Crown, Rumor, Spirit

Eorlan exhaled in frustration, and rubbed his temples. The crown seemed heavier with each passing day.

He longed for the days that he'd never get back--riding his horse for weeks in any direction he pleased. Foraging for supplies, finding himself in a new bed each night, with a new companion beside him. The life of a prince is one without cares. His responsibilities were few, and his freedom great. He took a great many hobbies, not the least of which was sampling all of the fine wares--and all the fine daughters--of every farmer and merchant within forty leagues of the castle.

Expectation was always waiting for him when he got home. Disappointment from his father, quiet silence from his mother. They couldn't see that it was the pressure to be kingly that made him run away.

And now they never would.

It had only been a month since the death of his parents, and the Kingdom was still in shock. So was he, he supposed. The crown was still fitted to his fathers' head, it still smelled of his wine, and tasted of his sweat. Not that Eorlan had sampled it, but a King becomes quite intimate with his crown in a very short while.

And what is a king without a queen? His mother had selected a suitable match for him, a beautiful young girl from a high family. She was certainly beautiful, and very well may have the intellect and strength to rule beside him. But all he could see was the thousands of women he would never get to fuck again, at least not without inciting a civil war. Oh sure, a King could rightly have any woman in the Kingdom he wanted--but Meneira's father had no doubt paid a handsome price to make sure that the next King came from his daughters belly. He would not have her honor undone.

He sighed again. There were worse fates in this world than having to fuck in secret. And now, as King, he had much greater things on his mind.

Like the letter he held in his hand.

Dark rumors were swirling to the north. Beyond the Great Ocean word had come from the Colony at Crag Mountain. Reports were vague and dark. Past the expanse of the Nir fields, something older than man was rising. They had not a name for this power, but there were legends enough in this new land.

Already they had discovered the Nir, a proud, stout people who dwelled in massive structures rising from the flat plains their slaves tended for them. They were smart, and they were rich, but they were passive. No one knew what laid inside their towers, and the Nir weren't ready to let anyone know but themselves. But they were fine living alongside and even trading with the race of Man.

But no warning was ever given to what laid beyond their lands. As the Colony expanded its territory, launching subcolonies across the new unspoilt continent...it soon became apparent that this continent was not new at all. There were old things here, ancient ruins with indecipherable script and haunted by old spirits from when the world still had magic.

He shuddered. Magic. The very thought sent shivers down to his feet, and shot back up into his temples.

And now men were missing. And the ones who returned could speak only of giants that walked like trees, and shot blue fire from their fingertips. Tall crystal cities that appeared out of nowhere, only to disappear within an hours time.

They were mad.

He hoped to the gods that they were mad.