The god-child of Tiberius is exiled for slander against the king's army of Silver Knights. Olympius journey to the East leads to an ancient regiment. Meanwhile, the Leiossian people liberate themselves with the help of an alchemist.
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The story ta...
The moon was shining on Lucille's farmhouse; known as a refugee for those who sought freedom. Many Leiossian slaves and bandits hid away from the kingdom, forming an underground society of their own. Her most important guest was Solomon; an elderly man that gave his profits to the woman. A physician of sorts using herbs to heal wounds. But, also an alchemist; turning stone into bread and sand into water; Solomon would feed the people who could not afford to pay for a meal, and Lucille would provide them with shelter, rightfully so, leading to their dense population inside the large plantation home known as — The Inn.
Solomon's methods were advanced and unorthodox from the other local physicians who considered his practice unnatural. He performed many miracles on the injured people during the Scourge Wars. Word caught wind; an alchemist was healing the wounded. Eventually, many people traveled from afar to be healed by Solomon.
The diverse bar was flooding with people of all shapes and colors. Bards were strumming instruments, singing tales of glory in the brightest corner -- connecting the people by sound. Each partygoer enjoying their environment over ceramic jugs of barley wine, and ale.
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"Men are more grounded," A drunken dwarf said. "Because woman are light, and easily taken by wind. Just look how they flop, and flail about." He ended his ramble with a blubbering belch.
"So they are more acrobatic." Another dwarf says with his trembling mouth resisting the urge to burst into laughter. The dwarf across from him lost his compose, and the table explodes of hysterically chorus of cackling dwarves.
In the darkest corner. A hooded man in the audience takes a swig of aged rum, and watches a woman string a woeful lament of tales past. Her soft strum was overshadowed by smacking of goatskin instruments of their incessant thumps humming a deeper tune, and attracting the most audience. His focus drew to the commotion at the entrance.
The door is swung open by the punch of a towering man in silver armor, pulling the attention of the room to himself and the other silver knights that follow behind him. It takes but naught a second to explain their intrusion.
"Solomon!" The first knight yells out, leaving nothing to interpretation. The other knights move around the first, filing into the room, and with their eyes--inspecting each partygoer thoroughly. From his peripheral a figure stands from a chair, he turns to stare at the elderly men with his rugged face.
"You have no place here," a drunken dwarf says as the silver knights begin proceeding towards the old man.
The first knight took his focus to the dwarf and walked towards him with an ugly face of anger. "YOU have no place here," The knight said, then spitting in the dwarves ceramic mug.
The dwarf smashed his cup on the edge of the table, and jumped from his chair gripping the ceramic mug tight-- ready to swing the remaining jagged pieces still attached to the handle. But, the silver knight captain reached for the handle of his blade, revealing a sliver of bright silver concealed within the sheath.
