by Ulysses Troy
Opium: A drug that is illegal except for medical purposes.
Daumm: A legendary monster that has four legs and two arms.
Groachel: A hound-like creature common in Baltarian forests.
White/Wind Breeze: An exceptional horse with a hide as white as frost, it accompanied Conrad and Gavise for a short time long years ago, when they were still green adventurers.
Merion Day: The custom of celebrating an individual’s birthday in Baltaire. Named after King Benthar de Balthar’s first daughter Princess Merion, as she was the first one to have her birthday celebrated in the Kingdom after her father saw her envying neighbor Princesses’ birthday celebration.
Kingdom of Baltaire: Famed with her prosperous and green lands, Baltaire is a powerful kingdom in the southeast part of Bralon. Baltarian people are known for their passion for their homeland and for being very talented farmers. Formed by Count Balthar de Beocur centuries ago, who also gave his name to the ruling house, by uniting all of the sovereign counties under one banner, Baltaire’s history is filled with war, glory, and struggle. Baltaire is also a very important religious center, due to being the place where the Holy Faith made its first appearance. King Philippe de Balthar, current king on the throne, tries to rule his lands on his seat in Beocur with a noble and just attitude.
Kingdom of Vanheim: Vanheim is a powerful kingdom in the northeast of Bralon and a historical rival to the Baltaire. The two kingdoms of Baltaire and Vanheim, equal in strength, have been politically challenging each other for decades. Descending from the Northlanders, Vanheimian people are cold, hard and proud. They have the most disciplined and refined military culture in the east Bralon and worship the Holy One, even though The Temple’s influence within the Kingdom is weak. In the last century, the kings of Vanheim aggressively expanded their Kingdom’s territory by conquering independent states in the south, eliminating all independent states between Baltaire and Vanheim. That caused high tension between the two Kingdoms and the words of war started to be spoken. Even though King Balthasar de Balthar, grandfather of the current King Philippe, married his daughter to the royalty of Vanheim to prevent a possible war, some still suspect that King Wilhelm von Vanheim has his eye on his noble cousin’s lands.
The Sultanate of Jamedia: A powerful country with old traditions, Jamedia is known for its green and vast jungles, and exotic animals. Due to a series of wars that occurred between the two countries, Baltaire and Jamedia are considered to be old enemies. Yet, they have not fought with each other for a century.
The Monarchy of Utornia: Built on Middle Bralon, Utornian Monarchy is a mighty state. Utornians worship the God of the moon and are mostly known for their prowess in battle and their famous Winged Knights. As they are investors of steel in Bralon, they are more advanced in forgery than any other nation, except for Carasson.
Sunmarine Islands: A group of islands whose inhabitants share a similar culture with each other. Islanders are peaceful people and have no standing army. Known for their success in trade, their goods can be found anywhere in Bralon.
The Holy Temple: The only existing Church of the Holy Faith and the indirect representative of God’s will on earth, according to the ‘Sacred Texts’, a collection of documents written by The Holy Apostle and considered to be Holy by the Temple’s authorities.
Templar Knights: Dedicated Knights of The Holy Temple Of Amnar in their full name, Templar Knights are a group of professional knights and soldiers who dedicate their lives to living under the light of the Holy One and to defending true believers. Their primary objectives consist of protecting the clergy, escorting pilgrims, defending holy sites, and taking care of the ‘cursed’.
Holy Warriors: Formed by the Holy Temple, Holy Warriors was a strong and effective army that served under the Temple and enforced its will through the land until its disbanding after the Great Betrayal by the King of Baltaire’s royal decree.
Alliance Wars: A series of two wars waged by the Holy Temple against the Empire of Carasson, for religious concerns and the temple’s wishes to rule over the Holy lands.
The Great Betrayal: The name of an old incident that consists of the rebellion of Temple’s armed forces against the crown of Baltaire.
The House of Balthar: The Royal House of the Kingdom of Baltaire.
The House of Vanheim: The Royal House of the Kingdom of Vanheim.
Uraliés: The Holy Book of the religion of the Holy Faith and believed to be written by the Holy Prophet himself by the believers of the faith.
The House of Wellon, The House of Gannát, The House of LaPellás: Noble houses in Northern Baltaire, under the rule of the county of Loussión.
Shitboy: A Baltarian swearword, very common among the smallfolk.
Adventurer: A term in Baltaire that is used for someone that wanders in the land to help the folk. Adventurers do not ask for coins in return as they are not mercenaries, but it is expected from the folk to host them.
The Battle of Saltygrass: A military conflict that arose from the increasing tension between the Baltarian Crown and Barons of the west. The Royalist forces have won the battle and the rebellion of the Barons has been crushed.
PART FOUR: IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS, BOOKS, POEMS AND SONGS
Works of the Magnificent Bard Gavise Of Beocur
Bitter Love: A passionate love song written by Gavise of Beocur, who was inspired by the toxic relationship between Evrard de Wellon and Chanel de LaPellás.
Veron de Charn, The Great Bard: A song that tells the glorious deeds and character of famous Veron de Charn, the imaginary alter-persona of the talented bard Gavise.
