《The Stormbringer System [ Xianxia, Alchemy Progression]》


 0. The Past One

    Five hundred had passed and, just as always, The Storm had come.


    And how deadly it was once more¡­


    The storms grew vast, surging as the rain melted rivers away and the fierce winds broke down mountains. The air crackled with raw energy, heavy with the metallic scent of rain and the foreboding chill of chaos. It''s long-awaited power, bottled and bred from the borne of crystals.


    It finally eased through.


    The winds were so strong that they strung the trees backward, as if they were hunched in a cruel worship. It was a force so relentless that it seemed to rip the breath from the earth itself, leaving the world gasping in its wake, and brought down a violent downpour of rain. All of this was meant to drown, tumble, and break. To shatter. And if it wasn''t these elements that killed the creatures on this crude little planet, then it was the lightning. Most died by the hands of falling infrastructure- their own man-made pilgrims toppling over to crush them- and those who burrowed were swept by strong currents. Structures once revered as symbols of progress, no matter how strong, crumbled into dust, their towering forms reduced to meaningless rubble in the face of ultimate power. This in itself left even nature to cry out for help, but If such cries could be heard over the wail of the winds and the ocean splitting, the screams alone would have deafened any who listened. But the cries were blacked out and, in the near-distance, a man who appeared seemingly unaffected and uncaring approached.


    Solus.


    White-bearded, estranged, and clefted. He wore his beard in a tight knit but had otherwise no hair on his head. Some of the Past Ones shredded features, others kept. But in the end, it didn''t matter.


    The Storm mattered, and this was just the beginning.


    In a tree, above all this catastrophe, a blue-backed creature tried to find comfort in the perilous winds. They jerked, clung, and bit, but the creature stayed on. It chirped and climbed up higher, then settled into a branch. Eyes closed and clinging for its life, the creature looked down.


    It saw nothing but darkness. Darkness, and the Storm engulfing.


    It was all-consuming, a ferocious thing meant to kill. Made to kill. And every living thing that still remained knew this. A sick feeling dawned on the creature and a pure, carnage fear devoured its body.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The creature called out desperately into the darkness but nothing answered. There were no humans above the wails, no creatures above the screams and nothing but darkness, rain, and wind.


    But, moments later, the creature saw something emerge from the black pit below. It was a man of pure white skin approaching from above a hill. His hands were apart with palms bared, and in his hands he held a burning light.


    Beside him were his servants, Yin and Yang. They were in their natural forms of four-legged monsters and the embellishment on each of their foreheads glowed fiercely in the dark. One of them dragged blood across their sharp-toothed mouth while the other seemed to smile, gazing proudly at the chaos.


    The creature cried out from the tree, trying to alert the others that danger was near. But no one came to help, not even their God.


    The Gods'' had abandoned them, left them to this fate, as they always have¡­for centuries.


    The creature screamed one last time before taking cover in a small hole in the tree, having only heard its echo respond back to the calling.


    Meanwhile, Solus bares his arms to the sky and calls out for the Great Storm. The wind is so icy and sharp that it seems to bite at his skin, but Solus can no longer feel it. He has grown so accustomed to the conditions of ice that the feeling only brings a chilling sense of comfort.


    Rain drenches his old skin and he cannot help but laugh. Years of training had led up to this very moment. He had begun living life as just an old cobbler providing for his wife and children¡­but those days are long gone. This is his true destiny. It always has been.


    Now, he closes his eyes and attempts to focus his energy now. In distant lands, his power causes waves to surge high against shores, their frothy peaks reaching hungrily toward the land and sinking islands to their core. His power causes hills to be uprooted from the lands and thrown into the air where lightning strikes thunderously. His power causes kings to plead to the Makers, men and women alike to sacrifice themselves in hopes of being spared, and even the world itself to beg for forgiveness. But he knows that their attempts are futile.


    Beneath the ground, something seems to rumble. It is a deep, malevolent growl, but none are aware of it.


    And Yang puts a familiar hand on his shoulder.


    "It is time," he says. His eyes glow a sharp and powerful green colour.


    The Stormbringer nods and slowly steps forward. He begins to chant under his breath, moving his hands in a swift and sweeping motion despite the relentless pull of the wind. Above, the heavy clouds begin to part, opening up like a sifting whirlpool. Beyond, the moon becomes clearer and appears as an orbiting mass glaring down at him.


    Glaring down at him.


    And, instead of white, it illuminates a green-tinged aura. It whispers to him and he listens, and as the clouds sift, it begins building downward towards him. It was as if he were trapped in the center of a tornado that was extending downward to consume him.


    As if he were the center of the rain, the wind, the moon and all the chaos carnaging the earth that very moment.


    The eye of the storm.


    The growling beneath the earth ceases, and the Cycle is replenished.

 1. A Tedious Life ( Jilton )

    .................................... 497 years later..................................


    497 AS ( After Storm )


    Despite being situated near the Great Mountains, Central Taru was relatively flat land. The kingdom stretched out for miles, dense in nearly every corner, and the villagers only managed to trip over themselves. The central city was, funny enough, the least dense area, as only the rich were situated here, and the economic divide between the rich and middle class was as prevalent as the setting sun.


    Right then, Jilton watched the sun set behind those giant landmarks. It blotched the sky red like blood, and orange near the top like a melting ice cream. Jilton had ice cream once on his birthday, but the delicacy was too expensive to afford another taste and ( well, besides, ) it was around the time Suri began catching more attention from Mother and Father.


    He threw another stone and watched it tumble over the edge, falling into the small chasm below.


    "So what?"


    He turned to his friend, mouth gaped a little.


    "Sodding hell Jilton, don''t tell me you weren''t listening."


