Blood Sweat and Tears

This story is rated PG-13 for intense language, brief violence and suggestive scenes.

Chapter 1
Pale red light, tinged with golden vibes, shone down and became half-hidden by the flickering shadows. It was an epic of light and darkness, mortal and non-mortal, good and evil. But the true meaning and beauty was lost upon the lone explorer.

Crynthion shaded his eyes against the blinding light slightly tempered by the dark shadows. He understood little of what it could mean, except that it must be a truly amazing place that he had stumbled on. That was what took over the man's mind: greed, lust, jealousy. Indeed, spiraling in Crynthion's head at that moment was whether he should call forth the troops that he had behind him, to claim the land for the Esyonian empire, or if rather he should figure out a way to claim it for himself. He was so occupied with toying with either idea that he hardly noticed that he was still moving across the land of light and darkness. Soon it would be too late for Crynthion to turn back to his troops. Far too late. And the man would merely become an insignificant memory in the land of Esyonia, just another who had most mysteriously disappeared on that fateful expedition. Crynthion would not be the only man to be allured into the land of light and darkness; he would just be the first one: in a sense, the reason for Esyonia's downfall.

But Crynthion knew nothing of this; his thoughts were bent on the shallow beauty of the land he was traveling in. If he had been a man of any true knowledge, he would have turned back right then and prayed to his god to deliver him safely back to his troops, where he would, if by some lucky chance returned safely, hastily hurry his troops back to Esyonia where they would never be bothered by that which they had no knowledge of- but as it was, Crynthion continued through the land. He took one last step before the land showed him the terrible power that lay in it. The light suddenly extinguished completely, as quickly as though someone had suddenly snuffed a candle out.

Finally, Crynthion halted, his greedy thoughts of power and conquest vanishing as he stood there in amazement, confusion, and most of all fear. The fact that he should leave quickly dawned upon Crynthion, and he started to run. But he realized that he had no idea which way he was running, the man had lost all sense of direction- for all he knew he was running forward instead of back to his troops, or vice versa. Such was the intent of the darkness, to confound any who dared to trespass on this sacred land, belonging to the most fearsome creatures that man on this planet would ever make.

Crynthion was still blindly running, panic taking over what sense he had left. Suddenly a blinding light came to his eyes; upon closing them, Crynthion immediately blacked out and knew no more. He did not realize that a small tornado was hovering above his unconcious body, whirling Cyrnthion up into its heart. He was borne higher and higher- until it disappeared altogether, taking with it the man trapped inside.

When Crynthion came to, he got up with some small struggle and looked around him. He seemed to be in the same place that he was before, though the light had now returned. Gazing at his surroundings, Crynthion saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then he looked up and saw the two monstrous beasts standing over him.

=-=-=

The castle was large, looming over its kingdom like a mother hen watching protectively over her chicks. The castle grounds covered a fair amount of area. A grassy area it was; the land surrounding the castle was rich. Lush grass, colorful flowers, small streams and lakes: all took their part in the scenery. The castle itself was huge and splendid, balconies and tiers could easily be seen sprouting out from all over the building. But more difficult to spot was a lone figure standing on the uppermost balcony.

Chalnem gazed over his kingdom from the point where he stood; the far-off village of Melac could be seen distantly, closer in view was Lehar, the most populated city of Esyonia. Now Chalnem turned his eyes on his kingdom. His castle was on the edge of the city's boundaries, so it was not difficult for Chalnem to rule over his country. He now looked over the village nearest the castle. All hustle and bustle that usually reigned in the square was long gone, for it had been a few hours since dusk had fallen.

A door opened behind the king, but Chalnem did not turn as a figure approached him and said, "Milord, you'll want to come in now; you'll catch your death of cold out here."

The king turned to his advisor. Gyenth saw the look in his king’s eyes; he continued more softly, "Still no sign of them, milord?"

King Chalnem turned back to gazing at the horizon. "Crynthion and his men set out exploring a month ago. Roaming for new territory should not take so long."

"I doubt that they have fallen into trouble milord," Gyenth offered in condolence to Chalnem. "Crynthion may be young, but he's no fool."

The king turned to enter the building, his stalwart advisor immediately following him as Chalnem spoke, "Aye, but greed can take over a man's sense. I know this."

