Valanya

This is an idea that's been brewing in my mind for far too long now to simply rot away in the dark corners of my hard drive, so I thought I should put it up here :D

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1. The Memory

Chapter 1


 


 

It was a windy day, as the normal was in Celsiore. Klara had been living here for a good 3 years now, ever since the terrible riots of 3E 259 in Verasarr, and yet again, her morning had to consist of her wandering the streets, in this bitter weather, cursing under her visible breath the Northern Empire, and everything it stood for. Icicles hung from the main balconies amongst the taller buildings, and slush lined the sides of the streets.

A small flame could be seen burning from one of the alleyways, with excluded races gathering around it, mainly Dwarves, and Doraas, Sheenska and Meram refugees clung to the streets, knowing that they would never be accepted or be even allowed to have enough money to live a sustainable life. Klara almost felt pitiful for them, but she knew that there would be an outcry if a Royal was seen to be helping those who clearly wished for Vfanantia and Veyasmer's downfall. They never showed that sort of hatred in their eyes though... All she could ever see in their eyes were the glassy, blank gaze of someone who has gone through great struggle to then have everything taken from them, and then told that they could never have anything or anyone again.

But talking of the blatant spies and lower races was not something a young Elven lady should be talking about. The riots had been started by Northern spies, spreading lies amongst the people of the city. They were telling them lies about the High King of Veyasmer, Larasmann, and how he was an incompetent leader. They spread lies about her father, the Lord of Verasarr then, saying that he was doing deals to sell them to Vfanantian slave dealers, and that all he cared about was the money in his pocket, and his fruitless attempts to obtain both Flame and Iceform.

The previously loyal people of Verasarr attempted to overthrow their families reign, and make the city part of the Northern Empire, against their Kings will. The riots were at first just words in the street, and her family had little care for them, reassuring themselves time and time again, that they were just rumours, and that they would die away soon. Little did they know then that those same words on the street were soon to drive them out of not only the city, but out of the entire Kingdom of Veyasmer. The riots were unsuccessful, but a great blow to military plans of the King, for a section of the ever-dwindling army had to be pulled into the city to tame the rioters. THAT mission had been successful, but the anti-Veyasmer view was still so strong in the city that it was still too dangerous for them to go back.

Klara still remembered the first night of the riots. She had been sleeping soundly, only 10 years grown, before her personal maidservant came rushing into the room, frantically trying to hold the door back behind her, screaming to her

"They've come! They've come for you, and your bloodline! Run, run while you ca-"

Her last word cut off by a pitchfork someone had rammed through the door, piercing her abdomen smoothly, before retracting, and the door bursting open, with the light of torches outside the door showing, and the smoke from the burning mansion showing through. An elf grabbed her by the collar, pulled her to the open window, kicking and screaming, before saying to her

"Whatcha gonna do now, princess?" in a both snarky and aggressive tone, his breath stinking of whiskey. Not knowing what else to do, she used something her father told her she must never use. She used a bit of her Power.


 

All perfumes, sprays and other liquids in the room smashed inwards, any trace of any liquid in them destroyed. Wind blasted from all corners, throwing everything into the walls, and smashing near to everything. Men, 6 feet tall, were being tossed around like rag dolls in the sheer force and awe-inspiring relentlessness of her Power. One person she noticed had a bow, with arrows that had none other than Adfyr tips (she could tell by the look of iron, with the mild red pulsing tint). He knocked one back slowly, and she watched the pointed Fireform projectile hurtling towards her, which then deflected when arriving to her wind based shield, the Adfyr tip disintegrating instantly, like wet sugar.

"Interesting," she whispered under her breath, before using the wardrobe as an anchor, and bolting into the sky with her powers, previously unwitnessed by any being or creature before.


 

She soared through the sky, noticing the fountains; streams and the River Varr dry up as she passed over them. She descended and let through her powers on to the mob. Wind coursed from all corners, and blasted its way through the ever growing crowd, now in tatters. Many secretive mages in the crowd had noticed her glowing hands, a sign of an active mage, even though they glowed black instead of the usual red or blue, but still they tried to combat her powers, even though this was like nothing they had ever seen before, enchantments and spells useless now, against this seemingly immortal girl of Power. She directed her flow on to them, picking up men with her powers, and watching them dance amongst the stars, blood rushing to their heads all the while. She called off her powers, for a while, and watched them flee, flee, flee, before collapsing in exhaustion.

Everything faded to black, and the next thing she knew, she was on a carriage, and all that she knew and could remember were the events that had happened in the city, and that they were now making their way to Celsiore, the capital of Vfanantia. They arrived soon enough, and had spent the last 2 years here, in this city of ice and despair, trying to figure out how they could possibly slow down, or simply stall, the Northern Empires ever larger advances. Klara missed the days when her father and other royals discussed differently how they might even stop the Northern Empire, and finally bring harmony to this world, but those thoughts had died long ago, along with any confidence or reassurance.

 

The Northern Empire, a super-state built of an Alliance of Dwarves and Men and hired mages from the Free Islands had proved formidable, with their control reigning over half the continent, and the Kings (Slavmornn of Men and Jarl Gelkhvar of Dwarves) thrones of Farasium becoming ever stronger by the minute, More and more of the lands of Vfanantia and Veyasmer began to fall to the seemingly unstoppable forces of the formidable Dwarven infantry, elite Cavalry of Men and the many Tempestgifted and Infernogifted that they brought with them from the Free Islands. It was only a matter of time before their relentless forces forced their way through the Survortimor Mountains. When that happened, which it eventually would, Veyasmer would be no more within a matter of days, maybe even hours. She had seen in her dreams a city burning, which she thought could be Celsiore or Verasarr at first, but in these times it looked more like it would be Farasmer burning. Or at least that is what she thought would have happened, until recently, when she noticed her father had finally left his study for the first time in weeks.

He had locked himself in, desperately trying to think of a way to save Veyasmer and Vfanantia, or simply slow down the constant advances of the Northern Empire, leaving for nothing (he had food delivered up, and he never slept). She often heard him cursing in the night, throwing his possessions around the room in his rage concerning the situation. Lately though, he had started saying different things during the night. Instead of the usual curses, and various blasphemous phrases aimed at the Empire, now it was more positive, with the curses aimed at certain people who couldn't do something for him, but even then those curses were soon drowned out after he found someone better who could do whatever he seemed to want done. Klara tried to put any thoughts in the situation out of her head, but lately she found that she couldn't. Whether this was because of her father’s recent optimism boosting her, or not, but things got certainly very curious when her father summoned her to his chambers, where a great deal of other men of different races were there waiting for her. It was there that he explained to her his plan, which he had said, would ‘change the world’...


 

 

*****

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