The War of the Roil: The Knight and the Warlock

Chapter 1: A Day in the Empire

The year was 1054, after the collapse of the ancient Ansami Empire and the end of Titan's War.

The autumn equinox had just passed in Ivanderton, a port town in the Empire of Atrell's southern province of Duvri. The peasant class, dubbed the Pious, were preparing for harvests and enjoying the beautiful weather before the cold of winter set in.

The craftsmen of the Trwaj caste rushed around, attempting to finish their labors for the season's end, while Nobles shopped for the supplies they'd need for the harvest festivities.

Edmund Isley had his eye on one young black haired noblewoman in particular with a fat looking coin pouch on her hip. Though, the fact that her noble parents didn't bother to spend a Nin on her escort caused a seed of doubt to be planted in Edmund's mind.

But he needed the money. A lot more than her. Many people needed it more than her.

His legs waited in anticipation, pressing against the cobblestone road preemptively as if coaxing him to go through with the robbery. He threw up the hood of his cloak and hid back behind his corner into an alleyway as the noblewoman drew near.

Three. Two. One.

Edmund spun around, knocking into the noblewoman. The force of the impact pushed each of them to the ground. Both of them grunted in pain, but Edmund immediately stood and took up an apologetic tone.

"I am so sorry, miss. Please forgive my insolence," he said as he helped her stand up, "I had no idea where I was going."

"No need." the noblewoman took his hand and stood, dusting off her frilly bright blue dress, "Now be on your way."

Edmund bowed his head before walking off. He grinned to himself, clutching the coin purse under his cloak. Hiding in another alleyway, Edmund lowered his hood and extracted the leather pouch.

Eagerly, he opened the pouch. It was full of pure gold Knurrins. Not a silver Knuk or bronze Nin in sight. The only thing better would be a bag full of God Shards.

"Gods, it's like they don't even care about their coin purses." Edmund chuckled. But then again, they probably didn't.

While this would've made any thief happy for months, Edmund frowned and furrowed his brow at the sight. Yes, nobles were rich, but who would be so stupid as to load their young daughter full of gold and send her walking down Ironwood Street?

Edmund took a closer look at the purse itself.

"Titans," he hissed, his eyes widening with terror.

The bag belonged to and bore the crest of the Shawe Family. Edmund needed to find a place to discard the pouch and some trustworthy people to split the gold between. But that was an unlikely, if not impossible occurrence with the company he kept.

He could pawn it off to an Auriok if there were any around. Though, he'd have to watch them eat most of his hard earned coin.

One might ask why exactly so many solutions to dumping the coin were on Edmund's mind. The answer was easy: If he didn't want his limbs quartered by a Shawe Enforcer or be struck by the lightning of a Shawe Sparker, he'd have to get rid of any evidence of his involvement with the missing gold.

Of all the Nobles in Ivanderton, the Shawes were the worst. They treated their rats with more care than they did the Pious. Their patriarch, Lord Shawe was a beast of a man. As a half Nordanian, the Snakes, Edmund's caste of criminals and outcasts, whispered he was just as ruthless and bestial as the savages he descended from.

Edmund tugged on the leather straps of the pouch and hid it within the folds of his cloak. He left the alley for his homestead, but was cut off not a moment after he left the darkness. It slipped his mind to put up his hood.