Sons of War

Prologue: An Ill wind.

The little boy giggled. He sat amongst the tall, swaying grass and playfully snatched at the lights. Small, glowing balls of colour that floated about, somehow always managing to elude his enthusiastic grasping. Sometimes, they were more than lights. They were people, tiny and golden, smiling at him; overjoyed that he could see them and what's more, that he should play with them. He had learned, early on, that his was a special gift and that none were to know of it, lest he should come to be outcast.

He could hear his brothers calling out, their light tones floating on the breeze, filled with laughter and mischief and over this, the deep brass rumble of his father's voice admonishing them to get on with the work. Such moments as this, Kay thought, were as close to paradise as he would come. A chill wind brought him out of reverie and he shivered. Something was coming. He didn't know how he knew, just that it was so. Concerned, he tried to look at his friends for reassurance only to find that they were no longer there. He was alone. More then a little afraid, Kay began to run toward the house.

He could see his father, standing outside the steps to their home, surveying his sons as they tended the farm. He turned to watch with a kindly smile as he saw his youngest rush toward him. Kay skidded to a halt in front of him.

"And what urgent need brings you so speedily, my son," he said. The words were meant in jest, but once spoken took on another tone. Kay said nothing, momentarily robbed of speech. It was not merely the running that caused this, but also his father's presence. Tall, massive bronze chest exposed to the sun, with piercing grey eyes, he had a powerful impact on those around him. Suddenly, his headlong rush seemed foolish and needless. What was he to say? That he had a bad feeling? He would appear to be nothing more then a silly child. He stared down at his toes, morose. Luckily, he needn't say anything, as the cause of the ill wind coalesced on the horizon.

They both turned at the sound of encroaching thunder. Kay was familiar enough with horses to know what this meant: someone was coming. Considering their relative isolation, this could not be good. His father had obviously reached the same conclusion.

"Get your brothers and go inside."

"But F--"

"Now!" His whole posture had changed in moments. Tense, muscles clenched and numerous scars pulled taught as he watched the oncoming riders. Kay knew better then to disobey. He rushed off to grab his brothers, only to see them coming in already having noticed the riders. Kyle, the eldest, led the other two.

"Father says we are to wait inside," Kay said, face pinched with worry. His earlier urgency solidified into a cold lump in his gut.

Kyle nodded. Like their father, he was built like an ox, trademark brown hair pulled back into a short ponytail. He reached out and briefly tousled Kay's own flaxen head. "It'll be alright," he said, as he ushered them inside, but his face remained troubled. Immediately there was scuffling for the best position at the window, eventually leaving Kay, the smallest, to watch his brothers' broad backs. Gareth, the second youngest and closest to Kay, gave him a look of sympathy.

"Tell me what's happening," Kay whispered fiercely. He didn't know why he felt the need to whisper, only that he was afraid.

"Two riders approach. They carry a standard"--Gareth sucked in a breath, hissing in excitement--"they are Imperial couriers!" he exclaimed in surprised recognition. Immediately, worry shaded his voice. "But why are they here and what do they want with father?" he asked, worried. No one answered.

"They're talking now... and look! That weedy bastard is actually looking down his nose at our father!"

He could hear it now; the cold autocratic voice. "His Majesty, the Imperial Emperor, requests your aid, William Caravin, in the forthcoming war..."

Then the deep rumble of his father's voice answered. Questions were asked and information exchanged but all Kay could focus on were those words. They were taking father away. There was a kind of stunned shock in the room, all of them trying to come to terms with this strange turn of events.

Requests your aid...

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, that he almost missed the sound of retreating hoof beats and the heavy tread of his father's boots upon the floorboards. Kay's heart leapt. Father hadn't left! The door creaked open. There he stood, looking infinitely older. They all watched him. He looked so alone there, cast into shadow by the light, that Kay wanted nothing more then to rush forward and hug him, beg him never to leave. He knew, however, such a display would be frowned upon. The tension heightened.

"Are you going?" Kyle's voice sounded harsh in the silence.