Gyenth fidgeted absent-mindedly as he looked about the castle hall. This hall, much like the rest of the castle, was built of slate and obsidian. Lanterns of the purest copper lighted the dark passages, spaced ten feet apart from each other and continuing down the corridors of the castle. Statuettes and pillars fashioned of white marble bedecked the interior; it was also furnished with decorations of gold, silver and bronze, silk hangings, and windows of colored glass. Piles of jewels inhabited many a corner. Neither the king nor his followers bothered much with the decorations made from the precious metals. There was only one who resided in the castle who might desire such beautiful things as these decorations, but as of yet had not shown it.

King Chalnem continued, "I am not duly worried about Crynthion's returning- as you say, he seems intelligent enough to keep his men out of trouble. My concern is for my kingdom-" he gestured at the lands outside- "What if trouble befalls us whilst he is still off adventuring with most of the army? We would have little of defend ourselves with."

Looking at his king, Gyenth could barely suppress a sigh. Chalnem was no longer a young man; his graying hair and aging body were proof enough of that. Admittedly a steely glint shone still in Chalnem's proud blue eyes; he still strode about the castle standing straight and tall. However, it was obvious that his fighting and battling days were long gone with his youth. If the need arose to the case where Esyonia would need to go into battle with anyone, Chalnem would not be a good general to lead troops into battle.

Casting his worries aside, Gyenth shook himself and answered, "True, milord, but enemies of the Royal Family have not been seen for many years now. It is unlikely that they would show up now, after so long."

"Unlikely but possible." Chalnem had now reached his sleeping chambers. Long was it now that he has lain abed at night by himself. His wife had died long ago, before he had become King of Esyonia. After his wife's death, Chalnem had sometimes called for a woman for his bed- usually maidservants- but he hadn't very often, preferring to make love to someone who knew his needs. He did not deny that his wife had not been the most intellectual person, and would have made a dreadful Queen of Esyonia, but she had been so good in bed. Now that Chalnem was much older, he didn't bother with such things at all.

"We must still be careful," the king said in a tone of voice that indicated that this was not something that he would be persuaded out of. "Post guards on the lookout; if they see anything have them report to Captain Arion. Good night."

Bowing dutifully, Gyenth rushed away to obey his king's orders. Chalnem closed the door behind him and surveyed his room. A huge bed covered in the softest quilts imaginable awaited the tired king and his aching bones. Subconsciously he moved towards them. Then snapping out of the reverie that he had to try so hard to avoid, Chalnem instead strode forward to a large window. It was huge, with no glass in it- instead, it was like to a hole in the rock. Silk curtains hung at either side. From where Chalnem's sleeping chambers were positioned on the castle's design, the window faced the coasting and the Mechale Sea.

The king paused before this window. Settling himself in a comfortable armchair, he faced the window, planning on watching the coastline as an additional lookout.

Five minutes later, the mighty and great King Chalnem was snoring, his royal head drooped against his shoulder.

=-=-=

The creatures towering over Crynthion were easily twice his respectable height of 6 feet 2 inches, perhaps even three times as tall. Compared to them, the young warrior felt very small and vulnerable. Their large bodies were covered in green scales; three clawnails on each claw gleamed sharply at each end. In fact, if Crynthion tilted his head back far enough, he could see the creature's faces. They had gleaming yellow eyes with slit pupils, barely detectable nostrils, and a large, pointed snout. Even though their mouths were closed, several sharp teeth still shone through. One of the creatures had two horns sticking out of its head a little further back; the other had three. Protruding scales ran down the back of each creature's long, flexible neck, down their back, and finally halting at the end of the creature's long tails, which were swishing from side to side menacingly. Both of the creature's eyes were fixated on Crynthion.

Suddenly he realized with a jolt of terror just how much these fascinating and dangerous-looking creatures could hurt him. His panic he had felt in the land of light and darkness came flooding back to him twice as worse. Crynthion opened his mouth, to blindly explain what he had been doing and to attempt to justify himself. But before he could get any words out, the creature with three horns spoke to him.

"The Lord and Lady wish to see you."

With that, the creature with two horns picked up the stupefied Crynthion with one claw. The man was not sure whether to be relieved that he wasn't slain on first sight, or terrified of what was coming to him. The creatures launched themselves into the air, their large, powerful wings keeping them aloft as they flapped them up and down, beating the air so that a slight breeze blew into his face. The creature holding Crynthion put the man on his back, ordered him to hold on, and then sped off into the distance.

