Page one: The agreement
Bright red orbs looked up from folded, naked hands to admire the scenery that passed by as the clouds sluggishly made its way up the mountainside. The sun was slowly yielding to the upcoming nightfall--casting a blood-red brilliance upon the clouds and sky. To the young man, it was one of the most beautiful and fitting sunsets he’d ever seen. It was certainly enough to take his mind off the matters of state. Every creature breathed and each creature existed amid this large and blooming capital. Candidly to them, the denizens culminated there, did one frame lurk, its limbs coiled up, mildly tense, though unafraid of the foreboding shadow.
He stood at the top of a large balcony, naked flesh exposed to the cold air, not bothering him in the slightest. A small runic symbol on his right neck marked him as the blood, the leading caste of this little… empire. For as long as his people could remember, his kind had been the one in charge. Only the foundations of this keep knew of another time before his kind, before their power.
He brought his slender frame to one of the mirrors in his chambers, glancing at the expression. One might have guessed his height around five feet, give or take a few inches. His white hair danced in the wind, a vile imitation of containing sentient life. The youth vaguely remembered having dark brown hair before he escaped from humanity, part of the curse that affected his family.
He brought his digits to his ears as he brushed a few strands of hair away from them, feeling the pointed tips. His ancestor had been one of the To’kra, or Ancient ones as commoners called themselves now. Although most of his form came from his human ancestry he did have some Ancient traits, mostly giving his body more ‘youthful’ touch and exotic features. He slid his frame in the expensive dark silk, feeling it slide against his skin. He carefully wrapped a small thin piece of cloth around his middle, fastening the garb.
Grabbing the large black cloak and wrapping it around his frame, he brought the hood upwards, shielding his hair and face. The hood alone brought enough darkness to hide his face, yet he placed another item there. A thin mask was placed over his face, lined with thin lines of silver, shielding his features from commoner’s eyes. The mask itself held no enhancement or enchantment besides the occasional grease for polishing. Sliding two twin silver daggers behind his sash, he left the room, stepping into darkness. He tried to remember why darkness and shadows gave him a comforting feeling.
First in line for to the eternal throne, heir to the realm, Prince Lancius Oridium. The young man actually hated the titles and long fancy name, preferring to call himself Lance. The change into ‘godhood’ had happened twenty years ago. He was human then, only displaying the soft pointed ears and fair skin. When the change took him he was bed ridden for weeks, young body thrashing as the torment of magic assaulted his frame again and again. His hair was drained of colour and his brown eyes changed into a bright red. He was no longer human on that day, nor would he ever be again.
He seemingly stepped out of the shadow in his chambers, taking his place on a large throne carved out of single piece of marble. He smiled gently as he noticed a game board sitting on a small display stand next to the throne. A single white stone was placed in the middle of the field, surrounded by grey pieces on all fronts. Behind that sea of grey was single black piece of stone, cracked. He heard the door open, casting a dim light in his chambers. He slid the black piece towards the white one in the centre as he pondered. He was quite fascinated with games, would his visitor?
Lance eyed the tall warrior as he stepped in the room. He moved with a cats grace and looked as calm as any knight that was rewarded with first rank. He seemed to seconds away from tearing out peoples throat and at the same time dance the most delicate dance with a maiden. Lance found it fascinating how they could simply ooze that confidence and power. He basked in the man’s glory as he held out his right hand, signalling him to move closer. While magic was an everyday occurrence in the capital, and a rarity in most nations, it did have significant disadvantages. A large spell or incantation required long and tedious channelling from multiple mages. Most people who were magically sensitive used other means to strengthen their channelling. Some used potions others crystals. There was even an unusual fellow who used a long wooden stick and called it a ‘wand’. Funny really. While most of the capital was run by normal manual labour some elements of magic were being used, it was a weak yet stable process. The ancient ones were different, capable of engulfing entire cities in fire or draining oceans. Legend spoke off their might, claiming it matched that of the creator itself. Although the Oridium was technically a half breed, people still assumed they could match the powers that the creators had. Lance eyed the young warrior as he watched his expression. The warrior spoke the words to his ‘god’ and left the room quickly, never once making eye contact, knowing it was not his place.
Although this was technically an empire, and the Oridium ruled it, many nations were housed under it. The Oridium simply ruled by name and occasionally issues decrees. Nations still went to war and countries would rise and fall due to this. The Oridium only intervened when a nation was growing and conquering out of control, or at the behest of a smaller nation that was nearly being wiped out. The person waiting in the next room was a representative of such a small nation, a speaker of its people. He or she would ask a god to protect their lands and people, yet it came at the cost. The god had the right to choose what he wanted and when he wanted it, this in exchange for salvation of an entire nation. A small bell rang to signal the visitor the god was ready to be seen him now.
How would the representative react when basking in the presence of the god sitting at that throne, clad in darkness whilst orbs of fire watched from behind his mask, peering into the person’s very soul.