PROLOGUE: A Kingdom Ablaze​ - The Sanguine Arts [ANNO: 1623] (2024)

PROLOGUE: A Kingdom Ablaze​

07.13.1623​

Bycrest.

The clamour of bloodied beasts, the thunderous rasp of iron upon iron, the roar of cannons and the barbarous shouts of war echoed throughout the capital. Inhuman discord filled the air. All around was nothing but a whirlwind of violence, confusion and disorder, a blur of despairing colour and vicious motion.

War; A bloody brawl of men clashing savagely in alleyways, on muddy roads and cobblestone streets. Their blades cut through flesh like a reaper's scythe in a field of harvest. Their throats, parched and panting, inhaled the dust-laden air mingled with the bitter tang of iron and copper. Deafening—blood pounded in their ears, drumming to a ferocious beat beneath their helmets.

Hertalean invaders, marked by the draconic emblems of their lineages, breached the fortress of Maira with the aid of treachery, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake as they sought the downfall of the Algrian royal stronghold. Yet, the defenders of Algria fought back with valour, though the prolonged battles and the weight of their arms began to wear upon their mortal frames. Still, they pressed on, determined to reclaim what was lost, their spirits unyielding against the onslaught of their foes.

Far off in the distance, perched upon the ramparts of another bastion, stood a commanding duke, clad in bloodstained armour the colour of night, his steely gaze fixed upon the battlefield. He sat astride a majestic black steed, the late autumn breeze tousling his hair as sweat traced lines down his face, stinging at his eyes like tiny vipers.

"It seems we continue to lose ground, Your Majesty," Duke Aden spoke with a gruffness that matched the harshness of the conflict, his voice cold and unyielding as he surveyed the rising smoke in the distance. "The city watch, even bolstered by the King's Guard and my finest men, cannot hold Bastion Trost. The same fate awaits Sina and Rose. Reports speak of scant powder remaining in the armoury, our cannons soon to fall silent. It is but a matter of time before our enemies breach our defences."

Beside the duke, a younger man, likely in his thirties, sat upon a white steed, his weariness evident as he gazed upon the battleground before him. King Leonard, his armour gleaming like silver, turned his gaze from the grim scenery to meet the duke's, a sense of resignation settling upon his features.

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"Indeed," the king agreed solemnly. "I never envisioned such a dire outcome, my brother."

"Nor I, Your Majesty," the duke concurred.

A silence, heavy with contemplation, hung between them.

"Aden."

"Speak your thoughts, Sire."

Another pause, briefer this time, before the king spoke again, his tone laced with resignation.

"Flee," he commanded. "Take my heir and Queen and flee. The tunnels to the west; my beloved knows of them. She will guide you."

"This? Your Majesty-"

"Aden. Please."

The sovereign turned away, a pained smile touching his lips as he faced the onslaught once more. A gust of wind stirred his hair, and for the briefest of moments, time appeared frozen in place.

"This is the consequence of my own folly, a trial I must face alone, bound by oath and duty," Leonard sighed heavily. "There is no merit in dragging those I hold dear into this turmoil. This burden is mine to bear."

Aden met the king's gaze, his resolve unwavering.

"If this is your decree, Your Majesty, then I shall obey," the duke affirmed, nudging his steed as he prepared to depart.

"But remember this, Leonard..." With his back still to the king, Aden spoke again, his words heavy with meaning.

"What is it?" the king inquired, facing his loyal companion once more.

"Stay alive. Should you fall―"

"Fear not," Leonard interrupted with a rueful chuckle. "This king is not so easily vanquished. Go now, brother. May the ancestors be with you."

With that Duke Aden left his liege and sworn brother behind to his fate.

Disclosable information:

• 07.13.1623S.T. (The seventh day of the thirteenth month, Aten, of the Year 1623. Symfora Telos.)
• Bastion wall/fort- The Bastion Fort is a fortification in a style that evolved during the early modern period of gunpowder when the cannon came to dominate the battlefield. It was first seen in the first half of the century shortly after the introduction of gunpowder weapons in Verum, Anno.