Crynthion decided that he was getting slightly airsick and, gripping the protruding scales of the creature tightly, closed his eyes and prayed to his god. He only opened them again when he felt the creature carrying him to descend. Blinking a few times to clear his vision, Crynthion looked at the sight that awaited him.

A large mountain loomed over him and the creatures who had found him. A pale glow seemed to shine from it. It was backgrounded by the red-gold sky. Crynthion was lifted off of the creature's back and set upon the ground. He tried to stand up, and had to clutch onto the creature's leg to steady himself; the ride had been slightly unnerving.

"Come," said one of the creatures, and they both led Crynthion to the front of the mountain. A gate surrounded the entryway, and two of the same creatures, one of them red and the other yellow (though both had two horns), guarded it. Upon seeing Crynthion's captors, the guards each moved to one side of the gate, giving the green ones room to enter. Bowing their heads respectfully, the guards let them pass.

Crynthion was well past amazement by now; he gazed around in awe as his captors led him through the entryway. The mountain inside was rather bare and plain, but the little decorations that were displayed were incredible. Large, lifelike statues of these frightening creatues carved of stone were present. Also were small piles of jewels of every color, and some elaborate silk hangings.

The creatures led Cyrnthion to a small chamber, and the one with two horns said to him, "You must be hungry. Eat, before you appear before the Lord and Lady." Several creatures, this time covered in purple-tinted scales, walked into the room, carrying several large trays which held enough food for an Esyonian feast. Crynthion was surprised to see recognizable food, such as roast boar and stag. The meal seemed to be mainly comprised of meat, with a few enormous hunks of cheese and some bowls of greens. A large jug of ale also awaited him.

The man began to eat, nervously aware of the large creatures inscrutably watching his every move. Unsettled more than a little, he tried to eat as quickly as possible, mulling over this day's events. When he had eaten his fill of the delicious meal, the creatures took him out of the chamber and down quite a few twisting passages before reaching a large wooden door, many feet taller than the odd creatures and certainly quite a bit wider. It was opened by the creature with three horns without a trace of effort, and then Crynthion was led into the hall for his interrogation by the Lord and Lady.

=-=-=

Had King Chalnem stayed awake, he would have been able to notice the ship hovering in the bay right away and been able to raise the alarm. As it was, Chalnem slept through the ship sneaking into the coast's harbor, captained by one of Chalnem's oldest enemies.

Captain Frildur of the Seaskimmer!

Frildur stood at the for'ard end of his ship, not needing to hold onto the rail to support himself. He made a rather dashing sight, standing tall and proud, backgrounded by the darkness of the night sky, completely unafraid. A wind tousled his longish, unkempt brown hair behind him. His brown eyes were drilling into the castle of Esyonia as Frildur talked to his boson, Michel.

"Yarr, did I not tell ye that we'd land at the ol' castle before daybreak? I'll wager ol' Chalnem's still ruling there, King of Esyonia. Pwat!" He spit over the side of his boast hatefully.

"Aye, 'tis so," Michel agreed. When talking with Frildur, it was usually wisest to agree with whatever the captain said. "'Harsh of 'im, really. Yer'd think he'd come out wirra welcoming party!"

"Ol' Chalnem's prob’ly snorin' his head off- I knows him of old. Why, I could sneak into 'is room and slit 'is throat, an he'd snore through it all!"

The two sea voyagers laughed heartily at this, Frildur with noticeably less merriment then Michel. For although he was joking, Frildur was joking in deadly earnest. He hated Chalnem.

Changing the subject, the sea captain asked, "'As me ship taken on water?"

"None, Cap'n. We should dock there- then we can mebbe meet wid Chalnem and have brekkist t'gether."

They broke out in laughter once again, but Frildur wasn't paying much attention to what his bosun was saying. His jaw hardened as he stared at the castle with ferocity.

A long time ago, Frildur had been in love with the young maiden Tíra. The first time he had seen her was when he had been on a journey with Chalnem on the Seaskimmer.

