Legend

[Guest Lord Cullyn]

Ok, I'm starting... been busy lately, and I've altered the prologue a bit, but I'm finally starting this. Sorry for posting the first part in two places, but in case someone didn't hear I thought I'd better. Anyways, hope you enjoy.

 

PROLOGUE

We are three, fighting as one,

Fighting forever under the sun.

Silently, Swiftly,

Cleanly, Deftly.

Ladies fighting, side by side,

Taking anything in stride.

Yelling, Calling,

Fencing, Brawling.

The enemies fall before us in shame,

Fall to women, in the King’s name.

Defending, Protecting,

Healing, Resurrecting.

‘Till our deaths, we shall serve,

Fighting evil, the light to preserve.

Thrusting, Firing,

Never tiring.

We are three, under the sun,

Finally stopping- the battle is won.

        -Sun Guardians’ Hymn

 

“Dahlia, daughter of the late Lord Rayne and his wife Elyzibeth, Do you solemnly swear to attempt to maintain peace in the realm of Toron, defend it’s people, and protect and serve their King as a Sun Guardian?”

 

“I do, Your Holiness.”

 

“I now declare you a Sun Guardian. May you serve the people with dignity and reverence for the Gods and Goddesses. May the fates be with you,” the High Priest said, concluding the ceremony.

 

The three new Sun Guardians rose, turned on their heels, and fell in step beside each other. The previous three had grown too old for battle, and thus had been forced to resign. Never were they killed, of course… the last record of a Sun Goddess dying was over three hundred years ago, where the three of them had fought and defeated seventy-eight men with only the three of them—the remaining two had killed themselves after the last man fell.

 

Dahlia, Leisha, and Kalindra strode out of the High Temple of the Der, Goddess of the Sun, and into the city of Toron. People all around them bowed to them, and they realized just how important they were.

 

Finally, there was one final ritual to complete. The strode to the center of the city, stepping in time, to where there was a large tile mural depicting the sun on the ground. Each of them entered the circular expanse, and stood facing outward in a triangle, shoulder to shoulder. In a moment, music began in the ceremonial and sacred hymn of the Sun Guardians. The three young girls all turned to their right, and began walking in a circle and singing. Gradually they moved outward, until they were standing on the edge of the ten-foot diameter imitation sun.

 

When the rite was completed, the crowd gathered around cheered and applauded, happy to have Sun Guardians again. When the three exited the ceremonial circle, the crowd parted easily to let them by, and felt safe again at last.

 

*~* OLD ROAD, OUTSIDE RUTTON *~*

 

Corbyn was in trouble… the bandits were telling him to hand over the sheep, as well as all the money he and his sister had with them—that wasn’t much coin, mind, but it was all they had. He and his sister stared defiantly at them. When they stepped closer to her, making jests about doing unspeakable things to Lyssa, he’d had enough. He sized up their odds… there were seven bandits. He had his staff in his left hand and a loaded sling in his right. His sister he could hold back, he thought, but if she broke loose he knew she could defend herself—though all she carried was the harversack with their food in it.

 

“Give us the damned sheep, boy! And the coin!” yelled one of the bandits, stepping closer to him, with his twin daggers drawn.

 

Recklessly, he hurled himself at the bandit, the point of his staff aimed at his opponent’s chest. Caught by surprise, the thug fell to the ground and lost his wind. His sister stepped in quickly, and swung the sack by its strap, catching the bandit on the side of the head and bowling him over. Another thief stepped in and thrust at her, but she jumped back and kicked one of his blades away from him. With the hook end of his staff, Corbyn caught his sister’s attacker by the neck, and yanked, pulling the thug towards him. As he did, he swung his loaded sling, hitting the bandit’s skull with a sickening crack. Lyssa now had her hands full again, but she swung their pack valiantly, attempting to fend off three of the remaining bandits, while two attacked Corbyn.

 

Suddenly, they heard a battle cry. The farmer’s children as well as the bandits stopped in surprise, to see three women streaking toward them. One, the tallest, wielded in her hand two large ring shaped weapons, about a foot in diameter. There were rawhide handles just big enough to accommodate her hands, and the rest was a very sharp, and menacing blade.

 

Another, a bit prettier than the first though shorter, carried a bullwhip in her right hand and a dagger in her left. As they ran towards the fray, she occasionally cracked it in the air to scare the opponents, and continually was yelling something unintelligible.

