The Kingdom of Balthae lay carved into an isolated mountain range. To the east lay flat grasslands that extended as far as the eye could see, known as the Emerlad Sea. To the west was a forest so dense that the floor was shrouded in eternal midnight. The entire mountain range was known by the Kingdom to be one large city, however, it was common knowledge to all who resided there that the main mountain was the one that housed the Kingdom’s nobility. The mountain was home to both merchants and nobles, with the merchants at the base and royalty living at the summit. Each plateau up to the summit housed a different sort of marketplace or living community. The higher one went up the mountain, the more expensive the goods became. This mountain was known as the First Holding.

Beyond the reaches of the Emerald Sea, an unnaturally large flash of light illuminated the dark sky like a second moon. Citizens of Balthae started to rouse as candles systematically illuminated the rooms carved into the mountain range. The occasional scream of fright could be heard as the entire mountain unceremoniously came to life at this odd hour of night.

In the tallest building on top of the the First Holding, thunderous footsteps erupted as the palace guards started to move about. The Crown Prince of Balthae, Zephèl í Malthius vàr Balthir, was forced awake by the noise. His dull, stone-blue eyes dizzily gazed around his ornately furnished room as he fought himself out of his dreamy state. The pounding of footsteps grew louder as they approached his door and Zephèl glared angrily at his personal guard as the entered into his room unannounced.

“You better have a good explanation for this disturbance!” Zephèl shouted, jumping out of his bed. He grabbed a white cloak, which was plain compared to his overly decorated quarters, off of a chair next to his bed and swung it over his bare shoulders. Tying back his ash blonde hair, he approached his men, picking up his sword which also lay against the chair. Many of them instinctively backed away. “Out with it then. What’s going on, Mathias?”

A tall, rather muscular man stepped forward from the group of around ten guards. His head was lowered but his eyes met the prince’s in a gaze that was anything but subservient.

“Sire, there has been a disturbance in the east. A light…like a second sun,” he gestured towards the window where the mysterious light was now fading.

“To the east?” Zephèl bolted towards the window and stuck his head outside for a better look. “But that’s the Stone Empire’s territory! What are those filthy Aeastalth heathens up to?” He turned around, his eyes piercing Mathias’s skull so intensely that it forced the larger man to take a step back. “Does my father know about this?”

“Your father is still very sick, Zephèl. I judged it best to confront you first with this news.”

Zephèl let the informality slide—now wasn’t the time to mind such matters. He paused to consider his options. Confronting his father on matters such as war in his condition could have serious repercussions for the sick king. However, seeing how is father still sat upon the throne, it was not Zephèl’s place to handle such matters on his own. His eyebrows knit together so tightly that his head started to ache. This was a serious matter to consider with little time to decide. His men waited patiently, however Mathias pushed the subject, “How do you want to proceed?”

“Although I appreciate your concern for my father’s condition, you are in no position to make such decisions. I have yet to take my father’s place upon the throne. In the future, please go to him on such matters.” Zephèl’s voice was authoritative but in no way angry. “Mathias, please come with me to my father’s chambers. The rest of you, please be ready to receive further instructions if needed.”

“Yes, sir!” They saluted in unison.

Zephèl gave Mathias a knowing look and his friend bowed his head, trying to hide the sad smile that had crept on to his lips. With that, the two excused themselves from the room. They sprinted down the corridor as fast as they could, Zephèl keeping about three or four spaced ahead of Mathias who, out of respect for the higher ranking young man, purposefully held himself back. Although the palace had a crude exterior, the interior was well furbished and neatly kept. The floors were planked with polished wood, cut from the tall, sturdy trees in the forest that surrounded the kingdom’s western lands. On the walls were painted frescos and tapestries depicting old war stories and legends of mythical creatures. The interior stone surfaces were all smoothed down and polished. Every room greeted visitors with an elaborately carved doorframe and polished wooden door. The stairs leading up to the king’s chamber were so smooth that the residents had to be careful running up them at risk of slipping at falling. However, now was not the time for being careful. Sliding his hand against the wall for support, Zephèl ran up the stairs, being careful not to trip while Mathias ran up them with practiced ease.

