Royce sat on the rafters of the highest tower in Liofeld. The light from the small slits in the walls provided him enough light to read by, the worn words on the old tome conveying the information that could save his Kingdom. ‘On the Declaration of War,’ was musty, but a necessary read for the furthering of his education.

  It did not matter if his father approved or not.

  Though it was still midday, what he could gleam from the natural light through the cracks was at an end. He had neglected to bring a candle with him, but it was not as if he could spend the entire day studying. He had duties that demanded his attention.

  As he closed the book and sat up he heard leaden footsteps ringing throughout the vast room. He could tell that gait from anywhere, so he ducked back down to hide himself.

  Dangling his head over the side of the elevated space he could see the bearded man clad in armor swinging his head, scanning the space that had once been the seat of power of Welkia. The man bore a cape with the crest of Welkia, the white ancient dragon of old. There was some gray in his beard and hair, but he was still spry enough to handily defeat anyone who challenged his position as Lord Captain of the royal guard.

  His father appeared more perturbed than usual when he finally left the room. With a sigh, Royce climbed down from his perch, then went the opposite direction to the other staircase. Though his father was looking for him he doubted it was of any import, likely only a desire to belittle him. His footsteps whispered on the limestone floor, his gaze cast upward one last time to the high arches and rafters that were his preferred hiding spot. The room was well maintained for the pointless relic it was. I wish I could say the same about the rest of the castle and city.

  He traversed the stairs down the tower, careful of the missing steps and other worn areas that appeared as if they might give if weight was put on them. Even in disrepair, the castle was a beauty to behold, the slits in the stone offering brief glances of the other parts of the castle, the ancient stone fortress of Liofeld. The narrow and musky passage would have been a perfect place to stop and contemplate various topics, but he had duties to attend to, and sitting in the open was asking for his father to find him.

  Once he reached the bottom of the stairs he took to the halls with a quick step.Depictions of wars and people long dead hung on the walls. Tapestries woven of the finest materials framed the art.

  The pace of his walking was unnaturally fast. He did not want to leave any trace of his being there.

  Cold air cursed his presence on the walls of the castle, the inviting temperature of the hearths left behind him. From the stone perch, the city opened itself up to Royce. Liofeld was the oldest city in Welkia, one of the oldest in all of Dradris. The beauty of the stonework and marvel of engineering would touch any human upon viewing, even if that city in question was slowly falling away. Building on top of the old with the new, was the only way the current Drajin could survive.

  Royce let out a sigh.

  If the Uxsons left them alone, if the Eddgaarites minded their own business, and if the other Kingdoms united, then they would have the ability to restore Liofeld to its former glory.

  Drajin had done worse than become stagnate, they had lost abilities to construct refined and proper architecture. As the war continued would they also become unable to properly construct latrines?

  His view extended to the vast fields of snow beyond the city walls. Those farming fields would sleep comfortably in the pillowy white until the time came again to work the land for all it was worth.

  A rumble caught his attention.

  Toward the southern wall, an old tower had collapsed.

  The rooftop scrapers gave only the briefest acknowledgment, then continued with their duties. With buildings being built atop older buildings, snow pile-up was a serious threat to the poorly designed layout. The cold snapped at the wooden homes constructed with a base of old stone that once held purpose but was now collapsing.

  Royce took his eyes away from the common scene. He had his own duty to accomplish today, and it was about that time. He broke into a quick step heading for the tavern in the direction of the fallen tower.

  Despite the snow that cluttered the streets Royce moved swiftly, ducking in and out of alleys, cutting through unplowed gardens and over low-roofed huts. His entire life was Liofeld, and even with the unusually heavy snowfall, he could traverse the city in no time at all.

  He gave a few greetings to those he passed in the streets, but he was no Arty. His friend was like a beacon in the night, attracting all to him. A smile came to his thin lips as he approached the small wooden door that was barely hanging from its hinges. He will accomplish his dream. I know he will, and I have to do everything I can to help.

  Pushing the door open stone stairs led down into darkness illuminated by only faint lanterns. This building was dug into the earth, its original purpose forgotten. Now it was a small hidden drinking spot perfect for discussing matters kept out of the daylight.

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  When he reached the bottom he raised his hand to the barkeep to signal a drink, then found the table he was looking for. There were a few other patrons playing dice, but they would pay little mind to the men at the back.

  Royce took a seat and eyed both of them. Both were scholars he had known for some time, their information was trustworthy and their ideas were fitting. The social circles they found themselves in were different than the spies his father and the king sent out, so it was good information to gather. Even if his father didn’t believe so.

  “Things are looking bad Royce,” The redhead on the left spoke first. “Our friends in the other Kingdoms agree that the state of education is rotting away. Everyone must train their deity for combat and pick up a spear or crossbow.”

  It was all things he had heard before. He was not Arty, he could not give words of comfort. “Even if we beat the Uxsons there will be nothing left. What kind of future could we possibly hope for our children? I wish we could have peace.” If they could not even make peace amongst themselves, how could they with the Uxsons? The thought of the future only brought anxiety.

