The Warlord's Prize

Chapter One

Chapter One

I was used to my days being filled mainly with silence, with the occasional sudden noise coming from either the village children playing outside or the servants rushing to complete their chores for the day. As always, I spent my days being by myself, trying my hardest to avoid my family members. I started off in my room with breakfast, usually porridge or toast with bacon and eggs, and then I may take a walk around the gardens while it's care-takers are having their lunch with the rest of the household servants. For the rest of the evening, until I'm dragged to dinner, I'm usually in the library searching for a new book to capture my interest. Normal routine.

Nothing ever happened out of the blue, but today was different. Today my younger sister of twelve summers came running out of our house as I was making my way back in before the gardeners returned to their jobs.

My sister was small for her age, most assuming that she was of eight or nine summers. Today she was wearing her favourite dress, full length, blue with hints of black, woollen made from one of the many farms my father owns. She claimed that dress as her favourite because she said that it made her look her age. My sister, Henrietta's hair was shoulder length-she recently got it cut from being waist length-and blonde coloured with touches of red from our father's side of the family. Despite her age, she was quite mature, always seeking knowledge and wanting to help others, even the servants, but if you mention how child-like she looks, then she'll behave as such in irritation.

"Athalia, have you heard what has happened?" she panted once she stopped before me. "Did mum or dad tell you?" She must've been running around looking for me for a while with how out of breath she is, bent waist over with hands on her knees trying to catch her breath.

"What do you mean?" I questioned. "What's happened?" No one has told me anything new, or at least, nothing that's worth Henrietta's such behaviour in regards. She seemed to be a bit wary of the news she had to share though, so it can't be anything overly good.

"You know about the raids that dad has sent out, right?" She didn't have to explain any further. Everyone in the village was aware of what my dad had planned with the raids.

For years he made these speeches-only in the privacy of our own home-about how successful he was in providing for not only his family but also to everyone in the land he controls. He would say how he wish he could expand his lands and his multiple businesses: cotton farms, clothing makers, blacksmiths and hunters. As ruling lord of this region, the Kargul region of the Ethurgal empire, my father could make any decision he wanted regarding the progression of the land. This was the same in every other region as our king didn't seem to fancy himself as a real leader; he left all the hard work up to his lords, like my father.

My father was the opposite of the king and wanted more than what he already had. The speeches he made about progress was to further his own power, not for the king. I don't believe my father wanted to be king himself, because he doesn't want to answer to his own lords and ladies of the kingdom. He wanted to do what he wanted without being answerable to others. So being a powerful lord, with vast lands and large amounts of gold and silver streaming in, ruling under a king that couldn't care less what his lords did suited my greedy father extremely well.

That was his intention with the multiple raids he sends out each week. To gain more land and thus, more power and wealth.

"Of course, I know about the raids," I answer Henrietta. "Who doesn't know about them?"

"But do you know where he sent the last group to raid?"

"I don't really listen when father talks about his plans; you know that." My mind was often occupied by more sinister thoughts when their father spoke at dinner about what he plans to do with his army in raiding. Plus, I tend to avoid everyone and all conversations if I can manage.

"He's finally pushed too far," she breathed, looking back over her shoulder as if just mentioning going against our father would summon him. "He sent men to attack Verelos villages."

I'm paralysed. This can't be true. Even lord Joseph, my power-hungry father can't be so despite and greedy as to attack our neighbouring kingdom. Not when such horrific and terrifying stories are told about Verelos occupants; stories of giant men stealing young women for themselves to further their lineage. The few travellers that have returned from Verelos speak of it's harsh lands; sands dunes that stretch on for miles-unsafe for visitors who don't know how to survive desert areas-with only a few waterholes spread out days apart from each other.

I can't imagine why father would even want part of Verelos' land when it is all sand. There's no value in that, at least, none that I can think of anyway.

"Please tell me you're kidding," I begged my sister. If what she says is true, then I can't say we won't have to go to war to defend ourselves. "He can't be so stupid enough to attack those barbarians!" I've never seen a Verelian myself, I've heard from enough people that I know that I never want to. Verelos men are said to stand over 6-foot-6-inches tall, with arms and legs the size of boulders; strong enough to break one anyway. This I know for sure, -from pure logical reasoning-that their skin colour is dark from years in the sun. People also say that they're stupid beings that can't even build themselves a proper home as we have and thus, live in tents made from animal skins, leftover from what they've hunted.

"Calm down!" she shakes me, trying to slow my racing heart. "I overheard father and grandfather in the study. Somehow the king found out what father has done and has ordered him to do whatever he must to avoid a war and to pay whatever price to appease the Verelians."

'As he should', I say mentally say. "And what price will that be?" I say aloud.

"I don't know," Henrietta shrugged, her dress rising up slightly at the shift in her shoulders. "I left to find you and Henry after I heard that. I was too afraid I would be discovered by them."

"Let's go find mother then, and Henry," I say, grabbing her wrist and start on my way back to the mansion. "Henry should also know what's going on and maybe mother will know more about what's happening. She'll be able to tell us." This will be one of the first times I've willingly gone to a family member for help; hopefully, this encounter will show more results than the last time I tried to do that.