Kay stared at Kyle as if he were a child. Of course Father wasn't going, wasn't it obvious?

"You think I have a choice?" He stepped inside, and closed the door. Sighing, he leant against it.

Shock, as profound as anything Kay had known, hit him. Father was leaving. He was actually going to go. The silence stretched as they all struggled to understand.

"You know you do!" Kyle's voice cracked. He took a step forward. "He requested, father, he did not demand." In his eyes, there was a plea that he could never voice. But his father only shook his head.

"What would you have me do? Abandon my land? Pah! I bled once for it and I will do so again."

Kyle's face twisted as if there were a bad taste in his mouth. "So you're just going to leave us, then, just like...," he trailed off, suddenly looking lost and afraid. The words lingered in the air, unsaid and all the heavier for it. Just like Mother.

To which his father had nothing to say. He looked away.

Kay tasted salt. He reached up to brush away the tears he hadn't noticed shedding. "Papa...," he croaked, voice thick with emotion. "Papa, don't go."

William stared at his son, aghast. His strong gaze suddenly conflicted. He came forward, kneeling before his youngest. The light cast into sharp relief his many battle wounds and with horror, Kay realized just how old his father was. "My boy, I will never be gone from your side," he said. "You need but call and I will come."

"Let me come with you!" Kay burst out suddenly. "Please."

William only shook his head. "No, my son. War is not for you, yours is another path and only you may tread it. He sighed and looked away.

"They return at dawn," he said, standing up. "We have much to do."

This was an interesting beginning and definitely drew me into the characters. The overall idea seemed a little cliche to me (I could practically guess what was going to happen); however, this is only your prologue and I am confident you will prove my cliched predictions wrong. At least I hope so.

Your word choice was excellent for the most part and your dialogue was quite good; your characters are interesting. I am not emotionally invested in them yet, but they have intrigued me - especially the father.

Throughout the piece, you use 'then' wrongly. Remember that whenever you are making a comparison (hotter than, nicer than), you have to use 'than' not 'then'. There was a lot of this in the piece, so go back and proofread for that. I also noticed a few grammar errors (just comma junk and such). You were rather consistent with good grammar, so I'm not going to delve into grammar rules; just proofread this and look for phrases and clauses with no commas and such. Also watch for fragments; some are fine, but be careful how you use them.

William stared at his son, aghast. His strong gaze suddenly conflicted.

I really don't like the verb 'conflicted' here. What does a conflicted expression look like? I suggest describing the appearance so the reader can see that his expression is conflicted.

With some proofreading, this will be a very solid piece of work. I look forward to reading more. Please keep writing and PM me if you have any questions.

Its not really a beginning, so much as a fragment lol. I did think, as I was writing it, that I could make it a beginning and go from there, but I shan't. I want to see where it goes from my initial plans...

But I digress. Thanks for the comment WD, tis appreciated.

Chapter 1. Portents.

Kay awoke, grimacing. His head pounded and he squeezed his eyes shut against the light that seemed to stab into his vulnerable flesh. He hawked roughly and spat, a sickly gob of green that splattered on the floor. In another age he might have cared about the mess but not now. He stumbled over to the washstand, picking up the jug of fresh water that was beside it. He splashed the frigid liquid onto his face, rubbing his hands over the rough stubble that never seemed to leave, no matter how many times he shaved.

Kay detested his visage: a rough mane of blonde hair sticking every which way floated over stormy grey eyes forked with stressed red lightning. He looked terrible, but felt even worse. He felt old. In silence he turned away from his accusing reflection. He picked up his smeared grey tunic, throwing it over his shoulders.

"Boy!" he called. After some moments, a page ran into the room. He knew the drill. Together, they buckled on his battered leather cuirass and armour. Picking up his dented helmet, he walked out of the room, without a word of thanks. Once out of the barracks he looked about him with a now familiar despair. No bustling city greeted him, no ranks of polished guards patrolling broad avenues greeted him with deference as he walked the streets. Instead he was faced with little more then a stone village, with decrepit little alleys, shoddy walls a six year old could scale and a unit of raw youths more likely to wound themselves then any potential threat.