 

The third, the shortest of the group and silent the entire time with her jaw set obviously specialized in range weapons. In her hands, she carried a crossbow that was loaded, and had a quiver of arrows on her back, while along her legs there were straps containing throwing daggers and stars, as well as wrist sheathes.

 

It took only a moment for the bandits to respond to this new onslaught: they turned tail, left their unconscious companions, and ran. The three ladies skidded to a halt next to Corbyn and Lyssa and the two unconscious thieves.

 

“Let them go, Dahlia!” called the tallest woman to the one with the crossbow, who was taking aim. She did as she was ordered, and lowered the weapon.

 

“Good Morrow, shepherds,” said the woman with the whip, “I am Leisha.”

 

“I’m Kalindra, and that’s Dahlia, as you know,” continued the lady armed with the discs.

 

“We are the Sun Guardians from Toron,” explained Kalindra, who appeared to be the leader of the group.

 

“Well, wherever you’re from, thank you,” replied Corbyn, nursing a deep gash on his forearm.

 

“Oh, they’re hurt! Help me, Dahlia,” said Leisha, “You’re the best healer.”

 

The two stepped forward, and held hands. Dahlia laid her spare hand on Corbyn’s forearm, and started chanting in a strange language, while Leisha did the same to a wound in Lyssa’s shoulder. Within a few minutes, they were healed, and Kalindra spoke, “Sorry, but I’m not very good with magic. Dahlia is our healer, while Leisha is our offensive spellmaster.”

 

“Thank you again… is there anything we can do to repay you? We don’t have much, but we could pay you a little, I suppose,” said Lyssa sheepishly… they truly couldn’t spare the coin, and both of them secretly wished that the Sun Guardians would refuse payment, which they did.

 

“No thanks necessary. We’re just glad we got here in time. Well, we’ve got to be on our way. Fare thee well, shepherds!”

 

“And you as well, Guardians,” replied Corbyn, and the two groups continued on their way.

 

Dahlia was worried… there had never, ever been bandits in this part of the country before… why were they showing up now? Shortly, Leisha voiced the same concern.

 

“Well,” Kalindra said slowly, thinking hard, “I suppose it’s just a rising crime rate… the city’s getting better security, so the bandits have to take their foul trade elsewhere.”

 

“Kalindra, you know damn well that Renault’s security is faltering. With the King so ill, the thieves are having a feast on the city’s wealth! There’s no way that could be right,” replied Leisha.

 

Dahlia felt the same way… there was something odd afoot here, and they needed to find out what. Of course, that was why they’d been sent from the High King to this country, but it was more dire than the king could have predicted. If there were bandits here, in this remote part of the country, then think of what would be happening on the King’s Highway… yes, they needed to find out, and fast.

 

~*~ELSEWHERE~*~

 

Alexandria knelt by his bed… he was dying, slowly, but surely, and he was in pain. Agonized moans came from his bed continually as he lie there, his head turning from side to side. Finally, he spoke:

 

“Alexandria… my dear Alexandria… though you were the only child I sired,” he said, rasping between bits of sentences, “you are more fit to rule than… any man I’ve ever met… I’m sorry that I leave you… a broken kingdom. The nobles won’t… like to serve under a woman… but you must keep the throne!” said King Alderich… and that was the last thing he ever said.

 

The young girl rose, and strode over to the arrow-slit window. She gazed out over what was now her kingdom—or her rightful kingdom, perhaps… it would be a fight to make it hers, and she knew that. She had no time to mourn her beloved father… it was time for action. She knew that only a few of the surrounding nobles would swear fealty to her—not only did they not want to serve a woman, but their own greed more than sufficed to make them declare themselves the rightful king. There had never been a queen of Bertol before… perhaps it was time for there to be one.

 

She strode out into the corridor and called “Chirurgeon! My father is dead!” and immediately two of the herbalists appeared. They would have been by his side earlier, but the king himself had ordered them from the room, wishing to be alone with his only true heir.

 

She left the royal apartments, and strode downstairs to the court. The double doors opened before her, and she stepped in, the train of her gown trailing behind her. As she walked through the long hallway to the throne, she wiped tears from her cheeks constantly. When she reached the royal platform, her pure, alto voice rang out: “People of the nation of Bertol, I have sad news. King Darren is dead. May the entire country mourn its wisest and kindest leader’s death. I ascend the throne by right of birth, as the laws of our great nation dictate. I am Alexandria, the first Queen of Bertol,” she said, ending her speech. There was scattered applause from the assembled ambassadors—one representative in the back was already plotting how to gain his noble the throne and then take it for himself… in his mind, he thought back at the Lady Alexandria, Not yet you aren’t.

