Rise Of A King

Prologue

The Prelong: The World of Altiar

Altiar was a world of contrasts, where the land itself seemed to conspire with its inhabitants to create a rich tapestry of life, conflict, and ambition. Shaped like a vast torus, the continent looped in on itself, an ancient and mysterious landmass that had given birth to countless civilizations. For millennia, Altiar had been home to many different people, each carving out their place in the ever-changing landscape, but no one ruler had ever claimed dominion over the entire continent. To this day, Altiar remained divided—split among kings, queens, warlords, and chieftains, all vying for power, all seeking to expand their reach.

In the north, the land was unforgiving. The cold winds of the Frozen Peaks howled through the mountains, shaping a realm where only the strongest could survive. Here, entire villages huddled beneath the snow-covered earth in vast underground networks, their leaders hardened by the relentless winter. The people of the North, fierce and proud, had learned to survive off the frozen land, relying on hunting and trading with the few who dared venture so far. Ruled by a clan of warriors known for their strength and brutality, the North had long been seen as a harsh, desolate place. But in their isolation, the northern clans had grown resilient, fiercely protective of their land and customs, unwilling to bow to anyone outside their frozen borders.

To the West, Altiar gave way to the Crimson Sands, an endless desert where the sun scorched the earth and survival was a daily battle. Here, nomadic tribes roamed the dunes, always on the move, always searching for water and shelter. The people of the desert were swift and cunning, their lives spent riding through the sandstorms, raiding the caravans that crossed their territory, and trading with those willing to pay for safe passage. In the Crimson Sands, power shifted like the sands themselves. Warlords rose and fell with the wind, and alliances were as fleeting as the rains that sometimes graced the desert. Though the desert seemed a wasteland to outsiders, it was home to vast treasures hidden beneath the dunes—riches that many rulers sought to claim but few could hold.

South of the desert, Altiar's landscape changed once more. The Endless Swamp stretched for miles, a murky, treacherous land where the ground shifted and the air hung thick with mist. This was the domain of the Brakens, feared across the continent as the Swamp Pirates. The Brakens had learned to thrive in the swamp's treacherous conditions, their homes built on stilts above the water to avoid the deadly creatures that lurked below. The swamp itself was as much a character as the people who lived within it—alive, dangerous, and unpredictable. The Brakens, skilled in guerrilla warfare, used the swamp to their advantage, launching ambushes from the shadows, their arrows dipped in deadly poisons that were drawn from the venomous creatures that called the swamp home. They raided far and wide, but their true loyalty was to the swamp, which they revered as a living entity.

In the southeast of the continent of Altiar lay the Riverlands, a region shaped by the vast, winding rivers that branched out across the land like veins, nourishing everything in their path. These rivers were the lifeblood of the region, feeding not only the fertile marshes but also providing vital trade routes that connected the Riverlands to the wider world. The Riverlands boasted two prominent villages and a single, bustling city, each relying on the rivers for commerce, transportation, and sustenance. The capital city, Mudford, stood proudly along the banks of the largest river, its docks constantly alive with the arrival and departure of merchant boats and fishing vessels. Though the villages were smaller, nestled deeper within the marshes, they were no less crucial to the kingdom.

At the head of this vast and powerful region stood the Mudwick family. The Mudwicks had ruled the Riverlands since time immemorial, their reign stretching back through the generations. Known for their unyielding ambition and their fierce warriors. The Mudwicks had forged a reputation that extended far beyond their borders. Every child raised in the Riverlands heard tales of their battles, their conquests, and the unshakeable grip they held over their people. Their lineage was revered as much as it was feared.

Though other kingdoms and regions in Altiar had seen rulers come and go, the Mudwicks' reign had remained unbroken. They ruled with a combination of political moves and raw strength, making sure that no one, not even their most powerful enemies, could ever take control from their hands.

To the west, the Greenhills stood in stark contrast to the cold of the north and the heat of the desert. Here, the land was lush and fertile, a place of gentle rolling hills, winding rivers, and vast farmlands. The Greenhills were a center of trade and agriculture, their villages prosperous and their markets bustling with activity. But even in this peaceful land, there was unrest. Though they were not as warlike as the people of the north or as cunning as the tribes of the desert, the people of the Greenhills were far from weak and held great pride.

Altiar was a continent where no single ruler held dominion over all. Instead, it was a patchwork of kingdoms, each with its own culture, traditions, and ambitions. The kings and queens of Altiar were always looking to expand their borders, seeking more land, more resources, more power. Wars were common, alliances fleeting, and betrayals inevitable. Yet despite the constant conflict, the people of Altiar continued to live, thrive, and endure. Thus, the story begins in a world divided by ambition and power, where rulers and kingdoms fight to carve out their place in history.