They had been temporarily docking, resting at the place which would later become the country of Esyonia. Tíra was the most beautiful sight his eyes had ever beheld. Her hair flew back with the wind, her lovely face held a dazzling smile, and her laughter was merry and bell-like. Frildur had fallen in love with her at first sight. So had Chalnem.

"Yeah, we'll dock 'ere. Then we cin surprise ol' Chalnem." Frildur went over to the ship's steering wheel and turned it a touch right, as to guide it to the coast where they'd land.

Frildur and Chalnem had not been able to compromise who could covet the lovely Tíra. They had exchanged words that could not be taken back, and finally they agreed on two things. They now each completely loathed the other, and the one way to settle the dispute was a duel.

The Seaskimmer struck something, causing the ship to tilt violently upwards momentarily. Michel lost his balance and fell with a startle yell. Frildur cursed. "Damnation! That lazy watchman ain't good fer nothin'. Michel, go see whether me ship's been 'armed with the collision."

Saluting his captain, Michel picked himself up and set off, dangerously unaware of the harsh turn Frildur's mood had taken.

The day of the duel dawned bright and sunny. Frildur clearly remembered nervously entering the arena and anxiously waiting for Chalnem to arrive. Trying to ignore the crowd's many stares, he had fretfully practiced his sword swing.

A while later, Chalnem had strutted in. This was no elderly Chalnem, however; this was Chalnem at his prime. He was muscular and broad, tall and strikingly handsome. At the peak of his career, he was nearly impossible to defeat in combat. As he was nearly twenty years Frildur's senior, Chalnem was vastly more experienced, and the favorite to win the duel.

Michel came scurrying back with ill tidings. "The ship's rudder's been splintered an' 'twill need repair. Hull's damaged too." The glare that Frildur sent his bosun's way and the slow steps he took towards him made Michel suddenly desperately wish he hadn't come back to report to his captain by himself.

Chalnem had strode confidently to his place across from the now extremely nervous Frildur. He had winked in a leering way, saying, "Well, well, you're ready, eh? Or are you goin' t'stand there shaking an' shivering like a wet dog?"

Roaring with rage at the insult to his dignity, Frildur had rushed Chalnem, his sword raised threateningly. Chalnem had sidestepped the rush easily, tripping Frildur with the flat of his blade. The stadium had roared with laughter from the crowd at Frildur's expense. Chalnem had grinned mockingly. "Quite the warrior, eh?"

Frildur had tried to heave himself upwards, but Chalnem's blade was heaved down in a flash, its point at Frildur's neck, almost close enough to draw blood.

"Surrender to me, Frildur!" Chalnem had roared, all traces of former jollity gone as he threatened his opponent. “Surrender or you die here!” Slightly more pressure was put on the sword, and a thin trickle of blood had run down Frildur's neck.

Frildur was now advancing on the unlucky Michel with a murderous glint in his eyes. "Whaddaya mean, me rudder an' hull need fixin'?"

"Cap'n, sir, I-"

"It was you! Yer shoulda been watchin' the waves up here!"

"It wasn't me, sir! It wasn't-"

"Shaddup, yer lyin' idiot! One more sound outta yer mouth an' I'll gut ye here!" Frildur was now roaring with rage, his sword out at the ready. Michel watched, terror-stricken and unable to speak.

With Chalnem's blade at his throat, and lying on his back, his sword uselessly underneath him, Frildur had had no choice but to comply with Chalnem's wishes. "I s-surrender," he had managed to sob out. "Spare me, p-please!"

Chalnem had lifted his sword and spat contemptuously into Frildur's face. "Cringin' cur," he had pronounced with a self-satisfied smile. "You go runnin' to yer mammy now, an' I'll take me lovely prize." The victor had then turned away from Frildur, still lying on the ground, and headed towards Tíra, who had been watching the spectacle. The look of adoration on her face as Chalnem claimed her had been by far the worst part.

"S-s-sir, I w-swear t'ye, it w-wasn't-"

Frildur didn't wait for his boson to finish his stuttering. With a snarl he pushed the unfortunate Michel off the ship and into the waves of the sea. The man's struggles and cries were soon halted as he sank underneath the water's surface.

A smile and, for the first time this night, real laughter escaped Frildur. He felt much better now. Better enough, in fact, to call upon King Chalnem.

=-=-=

Dawn arrived, the sun rising amidst a pink tinged sky. Small golden rays from the sun illuminated the castle. A lone figure stood on a balcony overlooking the scene.

