So. Seeing as the current date is actually much later than this, I'm speeding up the lore:
Year 433 of the Emperor - Phoenix 00/00, 3rd year.
The clear blue waters glistened in the calm afternoon air, interrupted only by the smooth sailing of one of the small trade ships coming from one of the smaller towns around the coast. As with almost every ship in this inland sea, it only had one berth in mind, the city of Tremaine. The wealth of the port city had grown with the completion of the dockyard and it's influence was now felt across Loche Aberdeene. High above the smooth surface of the water, the great castle stood upon grey cliffs where the boys, Gildos and Ferris, played in the soft grass of the castle gardens. Gildos, three years older than his brother, stood a full head taller, and even had some hairs stubbed across his chin. At fourteen he was loud, boisterous, and every part the mischievous prankster, and for him playing tag with his little brother was more irksome than fun, but Mother had her way every time. Although that didn't mean they had to play fair.
As he tagged his little brother, Ferris gave chase and Gildos ducked behind a tree branch, leaving his brother to flail into a flower bed, before running for the door to the castle.
"You can't catch me!" He taunt, wagging his butt at his younger brother. Getting frustrated, Ferris ran after him, but Gildos was too fast. Soon, Gildos had ran the length of the glass corridor and disappeared down a flight of stairs. In the lower levels of the castle he was too far away to hear his brother calling his name, but he didn't care. He was rid of his irksome brother at long last, and it was time to get some sneaking done. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he ducked behind a pillar as two guards walked by, making their way to the mess hall for their dinner. Although the son of the Count, Gildos was not allowed in this part of the castle, for it was reserved for his father and the courtiers who tended the affairs of state. Not that his father ever attended such meetings. In four years he had become a social recluse. Even Gildos had almost forgotten what he looked like. As the guards disappeared further down the hall, Gildos moved quietly around the pillar and hurried down the corridors toward the state rooms. These corridors had no pillars or decoration, so it was more difficult to hide. However, Gildos remained undetected as few people ever wandered these corridors. As he walked through the halls, he heard raised voices and paused to listen.
"The road to Strathcierd is taking major hits from zombies and creepers, we need more guards to patrol the road."
"We don't have enough guards. The road is too long to patrol it efficiently. Besides, most of it's length is outwith Carrickshire and, as such, outwith our jurisdiction."
"Are you an imbecile, Garmen? If the road is under too much strain trade with the main cities will suffer. We need to maintain that road to ensure Tremaine remains in contact with the northern merchants." He recognized his mother's voice.
"We have the entire Loche Aberdeene to trade with, and the southern settlements as well. We should concentrate on the road to Mount Foliantos."
"That backwater town is a perversion of the faith. I'll not have our men guarding it's roads."
"It's closer, and trades heavily in food stuffs. Tremaine's population is growing and we need to expand our farms. This trade route benefits us more." Just then there was a loud thump that made Gildos jump.
"Sorry, dropped the...what was that?" The room went quiet as those inside listened. Gildos held his breath. He could hear muffled whispering and the creak of a floorboard. Looking around wildly, he panicked and dived for a nearby room. He closed the door and fell back on it, as if hoping his weight would somehow stop them from finding him. For a moment there was silence, only the sound of his heart beating, then the heard calmer voices and the door to the room beside him closed again. He let out a soft breath and pushed himself off the door before looking around.
The room he was in was one he'd never seen before. There were tables stacked high with parchments and books, and a corner filled with empty bottles. A stench lingered in the air that made Gildos raise his sleeve to his mouth to stop from gagging. Wrinkling his nose, he made his way forward and lifted one of the scrolls and looked it over. It was a blueprint for a castle. It took him a moment to recognize the landscape as Glas Claddach. The plans were grand in scale, even more so than the castle here at Tremaine, and would require vast quantities of stone and skilled stonemasons to complete. He lifted another paper, with detailed illustrations of a pillar design, when a hand grabbed his. He looked up to see a ragged man, with a wild beard and long grey hair obscuring his face. In the dying sunlight from the windows he looked crazed, his eyes sunken and his skin almost yellowing. As he opened his mouth the acrid stench filled Gildos' nose. His heart raced as he looked up at his father, who let out a yell like a strangled animal. Suddenly pain shot across Gildos' face as he was thrown from the desk. He lifted his hand, but the mark on his cheek stung to touch. There was a scraping of wood and then a clatter and he turned to see Felandris stumble on his cane and fall to the ground with a loud thump. He let out a yell and threw his cane, which struck Gildos across the legs, then a horrible voice emanated from his lips.
"Get...out!" Gildos was paralyzed with fear. "Get out!" Sense gripped him and Gildos grabbed the handle to the door. Just then it flew open and Morganna strode in, a torch in hand. The sudden light illuminated the scene before her and she instantly grabbed her son, who buried his face in the folds of her dress.
