And You Thought They Were Fairy Tales

Chapter 1 Head in the sand

After about five years of living by myself, I had become very content with the consistency of my life. It was a daily routine of potential chaos, if you will. But that doesn't really explain much, does it?



I lived near a rather well developed yet average sized town called Coinston. It was close to the east coast, and a bit far from any of the major cities of Vandröska. This was a blessing if you consider my disposition. I was a bit popular, but also infamous, for what I did in my freetime. As for who I am, my name's Thomas, and I'm what people call a warlock.

The tales go like this: a couple millennia ago, a holy war took place between angels, humans, and demons, or at least that's what the legends say. The result of this wearisome battle was a stalemate between the powers of light and dark, and a release of boundless amounts of magical energy into the world. Since then, nothing along the lines of divine intervention has taken place in the world.

In this country, magic was treated just as monsters were: products of the war, makings of the devil, and forbidden from being involved in. By now, both were almost nonexistent in the nation. Even as a believer in God, studying the arts of magic made me guilty of sacrilege, according to the laws set by the templars, who were lost in the idea of preserving a world before the Holy War. Long story short: Vandröska was benevolent and mighty before it had become corrupt. For decades now, templars have ruled with a self-proclaimed God-given authority.

On the other side of the world, however, Anthuma was rumored to be a country born from monsters who had hoped to use these new phenomena to thrive in new ways. It sounds crazy, and that's probably because few in our country, including myself, were actually educated about the matters of these creatures.

And that's where I come in. I've lived somewhat in hiding for a fraction of my life, but it's become what I like to consider a peaceful life. I find it ironic how I was born with a gift, and only knew my parents briefly before losing them, yet my life is nothing like that of a hero, which a story like this normally gives birth to.
I suppose...I'll just get on with today now, which is more important anyway.

I'd woken up in the middle of the night due to nightmares for several of the past few days, so I was very relieved to have somehow gotten a decent sleep last night. Waking up, I could see the sun beaming through the window. I groaned, knowing I'd overslept, and rolled out of bed. I think modest would be a good description of my home at first glance. It was a rather old cabin that I'd come across when I first started running to avoid persecution. For my own sake, I did nothing to change its exterior look of being abandoned for years. Inside, there was a small bed in the corner, a fireplace, a loaded bookshelf, a strongbox, a desk, and a closet housing a shield and spear. It filled out what little space there was in the cabin, and after replacing most of the rotted wood inside with new stone and timber along with a rug, it was perfectly quaint, cozy, and quiet.

Immediately after slipping into a black silken shirt and pants and my red cloak, I decided to go into town once I was ready. The essentials for me consisted of a coin purse and my satchel, which, belonging to a warlock, always contained God knows what.

Compared to the rest of the people in Coinston, my house was located a little ways to the north in the wooded hills that surrounded the town. I could have done without walking a mile to get there, but it was worth being able to practice magic in private.

When I finally arrived at the town entrance, I was greeted by a few guards out front, each wielding either a spear or sword and covered head to toe in clunky steel-plated armor. Not one of them passed up the chance to give me a discerning look before reluctantly allowing me to enter. While I was still something of a menace here, I still enjoyed coming, even on scorching hot days like this one. It's hard to describe, the urban look of some of the stores and other buildings, the sounds of people walking up and down the paved roads and talking to one another, the sounds of the river that went through the town, I just enjoyed witnessing it all.