Captain Arion scowled and heaved his broadsword out of the hilt slung over one shoulder. Absentmindedly he swung it, parrying against an invisible opponent. A sudden noise attracted his attention, but Arion continued his imaginary duel as though he had not noticed someone sneaking up on him. He could tell who it was by her approach. A moment passed, and Arion quickly swirled around. Giving an almighty roar, he brought his sword down with force, halting it only a hairsbreadth from the woman's head. The woman stood still, not blinking or attempting to move as the sword nearly cleaved her in two. She instead stared straight into Arion's furious glare. "You really should watch where you swing that thing," she said calmly in an amused voice.

The amusement was not shared with Arion. "Bloody shit, woman!" he yelled. "What in the name of hellgates were you doing?!"

Her gaze did not falter, though an angry gleam shone in her eyes. "You forget who you talk to," she replied, her tone of voice still calm.

Arion pulled his sword back, fingering the hilt menacingly and snarling, "If it weren't for your father you wouldn't have that defense. All of this is about your father. Any power you have, none of that is of your own accord, it's all about your father-"

The contemptuous ranting was halted. Arion found he was unable to speak. He opened and closed his mouth furiously, but no sound came out. The woman watched him, a small smile playing on her lips.

"My father? My father is a weak man," she said. "A vain, selfish idiot who I really have no purpose for. And you are too, if you think that he is the reason for my power." She waved her hand gracefully and lifted the spell off of the captain.

"He is," Arion spat at the woman. "If you weren't the King's daughter where would you be know? Ganaceia, the wandering magic woman?" His voice was edged with sarcasm.

"You should not scoff at what you do not understand," Ganaceia said. "My powers are not something to be taken lightly."

Arion snorted but did not comment. Ganaceia swept past him and looked over the balcony. The two stood in silence for a while. Finally Arion glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. One could not deny that Ganaceia was a beautiful woman, having inherited her mother's lovely face and slender, developed figure. Her reddish-gold hair fell to her waist and her green-yellow eyes gleamed as those of a cat. If one looked further into those eyes, it was possible to see that there was a certain gleam to them that should not be there. She was looking into space, as though she had forgotten that Arion was there with her. He decided to remind Ganaceia. "I hope that you haven't forgotten this deal of ours."

Ganaceia ignored him, keeping her gaze in the horizon's direction. Arion did not like being ignored. He stood up and walked over to her, grabbing her tightly around her slim waist. "You should recall you owe me a favor," he hissed into her ear.

Finally Ganaceia turned and looked at him. She leaned forward and kissed him, letting her hands play against his chest. Arion's tongue entered her mouth, and she intertwined her tongue around his as he groped for her breast. Ganaceia broke off at that point and looked the captain straight in the eye. "I haven't forgotten," she told him. "And when the time comes, you will be paid in full." Pulling herself away from Arion, she made a sweeping exit, quite aware he was still staring after her.

She passed the many valuable ornaments decorating the halls, pausing only momentarily to look at them lovingly, longingly, to trail her hand on them lightly. One day, you will be mine, Ganaceia silently vowed to them. Entering her chambers, she called out, "Lyllyth."

Shuffling came from a corner of the room, and a nymph came out obediently. She was small, with thin blonde hair and a smile that was seemingly bright and very deceiving. "What does my lady require?" she asked in a light, wavering tone.

"Come and dress me," Ganaceia commanded, pulling her hair into a bun on top of her head. The nymph maid scurried to do her lady's bidding. As she looked in the wardrobe for a suitable outfit, Lyllyth asked, "Did all go well tonight?"

Ganaceia nodded, the odd glint in her eyes becoming ever so slightly recognizable. "Arion is a fool," she said as she shed her nightrobe, taking the clothes from her maid. "And he doesn't realize he is completely under my power."

=-=-=

Crynthion had by now thought that he had had his fulfillment of amazement for one day. He was clearly wrong. The hall was enormous, the stone ceiling carved like a curving arc so that it resembled a dome. It was so high above them that Crynthion had to crane his head all the way back to see it. A large circular stone table took up most of the space in the room. No chairs were placed around it, but several of the creatures sat around it, lying on the floor in comfortable positions with only their long neck curved upward so to see over the table, or sitting upright so that their scaly elbows might rest on the table. But most grand of all could be none other than the Lord and Lady.