Ignoring the stares of the few idlers in the street, he walked away toward the guard tower. It rose high, the only well constructed building in this godforsaken outpost, he thought. It was made of the same sandstone as the rest of city, standing next to two broad, although rotting, wooden gates. He made his way to it, gritting his eyes against the ever present dust. The heat beat down and the day had scarce begun.

"Expectin' a battle, are we captain?" someone sniggered from his peripheral. He ignored it. What did these fools know, anyway? Nothing, and that is the God's truth right there, he thought wryly. He arrived at the doorway, sighing in relief as he stepped into the shadowed enclave. He began to wearily make his way up the flight of stairs.

Kay already knew what he'd find at the top, he could hear the snores reverberating throughout the tower. And there he was, a jumbled pile of poorly applied armour and gangly limbs that heaved with each gusty snore. Kay wondered briefly on the best way to approach this, smiling when he reached his decision. He manoeuvred his muscled bulk closer and took in a deep breath before roaring in his loudest voice his favourite Kyraen battle cry. The ululating feral cry bounced off the walls, coming back louder and meaner.

The effect was immediate: the boy jump started into motion like a drunken mule, bolting forward, helmet dangling over his eyes. He promptly crashed into the stairway, bouncing and yelling the whole way down with a frightful jangle that left Kay wincing. That didn't help his head at all. He leaned over the railing.

"Soldier, report!" he yelled.

"I'm alright cap'n, just a few bruises is all," came the faint reply from below.

"Not about you, you bleedin' fool!" Kay sighed wearily. "Just report to Lieutenant Carper for neglecting your post," he called down. "And if I ever find you in such a poor fashion Master Reyain I will personally castrate you and feed your balls to that lovesick mule I've seen you eyeing of late."

He turned away, walking out onto the walls. A cool breeze blew, gently lifting his hair back and away. He sighed, easing worn muscles as he sat down, legs dangling precariously. Before him stretched barren plains, rolling sand dunes that stretched as far as the eye could see, before melting into the Depths. The Depths was an uncanny stretch of black, twisted land long ago warped by some sorcerous encounter the likes of which had long since been forgotten. The border city of Madlea watched warily over it, for it was known that sometimes, things stirred in that place. Kay frowned, wondering at the strange twist his thoughts had taken.

He loved coming here. Alone, with only the land before him and the sky above, untroubled by the petty needs of people and bitter memories. Here, he was truly free. It was a beautiful sunrise he witnessed, too, all gold and fiery red. Some time passed and he felt his headache gradually ease away. Now that he had time to himself, he suddenly thought of his dream last night. He had dreamt of the day his Father had been called away to war. Those words, so casually uttered, haunted him now.

War is not for you...

"Then what am I doing, Father," he whispered. "Why didn't you believe in me?"

Anguish, such as he hadn't known for ages, twisted inside him. He had spent a lifetime proving his father wrong, just to spite him. He still remembered vividly the sight of his father as he prepared to leave. A formed, shiny black breastplate had covered his broad chest, upon which the royal bear of Kyrean roared. Two golden stripes upon his shoulders denoted rank. A dark fighting kilt fell to his knees, down from which golden leg greaves shone. A black cloak, lined in fur, fell to his feet. Gone was the farmer, and in his place stood a fearful machine of war. He fairly oozed menace.

Something in that sight had affected him deeply, called to some dark part of him. He bowed his head. He should've listened to his Father, for he had been right...

Suddenly his roving eyes spotted something, distracting him from his train of thought. A dust cloud. He scrambled to his feet, heart pounding. What was this? A message from Madlea? As the rider came closer, features became distinguishable. It was a youth, that much he could tell, and obviously unused to the saddle given his poor riding. As he approached, the cold feeling in his gut intensified.