"Get out!" Felandris yelled again. Morganna pulled Gildos from the room and closed the door behind her, before handing the torch to one of the dignitaries beside her and looking at her son. Her hands caressed his skin, but he flinched as she touch the red welt across his left cheek.
"What has he done to you?" She asked, tears in her eyes. She pulled him to her, but he struggled free, before running from the scene. She watched him go before straightening up and addressing the others. "You are dismissed. We shall continue this discussion tomorrow." Bowing, they left her. After she was sure they were all gone she threw open the door and marched in. Felandris was still on the floor, struggling to get to his feet.
"Get out!" He growled again. This time Morganna stood her ground.
"You struck him."
"Get out!"
"You struck your own son!" She yelled, raising her voice over his. "How could you do this? Have you taken leave of all your senses that you would raise a hand to your own flesh and blood?"
"He's not...my son..." He managed, sitting up against the desk.
"No...you're not his father." Morganna corrected him. "He's fourteen years old and you've not been his father in four years! Did you know he's an artist? He can paint unlike anyone I've ever seen. And Ula, Ula's got a tongue quicker than a snake's! Ferris..." She faltered, she could not bring to mention Ferris to her husband again, he was too pure, too innocent to soil in this wretched room. "Murtagh is strong. So strong, he's made a life for himself. A real life away from you!" Tears sprung in her eyes as she looked away from the cur before her. "I'm leaving Felandris." She said at last. Her voice was calm and clear, and betrayed no emotion nor hesitation. "I'm taking the children with me. We're going to Glas Claddach to be with Murtagh. To be with family. If you ever come to your senses...then you may send me a letter." With that she opened the door and left, leaving Felandris on the ground, clutching a half-empty bottle to his chest.
Year 435 of the Emperor - Phoenix 00/00, 5th year.
"The farmer will give what he is owed to the blacksmith for his services. The blacksmith shall also be examined to discern if he is skilled enough to apply his trade in Glas Claddach. I cannot afford to allow poor craftsmen to work in my city." Murtagh commanded.
"This is an insult!" The smith yelled, throwing his cap to the floor. "Thirty years I've been a smith!"
"And in those thirty years how many ploughs have you made using ill-suited materials?" Murtagh asked. The smith fumed silently, before turning and storming from the hall. A boy rushed forward to grab his hat and chase after him. The farmer bowed to the boy, grudgingly so, before following the smith from the hall. Murtagh let out a soft sigh as the next citizen of Glas Claddach stepped forward; a woman with a tear streaked face. Silence fell as no one spoke.
"My lady, is there a request you would have of me?" Murtagh asked. The woman did not move, but spoke softly.
"My name is Eshar, my husband was Gorma, a trader in the lower city. Two moons ago he was found dead in a room in the Dancing Dragon. 'Told me he drunk himself to death. My lord, I know my husband. He was a good man, honest. He did not drink, and the Dancing Dragon...it's a house of debauchery. He would never go to such a place. My lord. I know he was murdered."
"Murdered?" Murtagh asked, frowning deeply. "That is a serious charge. Have you not raised this matter with the City Garda?"
"My Lord, I have, but they have found nothing. They have closed their investigation and refuse to speak with me. I know he was murdered, and I have no other option. Please, help me find my husband's killer." Silence fell as Murtagh looked at Ernam, his vassal, who stood off to the side. Ernam, who was a good ten years older than Murtagh, stepped forward then.
"We shall look into this matter further to decide if it warrants our attention." Ernam replied. His voice was smooth, like a eel in a river. The woman nodded once, before turning and walking away quietly. "The Governor shall see no one else this day," Ernam announced. The guards formed a line before the throne where Ernam and Murtagh stood and slowly guided the rest of the citizens from the pillared hall. Murtagh rose from his seat to the left of the King's throne, and stepped down to Ernam.
"Thank you," he sighed.
"Not at all, my lord. It was a silly request, you are a governor, after all, not a detective. This is a matter for the Garda, and if they have closed the case there is no case to be looked at." He smiled, his face betraying no sense of guilt or empathy for the woman. Murtagh struggled with this side of politics; he found it difficult to not empathize with his citizens, to separate himself from them and to look at their matters objectively. He thanked the gods every day for Ernam by his side. The courtier was invaluable to the young Governor and had helped him since he had arrived in Glas Claddach all those years ago. At the age of nineteen, he was by no means a boy anymore, but he was still young, and he knew that made him inexperienced. Just then the door to the side of the hall opened and his mother strode into the hall.
"Is the governor available for a visit from his mother?" she asked, smiling. Murtagh smiled back as Ernam bowed to her.