    "Oh I¡­uh¡­"


    "Makers Above, this is why your marks are so sodding low in class. You can''t keep your head straight," Reagon flicked his tongue, then carried on gnawing on the apple. The two had an agreement that every week, Jilton would bring a bag of apples to school and they''d hide it behind a tree. They''d both have one after school and during breaks every day until it ran out and Jilton would get more.


    It was less of an agreement, really, since Reagon was the only one that benefited from fresh, red apples. But Jilton knew what he really gave back in return and was honest enough to face the truth.


    He spat the pip out and watched it idly fall down the chasm, then looked back to Jilton with dazed eyes, "wanna go to the market?"


    "I don''t think that''s a good idea. School''s, uh, starting soon."


    "And?"


    He blushed, then turned away. Reagan laughed.


    "Are you that scared of a little scolding? I wake up to the sounds of demonic screaming every morning. You''d think I was in the pissing underworld. And no doubt do the others at the district. This is why they think you''re weak, Jilton. You can''t handle a little shouting."


    It was true he couldn''t. He ran anytime anyone raised their voice. They used to call him flicker in the pre-learning district, because of his ability to burn low, hidden, then flush out as soon as the winds arose.


    Still, being told this upfront was embarrassing, no matter how much his friend ridiculed him, and they were friends for a little over four months.


    Still, the longest he''d ever held a friend.


    "I''m not scared. I-I don''t know. We only have five minutes anyway. I''m not sure."


    Reagan looked away, as if thinking about the possibility. He had brown hair but the dying sun made it look red-flecked, like a ginger, and no matter how much he tanned, tiny freckled marked spaces beneath his eyes. It was a good thing Reagan was tall like the other boys, and just as rude, otherwise he would have been considered ''peculiar'' like his little friend over here. Still, it was hard hiding his features, and as much as Jilton himself covered his receding jawline, blond hair and large nose, his eyes- both brown and green in color- were hard to hide. He couldn''t walk around with a blindfold, and as embarrassed as Jilton initially was, he wasn''t ready to go blind just yet.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Of course, with Reagan''s constant ridicule and sly suggestions, the possibility didn''t seem improbable.


    "If you aren''t scared, then skip school tomorrow, after the first break. Me and the others are going to the fish market."


    "The others?"


    "Boys in our class, I forgot their names."


    Of course he did.


    "I don''t know about that¡­"


    "Come on. I know your mother and the worst thing she''ll do is give you a hiding. Didn''t her spatula break? I don''t suppose she could whip you."


    Jilton blushed furiously, "I-I do NOT get whipped by my mother."


    "Why are you so offended? Makers above. People don''t even express this much fear of lightning."


    Jilton said nothing. Lightning was a sensitive topic in Central Taru and they both knew, but he was never afraid to tread on thin lines. Boys were like that. More specifically, teenage boys. And both were fifteen years old. Men got married at this age, but only if they were inherently wealthy. Otherwise, they grew to their mid ages and waited to buy a woman off with a dowry, and that''s if her father hadn''t died from polio yet.


    Decisions were harsh on the poorer sides of Central Taru and both boys were acquainted with its harsher rulings. They lived on the outskirts of the kingdom, on the pastures near the forest, along with many other ridden children, and even in this was an economic divide. Those who worked in mines earned more than farmers, and being the son of both a milkmaid and a hunter, Jilton was left little possibilities for a future.


    Still, he thought greatly about it and even found himself drifting to further possibilities while the silence lingered between the two.


    School was going to start soon, but he doubted Reagan cared much.


    "Do you think he''s going to show up in the clouds, like some say?"


    He didn''t want to ask who; the answer was obvious enough.


    Reagan leaned back, letting the rock lay against his chest, "Or is he gonna sprout from the ground, from the underworld?"


    "I-I don''t know."


    "And you think I do? It''s a rhetorical question. Nevermind, don''t answer," he sighed. "Some say that he''ll arrive from the sky, in those horse contraptions that pull you along. Instead of horses, there''ll be hounds pulling him. Black hounds with red eyes."


    Jilton shifted, growing uncomfortable.


    "Then when he lands, the sky will close up and become gray and all, like a storm. He''ll use his powers to lure all humans towards him, and from the crowd he''ll pick a woman. A virgin."


    Reagan wasn''t smiling anymore, and such a statement could get him grinning like a dog.


    Not even he could smile when talking about him.


    The soon-to-be bringer of their death. Humanities death.


    Izaraaths death.


    The Stormbringer.


    Reagan reached out, lifting a hand to the sky.


    "Then he''ll call to her. He''ll use mind control to move her. He can do that. And when he has her between his fingers¡­"


    His hands twitched.


    "He''ll crush her throat."


    His hand fell.


    Not even Reagan would bring himself to enact such a scene.


    "He''ll drink her blood like a nymph, then he''ll use the rest of them as slaves. He''ll have them kill each other¡­


    They say his laugh is like a thousand thorns splintered between the ears. They say that on the day he arrives, it will be on the day of a festival, so that when people stop in horror to see him, he''ll laugh and laugh and leave their ears bleeding¡­"


    A splintering silence fell over them, and Jilton dropped the rock. The chasm still echoed back their last last throw, despite being only a few meters deep. Or perhaps that was a ringing sound in his ear, trying to act out an imaginary call from the stormbringer.


    A long while later, Reagan stood up and dusted his shins. He stood a foots length taller than Jilton, and with shoulders breadth that exceeded this as well.


    "We should be heading back. School starts soon."


    Jilton said nothing and followed his friend back to the large rustic building at the end of the field. It was an old farmhouse that was now used to teach students on basic astronomy and healing.


    Of course, being on the pastures, there was little use of knowing these things, as sons took their fathers professions and women worked at home. Most kids didn''t seem to dream any bigger than this, and school offered nothing more for free.