"By the God's Balls," he swore, as he saw a smaller, darker form gaining. The boy was being chased! He turned and ran down the stairs, leaping them two at a time. He hit the ground running. The rider was near now, and Kay rushed to help him. The horse, flanks heaving, mouth frothing, crumpled before he reached them, flinging the boy like a rag doll. And now Kay saw the reason for the slipshod horsemanship, the entire left side of his body was covered in blood. It was amazing he was even alive. He knelt beside the boy's body, lifting his gasping head.

"M-m-must...warn...," he whispered, then spasmed, body wracked with coughs.

"What is it boy?!"

But it was plain to see that there was nothing left in him, he was fast fading. A spark kindled in his eyes, and he grasped Kay's arms desperately. "They're coming!" he shouted, before slumping to the ground. He was dead. Kay looked up, searching for the pursuer. At first he saw nothing, then he spotted it, a ways back, a spot of darkness against a field of gold. Kay got to his feet, stepped toward it.

There was such a bright anger in him, he wanted nothing more then to rush it, to stab and hack and water these plains in plaid. He was heaving now, sucking in great amounts of air, but he would not succumb. He knew what it was, despite the glare of the sun. A Deep scout; small, lithe, night black form topped with a little, teardrop shaped head.

They measured each other silently. "Your job is done!" he roared. "The boy is dead."

With a series of screeching clicks, the thing turned away on its mount and loped away toward the sunrise that remained still. It would return he knew, and in numbers. Kay turned, and sombrely gathered the boy in his arms. As he walked back to the town, one thought was in his head.

Madlea burns.

Very good.

...rubbing his hands over the rough stubble that never seemed to leave...

I like that you used this and his description at the beginning instead of saying something like 20 years later.

Kay already knew what he'd find at the top, he could hear the snores reverberating throughout the tower.

This would work better with a semi colon ( ; ) instead of a comma.

And there he was; a jumped pile of poorly applied armoury and gangly limbs that heaved with each gusty snore.[/b]

Did you mean jumbled and armour? I also think a comma would be better here. The semi colon would work if it was "gangly limbs heaved"

...bouncing and yelling the whole down with a frightful jangle that left Kay wincing.

whole way

Good job. I'm interested to see where this goes.

Ah, you've spotted the little typos and such, tricksy little hobbitses that got away from me. Thank you, kind lady! Tis appreciated.

Wow this is very nice. I really didn't expect Kay to turn out the way he did when he got older but the character change was very nice and interesting. He seems constantly angry and on edge which is what I would expect from a boy that lost the both of his parents, great character development. I really can't wait to read more, and perhaps I'll give a better and longer review on this tomorrow, I seem to be lacking at night. *shrugs* I'll try to re-review tomorrow though!

~Rieda

Jiggity wrote:Prologue: An Ill wind.

The little boy giggled. He sat amongst the tall, swaying grass and playfully snatched at the lights. Small, glowing balls of colour that floated about, somehow always managing to elude his enthusiastic grasping. Sometimes, they were more than lights. They were people, tiny and golden, smiling at him; overjoyed that he could see them and what's more, that he should he play with them. He had learned, early on, that his was a special gift and that none were to know of it, lest he should come to be outcast.

Red part confusing

Kay said nothing momentarily, robbed of speech.

This is very dpressing. I dont want papa to go either

Good job

Yay, more comments. Thank you both for your commentingness.

What was confusing about that part Adam?

But yessum, cheers for the effort.

They were people, tiny and golden, smiling at him; overjoyed that he could see them and what's more, that he should he play with them.

I think you've got an extra he in here.

"Get your brother's and go inside."

No need for an apostrophe in brothers, since brothers is plural, not possessive.

It'll be alright," he said, as he ushered them inside but his face remained troubled.

This would flow better with a comma after inside.

Immediately there was scuffling for the best position at the window, eventually leaving Kay, the smallest to watch his brothers' broad backs.

I think this would sound better with a comma after smallest.

"Two riders approach. They carry a standard--Gareth sucked in a breath, hissing in excitement--they are Imperial couriers!"

You're missing some quotation marks here. After standard, and before they, since the action interrupts the dialogue.

There was a kind of stunned shock in the room, all of them trying to come to terms with this strange turn of events.