Works of Guiverrin de Chauntauss
Love of A King: A song that was written by the famous bard Guiverrin de Chauntauss, who still has not been surpassed by any other bard in terms of enthusiasm in poetry, even though it’s been decades since his death. Guiverrin wrote the song for the love between King Balahar de Balthar and Jaelna’n Jamarr, sister of the Jamedian Sultan, which caused a long and devastating war between the two states lasting tens of years.
Anonymous Pieces
Tormented Souls: A sorrowful love ballad about the tragic love between Claudia de LaPellás and Jacquard de Wellon. Mostly listened to by the Wellon supporters in the feud, as it pictures Jacquard as the true love of Claudia.
THE ARISING EVIL BOOK ONE
THE
KNIGHT
OF
HONOR
by
ULYSSES TROY
Chapter One
The Road to Gannát
The night was fresh. Above the ground, darkness ruled the night all over, without facing any oppression. A pleasant breeze was gently carrying the beautiful smell of the Bellácoir Green to the realms far beyond. As the trees and grasses swayed in the breeze, birds were singing a song of the night to celebrate the spring’s long-awaited arrival.
For a moment, the stranger pulled the bridle of his horse to stop him and looked at the white full moon in the dark sky, shining gloriously. A light in the sheer darkness. Tonight, the moon is fascinating.
For three hours, he had been riding continuously from Ferenaon to here, the Barony of Gannát, except for the short stop when he had to replace the shoes on his horse after a large stone had removed them. Feeling the pain on his back caused by sleeping on the hard ground for days, he remembered that almost three weeks had passed since the last time he lay on a bed full of straw.
To shorten the path to Gannát, he had been avoiding the main roads, settlements, and inns alike, riding in the wild alongside the wild hounds and boars. Because of that decision, he was deprived of the sweet hospitality of the peasants and the warm fire of inns. But to be honest, he didn’t have enough tourins to stay in a decent inn anyway. As about a month ago, before his journey to Ferenaon had started, he had commended most of his coins to Peryl of Nellen, a trustworthy merchant and old friend.
During the last years of his life, he had made enough tourins for a lowborn like him to worry about, thanks
to some of his dangerous yet rewarding adventures. And as he had experienced many times before, it was unwise to carry most of your wealth on your person on the dangerous roads, where there were outlaws roaming everywhere, even more so while going after an adventure, the end unknown. It was the right thing to do, yet, he was cursing his smart decision after having had to search for a clean and soft pack of grass to sleep on every single night for three weeks. Normally, sleeping in the wilderness, under the shining light of stars and the company of the moon shouldn’t constitute a problem worth mentioning to a rootless adventurer like him. He was a voyager, after all, a wandering hero to save the day, at least in the eyes of some. He had spent years in the cold grass, among insects that were very fond of biting. If he had a home, it was the wilderness, and if he had company, it was the stars.
Yet, he was not the only one who was used to untamed roads in the lands of Baltaire. Apart from wandering merchants and religious pilgrims, some bards, those without luck most of the time, could easily be seen roaming around in the stoneless roads, going from town to town to perform their art in the hope of making some coins. Knights with no one to serve would wander in the land too, seeking a lord to join his services, traveling through lands touched by war to fight in battles the causes of which were alien to them, only to get paid.
But apart from them, the wilderness of Baltaire mostly belonged to those not governed by law. Outlaws, cutthroats, deserters, escaped prisoners, mercenaries without a morsel of morality, men-at-arms that had gone rogue, and all kinds of scum. The reign of King Philippe was a prosperous one with the divine blessing of peace, yet it was not pervasive enough to cover all wounds of the realm. The lands of Baltaire were flourishing and fertile, perhaps the most fertile lands in all Bralon. But still, it was paying the price of the cruel past with its blood.
Nevertheless, the stranger was not entirely deprived of comfort during his endless travels, even when he was out of coins. In the last few years, that exponentially increasing fame of his, caused by his unignorably heroic deeds and praiseworthy bravery, had significantly helped his relations with the common folk all along Baltaire. And most of the time, for a traveler like him, good relations with the possible hosts meant a comfortable bed to spend the night in and fresh stew, all for free. In some villages, some peasants would even struggle to decide who would open their house to him. The stranger could not deny he liked the advantages that came with his fame, and even though he was not one who liked to attract attention, he was glad to have it. Yet this time, it made him question if the fame was doing more bad than good, since his fame was solely responsible for the existence of his current problem, the reason why he was riding for Gannadár.
Now, after traveling for days on the dangerous paths claimed by wild animals and even worse bandits, there was only a thin layer of mist between him and Gannadár. Finally, it is there.
The horse neighed aggressively, exhausted from the journey that conquered even the smallest part of his powerful body. The stranger patted his head as an apology for pushing his limits all the way, and after the animal was finally able to calm down, he rode him through the mist. As he came closer to the town, the fog slowly dissipated, and Gannadár showed her real face to him. Gannadár was not only the name of the castle that was held by the house of Gannát. It was also the name of the small town that lay under the castle’s shadow.