  The bleak conversation continued, but it was all information that could be gleaned from other people, or listening to his father’s reports. Zernau and Lenda to the south continued to fiercely raid each other’s borders. Lenda had been most fierce after their defeat, intent to secure supplies in what had to be the Kingdom’s death throes. It was not unheard of for the soldiers of that land to disguise themselves as another Kingdom or even the Uxsons and strike as deep north as Oosaad and Runorvaria to confuse matters.

  The coming year will not be an easy one.

  Exiting the tavern deflated Royce was suddenly caught by the scruff of the neck.

  “What do you think you’re doing scrawny boy?” A gruff voice challenged him from behind.

  “I’m busy now father. If you would unhand me I could continue with my business.

  The man threw Royce against the wall. “How many times do I have to tell you? Now that you are a part of the Royal Guard only refer to me as Lord Captain.” The man blocked any path of escape as he eyed Royce up and down. “Out of uniform, but at least you’re carrying your sword. I’ve been looking for you all morning. You missed the morning drill.”

  Royce could not meet his eyes. “I had other things to attend to. You can’t complain, I do my rounds as I’m assigned.”

  “You’re wrong there. Training is important. As long as you are under my command you will follow my orders.”

  Royce bared his teeth and stared defiantly into the eyes of his father. “I didn’t choose this! I’ll help Dradris and Welkia in my own way!”

  “A fool son like you can do no good. Talking with other fools who have no idea of the true world. Don’t worry, I’ll guide you as much as you need,” There was acid in his tone.

  “No! You don’t own me, I’m my own man. I’m not a soldier, but I will be a warrior like Arty.”

  A crooked smile appeared on the Lord Captain’s face. “Now that’s a good joke, Royce. You know Artowen is special, the promised one. There’s no way you can measure up, especially not now. Look at how short you are, haven’t even had a proper beard yet, no need to shave.”

  Royce blushed and shrank back. A firm hand held his shoulder, but it was not a comforting gesture. It was a brutal obstacle that held him in place and mocked his weakness.

  The Lord Captain barked a laugh. “Come tomorrow as you are ordered. Perhaps even you can gain on him with a little practice. Now, to your rounds. And get in uniform!” The man did not remove his hand from his son’s shoulder. He was waiting for the proper response.

  “Yes, Lord Captain.”

  “Good.”

  The man shoved his cowed son toward the castle, the place he wanted to protect most, and the place he despised.

  The practice fields were abuzz. Despite winter’s cold attempts to smother hope the soldiers of Liofeld fought on. New recruits practiced with the crossbow or completed drills with sword and spear, while experienced soldiers trained to control their deities.

  That always required diligent training.

  Various effects smacked into the practice dummies down range. Drajin were known for their external governing deities and the amount of targets spoke to that fact. Other internal governing users were gathered in groups practicing together. Some externals who required a live target also practiced with them.

  Emerii often would practice with the guard as well. She should have returned with Arty by now, but perhaps the conditions of the roads had been horrible. He missed them, but soon their trio would be complete once again.

  He eyed the target in front of him. Cold sweat exuded from his neck and he saw his deity slink down into his right hand. A slug-like thing that was thoroughly unimpressive. I wish I couldn’t see it, then I might have more confidence in myself. I can’t even see any other deity. Why am I cursed so?

  A small ball of flame ignited in his hand. Unlike the deity, everyone would be able to see the effect. He aimed and shot the ball of fire at the dummy, landing directly without much impact. The dummy burned only for a moment then the fire went out, leaving only a slight scorch mark.

  Forcing a deity’s will onto the world was a difficult feat. While the consequences of the ability would stay, the ability itself would dissipate quickly after being separated from the main body of the deity. While having ranged abilities was strong, internal governing deities had the advantage of affecting their target constantly for as long as they wished, since the target was themselves.

  With a sigh, he saw his father demonstrating the proper use of an external governing ability. Water formed in his hand and shot like an arrow, decimating the target with a shattering impact that tore the practice dummy in two. The water dried and disappeared immediately after impact.

  His father eyed him with a smirk.

  He could only survive so long against his father’s onslaught, always able to put up a strong front until his counter-offensive was repelled and the walls he built demolished to the ground. Resistance was ultimately futile, similar to the ultimate fate that awaited the remaining Drajin.

  When times were rough, when his soul recoiled, Royce found himself housing those dark thoughts.

  Smacking his red cheeks, he shook his head.

  Royce would not have to endure this much longer. Once Arty and Emerii set out on their journey he would join them.

  Practice continued for some time until a messenger ran up to his father and whispered in his ear. For only a moment an expression of satisfaction appeared on his face, then was quickly hidden away.

  But it was too late.

  Royce disregarded the rest of practice and ran for the castle gates. His chosen friends had finally arrived. Emerii and Arty had finally made it to Liofeld, the starting point of their journey.