The Shattered Dragonslayer

Preface/Chapter 1: Whispers of War (Part 1)

Preface

Well, if you want to hear this story then I suppose I shall have to explain a few things about our neighbor, Euqaria. Euqaria is a world faraway from our own – indeed it would be practically impossible to reach its border from where we sit. But this land is just as beautiful as it is unreachable, and within its rolling valleys, everlasting woodlands, and hostile oceans there reside three Kingdoms. The only truly sophisticated Kingdom is of course that of Man. You know plenty about humans already: chief in technology, most knowledgeable in any manner of science or religion, and mostly inhabit the grand cities which they build, even if their civilization does lie a few hundred years behind ours. Now, there is also the Thyrians, and just like there are different manner of humans born with different colors and cultures, there are various kinds of Thyrian people too: dragons, sirens, goblins, banshees, cockatrices, and other such beings. The Thyrian folk are a barbaric and unsociable kind, so any sensible human would never go near them. And as for the Nymphs – well, a sensible human didn't go near them either. The Nymph Kingdom is strange, and many people believe it to be magical. Unicorns, fairies, dryads, aquatic horses – these were just some of the colorful races one thought of when they heard the word "nymph."

So, the three Kingdoms kept to themselves for hundreds of years, which was not always easy since the borders of their lands were not as clearly defined as perhaps they ought to have been. Nevertheless, Nymphs mostly stayed in the woods or in the deep seas, and humans mostly built guarded cities and were cautious to make farms or any type of home or livelihood in the country, as Thyrians liked to spread themselves out across the mountains, valleys and everything in between. All the more reason for mankind to pursue greater and more advanced technology, from electric lights to more efficient steam factories and faster locomotives to more explosive firearms, in the hopes that one day they'd prove to the other two Kingdoms who the dominant race was and expand themselves to the far corners of Euqaria without fear.

But this story doesn't begin with the glorious, successful human cities like Royale or Rexington; in fact, it opens with a small, unnamed village which sat upon the brink between Nymph land and Thyrian land. It was a poor but pleasant place where people came to escape their previous lives. With a society that held to such high standards both morally and socially, it was difficult for some folk to find their place in the world, and so they flocked together to make a little town of their own. You might already imagine many of these lowly townsfolk to be a little odd and in possession of some undesirable backstories, but if you were to ask any one of them, they'd tell you the most peculiar one of the lot was a boy called Demetri. Nobody knew where either of his parents originated, so it was a lucky thing that the final task his mother performed in this life was to take him to this beaten, earthy village where nobody cared what your connections were, if you had any at all. And that, dear adventurer, is where this tale begins.

Chapter I

Whispers of War

Mist rose above the mountain peaks, sifting quietly across the horizon as he sat upon the hill – his hill, as he liked to think of it. Demetri spent most of his mornings up there, on the lone grassy precipice which was accompanied by a single tree. There he rested contentedly some ways from the village, watching the sunrise with the arrival of dawn's serenades. It was summer time, so there were plenty of crickets warbling abroad, along with the harmonies of various birds. There came the crowing of farmer Gyle's rooster on the far side of the small community. The bright reds and yellows of sunrise melded into the clear wash of blue within minutes, and it rarely seemed an old sight to him.

He breathed slowly, savoring the early air and the solitude, fiddling with the stalk of barley that hung from his mouth. He could scarcely hear the chattering and activity of the townsfolk some ways behind him. Before him the valley fell deep into a lake of wild fields, bramble mixed with wild flowers, and ongoing creeks with a pond. His village had dreamed of turning that lower part of the valley into more rural grounds and spreading farms for extra food, but within the guarding mountain range dwelt a dragon pride, one that delighted itself in manipulating them all. What number of generations had spent their lives submitting to their wishes most people couldn't recall, but as long as the pride lived in that valley, it would belong solely to them. In fact, the whole of the land allegedly fell into their custody, they simply permitted the humans to live on the hill top in exchange for a portion of their produce. That didn't mean he couldn't look at their land though; the pride might not have reacted cordially had they caught him admiring the low lands, but he didn't care.