Chapter 1
Evenbrook…
The last leg of your journey. The end is almost in sight. Standing on the gently swaying ferry as it is pulled across the swiftly moving river you fancy that you can actually see the tips of the tall pines that mark your home of Ralas Than. Of course you can’t. You can only make out the far shore thanks to the lit lamps that mark the far crossing, and the occasional lit window peeking up over Evenbrook’s thick, sturdy wall. You’ve been away from home for too long. Your widowed father and younger sister must miss you terribly and, though you never thought you’d admit it, you miss them as well.
Evenbrook is a welcome sight. Not the largest or most beautiful city you’ve seen in your travels, but the one that is most familiar to you. Barely large enough to be called a city, Evenbrook lies on the northern marches of the country of Dell, and is the southern neighbor of your home, Ralas Than. It lies in the foothills of the vast mountains to the west. Evenbrook is your favorite city of all the cities you’ve visited because it means you are almost home.
You pull your traveling cloak around you as a sudden gust of wind rocks the tiny craft upon which you stand. Your cloak is black, just like your gloves, trousers, boots, vest and shirt. You tell others that you wear black so it’s easier to remain unseen, as your recent trip has been a sort of sight-seeing one in which you wanted to see the world and yet stand apart from it; see the world how it is without one of “your kind” there to change peoples’ natural behaviors. But inside you know that you wear all black because it looks really cool.
The ferry hits the landing with a soft thunk and you are almost knocked off your feet. You should really stop daydreaming about home so much. You have been getting lost in your thoughts more and more lately. It’s probably a sign that you need the refreshing presence of your home more than you had originally thought. Not that you’d die from being away from home; that would be ridiculous. You miss home just like anyone else would miss home after having been gone for a while. And four years is a while for most people, even people as long lived as yours.
You grab your things, which include a pack, a bedroll, and your unstrung bow and quiver. Stepping foot onto the landing located at the far West end of the dock you turn, pay the ferryman, and head over to the main road heading into town. It has a name, something like Farnick Street or Frensic Street, but you don’t remember. It’s the main road, one of the few that is paved with cobblestones.
You approach the gate into the city, which to your slight astonishment is guarded by two men, instead of the customary one. They both wear padded jackets, metal skullcaps, and carry six foot spears. The symbol of house Gelhurt, the noble family who stewards over Evenbrook for the queen, is embroidered on their right breast.
“Halt!” one of them commands, and the other immediately stops reclining against the wall and comes to attention, fixing his gaze on you. These two are young, and not just by age. They are young to battle and duty. They have probably never used their spears in anything like a real fight, let alone a battle. You rest your hand on the pommel of the thin blade worn at your waste, feeling the reassurance of the steel even through your gloves. Taking them head on is not your style of fighting, but even so you know that you could take them both. Nevertheless, that would be impolite and rude, and they’re just doing their jobs.
The one who originally spoke takes a step towards you as you come to a stop a few paces from them. You can tell he is a rookie because he just closed the distance enough to place you inside of his effective range and in a perfect position for you, should the need arise to draw blood. He speaks again, trying to sound commanding and intimidating, though you are having none of it.
“What is your name and what business do you have here so late in the night?”
Evenbrook…
The last leg of your journey. The end is almost in sight. Standing on the gently swaying ferry as it is pulled across the swiftly moving river you fancy that you can actually see the tips of the tall pines that mark your home of Ralas Than. Of course you can’t. You can only make out the far shore thanks to the lit lamps that mark the far crossing, and the occasional lit window peeking up over Evenbrook’s thick, sturdy wall. You’ve been away from home for too long. Your widowed father and younger sister must miss you terribly and, though you never thought you’d admit it, you miss them as well.
Evenbrook is a welcome sight. Not the largest or most beautiful city you’ve seen in your travels, but the one that is most familiar to you. Barely large enough to be called a city, Evenbrook lies on the northern marches of the country of Dell, and is the southern neighbor of your home, Ralas Than. It lies in the foothills of the vast mountains to the west. Evenbrook is your favorite city of all the cities you’ve visited because it means you are almost home.
You pull your traveling cloak around you as a sudden gust of wind rocks the tiny craft upon which you stand. Your cloak is black, just like your gloves, trousers, boots, vest and shirt. You tell others that you wear black so it’s easier to remain unseen, as your recent trip has been a sort of sight-seeing one in which you wanted to see the world and yet stand apart from it; see the world how it is without one of “your kind” there to change peoples’ natural behaviors. But inside you know that you wear all black because it looks really cool.
The ferry hits the landing with a soft thunk and you are almost knocked off your feet. You should really stop daydreaming about home so much. You have been getting lost in your thoughts more and more lately. It’s probably a sign that you need the refreshing presence of your home more than you had originally thought. Not that you’d die from being away from home; that would be ridiculous. You miss home just like anyone else would miss home after having been gone for a while. And four years is a while for most people, even people as long lived as yours.
You grab your things, which include a pack, a bedroll, and your unstrung bow and quiver. Stepping foot onto the landing located at the far West end of the dock you turn, pay the ferryman, and head over to the main road heading into town. It has a name, something like Farnick Street or Frensic Street, but you don’t remember. It’s the main road, one of the few that is paved with cobblestones.
You approach the gate into the city, which to your slight astonishment is guarded by two men, instead of the customary one. They both wear padded jackets, metal skullcaps, and carry six foot spears. The symbol of house Gelhurt, the noble family who stewards over Evenbrook for the queen, is embroidered on their right breast.
“Halt!” one of them commands, and the other immediately stops reclining against the wall and comes to attention, fixing his gaze on you. These two are young, and not just by age. They are young to battle and duty. They have probably never used their spears in anything like a real fight, let alone a battle. You rest your hand on the pommel of the thin blade worn at your waste, feeling the reassurance of the steel even through your gloves. Taking them head on is not your style of fighting, but even so you know that you could take them both. Nevertheless, that would be impolite and rude, and they’re just doing their jobs.
The one who originally spoke takes a step towards you as you come to a stop a few paces from them. You can tell he is a rookie because he just closed the distance enough to place you inside of his effective range and in a perfect position for you, should the need arise to draw blood. He speaks again, trying to sound commanding and intimidating, though you are having none of it.
“What is your name and what business do you have here so late in the night?”
What is your name? Answer: Leldorin