    Still, Jilton walked towards the old barnyard, trying to forget about the conversation they just had, and seeing hope in their next lesson. He liked astronomy and¡­ maybe, just maybe, another neighbouring kingdom would need an astronomer. Or maybe a traveling merchant would call upon the kingdom to bestow their finest sky watchers.


    Maybe then, it would save him from ridicule, from this cycle.


    Maybe then, he could escape this tedious life.

 1. And A Bag Full Of Mince ( Jilton )

    The year was 497AS. AS meaning After Storm, the first which had ever been recorded hitting the planet. Of course there were more before this, but with technology being so stunted, regions only began taking in dates around five hundred years ago. And each time the storm hit, their kingdoms lost good men, good worlds, and were forced back to Stone Age. The storms not only killed around 90% of the population, but also brought Great Kingdoms to their downfall. Men fought wars over these storms, kings pledged lives to pleas the Gods'' for protection, and good people turned insane by just the mere thought of another storm.


    And with the approaching year being 500, it would only be two more years until the apparent storm hit.


    The greatest one in five hundred years.


    Here to replenish its cycle.


    Everyone believed in the Stormbringer, as well as his wreckage. You''d have to be a fool or beyond wild not to, for even wolves hid during lightning, and bees burrowed underground.


    There was no creature that didn''t fear the Stormbringer, not after centuries of consuming death that tortured their families.


    The talk of the Storm was always lingering in Central Taru, and as much as people feared to mention the Stormbringer, the subject of the massive event stained more lurid and more like a brutal legend. A fairytale that was all too real, and with no happy endings. A terrible story that could occur any day.


    For he would come, they all knew it.


    But when? Why? And who WAS the Stormbringer?


    That, the population of Izaraath would not know for many years.


    Reagan might have been a rude and egotistical prick, but he was honest and stuck to his word, because he left to go to the market during their lesson and Jilton was left to fend off the rest of the day alone. He couldn''t follow him, as Mother had requested him back home, and entering the city as a farm boy always caused suspicion. So he stayed behind, waiting until school ended, then left early.


    He tried to avoid them¡­ he really did. It wasn''t like he sodding TRIED to get beat up.


    But destiny always had a way of finding you, even in the strangest places.


    And, for Jilton, that place was behind the barn where he tried to pick some mint.


    The boys approached him quickly with the girls strolling from the side. The girls didn''t do the beating but they watched and marveled. He didn''t understand them, and didn''t need to, because being kicked around was bad enough, and having them around was just cream on the crop.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    The first boy, Cathal was his name, came whistling from the side. He approached with hands in his dusty pockets and kicked his feet with rhythm.


    Jilton tensed.


    "Woohoo, what do we have here, hm? You picking flowers for Mrs?"


    He didn''t answer and sauntered away from the bush.


    "This is district grounds. You DO know that, right Flicker?"


    He nodded quickly, swallowing hard.


    "Speak."


    "I-I-I" Jilton quivered.


    "I this, and I that," another boy laughed, "you sound like a damn pirate."


    "I, he be picking his treasure behind the district quad."


    "Yeah, and in his nose during class!"


    The girls laughed and Jilton got up quickly. Cathal tripped him as he tried to move away and he tumbled down again, sending soil spilling.


    "There, you forgot to clean your shins."


    "It''s probably cleaner now that he''s covered in dirt."


    They laughed more and Jilton suppressed the urge to cry.


    He got up and looked away, but his red cheeks were a giveaway, and the boys chuckled more.


    "Aw, you know we''re only joking with you, right Flicker? At least you don''t run away from some teasing now, ey?"


    "Yeah, but can he handle a fight?"


    "Yeah Flicker, can you handle a fight?"


    Jilton desperately wanted Reagan back because he was one of them. He was brutish and rude and awful, but he sided with Jilton. He always left when this happened, though, and Jilton always regretted not following him.


    Before he could turn away, Cathal smacked his neck. It stung badly and he fell forward. The girls giggled but a few turned away and left. When things got too serious, no one wanted to be around.


    And that''s what scared him most.


    "Huh? Say something."


    "I-I don''t know what you want from me."


    They smacked him again and, as he fell forward, the other boy elbowed him in the stomach and Jilton fell to the ground. He spat out phlegm and groaned. Shapes began to dance beneath his eyelids.


    "Your father owes my uncle money," Cathal spat, "he bought a rotten fox skin and never got his money back."


    He kicked him hard. Once, then twice.


    "His meat is always rotten and tastes like dirt. Can no one in your Makers-forsaken household cook?"


    He kicked again, but the pain landed right on his ribs and Jilton jerked forward. He crouched and made as if to vomit, and the two boys backed away.


    "Damnit Cian! You kicked ''em too hard!"


    "No I didn''t!"


    "He''s gonna puke blood you dunce."


    The two backed away, then turned and ran back to the main path. The girls had left long ago, leaving Jilton alone behind the building. He crawled to the satchel and checked that none of the herbs were stolen. Of course they wouldn''t steal it. What would they do with these? Still, he was grateful, and quickly deposited the rest before setting off. He made sure to avoid the main path, and traveled closer to the forest.


    The Taru forest was, naturally, very dangerous. It surrounded the city for miles, and Central Taru being a Northern Kingdom, the southern part of the woodlands extended for nearly a hundred kilometers. No one really knew what lay in the forest, but legends foretold of Wreather sightings, as well as nymphs and wolves. There''d been wild attacks before, but that was long ago, and Taru was a kingdom that was slowly expanding. Expanding, not in borders, but in security. They couldn''t fight the dangers of the woodlands, but they made it safer for the villagers within the kingdom.


    Of course, the pasture men and women was a different problem¡­


    He stuck to the outer coarse and got home in ten minutes. The wooden cottage laid on a hill overlooking the other homes. Around it were the huts the cows were kept and a large fence kept the seven cows in place.


