Mavierem

Chapter 1: The Merchant

The summer sun beat down on Nathaniel Ward's back. Sweat dripping from his brow, he gazed at the empty field that he had put months and months of backbreaking work into to prepare for the years crops. Miles and miles of soil, rows and rows of miniature mountain ranges as far as the eye could see. Nathaniel dropped his plow onto the grass and staggered towards the small peasants quarters in which he lived with his little sister, Anne. He stared at the Humongous manor that towered over all the pine trees and boulders, making them look like tiny splinters and pebbles. Lord Dunvult, the owner of the Manor, was just like all the other lords or royals in Mavierem. Stuck up, selfish, rich, and powerful. Never giving a second thought to the "lowly peasants" that kept them fed up to their necks. But nonetheless, Lord Dunvult owned Nathaniel and there was nothing he could do about it. In Mavierem, if you were born a peasant, you died a peasant. Born a knight, die a knight, and so on.

Lost in thought, Nathaniel stumbled over the rocky path to the entrance of his teensy house. He shoved the door open and stumbled inside, to be greeted by Anne.

"Natey's home! Natey's home!"

She squealed while skipping over and giving Nathaniel a firm hug. Nathaniel grinned, Anne had that type of young deny-all-bad-things attitude that was extremely contagious. You could tell her that an army of elves was outside and she'd just shrug and go back to brushing her imaginary pony.

"Hello, Anne!"

Nathaniel replied as he flopped down onto the pile of hay that he called his bed. Anne grinned and then galloped around the small room, neighing like a horse all the while. Nathaniel believed that Anne spent more time in her world of daydreams

than in the real one. Nathaniel hoped that one day, things would be better, he would have more than a single silver coin to his name and would be able to get Anne all the things she deserved so that she could stop riding a fake pony and start riding a real one, but he knew that could never become a reality.

Nathaniel stared at the ceiling for a long while, not asleep, but not awake either, until he finally stretched his legs and stood. Yawning a huge yawn, he walked over to the cupboard only to find that it was empty. He cursed under his breath. The rats had probably gotten at it again and now he would have to use the spare food coupon that he always kept for emergencies. After fetching the coupon from under the loose floorboard, where he kept all things of value, Nathaniel tugged on his moth-eaten jacket and stepped out into the evening air.

The sun was setting over Arrow Mountain that could be seen far west of the Dunvult manor. Nathaniel had never even left this village and had often dreamed of better places but knew that all of Mavierem was equally corrupt. Nathaniel trudged off down the bumpy road towards the village, kicking rocks as he went. He could hear the calls of the robins and jays that loudly sang in harmony, the stream lazily strolling to an unknown destination, and the laughter of all the small children that ran through the fields without care. Maybe the world still had some good left in it after all.

Nathaniel was starting to smell the fragrance of fresh bread being baked, signaling that he was close to his destination. This summer had been particularly hard for Nathaniel, what with the extra hours he had been forced to put into working in the fields, the drought that had almost wholly ruined last years harvest and had brought blazing forest fires and scorching temperatures, and the war. Ever since an elven raiding party had killed the good King Piers II, the soldiers of Mavierem have been trying to avenge their leader for no avail. The new and corrupt king, King Philip I, had not helped at all, spending most of the kingdom's money on luxuries for his castle instead of the war efforts. For twelve long years, since Nathaniel was just a small toddler who still wore diapers, thousands of brave soldiers have been slaughtered each month, many more taken captive.