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[PippinTook]

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Chapter Nine

Over the Gorgirath mountains, across the far Earosian Desert and int the heart of the King’s Empire lay the city of San Lilead. Once the streets of the city were bright and people roamed freely, trading, buying, and fellowshipping with eachother. The city was built by the elves, the cobblestoned streets and quaint homes were now riddled with ash and filth. The streets were dark and people only left thier homes to buy necesities. Crops stopped growing long ago, now they had to be shipped in from the grasslands east of Las Grecia, the sea harbor city in the north. Soldiers of the royal empire patrolled the streets, and kept the people in line. There was a tax on almost everything. The palace of the King sat in the middle of the city. It was made of gray stones, an iron gate surrounded the walls. Everything about it was bleak and dreary. No flowers or color could be seen. This was the capital of San Lilead.
High in the chambers of the palace King Zarfoth lay in his bed, deathly ill. No one was allowed into his room save the royal healer and his son, Silivryn. And so these came to him one morning, the healer and the son. The healer’s name was Horace. He wore a red cloak that hung about his shoulders and drug the floor as he walked. Horace was old and feeble, but he was cunning. He lay his bag of herbs on the table next to the King’s bed. Silivryn sat next to his father, his piercingly evil violet eyes starig into those of his only parent.
“How do you feel, Father?” he asked with false sincerity.
“Better than last night, those herbs helped.” came the raspy reply.
Silivryn shot an evil glance at Horace.
“Really, well I believe I have something that should have you up on your feet in no time, your Majesty.” said Horace, trying to avoid the stare of Silivryn’s eyes.
Horace poured a cup of what seemed to be tea and crushed some unknown leaves into it. He handed the cup to the King who slowly drank it. The King’s face went pale, he looked down at the empty tea cup than up at his son, who bore a sinister smile.
“I knew it. I knew you would do this, Silivryn, you black-hearted monster.” the King said to his son, with all maliciousness and despite of a sworn enemy. Those words would be his last.
Silivryn stood and turned towards Horace.
“I swear, healer, if you tell a single soul what happened here, I will hunt you down and boil your filthy guts when I find you.” Silivryn said with surprising calmness. Horace winced,
“Not a soul, your Majesty, not a soul.” he said.
Silivryn smiled at Horace, that smile was enough to freeze the heart of any man. Silivryn ran out of the room, false concern and pain was on his face.
“Gaurds! Gaurds! That man killed my father! Sieze him! I want to see him at the gallows by morning!” he cried once he was out of the royal chambers.
So goes the first act of Silivryn, King of Earosia.

Back in the Eresmine valley, the sun was setting on Von Scotia. Krian, Pilin and Pala had all settled down after a busy day, but Rhys, Aiya and Alaithia sat high in the rafters of the Great Hall, waiting impatiently for midnight’s hour.
“All this horrid waiting will be the end of me!” said Alaithia impatiently.
“Only a few more hours.” Rhys laughed. Aiya stood and paced the room. She was just as impatient as Rhys and Alaithia if not more. She unsheathed Elohae and studied the blade. It was beautiful. The light streaming down from the prism reflected off the shiny metal.
“That is a wonderful blade.” Alaithia remarked.
“Thank-you. I am still a novice at sword play, I hope to do Elohae justice one day.” Aiya replied sheathing her sword.
Aiya walked over the spot directly underneath the prism. It was a circle, a flat green tinted circle. She knocked her foot against it. It sounded just like any other wood floor.
“I don’t see how the light shining onto this circle will do anything.” Aiya said dismally sitting down.