Genesis of War: The Realm of Areon Book 1

by R. T. Cole

  “You need to get over the past and think about the future,” Paxton said with finality. He took another large sip from his glass, leaving Rudi bewildered and waiting for him to elaborate further.

  “That’s it?” Rudi asked. “Tell me, Pax, what part of my past should I get over? My 12th birthday where my father made it perfectly clear that I could never become a knight, because of my lineage? My 18th birthday when my brothers took me to The Sly Shrew, handing me off to a woman like I didn’t know what to do?”

  Pax looked confused. “But, that was your first time.”

  “That’s not the point, Pax,” Rudi said, shaking his head. “The point is that my family has always treated me as if I’m just here.” He needed to finish his ale before making his point. “Look at me, Pax. I’m over 30 and have never been given something important to do, other than to sit in on meetings that my father and brothers could’ve taken care of if I wasn’t there.” He noticed Pax’s silence as his friend nodded knowingly, and appreciated the lack of a quip for once. “My birthday has always reminded me that I’ll never be given any responsibility, and I’ll never have the opportunity to prove myself to my house,” Rudi said with sadness.

  “I know you’ve always been a dreamer, Rudi,” Pax said. “But, I meant what I said about thinking of the future.” Shaking his head, he had just noticed that the two of them had empty glasses in front of them. “Barkeep! Two more!” he yelled. As two more glasses of ale were delivered, he finished what he was saying. “You need to stand up for what you want to do. Talk to your father. Try talking to your brothers. Have your mother talk to your father; if there’s anything that you can do for the family, I’m sure if you speak up, they will listen.”

  Rudi realized that sometimes, even when he knew he was talking to his best friend, he was talking to a knight, and he was a man who would always help others in need. Rudi remembered the scenario in which Paxton received his knighthood. The two of them were 19 years old. The raven-haired Paxton had been living with the Palidors since he was seven, as he was sent from his home in Triton to train in the capital to become a knight one day. They had become great friends while Paxton served as squire to Rudi’s father, the Prince of the East. During this time, there was a fair in the streets of their city, and Rudi’s father, Vandal Palidor, was the guest of honor. The day was filled with music and celebration, and Vandal took the time to roam the streets and greet the citizens. Rudi and Pax were having a good time as well, but Pax remained alert, in case anyone posed a threat to the Prince. This would prove to be the time when Paxton needed to show his worth, as he noticed a man in the crowd that Vandal was about to approach. This man was the only one not smiling, cheering, or otherwise enjoying his time like any of the others. It happened fast; the man reached into his robe to brandish a dagger, while Paxton drew the sword from Vandal’s scabbard and pushed the Prince out of the way. The man in the crowd lunged toward the Prince, but Paxton took the man’s arm off with the sword. Guards swarmed the now one-armed man and arrested him for the assassination attempt. They found out later that the man was someone Vandal had thrown in the dungeon for being a thief, just a few years before that day. It ended up being an interesting story of irony amongst the people, that the man who was once arrested for thievery had his arm taken from him years after the crime. Vandal had, of course, thanked Paxton for saving his life, and knighted him the very next day; and Paxton became Ser Paxton Korba, Knight of Angelia. Rudi never forgot the look in his friend’s eyes that day.

  Rudi smiled and said, “Thank you, Pax. You’ve always been a true friend.”

  “Alright, don’t go getting all soft on me, your Lordship.” Paxton said with his hand in front of him, as if motioning Rudi to stop.

  The two men laughed and began to drink out of the glasses in front of them, immediately beginning a competition to see who could finish their ale first.

  “You boys and your contests,” said a voice from behind them. Paxton was caught off guard and had to stop drinking, while Rudi finished his glass. “Besides, it isn’t a true contest unless I’m in on it. Barkeep! A round for the three of us!” said the woman. She embraced the two men and then sat down next to Pax.

  “Ashra!” Paxton said in a shocked, but happy, tone. “What are you doing here?”

  Ashra stared at Pax with an annoyed look on her face. “Nice to see you too,” she said. Pax immediately felt embarrassed at his lack of subtlety. “How are you, Rudi?” she asked.

