blessed. And what topic would you prefer; your garden, the dirt you lay in?”
“Politics, life, art, the Gods-.”
“Oh, the Gods take you; you will drive me to an early grave.”
She threw a towel at him. He dried his face slowly.
“I’m sorry mother. I will be civil.”
“I assume Vale will be joining us as well?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Why you hang around with that orphan-.”
“I’m sorry mother, I need to get ready.”
He gently pushed his mother out of the room and closed the door, finally free of his mother’s questions. A bath was waiting for him and his gaudy, ceremonial clothing was sitting on his bed, waiting for him. He sighed deeply and sat on his father’s old chair.
After his father’s death, Aarden’s mother had become more interested in her son’s future. This was the fifth dinner party she had thrown, inviting the most prominent families from the five major cities of Durvy. Even Prime Minister Tomal’s daughter Gwen had come to meet Lady Genish’s albino son, but the results were always the same, women without substance. Likewise, they found Aarden a simpleton. It was only because of his mother’s name and reputation that they came.
Aarden pulled a flower, still in soil, from his pocket. He pulled a small pot full of dirt from under his bed and planted the flower in it. He set the pot on a window sill and began undressing. Steam rose from the drawn bath and Aarden cringed as he stepped into it. The water was nearly boiling and every dry crack in his hands and feet burned. He would be sufficiently pink for his mother’s dinner.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
The Holy Paladins: Prelude
PRELUDE
It was dark, unusually dark. The sixth watch had just sounded and the sun had been down for some time. Epsil castle was dark; and it was getting cold. The fires had been allowed to cool; the servants would be punished, if the King wasn’t distracted.
The strong noble chin held several days worth of stubble; the court robes and armor had been replaced by a simple cloth shirt and worker’s pants; and he was pacing. Kings should never pace.
This was a moment when Kings were equal to slaves; the strongest knights were reduced to weeping like their feeble pages; and tiny women became the bravest of warriors.
King Avo paced in front of a solid wooden door. A man who had breeched the thickest stone defenses was now kept out of his wife’s chambers by a single wooden door.
It was not his place inside those doors. Childbirth was a woman’s place. The first queen had died after giving birth to three children, all who died in infancy. Now, his beloved second wife was giving birth to a precious baby. This one would not die.
A gentle cry suddenly broke through his thoughts. Avo rushed to the door and tried the latch. The click signified his uninvited status. He again resumed his pacing.
Carmen was a beautiful, wealthy, cold, and calculating young woman. Their marriage was arranged before they knew each other. He found Manterin a few days before the wedding. He loved Manterin, but was forced to marry Carmen. It was a loveless marriage, but Avo believed in duty. Manterin disappeared and Avo tried to put his heart into his marriage. It was useless. The death of the children hurt them even more. Depression set in after the death of the second child Dirge, the heir, the first son. When the third child was born stillborn, Carmen’s mind broke. She gave up and died from the trauma of the birth. Avo soon began searching for his lost love. Manterin had run away to a convent, but couldn’t bring herself to taking the vows. The king found her and made her his queen. Many of the nobles resented him for his lack of grieving. He found himself at odds the ruling class.
The crying suddenly stopped. The silence was a brief respite. It was only a moment before it was replaced by a quiet mumbling. The voice was frantic, almost in a panic. It was Manterin; something was wrong.
Avo grabbed the latch again, breaking the handle in his hand. He threw his shoulder into the door and the boards shuddered. Once more and the solid wood splintered around him.
Manterin was safe, awake, reaching towards the baby’s wash basin. The midwife, a witch, trusted by the nobility, was standing over the bath, staring shocked at Manterin. Neither noticed Avo and the pile of wood that had once been the door. Avo rushed to the bath and found his baby drowning in the water. The witch finally noticed him and tried to stop him, but he knocked her unconscious with the back of his hand and fumbled for the newborn.
She was beginning to turn blue, but immediately started crying as the cold air tore into her lungs.
A girl, a baby girl; Avo quickly brought their baby to Manterin who had finally stopped muttering. The baby quieted into a peaceful sleep as she began to turn pink again in her mother’s arms. The King suddenly felt very inadequate and clumsy.
General Kharibs, the new leader of the Epsil army, pounded into the room, followed by a handful of the King’s elite guards. Hearing the commotion, he gathered up whoever he could find and came to the King’s aid.
“The witch tried to kill my child,” Avo breathed out, pointing at the lifeless body lying in a heap. “Take her to the prison to await execution.”
“Immediately!” Kharibs revived the old woman and the guards picked her up off the floor. As she was led roughly by the armored guard, she suddenly came to her senses and stopped. The knights, who towered over her, could not move her any further.
“That child,” she croaked, “will be the death of us all. She is cursed.”
“Silence-!”
“She means the end of the world. Kill her now. Whoever controls the princess, controls the world.”
