Tales Of Days Gone By |Diversity Competition Entry

Ivy Luna always wished she was a character in a fantasy novel, going on crazy, jewelry induced adventures and encountering mythical creatures beyond her imagination. She should have been more careful of what she wished for. |The rating may change once more scenes are more thoroughly planned/written| There's a sequel/epilogue for this story called Tales Of Today already written, please have a look at it.|

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2. Chapter One

Myla sat in the council chambers of her father's palace for the first time in her life. She had finally been deemed old enough and responsible enough to sit in on a council meeting and she had been looking forward to this day her whole life, only now that the day had come, she wished it hand't. Times were dark and it was beginning to look as though the kingdoms were on the brink of war.

"King Mylorn, our sources say that the kingdom of Baygreen is preparing an army," one of the older, dwarvish diplomats with a name as easy to forget as his face informed them. "They are preparing for war."

"It is no business of ours what the race of men do within their borders," the king replied, looking almost bored. He looked much the same as his daughter, with a tall, slender figure, warm,brown skin, not unlike the colour of fallen leaves. His long, straight, black hair glistened in the sunlight, looking like a river of obsidian, falling in intricate plaits over his shoulders. "Their minds are fickle and their lives short lived."

"It is our business, as their kingdom happens to lie on our borders," Deis, the queen of the dwarves, stood from her seat, placing her hands on her hips. She was just as regal as the elven king, though their appearances where quite different. She was short and stocky, with pale, blue tinted skin, sharp blue eyes, and a deep blue, almost black, beard, matching her curly hair. She sparkled, with the blue diamonds weaved into her hair and beard, much in contrast to her dark tone. "Your people may not die from old age, but they can be killed in battle can they not?"

"Well what do you suggest I do?" King Mylorn asked, his voice growing equally dark. "I will not frighten my people over the words of a few paranoid scouts."

"I suggest that we should summon the savior," the queen answered, shocking the room to silence. Myla looked between the faces of the other diplomats, examining their reactions. "Or do you wish to repeat the last time we fought off Baygreen invaders?"

A look of agony crossed the kings face, but only for a split second. "That will never happen again."

"Then you know what we have to do," the queen told him gently. "We have to stop this now, before it get's worse."

"F-father?" Myla asked, her confusion finally becoming too much. "You told me that the savior was just a bedtime story."

"Myla, there is much I haven't told you," Mylorn answered sternly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Wait in your chambers, I will explain everything when the meeting is finished."

"Why can't you tell me now?" Myla shrugged off his hand. "If you lied to me once before, who is to say you will not do it again?"

"Myla, you must understand," the king scolded. "You're not-"

"Not what, father?" Myla stood, giving her father a glare. "Not old enough? Not wise enough? Not skilled enough? Because if you recall correctly, I'm old enough to be sitting in on the war council, I've exceeded expectations in all of my studies, and I'm the best swordsman and archer in both of the joined kingdoms."

"That is enough," King Mylorn shouted, also rising from his seat. "You will wait in your room as ordered by your father, and your king!"

Myla didn't say anything, instead narrowing her eyes in a dagger like glare at her father before storming out of the room and slamming the door behind her.

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