The castle was not the mightiest in Baltaire. Situated on a high slope overlooking the town, it consisted only of a small keep, and three towers that rose above it. Yet for a lowborn, every single castle was impressive enough, no matter how many he had seen. With his eyes, the Stranger perused Gannadár a little bit more. The town did not have walls nor any kind of defense. Apart from a few that circled the town’s center, its roads lacked proper paving. And unlike most of the towns in south Baltaire, Gannadár did not have those famous green rooftops on its houses. Just like most of the northern areas of the country. In the North, people did not have the luxury to color their buildings.
Generally, Gannadár was in peaceful silence, only disturbed by the barks of passing street dogs. I wonder if it’s always like that, the stranger wondered while still riding towards the town. Yet, just as he passed under the town’s entrance gate, a warning voice blared in the darkness:
“Halt! Dismount your horse!”
The stranger followed the order quickly and slowed down. He dismounted his horse and grabbed his reins, and then started to walk towards the voice. In the darkness, a small spark flickered. It belonged to a torch carried by a guardsman, wearing the red-white colors of Gannát on a chain mail and a light gambeson. He had a kettle helmet on his head, displaying his ugly face with pockmarks. The guardsman approached the stranger, his armored boots clanking with every step he took, and attempted to prevent him from approaching the town any further.
“What are you doing here this late? The honest folk is at their beds at this hour!” He had a disturbingly deep, throaty voice, almost as if he had Red Syphilis.
“I am a traveler, coming from a long way,” the stranger replied. “I have been riding here from Ferenaon for days. I need somewhere to rest and spend the night.”
The man cautiously examined the stranger for a while before speaking again. “Well, you don’t seem like trouble, apart from . . .” he pointed at the stranger’s sword in its sheath and added ironically, “that sword of yours.”
“Do you really expect me to travel alone without steel?” the stranger said. “You know, roads are swarming with brigands these days, and they seem to know how to kill, especially the unarmed travelers.”
“Yeah, the same old story all the time. Why don’t you say this to Old Gelon’s face? You can’t because he lost both of his ears to a knife-wielding thief with the same words as yours, just last week.”
It will be harder than I thought. “What do you want me to do?” The stranger aggressively showed his sword to the guard. “Shatter it to the pieces? If I were a bandit, I would have already stuck this sword into your chest, rather than getting into this meaningless discussion.”
The guardsman seemed to be impressed with the stranger’s move, as his expression changed quickly. “Okay, okay. You may enter, but just don’t bring trouble with yourself. We have had enough of it recently.” He turned his face and looked in another direction for a moment. “And about the bed, we have three taverns in Gannadár, but unfortunately, one of them had to close its keeps after the innkeeper lost all of his wealth to a Utornian gambler. If you have enough coin, the “Crimson Horse” would be my first choice among the other two, as they always have a clean sheet and red wine in there.”
“And if I don’t have much?”
“Then you have to go to the ‘the Wedding Wench’. It’s just next to that well.” He pointed in the direction of the inn with his index finger. “It also has stables. They can put your horse up there.”
“The Wedding Wench? That’s quite an interesting name.” The stranger said. I have seen more interesting ones, though.
“The innkeeper is interesting too. Unless you ask him for an extra drink, then he becomes the biggest shitboy in all Baltaire!”
The stranger thanked the guard for his help and started to move in the direction that he had pointed. Then, suddenly he realized that he had one more question to ask the guardsman, a more important one.
“Wait!” the stranger called to the leaving guardsman. “In recent days, have you seen a bard hailing from the capital? Blue velvet clothes, wavy black hair, clean-shaved face, short of height?”
The guardsman halted for a moment, to think better. “No, but I heard folk talking about someone like him. I don’t know how he looks, but some said a bard from the south was roaming around, especially in taverns. You should ask Unwin about it.”
“Unwin?”
“The innkeeper I talked about.” Guardsman exhaled, creating a small ball of vapor in the air.
The stranger thanked the man for the last time and started to walk towards the well in
the town center, in the darkness of the night. After a short walk, he arrived at the well, and as the guardsman had said before, ‘the Wedding Wench’ stood beside it. Despite its small structure, it appeared to be full of people, as their voices were heard from the streets outside.
The stranger walked to the inn’s stables, one hand holding his horse’s bridle, the other his nose, to keep off the stench of droppings. The stable was lit by a torch, providing just enough visibility to avoid stepping on them.
Even though it could be considered large, the stables only accommodated a few horses: four brown stained Calléstone stallions, and a grey maned mare. The stranger looked around to see if there was a stableboy to help him there, but he found none, so he stationed his
horse himself, among the others. Then, he exited the stables and made his way to the inn’s main hall.
Opening the heavy wooden door, he saw that he was right about his thoughts before. The so-called “Wedding Wench” was a packed inn full of joyful voices. Gamblers and wastrels were enjoying themselves drinking the inn’s poor-quality liquor and discussing unimportant matters. All kinds of card games were being played on the inn’s wooden tables, games that had created riches and poverty, destroying families, businesses, and lives.