 

Edited by: Lord Cullyn at: 7/14/02 8:53:51 pm

[Guest Lord Cullyn]

Part I: The Bertol Dispute

 

"Your highness, I've gotten news of the border disputes," said the herald, who skidded to a halt in the private audience chamber that adjoined Alexandria's private apartments. She looked at him, sighed, and waved her hand at him to signify that he should continue.

 

"Governer Con is the only Governer that will accompany you in your quest for the throne. The lords inside the Capitol border as well as his lands all swear fealty to you. Unfortunately, the Old Capitol has also been claimed by Lord Easure, in the south... I must tell you, milady, that Lord Easure-"

 

"I know, herald... half the continent has sworn fealty to him. The only other two opposing my claim are minor, though they are still threats... Governor Snyder and Governor Perenole have entered a claim for the throne as well, haven't they, Herald?"

 

Thunderstruck, the herald stuttered his reply: "Y-yes, milady... how did you know?"

 

Alexandria smiled weakly, and spoke: "There are many things I know that others think I do not," she replied simly, and looked down upon the herald... She was aging more quickly than she should... stress had taken it's toll, and it obviously wasn't over yet. Though she was still a beautiful woman, there were wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, and her movements were stiff, as if possesed by rheumatism or something of the like.

 

Her eyes, however, remained as bright as ever-- she was nicknamed, because of them: Alexandria of the Emerald Eyes. Only when she wept, did her eyes become unattractive, red and dialated... but no one ever saw that side of her. She was ever a proper statesman, and knew how to motivate her servants/nobles. Though her ways weren't always the most conventional/honorable, it was all to a good end, as she was always striving to do what her father ordered her to: keep the throne.

 

She looked out the window again, and her eyes took the tired look that sometimes posessed them. She sighed, and the herald averted his eyes. She was a wonderful leader, and it pained his heart to see her saddened.

 

If only my father were here to help me, she thouht, I'd know what was right. I don't want to fight this war... I don't want to send innocent men to die... I don't want to wage war.

 

And then a voice came to her... it was not her own, and she could hear it clearly... quickly, she looked around, but no one in the room was speaking... she listened intently...

 

"But you must! You must maintain the throne! If you do not fight, you forfeit the realm to someone far less worthy, as well as far less honorable! Would you submit the nation into deeper pain than this war could ever cause by putting someone like Easure on the throne? Or even Snyder? You know that they would ruin the nation within years of it's capture. You must fight on!"

 

And she knew it was true... truer words were probably never spoken, and so she would fight... a woman to do a man's job... what was this world coming to?

 

"Who says war is a man's job? If a woman can lead better, than let the enemies fall before a female monarch!" came the voice again, and she felt imboldened by it.

 

"Herald!" she shouted, and he snapped to attention, "send a messenger to all opposing Governors stating thus:

 

My unfortunate opponents,

 

I regret the fact that your vow of fealty to my throne has not yet arrived. If, indeed, you are thinking of staging a rebellion, I would think long and hard on this issue, for the war will not be simple; nor will it be won by anyone but myself. God is on my side, as I am the rightful heir to the throne. Though I may be a woman, I am most definately more fit (and with more right, as well) to rule than any other within the borders of Bertol.

 

I beseech you: do not sacrafice the people under your government for nothing, for any rebellion will be in vain. The crown will strike down any enemies it may have, be they foreign or domestic. Though a woman's hand is soft and tender, the gauntlets she dons in times of war are not.

 

Your Imperial Soverign,

 

Queen Alexandria, Daughter of his majesty Urndem the Second, and Queen of Bertol and the isles

 

*~* GARDENTROY: CAPITOL OF LORD EASURE'S DOMAIN *~*

 

Furiously, Lord Easure crumpled the letter and hurled it into the flames. "Queen? Hah! that whore shall never be queen on my watch. General Chocton, ready your troops: we march to garrison the Old Capitol of Yvenne, and from there we strike down the Lady Alexandria!"

 

Grimly, and afraid to refuse his master, the general went off to the barracks-- never would anyone contradict Lord Easure to his face-- they were too afraid to... but behind his back, his people hated him as much as the ruler of hell.

 

"Men! Ready to ride on the hour! We move!

Edited by: Lord Cullyn at: 7/14/02 10:50:22 pm