Reaper Rising

Prologue

"Well Josiah, are the rumors true?" The High King Caldor questioned the man standing nonchalantly in front of the throne.

"Rumors?" Josiah repeated the word derisively. "I'm afraid I don't dwell among the grapevines as you do, King Caldor. I am entirely clueless to your insinuations."

Positioned at the king's left-hand side, Talia lowered her lashes, wickedly amused by her half-brother. When they were but children, Josiah's guiltless face and his uncanny ability for spinning lies out of thin air had continuously deceived their many caretakers. Even now, after his young, innocent appearance had cooled into mature indifference, it remained difficult to discern any trickery from him.

Caldor, on the other hand, was unimpressed. "They say you've been aiding the Noir Users." The king's eyes hardened when Josiah remained aloof. "The magi," He emphasized firmly.

"That certainly is a fascinating speculation."

Talia hoped it was just that. A speculation.

It had been nearly five years since Josiah declared his intentions to travel. She drank in his appearance, regarding him, studying him. With long, ebony hair and menacing eyes, he was outwardly the very image of nobility. However, he was no mere aristocrat. He was the crown prince – no- king of a dead, defeated empire. He had the remarkable ability of balancing both a polished air of gentry and an intimidating aura of cruel power.

Her brother had always possessed the countenance of a resting predator. Ever since he returned to the capital though, it seemed as if after just five years of separation, his ominous aura had only grown. She could not put her finger on the change.

"So, you are denying it," her husband stated, glancing first at Talia and then back at Josiah.

A few crimson-clad guards, assigned to Josiah's security detail, tittered behind the unfazed almost-king. In turn, Josiah inclined his head marginally, his dark golden eyes alight with something only he was privy to. It was the same look he had after any one of his childhood pranks. He was hiding something; she was sure of it.

"My people," here, he looked sideways at Talia, an almost cruel sort of reminder that she was still a foreigner, even if she did sit upon a throne. "Are still recovering from the war they waged with your people. I would not aid the Magi and put what little resources we have remaining in jeopardy."

The war between the Ignian Empire and the Wavium Kingdom ended more than five years ago.

Both factions experienced devastating losses, but in the end, the victory belonged to the people of Wavi. As a token of peace, Talia, the sole princess of the Ignian Empire, agreed to take High King Caldor's hand in marriage. Subsequently the two scarred and battle-weary cultures had merged into one nation. Caldor had even named the fledgling realm Concordia in order to represent a new era of peace and unity.

Unfortunately, the two peoples could not have been more polar opposites. One from the south, one from the north. One originating from harsh desert-like climates, the other hailing from lands rich with lakes and mountains. One a roaring flame, the other the tide's inescapable pull. Relations were unsteady. Tense.

No matter.

Talia firmly believed her son would bridge the gap between age-old enemies forced to live like caged dogs in the same kingdom.

"Our resources are your resources," Caldor said. "Now that your people are rebuilding in Concordia, the resources and military of both of our lands are one."

Golden eyes narrowed slightly. "You would like to believe we are united, but my people are looked down upon by your citizens."

"It will take time yet," Caldor insisted calmly. "You came to tell me that the Ignian Empire can be rebuilt, but that will take a substantial amount of gold, labor, and restoration. Let your people continue to recover here. Eventually, acceptance will come, and they will consider Concordia their home." He considered the detached Igna King. "Because of your father's unfortunate passing, you are now their king."