A King's War

RAVEN It was winter when the kingdom of Ralorn fell. It wasn’t the first and it would not be the last, though it did strike the most fear across the land. For Ralorn was no weak kingdom as the others had been. It was strong, well-guarded, and home to the Elves, a skillful people. Taller than man, stealthy, agile, faster reflexes, and heighten senses. No one expected Ralorn to fall. So, when it did, many more kingdoms surrendered. For fear of facing the same fate that befell Ralorn’s King. King Londor Elkalyn had been a powerful king and a fearless warrior. He had been the most outspoken toward the kingdom of Valveronia and its king, refusing to surrender and refusing to back down. He and his queen had paid the price. News of their death and the fall of Ralorn had shaken every other kingdom to their core. Kings were all but falling over themselves to surrender to Valveronia so that they would not suffer the same fate. Valveronia had since grown to be a powerful and tyrannical kingdom. The Ruthless King. That was what the world had taken to calling the monster sitting on the thrown of Valveronia. First, they had simply referred to him as mad, until they saw he was nothing of the sort. Mad was not the word to describe him, evil was. He was a monster who felt the world and all its kings should bow before him. There had been a few brave enough-or rather-foolish enough to stand up to him. He’d cut them down by only uttering a word. Magic. Magic coursed through his veins and marked his skin. Magic, that he used to make people do his bidding. To conquer kingdoms and to e*****e them. Magic, he used to t*****e his enemies and strengthen his allies. Magic, that no other kingdom had. Magic, that no one knew how to defend against. Black marks swirled in long patterns across his arms, back, head, and chest. Black marks that never intersected and marked how much power he held. For the more marks one had, the more power they held and he, had more than anyone had ever seen. People use to say that he was a kind king. Just and fair. But that was years ago. No one really knew why that changed or maybe they just didn’t care. For how could you care when you were the one on the receiving end of his brutal magic? Many people found it hard to believe that he was once a good king. For so many no longer remembered the Valveronia from before. I was born during a time of war. A war that had started years before I was born and continued long after. A war that still hadn’t ended. I had seen kingdoms fall to Valveronia and its Ruthless King. I had watched people suffer at the effects of his spells. Had watched his soldiers march across the land. I had seen everything and could prevent nothing. And I had watched from a ledge on the neighboring mountain as Ralorn fell. Smoke filled the air. Fire filled the night sky. Buildings fell. The castle walls came down. Screams echoed throughout the mountains for days. All the while Ralorn held their own and fought back. They called for the help of their allies but their allies came too late. I watched as the armies of the neighboring kingdoms came to aid Ralorn, only to discover that it lay in ruins and there was a new king on the throne. Zatir. Bastard son of the Ruthless King. He now sat on the throne of Ralorn, his armies filling the city streets. He reported to his father and was every bit as ruthless as he was. He had magic, same as the Ruthless King, and he had no qualms about using it. His marks were long and covered the length of his arms making him very powerful. He was favored by the king and as such was put in charge of what remained of the kingdom of Ralorn. The Ruthless King had many children from many different women. Some of them willing. Some of them not. He only had one legitimate child with the queen, the rest of his children were bastards. How many there were was unclear though they kept popping up everywhere. They were distinguishable only by the black marks that raced across their skin. The black marks that symbolized that they had magic and all had been trained to use it. As there were many of the king’s children, no one bothered to learn all their names. They were all simply called, King’s Bloods. If you knew the name of a King’s Blood, that meant that they were one to be feared. For the only names anyone knew were that of the most ruthless, merciless, and evil, of all the King’s Blood. Zatir was one of them as he was the oldest and one of the most powerful. Drakus was another because he was in charge of the entirety of the Ruthless King’s armies and, as far as anyone knew, he was the most powerful of all the King’s Bloods. As if the King’s Bloods were not enough to worry and frighten people, there were also the creatures. Dark hunters, night stalkers, black shadows, they had been called many things. Creatures twice the size of men, with black withering skin, fingered claws dripping toxin, and teeth the size of daggers. They looked tall and frail, with their bones visible from every angle, but make no mistake and never underestimate them, for they were no weak thing. They moved on two legs as a person would, but they were faster, stronger, with teeth and claws dripping a deadly toxin for which there was no cure. They were unnatural and horrifying to behold. Not of this world. And in a way, I suppose that was true. For those terrifying monsters were creations of the Ruthless King made to help in his quest to conquer all the land and strike fear into every living thing. The only “good” thing anyone could say about them, was that they were only active at night or underground. The sunlight burned them and as such, they never strayed far from the mountainside as they wanted to be able to get back into the caves before they were burned. Ralorn fell two winters ago and since then, the kingdom had struggled under the rule of Zatir. The people were starving, trade had decreased, and many of the people were being imprisoned for failure to pay the hefty taxes that “King” Zatir had demanded. I had seen it all happen all too many times, with many more kingdoms before. Though I confess, I never thought I would live to see the day that Ralorn fell.  The elves of Ralorn did not leave the kingdom as many might have expected them to do. Instead, they stayed. For it was better to live in a kingdom than live in The Outskirts. After the Ruthless King began creating the monstrous dark hunters, new defenses were put in place to keep the kingdoms safe. The kingdoms had the resources and the wealth to keep their people safe and so, each kingdom created a wall to keep the dark hunters out. The walls were thick and tall. Strong and unbending. With gates made of metal and stone that were only opened when the sun rose and were once again closed as it set. People in the kingdoms were safe from the dark hunters and reluctant to leave that safety. So much so that they would endure the trials of the Valveronian soldiers rather than be left to The Outskirts. The Outskirts referred to any area that was not behind a massive wall. Any area that was subjected to the roaming dark hunters. Sure, you were safe during the day, but at night the dark hunters would tear through doors to get something to eat. And so, any area outside the safety of the kingdom walls became known as The Outskirts. Some people had learned to survive in the horrifying wasteland, while others, fell prey to the dark hunters that called it their home. The elves had always been known to be notoriously reclusive, and as such had rarely ever been seen outside their kingdom boundaries. Which was why many were reluctant to leave the life they’d always known, even before the war. Of course, some still saw that leaving was their best and only option and therefore left the safety of their walls they had come accustomed to. Some had survived. Others perished. The people of Ralorn were dying and as such Zatir’s fortune was dwindling as there were fewer people to pay his taxes, and he was running out of slaves to use for his benefit. Unfortunately for him, he had a bigger problem. For him and his father may have killed the former King and Queen of Ralorn, but they failed in killing the Crown Prince and his brother. And so, Zatir’s biggest problem was the people he called traitors. The ones rallying with the rightful King. The ones helping the people and poking holes in Zatir’s well-laid plans. For there was another war brewing. A war in which a King would try to reclaim his throne and his people. And Zatir could do nothing to stop it. A King’s War to reclaim his home.