This sounds weird to me. I'm not sure why. I tried reading it out loud and it sounded really strange.

"So your just going to leave us, then, just like...,"

Should be you're.

William only shook his head. "No, my son. War is not for you, yours is another path and only you may tread it."

"They return at dawn," he said, standing up. "We have much to do."

You don't need the end quote on the first paragraph, since he continues through the second.

Chapter 1

He looked like crap, but felt even worse.

This doesn't fit the tone of the rest of this. Too modern.

What did these fool's know, anyway?

No apostrophe here. It's plural.

Nothing, and that is the Gods truth right there, he thought wryly.

You would have an apostrophe here, though, since the truth belongs to god.

As he approached so the cold feeling in his gut intensified.

Why the so?

Small, lithe, night black form topped with a small, teardrop shaped head.

I don't think you should use the word small twice in a sentence. Maybe you could say little instead?


Very nice! I love the suspense. It held my attention through the entire thing.

My little brother asked what I was doing so I read this out loud to him, and he really liked it too.

We liked the dialogue, and how it sounds natural but not modern.

The only character I can get a sense of is Kay. I'm not sure about how aggressive he is. He gets very angry when the boy dies, but he doesn't think the war is for him. That seems inconsistent to me. I like his relationship with his father, that's something I'd love to read more about. What are the fairy things? Are they real, or fireflies, or things he can't see anymore?

Tell me when you post more of this, I'd love to read it!

-Jenna

Wow, thanks a bunch Jenna! Hahaha. I love that you read it to your little brother and he liked it! Woo!

Kay...well, he's a violent man, can't help it now. He's kind of trapped, but I'll get more into that later. More to come, soon, have no fear.

Thanks again, everyone.

hey jig! nice story so far.

i'm horrible at critiquing... but the only part i want to know a bit more about is this Deep Scout. its physical appearance, mostly. all i really understand of it is that it's dark. maybe throw in some of its mannerisms?

good start. i hope you keep going!

Chapter 2: Recurrence.


Kay paced. He stood outside the Council chambers at the centre of Keep, if it could even be called that. It was little more then a motley villa, but for all that, even he had to admit it was tastefully decorated. It was probably the only thing money had been spent on, in earnest, and knowing the vanity of the three elderly statesmen even now deliberating within its walls, it wasn't hard to believe. A beautiful expanse of white tile spread beneath his feet, rich tapestries of hunting and lush green valleys adorned the walls, and the doors he paced before were made of a deep mahogany etched with wonderful designs.

What was taking so long? Doddering old fools! Madlea, a border city of great might, had a standing army of five thousand hardened men. Its fall boded ill for the rest of the world; it spoke volumes about the force arrayed against them. For weeks now they had heard nothing from their sister city, but no one had thought anything of the silence for such lapses in communication were common and could be attributed to many things.

Now the cause was known, the danger realised and the threat imminent but instead of action, his time was wasted by this pointless mummery! The sound of the bolt scraping, brought him sharply to heel and he fought to keep his face dispassionate as the door was opened. Mia, an elderly, long suffering maid stood there. "Right then, in you come," she said briskly.

There was a hiss from the side and a hushed whisper, "No, no, no! That's not how its done!"

Mia sighed, rolling her eyes, then began to recite. "The Lord Councillors of Saigon bid you, Guard Captain Caravin, to enter and be welcome." With that she turned on her heel and left the door open. He stepped into the room, fighting a smile. Mia was the only honest being he'd met since his arrival. His booted feet made no sound, sinking into the plush blue carpet. The room, although not huge, was impressive. Marble columns marked an avenue to a broad set of stairs which led, he knew, to the bedchambers of these decrepit fossils. To the side, another series of steps led upward to a dais and it was to this he turned. On the dais three throne like chairs seated three old men, before a polished table that drank in the light, rather then reflected.

Kay gritted his teeth. This was no time to play at court, these senile sacks of flesh needed to be done away with! With thinly veiled contempt, he bowed shortly. "My lords, has a decision been reached?" The three said nothing, merely watching him.