"Of course. I shall see to the matters at hand." He excused himself as Murtagh strode to his mother and offered her his arm. Grateful, she took it and they walked back through the door and out onto the cliffs. This area was supposed to become the castle courtyard, however after construction at Tremaine began the designs for the castle were put on hold. For the past two years, since Morganna had arrived with the rest of her children, Murtagh had decided to finish building the castle, and had spent this time gathering all the resources required, as well as putting together what remained of his father's blueprints and filling in the blanks. Although sour at first at the prospect of using Felandris' designs, Murtagh had won his mother over by insisting he wanted his mark on Glas Claddach to be just as grand, if not grander, than his father's. Having not spoken to his father in over six years, Murtagh still remembered him as the grand architect he once was, and was determined to best him. Even now, several geologists were investigating the rock to find if the current plans for construction would be placed on suitable stone. They strode to the castle gardens which overlooked the city and rested beneath the oak tree. Morganna smiled as she looked at her eldest son. He was the jewel of her life; tall, strong, handsome. He had long, flowing brown hair, like his father had when he was young, and a strong, clean shaven jaw. He was the very definition of regal, and the best role model for his younger brothers she could have hoped for. Since coming to Glas Claddach, Ferris had taken to his older brother and had followed his every word, particularly when it came to designing the castle. Ferris seemed as entranced with architecture as Murtagh. Ula, although distant at first, had warmed to her brother once more. As far as Morganna was aware, Ula loved being in Glas Claddach again. Here, she was regarded as one of the fairest maidens in the city, and young men were constantly courting her, and though she seemed to enjoy the attention, Morganna was glad to see her quick-wit was not blinded by it and she was still capable of protecting herself, though Murtagh was always close by and ready to step in. She sighed as her thoughts turned to Gildos. He was a troubled child. Ever since they had left Tremaine he had been quieter than he once was. His pranks and games had stopped and she was concerned for she never knew where he was most of the time.
"Do you know anything about Gildos? I have not spoken to him in a while," Morganna asked. Murtagh shrugged as he continued to enjoy the view.
"From what I hear he spends most of his time in the city. I think he is friends with Klam and Eros, the tavern boys." Morganna nodded slowly.
"Emeris' sons?" she asked.
"No, that's Marn and Ember, they tend the stables," Murtagh gestured to the opposite cliff across the water where the stables stood next to the sheep farm. "Their parents are Parg and Heidi, they own the Parked Pegasus." Morganna smiled as she shook her head.
"Two years here and I still don't remember who's who."
"Six years here I don't know why they called it the Parked Pegasus." Morganna laughed.
"Did they never tell you?" Murtagh shook his head. "When your father fist founded Glas Claddach, he build the wooden bridge across the water and old man Cheevers moved into the shack on the edge. He was the one who first built the inn, but back then it was the Floating Flaggen. Your father and he were the best of friends, and he would ride his horse there in the evenings and then walk back across the bridge to his house beside the smith."
"The old farmhouse?"
"Yes, that used to be his. But anyway, he would always leave his horse at the Inn. So when you saw the horse there you knew Felandris was nearby. People used to call him Pegasus because somehow, every morning, he still wound up back at the stable at the top of the cliffs. So, naturally, we all assumed he flew."
"But if Father left him there, who took him back?" Morganna shrugged.
"I have no idea. Anyway, Pegasus was always parked outside the inn, so when old man Cheever's died and they took it over, they changed the name to the Parked Pegasus." Murtagh laughed and slapped his knee.
"Brilliant." He continued to smile as he gazed out across the city. "So if Father lived in the old farmhouse, where did you live?"
"I rented a bed in the Box-holes. That's what we used to call them. You know the houses next to the Cobble Cafe? They used to be the Box-holes. It was horrible back then, there wasn't enough houses for all the people, so new comers who couldn't build one, or camp outside, had to live in there. I remember I used to sleep beside a pregnant woman named...Eshar. She gave birth one night, right at my feet! After that, she and her husband moved out as Felandris had finished building the houses round the back of the Parked Pegasus."
"Eshar?" Murtagh asked. "I met her today. Her husband had been killed." Morganna straightened up and looked at her son.
"What?"
"Her husband was found dead in the Dancing Dragon. She thinks he was murdered." he remembered her conviction and shuddered.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing, The Garda already looked into it and found nothing. Ernam said there was nothing we could do." Morganna shook her head, then pointed a finger at his chest.
"You are the governor. This is exactly the kind of thing you can help with."
"But...if the Garda didn't find anything..."
"Then maybe you can."
"Okay...I'll have to speak with Ernam first..."
"Is Ernam the Governor of Glas Claddach?" Mroganna asked.
"No,"
"Then why do you need to speak to him? I know he's your friend, but I don't trust him. Promise me you won't let him tell you what you can and cannot do." Murtagh looked at his mother and saw concern in her eyes. He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug.
"I promise, mother."
_________________ Ainmire Sera-Blodh of House Flenadrison, second of his name, King in the South, Ruler of Carrickshire, and slayer of false Kings. "The Crippled King" "Flanders"
Last edited by Flanders on August 8th, 2015, 9:20 am, edited 1 time in total.
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