  Rudi hadn’t seen Ashra for a few months, not since she and her father had come to Angelia to visit with his grandfather, King Victor. Ashra’s father, Lord Abacus Argon of Triton, had been friends with Victor for many years, but hadn’t come for a visit in a long time. Triton was always a busy city to rule over, being one of the only places for ships to port in Areon; the only difference between their port and the other three in the world, was that the entire city of Triton was one large port. It was understood that the city saw more ships and goods come through than the other ports combined.

  Rudi remembered the moment that his grandfather saw Lord Abacus walk into the throne room. King Victor was known for being a kind and just ruler, but the way he smiled and laughed as he embraced his friend “Abe”, was something that Rudi never forgot. It reminded him of his friendship with Pax and Ashra, and how they seemed to be better people when they were around each other. Victor and Abe were both much older men, pushing into their late 80s and early 90s, but you’d never know it by the way they reminisced and spoke of their adventures together. They were, in fact, two of the Heroes of The Sorcerer’s War, having defeated the former West King, Magor, at his fortress in Zenithor 60 years prior. Throughout the entire night that Abe and Ashra stayed in the castle of Angelia, Victor and Abe regaled everyone with the legendary tale and how they, and all of their companions, fit into the story. It was a wonderful night for all.

  Rudi missed that feeling terribly, so he was very glad to be sitting next to his two best friends in The Tavern, and just enjoying their company. “I’ve never been better, Ashra,” he said with a genuine smile on his face. “Although, Pax and I were just discussing what I could do to better my future.” Rudi said as he motioned toward Pax.

  Ashra tilted her head and glared at Pax, still playfully wounded from the way Pax greeted her earlier. “You still think you know what’s best for our friend, huh?” she said to Pax with a smirk on her face. Ashra was wearing the traditional armor of her house, a green, scaled mail with a golden trident on the chest, which is what she preferred to dressing like a lady most of the time. She wasn’t carrying her helmet with her, so she let her long, curly blonde hair flow, which Pax seemed to notice right away.

  Pax gazed at her with a longing that seemed to last a lifetime. He couldn’t help how he felt, but knew in his heart that Ashra didn’t feel the same way about him. That never stopped him from trying though.

  “I know what’s best in many issues, Ashra,” he said with a grin. “I know that you and I haven’t had quality time together since I lived in Triton. How long are you in Angelia for?”

  She put her hand on his cheek and said, “Oh, Pax. Always the funny one.” Completely oblivious to his advances, she ignored his question and started to drink her glass of ale, finishing it within a few seconds. Failing to notice Paxton’s look of disappointment, she got up and said, “I told you boys time and time again: You’ll never be able to outdrink this lady.”

  Rudi and Pax gave each other a look as if they were both not surprised. Ashra had always been one for a contest, and one to always win those contests. Before she could reach the door, however, she turned toward them. “By the way, Rudi,” and with another smirk, she said, “Happy Birthday.” Rudi’s face turned into a frown. Just like Pax, Ashra was also keenly aware of Rudi’s indifference towards his birthday, but she liked to make jokes of it. She turned towards the door again, and with a wave, she yelled, “See you at the feast!”

  Damn it, Rudi thought to himself as he began drinking his ale ag
ain.

  Preparing a feast was no small task. Keeping track of all the guests, the amount of food and cooks, as well as the entertainment, was enough to make a King lose their mind. Luckily, the King was in no condition to have a part in Rudimere’s birthday feast. No, the plans fell to his son, Prince Vandal, to make the arrangements. But, the Prince had delegated the rest of the duties to his wife, Serena, because he needed to visit his father.

  Vandal was a tall, naturally built man with a full head of brown hair that also had a touch of gray. For a man who was almost 60, it always surprised him that he still had all of that hair. No wonder Serena stuck with me for so long, he would often jokingly think to himself. He also wore a full set of white armor with a long blue cloak attached; the cloak, which almost reached the ground, had an imprint of a large white steed on it. Normally, he would walk through the castle halls in regular attire, but knew that his hosting duties for the feast would require him to put on his armor anyway. Of course, a small part of him thought that it would be best to visit his father in this fashion, as he was always attempting to live up to the legendary King Victor of Angelia.

