Rylaen

inhale. exhale. breathe. inhale. exhale. breathe. except you can not; you do not know why, but you can not. you grapple at the air and you try to pull it in but nothing works. your lungs refuse it. they cough and hack it back out and violently you sputter and gag as the once sweet gas that gave you life now refuses to provide you with any benefit whatsoever. like it has betrayed you. stabbed you in the back. or, rather, in the lungs in this case. inhale. exhale. breathe. inhale. exhale. breathe.    you are struggling against the air as it denies you your right. oddly enough, the image of childbirth comes to you, and the feeling is remi

All's Fair in Love and War C h a p t e r 1 Humble Beginnings War is never a tidy thing. It leaves in its aftermath the tangles of destroyed lives, families, and countries, never serving the people but instead obliterating all that those people know. War, to some, is simply not understandable. They would rather gather in the cities with their preachers and declare killing is never the way to peace, that war in itself is a paradox that can never truly make sense. War, to some, is a way of living. They loot, burn, rape, kill, and repeat the process all over again, and in that manner they provide for themselves and their families, if they

All's Fair in Love and War C h a p t e r 2 Dinner and a Show A breeze drifted by the field of flowers, carrying the ever sweet aroma of vanilla and chocolate-scented herbs. Two small boys ran through the flowers, laughing and calling to one another. There was a cottage back there, too, with a kindly woman standing at the door, smiling to the children; beside her stood a gruff, but friendly-appearing man. Together they watched the boys play and run with each other. "Ry!" the black-haired lad called to the one with brown hair. "Who's that?" his childish voice squeaked. The other boy looked at his friend, and then to where his small fing

All's Fair in Love and War C h a p t e r 3 Eight Towers It was not early the next morning when Rylaen Vyctoren woke; in fact, it had to have been near the lunching hour. Ry confirmed his thoughts when he glanced out of his window and saw what looked to be numerous picnics scattered, dotted like little tiny civilizations all across the castle fields. So it seems they picnic here at the castle like we used to do in the country. It was all he could do to not smile. He remembered every outing he, his brother, and his parents went on together; he also regretted the fact that they could never happen again. A soft knock sounded on the large woo

All's Fair in Love and War C h a p t e r 4 A Nation's Last Stand A week had passed since Rylaen and Jedediah's last spar, and thus they were gathered with yet another group of onlookers who saw the two getting suited up at the armory for a duel. Within the past week, the ceremony of adoption had taken place; Rylaen was officially a son of King Erhuidt, practically a prince, but on Ry's incessant insistence, the king permitted him to remain with the title of knight. He'd become fairly accustomed now to life at the castle, and the last thing he needed was soldiers saluting to him in the halls, attendants bowing every five feet. In essen

All's Fair in Love and War C h a p t e r 5 Blood-red Rivers The igniting chaos that burst to life when the Larsan and Velian armies clashed made Jedediah feel at home. His home, his country, his battle, and his sword in hand, he began to slay victim after victim. Being the master-at-arms meant he usually only got to train greenhorns, and rarely did a battle come to him. This was where he belonged, in the fray. Rylaen, however, felt out of place, but he knew what to do with a sword and shield in hand. And now, it seemed as though there was something recognizable about the noise; in fact, the smell, sight, and even the thought of witnessi

All's Fair in Love and War C h a p t e r 6 Negotiations It was to be made sure that the messenger of Velia was treated with the utmost kindness and respect as a demonstration that peace was at hand, and so it was done. Emperor Cain Velia was to be expected in the morning to begin the negotiations, for which Erhuidt was simply ecstatic; the Four Years War, as it was already being called, was finally coming to a close. Larsus would no longer have to fight for the right to survive and prosper on lands that had been theirs since the dawn of the kingdom. Erhuidt, though he was tired, remained awake, unable to sleep; the excitement he felt at

All's Fair in Love and War C h a p t e r 7 A Patriot's Duty It was a bright, sunny day in Damarius, a small border-village of Larsus. Bright by definition of light, that is; the lives of the inhabitants were anything but; however, ignoring this, the sun shone on as it always had. The wars were never as prosperous for simple-folk as they were for nobility, and the borders of the country suffered the worst: they would be the first to come under control of the foreigners, the first to suffer the brutality of the occupying army. Damarius was no exception. Most of the city guard had been transferred from Damarius to the Larsan army to

All's Fair in Love and War C h a p t e r 8 The Eighth Tower For a month life had been, in all aspects, improving on the grounds of Castle Sleipnir—and not only there, but in Ester, and throughout the lands of Larsus. It wasn't denied, either, that life in Velia was becoming better as well—which was only testament to the inhabitants of both countries that the end of the war was for the best of everyone. The affairs of the royal family lost a grand amount of tension, as well, as there was no longer a war hinging on their every decision. Matters once again became the usual issues of state and city, and the separate countries were

All's Fair in Love and War C h a p t e r 9 Intervention Black stone corridors intertwined for what seemed to be miles. He could have gone about this all quicker, but he felt like walking; walking cleared his head; walking helped him think of how he would tell his younger brothers what was happening and what had to be done. They would take the proceeding events well, he figured; there was not much else they could do. Many of them grew impatient, though. Ezekiel did not know why. There was nothing else in their world but time to be had. He passed each of his six brothers' rooms, the thick wooden doors barring his entrance and sight; the

Matikz stood atop the building over looking Renaissance Center. He still wore he armor except for his helmet which lay a few feet away. He looked out over the city and reflected on the last few days. Wednesday had been his date with Piper which had, in his mind at least, gone wonderfully. The only good point in the last few days. He hadn't talked to Piper since that night and worried she would think he ran from her or had been lying about wanting to be with her. The truth of the matter was something else all together. Something in him had clicked. Yeah he'd been doing the hero thing for the last few months but he had been by no means the most