    The days weren''t what they used to be, and they weren''t much before. He at least hoped that Jared wouldn''t be home, but when he walked over the hill and saw his father sitting by the porch, polishing his ax, his chest swelled up.


    His clothes were muddy and dirty, sure to get his mother furious.


    And inside, his bruises ached.


    If Jared were to find out about those¡­.

 2. The Prince ( Daedrik )

    The maids'' footsteps echoed through the brightly lit hall and the shadows of her steps danced with a stark black color against the walls, illuminated by the chandeliers. It seemed that the paintings glowed. If not white, then golden.


    A brewing, golden color.


    She arrived at the Great Door and pinched her lips tightly. Adjacent to the door hung two large paintings. One of the boys'' parents. His mother, Queen Aniya, sitting beside her husband, King Ryder. He was white and pure native to this land while she was from another region. Still, the kingdoms shared a common religion, and because of this they ruled greatly.


    It was only a few years later that he came, and there he sat in the second painting, smiling beside his father beside a burning fire. They kept straight faces, but a devious smile formed right at the corners of the prince''s mouth, and a fire glowed inside his own eyes.


    As golden as those eyes were.


    The maid tapped her foot restlessly then knocked twice. She didn''t like going in and rousing him herself because it was prohibited to touch royalty, and the boy was¡­ always strange when he woke up.


    She dreaded hearing another story about his so-called ''fantastic dreams.''


    But when he didn''t respond, she made herself ready to enter. Then something sounded inside and fortunately she stopped herself.


    "It is alright Agatha; I am awake!"


    It was the Prince''s voice. Young, clean, and sweet. A voice like honey.


    She caught her words, "Yes Sire. One of your inquiries will be here shortly."


    "Thank you."


    He really didn''t need to thank anyone and, instead of feeling proud, it made her tense. The royals always had a certain way of talking and even some of their slightly rebellious youth stuck to a contact code.


    But the prince, well¡­


    He was as unpredictable in his speech as rain on a winter''s day.


    Still, she breathed deeply and nodded, "Will Sire have anything specific to add to his breakfast?"


    There was a short silence, "mm, no thank you. Wait, mm. Maybe jam? Yes, bring me jam please."


    She nodded again, "the butler will be with you shortly. Your lessons start at 9am."


    If he had added anything else, she didn''t hear, for her heels began tapping away quickly. His words always caught her off guard. The royals always spoke in repetitive manners, as if they learnt the same commands from birth.


    ''Fetch me my,'' and ''get me,'' and ''call the''...


    She learnt to predict their words and could finish the task by just reading their eyes. But the prince made it very difficult. His eyes were strong, stunning, and stark, but they held only the looks of a dreaming fever and a daziness.


    With his fathers blue eyes, and mothers brown, they had merged to form the boy''s golden eyes. He was the only one in the kingdom to have eyes like this, and it became the look of royalty itself.


    It''s what made the boy known as Prince Daedrik so fond of, so popular.


    Who knew that his power would infect more than just miles of land.


    And that, soon, he would hold a power as jet black as hatred.


    A fate larger than destiny itself


    ¡­


    Well, not Daedrik, that''s for sure.


    He woke up to mucus and spit being swaddled all over his face, and no matter how much he fended, the great beast would not humble down.


    "Basil!"


    Finally, the golden retriever gave in and turned away from her owner as she plopped off the bed. His alarm was always Agatha and, when he happened to fall asleep again, there was always Basil to wake him up a second time.


    Still, he smiled and pulled open the covers. She was groomed every morning, afternoon and night, but tiny hairs still flecked over the sheets and he quickly brushed them away. Agatha hated when Basil slept with him. She said that dogs weren''t clean and that they caused diseases, even with Basil''s good hygiene schedule, and as much as Daedrik wanted to listen to her, he couldn''t deny his lifelong friend a cozier place to sleep. Her bed rested right beside his large vanity and array of dressers, but the night was cold and, really, he couldn''t blame her.


    It was the heart of winter afterall.


    He pulled away the covers and walked into his bathroom. It was tiled nicely, with hanging curtains and a hallway of its own. The water was fresh, rune, and just as he came out carrying a towel, another knock came.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Outside stood the Esquire of the Body, better known as his changing maidsman.


    "Here you are, Sire."


    "Thank you Egil," he said. "How did you sleep today?"


    The man looked away, clearly embarrassed, as the boy pulled off his shirt right there and then. He brought the clothing racket in and shut the door behind him.


    "I slept, uh, well. Thank you Sire."


    "You''re welcome."


    He began buttoning up the shirt, then realized that the order was wrong and started again.


    "Say, Egil, I had the strangest dream today."


    He fidgeted, not knowing what to say, "I hope Sire had¡­otherwise slept well."


    "I did! How did you know? Well, my dream today was very strange. Yes, very indeed. Do you want to hear about it?"


    The Esquire licked his lips dryly, "I''m, uh, sorry Sire, but I have business in the kitchen to attend to."


    Daedrik slacked considerably, "Oh¡­okay then. Well, maybe this afternoon then? Ill tell you about it then."


    Finally, he managed to fit on his shirt and hopped around in the long cotton pants. The material stuck to his sock and he jumped like a bunny for a good minute or so.


    "Does Sire need any help?"


    "There! I got it," finally, Daedrik looked up to the young man and frowned. "Hey, why are you all red? Do I have something on my face?"


    "No Sire! Not at all. It''s just, well¡­"


    He looked down, seeing himself pantsless and nearly naked, "oh right. Sorry about that."


    He finished dressing, chucking all the sleeping clothes on the rack to later be washed. As Egil turned away, he bid a final due and hoped the prince a fine day.


