The Squall Rises

Chapter 1: The Awakening

"The winds will obey."

The words echoed distantly through his mind, sheathed in the comforting warmth that only a mother's voice holds. Around him, the currents rolling off the mountains onto the Solano plains dashed and dipped, tousling the tops of the waist-high grasses in the fields before making their way to the courtyard where Regalen stood.

"The winds will obey."

Regalen's lips formed into a tight line as his head shook almost imperceptibly from side to side. He was tall and gangly, his frame evincing the awkwardness that so often accompanies the male departure from adolescence. No longer a boy, but not quite a man - and completely lacking in any magical ability, which tainted those whispered words with a flavor of cruel mockery.

For the winds most certainly did not obey him. Of all the precious few memories he had of his mother, this one remained the most prominent, much to his chagrin. He shook his head once more, eyes closing briefly and then reopening as he heaved a long sigh into the breeze.

Behind him, the estate of House Razalan was alive in the dimming light of early evening. Lord Razalan himself was in residence, having just returned from an expedition after weeks away. A feast had been called, a celebration of some triumph, though Regalen had paid it little mind, even if there did seem to be a current of energy pulsing through the rest of the staff. Something was going on, but he could not bring himself to care.

He turned, hands still clasped behind his back, and began walking back towards the large atrium that was the main feast area. Though a member of the house staff, he was not a slave, and so was not required to be on duty this evening. 

His adoptive father had worked for the Razalan family for nearly his entire life until passing just the year prior. In recognition of such dedicated service, Regalen was allowed to remain at the estate until officially of age. With no magical ability, he could not hope to earn a place in the academy, and being slight of build, a career as a warrior would be laughable. He spent his days, therefore, as a clerk in the trade office, a ferociously mundane existence.

The grass in the main courtyard was immaculately manicured, and the grounds subtly lit by torchlight. Small clusters of 'kin were spread about, cliques of gossiping and posturing Highborn: Kardesh's finest. To Regalen, such concentrated vanity and vapidity was nauseating - not that he would be invited into any of the conversations anyway. 

Despite his Commonborn status, he nonetheless felt at ease walking the grounds among the revelers, even if his shorn tufts attracted an arched brow or two as he passed.

"Evenin', 'galen," came a deep voice from his left in the shadows of a stone archway. 

Regalen turned his head, a small grin creeping up one side of his maw, and he dipped his head in acknowledgement. "And a good evening to you, Gura," he answered in a wry voice.

Gura was captain of the house guard, an older Airkin with streaks of deep blue running the length of his uncharacteristically thick frame. He held a spear upright, butt resting against the stone below, the corded muscles of his forearms twitching as he scanned the grounds. 

Gura had the distant eyes and solemn bearing of one who had seen and done much in the world. From the stories Regalen had heard of his exploits in various campaigns against rival Earthkin houses, it was a wonder that the man could even walk, given how many invisible chains of grief and horror must trail behind him.

"Out fer a walk among the high and mighty, eh?" Gura muttered, his tone laced with sarcasm. Regalen grinned. Though they shared little in the way of common experience, both were naturally pragmatic and held a quiet disdain for the frivolous antics of the pampered Highborn.