  Vandal arrived at his father’s room, the King’s room, and most likely, the place where the great King would soon pass away. Victor was over 90 years old and quickly fading into the afterlife, as Vandal and the rest of the family had noticed. Though, in an effort to remain strong in the eyes of their people, Victor’s frailty was not made public.

  The moment Vandal stepped into the room, his father’s eyes lit up. “My son!” the King said with a huge smile on his face.

  This almost brought Vandal to tears, but he remained steady, smiled back, and said, “Hello, Father.” He walked over to his father’s bedside, leaned over and hugged him. Every time he visited, Vandal would think how this might be the last time he would give his father a hug, and this time was no different. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  The King gave a half-smile. “Old,” he said. “Apparently too old to miss my grandson’s birthday feast.”

  “Rudimere is a grown man, Father. He’s not a child anymore. Even if he does still act like it at times,” Vandal said with a hint of disappointment in his voice. He had been hard on his youngest son, he knew that, but it was because his two oldest sons never complained about their place in the world, or constantly dreamt of something bigger all the time. “Honestly, Father,” he began, “why can’t Rudi be more like Thasus and Andemar and just do his duty?”

  Victor looked at him and said, “You’ve never even given him a chance to fulfill any duties to this House.” He tried sitting up as he started to get more serious about the conversation, but he began to cough uncontrollably. Vandal attempted to help his father in some way, but Victor yelled at him. “I’m fine! No, leave me be, Vandal! You need to hear this!” Vandal retreated into his seat, putting his hands up in defeat. Victor gave Vandal an earful and said, “We both know I could only do so much when it came to my grandchildren, so it was all on you and Serena to raise them…the way a Palidor should be raised.” When the words came out, there was an amount of pride to them that the King clearly alluded to, but Vandal shook his head.

  “Our family is different than most, Father,” he said sadly. “We have much to live up to. We have a legacy to strengthen.” He shook his head again and said, “But, Rudi dreams. He dreams of proving himself each and every day. All I can do is keep telling him that he must honor his family and keep the Palidor line going.”

  “There’s more to family than just starting your own, Vandal,” Victor said knowingly. “Need I remind you of my encounter with Magor?”

  Vandal knew that his father’s wisdom was unchallenged, but he had heard this story a dozen times, sometimes even with different parts to it. “Yes, Father, I know all about how you, Abe, and Maven Brock were the last to have fought against The Demon Sorcerer. I know that you lost companions on the mission, and I know that you were wounded in the end, before Maven took Magor’s head.”

  The King ignored Vandal’s disrespect and looked down at the large scar on his forearm. “It still hurts, you know; even to this day,” he said, off-topic. “But, it’s a reminder of the strength and will of a small group of friends who, by that fateful day, considered each other family.” Victor sat up just a little bit more and continued, “You see, my son, life is not just about what you do for your family’s honor, it’s about how you find that honor to begin with.”

  “The war is over, Father,” Vandal reminded him. “The kind of honor you speak of cannot be found during a time of peace.”

  “There will always be wars, son. And during war, sometimes you need to rely on more than things like royalty and titles and bowing and courtesy towards Lords. Strength and honor is found amongst brothers and sisters-in-arms, as well as the family within your own House.” Victor lied back down, feeling exhausted. “Never forget that, son. And don’t hesitate to give Rudi the responsibility to go out and find his own strength.”

  Vandal nodded, as he looked at his father. Once again, he could feel a tremendous amount of sadness, knowing the inevitable would happen sooner rather than later, but he also felt very proud to have Victor as his father.

  A moment later, there was knock at the door that had a sense of urgency to it. “We’re not to be disturbed!” Vandal said in a raised voice.

  “My Prince, troubling news from the West!” the messenger yelled back.

  Prince Vandal sighed and said, “Come in.” The messenger entered the room, eyes bulging white. “Out with it, soldier. What news?” Vandal asked.