    "I will! And remind me to remind you to tell you about my dream, you won''t want to miss it."


    He smiled, watching the man walk off, then closed the door to finish off the rest of the change. In a few minutes, Agatha would be back with his food on a tray and he''d eat a small snack in his room before heading off to the hall to have the real breakfast. Ryder, King Ryder, was always busy. But he made time to join his mother and him during breakfast, and then they split their separate ways. The king attended to king-like duties, his mother tended to problems within the castle and he attended lessons. His tutors came from neighbouring villages and, as boring as most of the subjects were, he tended to like learning about the different cultures they lived. One of his teachers was a man from the far North, from low blood, but he taught Great Swordsmanship and taught Daedrik well over five months. The man would be in his third class for today and so he was naturally excited. It was why he left the room five minutes early, with his hair barely brushed and his laces untied. Ryder had stated that they''d meet in the Great Hall to discuss matters, and with the man being such a great teacher, Daedrik assumed it could only be good news.


    He left the room, tapping lightly along the long, ancient hallways. The ceilings broke high up with chandeliers, and the walls were ambushed by large golden-paned paintings. It had the aura of esteemed royalty, as well as a sickening red from the velvet carpet which absorbed his footsteps like a sponge. The Great Hall hosted all their parties- all of which he HAD to attend ( the agony, oh the agony )- and it was also the entrance way into the castle, which was located on slightly higher ground from the village central. It wasn''t their greatest hall; that existed on the other side of the castle and hostel balls, but meetings were held here and no doubt was this one important.


    King Ryder never called for tedious discussions.


    So when he arrived at the doors, Daedrik only peaked in. His father stood, wearing his black outfit tied with a robe around his shoulders, and it hung to the ground like resting bird wings. He always wore his crown which within itself was a magnificent sight to see. Such a thing was worth a million minerals. Minerals that men died over.


    He spoke to someone but faced away and blocked whoever it was. And when Daedrik impulsively leaned forward, he turned towards his son.


    Inside stood his current Swords Master, Master Arachnode.


    "Enter, Daedrik."


    He did so quickly, meeting his father at his side in just seconds despite the sheer size of the hall. Really, it was a miracle he could hear the man from so far away, but Ryder was known for his booming, yet soothing voice. Maybe his paternal ways had numbed Daedrik to its hardness.


    "You have had ten lessons with Mr Arachnode. Is this correct?"


    The tone was gentle, tired, but strict. He nodded quickly then looked at his teacher.


    The man was from Lower Elven blood, which was poor and often interbred, which made him weak. Still, he had blue eyes and blond hair, unlike his balled kin. Maybe that made him better, but being interbred was one hell of a title to overcome.


    His expression read nothing but a contempt calmness.


    "Yes. Eleven lessons, counting this one for this afternoon," he swallowed, "but Master Arachnode has been a wonderful teacher."


    Ryder nodded, "no doubt he has. Would you say that, during your lessons, you have learnt plenty from him?"


    The teacher was watching him keenly. What did he want him to do? Say yes? Why were they talking about this? Daedrik was 5''7, short for his age and rested low by his fathers chest. Still he nodded confidently.


    "Yes. Ive learnt plenty. And if this conversation has anything to do with keeping Master Arachnode as my Swords teacher, then yes. I''d like him to stay."


    Ryder nodded, then turned to the young man. He wasn''t human, as Lower Elven Scholars were part of the weak elf species. But he WAS humanoid, which meant his features were advanced, like an orc or a witch, not like a wild animal.


    "I assume you''ve been training close to the perimeters?"


    He bowed, "Yes sire. Never leaving the forest threshold."


    "I should expect so." Ryder hesitated for a moment. "Has Daedrik improved?"


    "Yes sire. He has been one of my easiest students to teach over. I have provided a detailed analysis on his improvements over the past few weeks."


    "And your knowledge? Has the neighbouring kingdoms gotten back?"


    He shook his head, but still smiled, "there is nowhere else I can learn my skills."


    Ryder winced, "then you must."


    Daedrik looked between the two. Must what? What was happening?


    Luckily the confusion only lasted a few moments, as Ryder turned back to his son. He stared at the grown man, with deep brown eyes and brown hair, with a patchy beard and tired eyes. His own father looked like his complete opposite. Daedrik wondered if he thought this too.


    But he jumped at the opportunity before any decisions were made, "Master Arachnode is my favourite teacher. He teaches better than any of the others. If it has to do with his blood, then I really don''t mind-"


    "Daedrik," King Ryder interrupted, "this has nothing to do with your teachers heritage."


    "So he''ll stay?"


    "Yes."


    Daedrik breathed a sigh of relief and the two grown men turned back to each other. It really was true, Master Arachnode was his favourite teacher. At first it was hard getting used to his¡­exotic appearance, but he taught sword skills and really, it was the only thing he paid much attention to. Besides, what did astronomy teach you, really? Classes bored him, and why shouldn''t it? Spending all his time in the kingdom, never being allowed to step outside without hundreds of guards? It was tiring.


    They held each others gaze, "Master Arachnode, it has been a pleasure to have you teaching my son."


    He held out a hand. A handshake.


    "I hope to hear of your return."

 2. Master Arachnode ( Daedrik )

    "Excuse me?" Daedrik couldn''t find his words and so it came as only a stutter.


    But Master Arachnode nodded, understanding completely, and before the prince could call him back, the young teacher was already walking towards the Great Doors ahead. It lead straight to the stairway and out into the village centre, better known as the market district.


    And even when the door boomed its closing, Daedrik turned immediately to Ryder who now called in the rest of the men and women. With just a click of his finger, the maids and workers came rushing in like an overflowing pool. Soon they surrounded King Ryder, with some holding important documents and others forming the usual line in front of the throne. But Daedrik, now regaining himself, pushed past everyone.