Two of the hugest thrones Crynthion had ever beheld stood at the far end of the hall, placed upon a raised platform so as to supervise the table and those sitting around it with relitive ease. In those two large thrones sat likewise two large creatures. The one inhabiting the throne on the right was red, foreboding, and gave Crynthion the impression that its air of ultimate supremicy made it appear larger. As it was already very large, this did not do anything to calm his nerves. The creature on the red one's left was slightly smaller, with black scales and a silibant vibe. Both were impressive, but it was the black creature that stood out as more dangerous. The red one spoke.

"Have my followers treated you well?"

Realizing that the polite method of doing things would most likely turn out to be less risky, Cynthion showed respect by by kneeling down on one knee and bowing his head before answering, "Exceedingly well, Your Majesty."

The red creature looked amused at this. "Indeed. It was obvious at sight that you were a stranger, and now even more so. But all is well. Majka, Ollyth, you may leave us now."

Bowing their heads in a gesture of obediant respect, the two green creatures that had captured Crynthion left the room, closing the door with a resounding boom behind them. The red one continued, "I wish you to answer my questions, man. Answer truthfully, and you will not be eaten."

Taking this as extra incentive not to be caught off his guard, Crynthion nodded hastily, trying very hard not to let his fear show. The black one remained silent, watching Crynthion nervously stand.

"Sit," the red creature commanded. Cyrnthion did so. "What are you called?"

"Crynthion, sire."

"Just Crynthion?"

"Crynthion altu Morsdur altu Eljaysh is my full title, sire. I am of the third generation since our race has been created by the All-High God."

"Indeed. Crynthion altu Morsdur altu Eljaysh, how did you cross the barrier?" The tone of the creature's voice indicated that this was not a question to be taken lightly. The look that the black one was eyeing Crynthion with became slightly harsh and steely. Crynthion's mind whirled, as he had no idea what was meant by 'barrier'. He decided to tell what he knew.

"I was exploring."

"Exploring, you say. A lone man doesn't often go out into the middle of the desert to explore." The red creature was looking stern, while the black one's expression was bordering on anger. Crynthion swallowed. This wasn't going quite the way he'd hoped.

"I wasn't alone, sire. An army accompianed my expedition." He prayed that this would suffice. Perhaps it had, for the red creature's expression cleared and the black one's softened, though a look of doubt and mistrust reigned still in its emerald-coloured eyes.

"Very well," said the red one, "that's better than I expected." It regared Crynthion closely, then nodded. "I suppose you've passed the test. The black one frowned in dissent but kept its silence.

"I am Sybresis, Lord of Twella Mountain and all who reside inside it," the red creature continued. "This is my Lady, Ystela." He indicated the black creature in the other throne, who still wore a doubtful frown. But Lady Ystela bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement. "We rule over the dragons."

"Dragons?" The word was unfamiliar to Crynthion.

"Yes, dragons. We are dragons," Lord Sybresis said, a small tone of indignation creeping into his voice at the fact that the man didn't know their race's name.

Sensing this, Cryntion quickly justified himself by adding, "I was wondering what name such fascinating creatures went by."

Lord Sybresis looked mollified at the flattery. Ysetla's frown deepened into a scowl. Ignoring his Lady's actions, or perhaps not aware of them, the lord asked, "Tell me, have you men not yet heard of dragonkind?"

"Never before, sire."

The dragon lord looked highly amused. "Well, man's ignorance does spread further than I imagined."

Crynthion knew that opening his mouth wasn't a good idea, but curiosity qwelled him to ask, "If you don't mind my asking, my lord, how is it that dragons have known of men, whilst we know not of dragonkind?"

A frown formed on Sybresis' face, though it seemed more of thoughtfulness than of anger, much to Crynthion's relief. "It is a story of great length," he finally responded, turning his gaze to the man's face. "Are you comfortable?" Crynthion nodded, and Lord Sybresis began the tale.

=-=-=

When the king awoke from his slumbers, Chalnem shuffled and muttered incoherantly into his shoulder. The realization that he had fallen asleep in his armchair while he had been intending to keep guard over the castle's coastline woke him completely, and Chalnem stood up hurredily, noticing with dismay his fine clothes were wrinkling and his neck ached from the position it had rested all night. Rubbing his neck in an attempt to rid himself of the crick that had formed and muttering darkly, Chalnem exited his room, his unpredictable temper already beginning to rise.