  “My Prince…” the messenger began in shock, “Woodhaven has fallen.”

  Vandal stood up at once, while the King simply closed his eyes and shook his head, knowing full well who was responsible.

  Chapter 3

  THE NEW KING

  Dirt climbed higher and higher as the black horse galloped. The animal had its work cut out for him today, as the speed in which the rider wanted was more than the horse ever attempted before. The rider wanted to deliver the good news to his people sooner rather than later: Woodhaven was his and he was now a King.

  Before long, the King of the West and his horse approached the gates of Zenithor. Well-known to be almost completely impenetrable, the fortress stood upon a slightly raised hill in the darkest corner of the West. In years’ past, many had tried to ambush Zenithor from the sea, but they were always driven back and slaughtered for their troubles; hence, why the Western sea was named the Crimson Sea, as it most likely housed thousands of corpses at the bottom of its treacherous waters. As the gates opened with their long, drawn-out entry process, Kelbain remembered a time when Zenithor was not so impenetrable.

  His father, Magor, The Demon Sorcerer, had waged war on all of Areon decades ago. During the final battle on the fields outside Zenithor, Magor stayed in his quarters, believing that the war had already been won. A cocky outlook led to his downfall, while Kelbain himself had been defeated at Woodhaven by the joint efforts of their enemies. Kelbain barely escaped with his life and was forced to uphold a peace with the other families of Areon. He never understood why they let him live, but believed that his age played a factor in their decision at the time, as he was only 16 when leading his father’s army.

  It was a rare gift, to have prolonged life, and he had his father to thank for it, but it also meant that waiting to seek revenge would feel like an eternity. Woodhaven was just the beginning, he thought to himself as he passed through the gates. He knew that word of Prastor’s death would spread quickly, and that he would have to act fast if he was to enact his plan. Dismounting his horse, Kelbain walked directly into the great hall, noting to himself that his father would’ve been proud of him that day. As he moved closer towards his seat, he noticed someone else sitting there, arms outstretched while house-servants adjusted the sleeves of the man’s robes.

  “No, no, no. Fool! Do you think that the people want to see their Prince so disheveled?” the man said as he ridiculed the servants. />
  Already calling himself “Prince”, Kelbain thought to himself, displeased. The new King stopped in front of his seat and stared at his son. He waited until Zane finally decided to look up at him and acknowledge his presence before speaking first. “You can get up now, Zane,” he said with an icy tone.

  Zane looked almost as if he wanted to refuse the order. He quickly dismissed the idea and said, “Of course, Father.” He rose from the seat of Zenithor and walked towards Kelbain, trailed by his servants. “Out!” he yelled at the servants as he waived them away. When he stood before his father, he stretched out his hand in mutual respect and congratulations. “Well done, Father,” he began, “the West is finally ours.”

  Kelbain smiled through his teeth at the arrogance of his son’s comment. He grasped Zane’s arm and accepted the gesture. “Mine,” he stated. “I am King. The West is mine.”

  Zane pressed his lips to keep him from speaking out of turn, as he was constantly used to. Faking a smile and releasing his arm from Kelbain, he attempted to appeal to his father. “Of course… my King,” Zane said as he bowed slightly. Kelbain proceeded to sit in his chair, while Zane narrowed his eyes in contempt.

  “You give yourself away, boy,” Kelbain said. “You want to know what the future holds for Woodhaven,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Zane wasn’t surprised at his father’s intuition. “Father, now that Woodhaven has rightfully fallen into your hands, it should be ruled by someone who can command half of your army. With the King of the West ruling in Zenithor, the Prince of the West should be ruling Woodhaven,” he stated.

  Kelbain sighed and tilted his head back. “Must we discuss this again, Zane?” he asked, tired of the subject. “I left behind a trusted garrison to prepare the city until a ruler of my choosing is appointed.”

  Zane wasn’t going to win this battle, but he made a note to himself that it would be addressed again soon. “As you wish, my King,” he said with some hesitation. “But, if I am to remain here, you must have a word with that future queen of yours,” he said scathingly.