    "Father, I don''t understand!"


    "You do, Daedrik. You choose not to," he mused, walking around to the supper tables. It was empty now, covered by only a cream cloth, but soon they''d hold another meeting with a neighbouring village, a feast would be held.


    "He was a good teacher," he nagged. "Everyday he''d take me out to the forest, where we''d hunt and use the meat for fire food. He-he taught me how to make a fire and how to stop a fire¡­and how to heal a fire burn and-and," he ran out of words, but fitfully searched for more, giving his father a small time to speak.


    King Ryder was a wise man and took that opportunity wistfully.


    "Daedrik, would you say that Master Arachnode was a young man?"


    His eyes travelled around the room, trying to think of words, then eventually nodded, "yes, very young. I thought he was the slave of a travelling merchant at first."


    "He is humanoid too, yes?"


    "Yes¡­"


    Very silly questions, but given no choice, he responded eagerly.


    "Humanoids, no matter how interbred, have certain abilities that align with their species-kin. One of which is the ability to learn. If Master Arachnode was as young as we''re aware, why do you choose to believe he possessed enough knowledge to teach you forever?"


    Daedrik was about to answer, then stopped. He looked up, trying not to pout.


    "So¡­he''s gone back to learn?"


    King Ryder nodded as a servant passed and handed him the schedule the queen had written up. She was in charge of events and this one was important; Daedrik could see by the lists'' length.


    "But¡­but why couldn''t he learn here? Why did he have to leave?"


    "Master Arachnode possesses skills no man in the Sire Region has. He cannot learn from what cannot preach. Thus, he has returned home."


    "To Solestar?" The word was bitter on his tongue. It was terrible to even say and, with all the rumours of conflict, it might as well have been a slur. But Ryder nodded and Daedrik gasped.


    "But what about the¡­war?"


    "The war is not definite yet, you know this," he looked tired now, "and if Solestar chooses to let their deluded sense of pride and nationality get the best of them, they will not strike now. They are smart enough to know this."You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    "But what about Master Arachnode? They wouldn''t let a man run away to their rival kingdom"


    "They will not hurt him. The young teacher is from their inferior race and so they couldn''t care what happens to them, even if he does possess culturally superior skills."


    Daedrik wanted to say more. He wanted to ask more. But treading on the conversation of war was a dangerous topic and so he only bit his lip. It was more nerve wracking for himself as, in two years or so, it was predicted that Solestar would make their first tactical move on the kingdom. Daedrik was fifteen years old and in two years he''d become king. He''d own this castle, this kingdom, in less than two years¡­ when the rival was predicted to hit their land. What would the villagers think? That, within a month of his ruling and war has been declared? The idea haunted Daedrik, but he naturally shunned negative thoughts and embraced the fact that, although Master Arachnode was gone and was in a very dangerous situation, he could still return.


    "When will he come back?"


    King Ryder had walked to his throne and taken a seat. Every morning he dealt with the formal letters, and afternoons he dealt with other matters. There was always something happening in the Sire Nether Kingdom.


    "Master Arachnode had begun his training at birth. To excel his skills fast enough to train, he will be back in a predicted ten years."


    "Ten years!?"


    Ryder darted a look towards Daedrik and the boy shrunk down considerably. Still, he said nothing and sighed.


    "In his place will be a huntsman from Westwood. He will take your mornings but only arrives tomorrow. You have your morning session free."


    Daedrik continued to pout and, when Ryder finally noticed this, he took the ring from his finger off and passed it over to him.


    "You aren''t wearing your ring."


    "Sorry¡­Father. I always put it on after breakfast."


    Ryder nodded, "the idea of kingship is troublesome, but I assure that when Master Arachnode returns, the kingdom will be just as secure under your ruling. Do not think about the conflict. Do not bring up that other Kingdom. Do you understand?"


    The boy nodded, clinging to the ring shamefully. He tried to. He really did. But Solestar was a dangerous place. It stuck to your head. It wasn''t like the neighboring villages and kingdoms. It was part of the three main kingdoms. Those being Central Taru, Solestar, and this Kingdom called the Sire Nether Kingdom/ empire. Amongst these were smaller kingdoms and villages within the region, but the three reigned supreme for individual reasons, mainly being that of supremacy with population, wealth or power.


    Daedrik didn''t understand why Solestar wanted to attack the kingdom and everyone refused to tell him. There had to be a reason, but no villager knew, and if his father did, then he kept it secret.


    Soon though, when they eventually pledged war, he''d learn the reason. Because as ruthless and evil as the inhabitants of Solestar were, they weren''t foolish. Only foolish people attack for the sake of it.


    When there was nothing left to say, Daedrik left the Great Hall and had breakfast with Queen Aniya. Ryder joined them and the two conversed privately. Likely, they spoke about the recent imports of rich minerals, and Daedrik couldn''t be bothered. Even with Arachnode gone, he still had a free period, and quickly went back to the room to change. When he emerged through those Great Doors, he saw Stefan leaning against the stairway walls. The guards knew who he was and didn''t pester the boy of high wealth, even when the bow and arrow stuck out in the bag like black poison in a fountain.


    He grinned, "Rumours speak of the great and mighty prince being free this lesson?"


    He laughed, hitting his shoulder. Daedrik hid beneath a thick cloak and a bandana. The cloth hid his dark hair and the cloak dimmed his eyes.


    Outside, like this, no one could recognise him.


    And he carried a bow and arrow, just like Stefan.


    "Whatever shall we do, your highness?"


    Ahead, the crowd below was thick and heavy, like swirling foam in water. But he looked ahead to the forest and its capsulled serenity.


    "The palace is large. Most of its territories, unexplored."


    Stefan threw a hand over his shoulder, "so where?"