The witch, her prophesy finished, collapsed once again. The guard dragged her to the prison but found they had been dragging a corpse.
It was dark, unusually dark. The sixth watch had just sounded and the sun had been down for some time. Epsil castle was dark; and it was getting cold. The fires had been allowed to cool; the servants would be punished, if the King wasn’t distracted.
The strong noble chin held several days worth of stubble; the court robes and armor had been replaced by a simple cloth shirt and worker’s pants; and he was pacing. Kings should never pace.
This was a moment when Kings were equal to slaves; the strongest knights were reduced to weeping like their feeble pages; and tiny women became the bravest of warriors.
King Avo paced in front of a solid wooden door. A man who had breeched the thickest stone defenses was now kept out of his wife’s chambers by a single wooden door.
It was not his place inside those doors. Childbirth was a woman’s place. The first queen had died after giving birth to three children, all who died in infancy. Now, his beloved second wife was giving birth to a precious baby. This one would not die.
A gentle cry suddenly broke through his thoughts. Avo rushed to the door and tried the latch. The click signified his uninvited status. He again resumed his pacing.
Carmen was a beautiful, wealthy, cold, and calculating young woman. Their marriage was arranged before they knew each other. He found Manterin a few days before the wedding. He loved Manterin, but was forced to marry Carmen. It was a loveless marriage, but Avo believed in duty. Manterin disappeared and Avo tried to put his heart into his marriage. It was useless. The death of the children hurt them even more. Depression set in after the death of the second child Dirge, the heir, the first son. When the third child was born stillborn, Carmen’s mind broke. She gave up and died from the trauma of the birth. Avo soon began searching for his lost love. Manterin had run away to a convent, but couldn’t bring herself to taking the vows. The king found her and made her his queen. Many of the nobles resented him for his lack of grieving. He found himself at odds the ruling class.
The crying suddenly stopped. The silence was a brief respite. It was only a moment before it was replaced by a quiet mumbling. The voice was frantic, almost in a panic. It was Manterin; something was wrong.
Avo grabbed the latch again, breaking the handle in his hand. He threw his shoulder into the door and the boards shuddered. Once more and the solid wood splintered around him.
Manterin was safe, awake, reaching towards the baby’s wash basin. The midwife, a witch, trusted by the nobility, was standing over the bath, staring shocked at Manterin. Neither noticed Avo and the pile of wood that had once been the door. Avo rushed to the bath and found his baby drowning in the water. The witch finally noticed him and tried to stop him, but he knocked her unconscious with the back of his hand and fumbled for the newborn.
She was beginning to turn blue, but immediately started crying as the cold air tore into her lungs.
A girl, a baby girl; Avo quickly brought their baby to Manterin who had finally stopped muttering. The baby quieted into a peaceful sleep as she began to turn pink again in her mother’s arms. The King suddenly felt very inadequate and clumsy.
General Kharibs, the new leader of the Epsil army, pounded into the room, followed by a handful of the King’s elite guards. Hearing the commotion, he gathered up whoever he could find and came to the King’s aid.
“The witch tried to kill my child,” Avo breathed out, pointing at the lifeless body lying in a heap. “Take her to the prison to await execution.”
“Immediately!” Kharibs revived the old woman and the guards picked her up off the floor. As she was led roughly by the armored guard, she suddenly came to her senses and stopped. The knights, who towered over her, could not move her any further.
“That child,” she croaked, “will be the death of us all. She is cursed.”
“Silence-!”
“She means the end of the world. Kill her now. Whoever controls the princess, controls the world.”
The witch, her prophesy finished, collapsed once again. The guard dragged her to the prison but found they had been dragging a corpse.
On-Call Tourney
I am trying to put together an LDS AV On-Call March Madness 2007 Video Game Party. I would like for it to happen in April, but we could probably push it to May if that would be easier for everyone. I would like for everyone to pool some money together to pay for some pizza and drinks and maybe for the rental cost for the games. I would imagine we would use PS2s unless we can come up with another PS3 and enough controllers. My 2 is kind of beat up and not especially reliable, but it would probably work. If someone else wanted to volunteer theirs, it might be a good thing. Plus, if we could have 2 or more running at once, it would help get through the earlier rounds a lot quicker so we're not playing for 13 hours straight. I only have one multitap though, so we would also need one or two more of those and enough controllers for how ever many games we have going at once. I will work out some ideas for the format of the tournament, but at this point, I think we will use the brackets of the real tournament and have two on two matches. If you're an AV employee, please leave a message with your name, your ideas, and the dates you're most available. We'll try to find a day and time that suits everyone the best.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Opening post
I am being forced against my will to write this blog. I've been told it will change my life. It's doing that by distracting me from another boring college champion game. Some day, it will be the Aggies. You know what I'm talking about. At this point, this blog will be random ramblings. Hopefully, it will soon find it's purpose; sort of like me.
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