The two young men continued down the upper hallway until they were faced with the second most ornately carved door in the castle. Although the frame was made of the same stone as the exterior of the palace, it was so polished that it shined with a mirror-like finish. Intricate carvings of dragons and winged lions with jeweled eyes of every color imaginable jutted from the walls around the large double doors. The wood of the doors was polished in a way that made it appear like carved black stone. Zephèl stood at attention at the entrance for a moment before knocking firmly. He continued to stand there, even though he was never going to receive a response. After a few seconds he opened the door.

“Father, I’m coming in.” He whispered as he opened the slightly.

The air in the king’s chambers was still and dry. The stench of illness and death wafted from the dark room. Mathias had to cover his nose with a cloth, but Zephèl stood unfazed by the rancid smell. His captain watched with saddened eyes as he entered the room, knocking into a nightstand or chair every now and then. There were two very good reasons as to why Mathias always went to Zephèl first on all matters regarding their kingdom’s security. The first was the state of this very room and the second was the thing that inhabited it. Zephèl knelt down next to the giant, closed-curtain canopy and as Mathias got closer to the bed, he had to muffle his gags into the cloth over his nose and mouth.

“Father, how are you feeling?” No response, “There is a disturbance in the Stone Empire.” No response, “What was that father?” Zephèl leaned his head closer to the closed, mesh curtains surrounding the bed, “Consult Geredyn on the matter? I see. Well, goodnight father.”

Zephèl slowly rose to his feet and slowly made his way past Mathias, walking past his best friend as though he wasn’t even there. Mathias closed his eyes as the true-king of his Kingdom crossed in front of him. It pained Mathias to see his light act in such a way, and would force back tears every time the boy spoke to his father. He had tried to confront Zephèl on many occasions on his behavior, but the Prince was a lost cause. His position gave him no authority to push the matter further. Zephèl had essentially positioned his father’s highest ranking General as the advisor for the Kingdom until the King got over his illness.

Mathias followed Zephèl out the door and found himself face-to-face with none other than Geredyn í Vollustais vàr Maeidyn himself. A man taller and much more broad shouldered than even himself. His dirt-blonde hair fell in thick curls that matched his scraggly beard. The man was by no measures attractive in his red, Field General’s Uniform. The uniform differed from Mathias’s in the number of gold cords hanging over the shoulders and across the front. Geredyn had five gold cords across the front of his while Mathias had three, signifying that his rank was higher. With a look of distaste, Mathias stiffly saluted his superior.

“At ease, Captain.” The man’s voice was low and gruff, anything but friendly.

Mathias relaxed his arm but studied Geredyn with distaste as the man turned his attention back to the Prince.

“It took you long enough to get here, Geredyn. How dare you make my father wait for you!” Zephèl scolded the older man as if he were a child, though something in his tone made it clear that the Prince didn’t care as much as he let on.

“I am sorry, Your Highness, I was busy dispatching my men to calm the lower quarters and neighboring cities.” Geredyn said stiffly, as though addressing higher authority. This amused Mathias because, at the moment, Geredyn was higher in rank than the Prince.

“No matter, you are here now.”

“I take it your father wanted you to consult with me on this issue?” Geredyn asked as though it was he was expecting Zephèl to come to him.

“Yes, Geredyn,” Zephèl’s voice was annoyingly obedient and Mathias held back the desire to punch his friend there and then. This was a third reason why he always went to Zephèl first for all matters regarding the Kingdom—because he knew the prince would go submit to Geredyn anyways. “The Aeastalth of the Stone Empire have always been a matter of concern for our Kingdom, and you have the most experience dealing with those sin-wielding demons.”

“Yes, of course.” Geredyn smiled at the prince, though it was clearly forced.

Aeastalth was the word that referred to all the magic users in the Stone Empire’s boarders and was seen as an insult to be called one. Magic was a sin in Balthae, though not punishable by death. Balthaens were unable to use any sort of magic, but the Empire’s magic was particularly threatening.

“Is something the matter, General? You are smiling.”

Geredyn looked taken aback by the Prince’s sudden inquiry. The man quickly cleared his throat and patted the boy on the shoulder.

“You must still be tired, highness. Go back to sleep for now. I have to think of a tactical plan for approaching this matter. Meet me for lunch in the dining room around midday.” Geredyn bowed deeply to the prince and then turned to Mathias. “Captain, see the Prince back to his quarters and then come to my chambers, immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” Mathias saluted the General and turned to Zephèl, “You heard the man, sire. Let’s get you back to bed.”