    "I heard there''s been sightings of wild wolves gone mad by the forest, not far out of the breach."


    "The world will think us heroes, ridding this place of those foul creatures."


    "To the forest, then?"


    They both grinned at each other, slick with delight.


    To the forest.

 3. The Approaching Storm ( Jilton )

    Jilton tried to cover his bruises, but the fabric had ripped a few weeks ago, leaving his arms exposed. He only hoped that Jared, his father, wouldn''t notice. But when the man looked at him and immediately at his arms, he tensed.


    That smile, homely and wholesome, flickered away like a dying light.


    "What happened to ye?"


    Jilton shifted, hiding the herb satchel, "I fell."


    He couldn''t lie and, technically, it wasn''t one. He did fall¡­ but he also got kicked in the ribs and ridiculed for picking mint.


    Jared''s eyes travelled down to his neck, then his ankles, "did you tumble as well? You got bruises everywhere."


    He said nothing and dropped the school bag, filled with sweet nothings, "sort of, yeah."


    Those eyes lingered on the bad bruise, the one that they gave last week and began to bleed again. Did Jared buy the story? Probably. The marks weren''t THAT bad. But Jilton clenched his teeth, feeling his eyes on his back, and was relieved to hear that Suri was home. His room was right on top, in the attic where the window overlooked the grazing cows and where Jared kept some of the hunting tupperware. The home was rustic and small, with only four rooms including the attic and dining room. Hanging kitchen utensils clanged together as he opened the door and Suri emerged from the room both she and Mother shared. She still wore her healing outfit.


    "Makers Above, what happened to you?" She spat. "You got trampled by the cows again?"


    He walked past her, but Suri pulled him back easily, despite being shorter and weaker.


    "You need to get those fixed up. Go to your room and ill use the rest of the materials I have."


    She worked in the Main district under internship as a nurse and healer, despite only being fourteen, a year younger than Jilton. She also had dull brown eyes, like both their mother and father, and brown brown hair. He wished he had the energy to envy her ability to enter a higher institution, or have both eyes the same colour, or be half as popular or half as decent looking. Beauty in Central Taru was that of tanned skin and blue eyes, and although the children of the pastures mostly avoided this, everyone had tanned skin. Jilton couldn''t tan for the world, even in those long summer days that he spent hoarding wheat in the huts, sweating like a sodding buffoon.


    But he couldn''t envy her. He didn''t even deserve to feel ingratitude.


    "It doesn''t hurt that bad."


    "What happened?"


    He bit his lip.


    "Answer me, idiot."


    "Suri, don''t talk to your brother that way," Tianna emerged from the attic, carrying his dirty clothes. "Your room was a mess, Jilton.


    "S-sorry."


    "Go unfold your new clothes now. Supper''s ready at 6."


    He climbed up those stairs leading to his room, a cracked and creaky place above the house. The floorboards were loose and in the corner was a fire place that didn''t light, a window that hushed open at night and a bed with only one sheet. Still, he had his own room, unlike Suri who shared with their mother, or Jared who slept in the hut. He shut the door, then knelt to the place below the bed and pulled out a box. More so, a suitcase he found once. Inside was all the herbs he collected. Most had rotted away, leaving a sour and dead smell, while the others persisted and scented like honey dew and ash.


    He didn''t know half their names, but when time allowed, he went to the book chambers and quickly searched for their pictures. The yellow ones were called sunflowers, which grew in summer and always faced the great yellow ball in the sky. Aego was a thin succulent that produced pollen that tasted like paper and became a snack when compressed. His favourite was the glowing flower he found a few months ago. It still illuminated now, but he couldn''t find anything in the books about it. It smelled nice and, when Jilton felt overwhelmed, he came to his room, under the covers, and held the flower. Sometimes they went nicely in herbal ''potions'', which was just his way of mixing things up. But Jilton was determined to believe that the mixtures he made, well, made a difference, even if it was more on the healing side.


    He deposited the mint and pushed the box underneath the bed again, hiding it under the darkness. No one knew about the suitcase, not even his mother. They knew he liked plants, herbs, and all sorts of vegetation, and took an obvious keen liking in the gardens out back. But if Jared knew just how far his passion for simple ''weeds'' grew, he''d never hear the end of it.


    Because boys are supposed to be strong, not playing with plants.


    And he dreaded thinking what Jared would do, if he ever found out about his son''s passion.


    A knock came and, before he could stand up, the door chimed open. Being as fragile as everything was, the entire attic shook.


    "Suri!"


    She stepped in, tossing her hair to the side, "why are you on the floor? What on Izaraath are you doing?"


    He said nothing, shaking a bit, and sat down as she pulled out the aid kit and medicine. He tried not looking her in the eye, for only she knew the truth about his bruises, and shook her head slowly.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "You really should say something, you know," she said, dapping the yellow antiseptic on the cut.


    He said nothing.


    "If you don''t, they might kill you."


    Again, nothing.


    She applied the roll of cloth, then tightened it, "if you want, I''ll go down there and give those fools a little chat. They aren''t as buff as they look¡­ and Jared would be proud to hear you killed someone."


    He bit his lip, embarrassed. She was right; they weren''t buff, or big, and Cathel was even shorter than him. But why couldn''t he fight back? Why was it so sodding hard?


    Luckily, Suri was tired herself and said nothing more on the matter. The rest of the septic was applied and she used the last plaster on his arm. Of course, Jilton would tear it off before he saw Reagan, otherwise he''d go telling the other boys and they''d try their luck again.


    "Suppers ready. Come down when you have an excuse to tell Jared," she said, stepping away and down the steps. It was more of a ladder leading to his room, but slanted and extremely dangerous to climb. At least, if they were to get robbed, the con man couldn''t possibly get to his room.


    Then again, a robber had no business stealing from a hunters house anyway.