Absentmindedly he passed through his castle's halls, barely notcing the lavish decorations. Then Chalnem stopped, a small frown now adorning his features. Ganaceia was walking down the hall in his direction.

Ganaceia... Thoughts of the daughter Tíra had borne Chalnem confused him. His daughter had inherited her mother's beauty and his cunning. A dangerous combination, if used correctly. The fact that Ganaceia recognized her strengths and knew how to use them only added to the whispering voices in the back of his mind. Chalnem strived to ignore them, to extinguish them completely, but the best he could do was to squash them to the very back of his mind where the constant muttering became less consuming of his entire thought.

"Good morning, Father," Ganaceia said automatically and with little feeling as she passed him in the hall. Chalnem grunted in reply. The relationship with his daughter was another of the endless things that bothered him. Over the years he had waited anxiously, waited for the love that he had witnessed with so many other fathers and daughters, that his advisors had told him would come to blossom and thrive- but this love had not appeared. Instead, an unspoken mutual coolness formed between the two, sometimes a grudging respect for the other- but never the love a father and daughter should experience. Once he had realized that a loving relationship between Ganaceia and himself was not going to form, Chalnem had turned it into the onl other kind he could think of- a business relationship. He was not pleased with it, but for the most part it worked- Ganaceia going her seperate way and he unhappily going his.

On sudden inspiration the King turned. "Daughter," he called in as kindly a voice as possible, though it was still an authoritative bark, the commanding tone obvious to all but the most ignorant. Ganaceia swirled around, surprise evident on her face. Chalnem stared at her for a moment. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say- no, he knew, but how to say it was quite a different matter...

As no brilliant motivation dawned upon the elderly king, Chalnem hoarsely coughed and looked at his feet before resorting to his usual mode of conversation with his daughter. "Have you spoken with Arion since we last conversed about this... matter?"

The shock quickly wore from Ganaceia's face, replaced by a look of contemptuous boredom. "Yes, father," she said tonelessly, resting a hand on a polished ashwood table.

"And?" Chalnem pressed, though he was sure he knew the answer already.

"You were right," Ganaceia replied, casting her eyesight to a porcelain filigree statuette of a crown and stroking it automatically. "Much unrest lies in your Captain. Rebellious mutterings stir in his heart; he has naught but anger and lust churning in his mind. Always constant, always constant," she muttered half to herself whilst cupping the figurine in her ivory-colored hands.

The symbolic gesture lost upon him, the king gave up his futile efforts to establish any thoughts of love in this conversation and stalked off in the other direction. Grumpily he swished aside a curtain and headed towards the study. At least he could break his fast in relitive peace.

"Good morning, sire," Gyenth was immediately at Chalnem's side, wearing his royal garments that proved to all his status as advisor to the king.

"Where's the damned cook?" Chalnem snapped as way of reply. "Has she started to slack already? I'm starved. Go and find her, and if she doesn't have breakfast ready..."

"Immediately, Highness." Giving a short bow, Gyenth rushed off.

Sighing, Chalnem looked to a window on his left. On sudden impulse he opened it. A wind fanned his face, blowing his garments back to swish as the breeze desired. He stood there long. Lehar was beginning to come to life at the morning's beckon; small figures strolled about, setting up for the day's market. He turned next to the Mechale Sea. How peaceful it seemed, continuously falling against the shore in the same patterns repeatedly. And yet how dangerous...

A sound of thunder shook throughout the very vibrations of Chalnem's mind. As the waves crashed, pounding the shoreline, the king saw what caused him to give a small gasp and stare unbelievingly at the scene before him.

Gyneth rearrived, holding a plate of steaming food. "The cook sends her apologies at the lateness, Sire... Sire?"

"Never mind that now," Chalnem roared. "Tell the defenses to set up around the main entrance; they are not allowed to let anybody in. Send Captain Arion to me, and Captain Wessley as well. And Ganaceia also."

"Yes, Your Highness, but what calls for this?"

"Frildur's here, with the Seaskimmer at his back," the king replied in a snarl.

=-=-=

--END CHAPTER 1--