    Jilton left the room ten minutes later, to the sound of wild bawling beneath. Tianna served brown rice and pig meat, which was Jared''s favourite, so of course he''d be in a good mood.


    He must have already forgotten about Jilton''s accident.


    And when he sat down, the table was full of chatter. Everyone wanted to hear about Suri''s lessons in the healing district, Suri''s travel in the city and Suri''s everything. It wasn''t easy to get into nursing school, but she was exceptional from the beginning and, if time allowed, she''d be working and earning more money than both of Tianna and Jared combined.


    While Jilton would be a hunter, like his father. Skimming fur and burning meat. And even the chances for THAT was slim, considering his condition.


    The window on the side gave view to the pastures, where the cows grazed peacefully. Ahead of this was the forest, and way beyond were the mountains surrounding the city. Mountains and forests. Wild creatures and evil men. Those were what surrounded Central Taru. It stopped their progression and limited trade. They weren''t established close to any other empire aside those closer to the ocean routes, and travellers were disbanded quicker than a flickering light.


    Sometimes travellers would pass through, but if the wild beasts didn''t kill them, then the city''s prejudice would.


    And ahead, even further than the mountains, loomed a white coat. It devoured the mountain side and was travelling over the forest, ever so slowly.


    Heavy clouds.


    "Jilton dear, what did you do at school today?" Tianna asked, focusing her attention on him.


    He looked between Suri and Jared, then down to his legs, "...nothing important."


    "Oh come now. You shan''t say that. Nothing important at all?"


    "Why the sod are we sending you to that bastard school then?" Jared muttered, chewing hard on the fatty part of the meat.


    "They learn astronomy and geometry," Suri said, "it is NOT a waste of time."


    Jared snorted, "he needs none of that to become a hunter."


    "Well, even if that is the case," Tianna comforted, "he still has friends at the school. Right, Jilton? You wouldn''t want to leave your friends behind?"


    "I, uh¡­"


    "The boy has never brought any of the others over to the home," Jared said. "What, boy? Are you embarrassed of our home now?"


    "No no, it''s not that! I just¡­"


    "Oh hush," Tianna said quickly, "the other boys come from the pastures as well. Their homes are like ours."


    "Well then, don''t tell me the boy has no friends now."


    Jilton bit his tongue. He has one friend. One friend called Reagan. But Reagan was like the others; rude, crude, and a big prick.


    Before he could confess the truth, Suri interjected.


    "I see him with his friends everyday," she said, not looking them in the eye, "when i''m walking back home. He''s always playing with those tanned boys by the cliff."


    Jared nodded, as if impressed. That, or having his expectations met, "Good. Makers alone knows what makes a boy lonely, especially around your age."


    Jilton was relieved to see that the conversation shifted as Tianna turned to the window and spied the overhanging clouds, just as he had.


    "Seems like a storm''s approaching."


    "Always one around these times," Jared said, "they bring out the nymphs." Then his eyes flicked, as if remembering something vital. "Jilton, my boy, you don''t have school tomorrow?"


    "I do¡­"


    "Skip it."


    "He shan''t skip school, Jared," Tianna persisted.


    "Alright then. Come straight home after your lessons. Me and you have to go to the forest."


    Jilton nearly choked on his pork.


    "Oh, the bounty, yes?" Tianna probed. "Getting one head will help pay for our petty debts."


    "The forest?" He finally managed to say. "W-why are we going there?"


    Father didn''t seem surprised that Jilton hadn''t known, but winced just thinking about the event, "there, near the outskirts of the forest is where the kingdom gets its supply of birch wood. There''s been an attack on one of the villagers. Nymph got him while he was out that night checking the supply, and the family woke up seeing the bastard being eaten alive. Pissing horrible sight it was."


    His stomach just churned thinking about it.


    Nymphs.


    The Taru forest was known as one of the deadliest places in the region, all because of those damned creatures. Their wholesome names would suggest different, but those wild animals were anything but cute. Because of creatures like these, most of the world was uninhabited by humanoids ( advanced creatures that walked on two legs, aside from witches ) and ruled by their primitive counterparts.


    Because of creatures like this, trade was stunted and chaos ruined any place where humans didn''t wholly exist.


    That and, well, The Storm.


    But now, he was going to go to the forest and¡­kill one? For some BOUNTY??


    Jilton was awestruck.


    "Terrible sight indeed," Tianna mused, "but the kingdom is offering a lot of money on killing one of those beasts, even if it isn''t the same one."


    "They can''t expect to get the same bloody creature that killed Ollga. They all look the same. As ugly as a cows-"


    "Jared."


    He stopped himself. "Well, the bounty''s plenty. Enough to help us repay our¡­creditors. But we need to bring in a head to prove the murder. My boy, what do you say?"


    As surprised as he was, Jilton knew the decision was inevitable, no matter how much he persisted. Being a soon-to-be hunter, the choice had to come someday, and his fathers eyes weighed down on him.


    He felt his judgement in those dull brown eyes.


    An expectation he had no choice but to live up to.


    He couldn''t let him down.


    So, quickly, he nodded and looked back down to his plate, even when his chest ached from fear. Jared banged the table and bellowed in laughter. It cut sharp.


    "I tell you, my boy, this will be the most thrilling thing you and I have ever done. It''ll be damn right better than hunting a deer, I tell you. And the smell of blood," he smiled, "you won''t forget it."


    Jilton doubted he would and looked out the window again.


    The clouds were heavy, thick, and dusty. And even though they brought chaos, he found comfort in looking at it. Maybe it was because those clouds could potentially spoil their outing to the forest by causing rain, or maybe it distracted him from the overzealous talk of his father, who spoke of blood and murder right then.


    Maybe the reason was something else entirely.


    Maybe¡­