While he waited, Kay took the opportunity to get a closer look at them. It was not often he met with them, they had little interest in anything other then their comfort and leisure. The central figure, Gavril, was watching him coldly. White hair cropped thin, eyes dispassionate and frighteningly clear watched him over the hooked nose of a predator. Kay began to feel uneasy. It was he, whose ruling would be final, the others submissive to his dominant will. As the portly Jorvah failed to meet his eye, and the balding scholar Rel fastidiously studied his nails, Kay felt himself stiffen. Surely they did not doubt him? What exactly were they playing at?

Seeing the understanding dawn in his eyes Gavril smiled, triumphant. "Tell us again, how you came by the body, Captain," he said.

Anger came, sudden and biting. "Do you doubt my word?" Kay barked.

"No, no, no," Jorvah added hastily. "It's just our memories are not what they were, Captain, please..." he trailed off lamely, aware of how thin his cover was.

Kay bristled. "What is your decision?" he said, ignoring their questions. He had never been one for diplomacy, but even he was shocked at his behaviour. Never had felt such an urgency upon him. The very empire was in danger, he knew it!

The three exchanged glances. Gavril leaned forward, "Captain, what did you expect us to think when you arrived here, reeking of ale, looking like a mad man and with a tale to match?" A false look of concern crossed his face. "A desperate last message, from the sole survivor of a tragedy- conveniently dead now- to a bitter man no one trusts. Why, its a tale for the Bards." His voice, cold and sneering struck Kay like a blow. He realised how it must appear, and cursed himself for a fool for not stopping to arrange his appearance. He felt his heart constrict. This was too similar to last time, to his expulsion from the capitol...he squeezed his eyes shut and looked away. Then, like now, he had been defeated by sly words.

The palanquin halted before him. Its inhabitants well hidden from prying eyes. Kay felt a cold shiver of fear wrack his body. Its colours were black and gold, which meant one thing: it was the Inquisitor himself. One of the highest among the Inepts, those upon whom the ability of sorcery was forced and fostered, at the cost of most physical functions. There was a sibilant hiss from behind the curtains. "Captain Caravin, you have served us well in the past, indeed, you are nothing short of a hero... one of the greatest warriors of our time, a true scion of Caravin!"

There was a sigh, almost as if the speaker felt regret. "Why then, has your loyalty withered, turned sour, turned traitorrr," the last word ended in a hiss. Sweat poured down his body, causing him to itch beneath his well oiled battle armour. He suppressed the urge to scratch.

"I know not what you mean, Inquisitor," he said, drawing himself taut, to his full, impressive height.

"Oh come now, let us not play this game! Our Emperor has some affection for you and for this, and this only have you been spared thus far. Do not force me to resort to coarser measures." Even as the last word was spoken, a chill force began to gather. Kay's nape hairs rose, and he had to fight the urge to back away. It coiled and twined about the room, making its presence felt. Kay tasted blood, its metallic flavour instantly recognisable.

"I assure you my lord, I would never act against this Court, or my liege Emperor. I remain loyal...," he hesitated, briefly wondering if he should mention his doubts of late. He was given no chance.

"Ah, you hesitate. If this in itself were not a telling factor, then the evidence compiled against you in recent weeks would still be enough to have you hanged." The dispassionate voice continued to list every innocuous tavern meeting, every rumour bandied about, every night time foray into the city, turning into the sinister actions of a malcontent. Kay reeled throughout this, unable to keep up, unable to speak. There was a tightness in his chest and throat that prevented him from doing anything but stare in wide eyed horror.

"And lastly," he remembered hearing, "your sentence. You are hereby exiled to the border city of Saigon there to be watched and monitored for a minimum of three years." Three years! So long away from civilized society would leave him with virtually no status in society. But no, his popularity alone would prevent this from happening!

As if reading his mind, the voice continued. "Of course the official version of events will be much different; the people's hero, rushed off to the border to protect his nation. Why, the bards will sing your tale for generations. Failure to comply with these very generous orders, Captain will result in a fate far worse then death, that I promise you."

Kay shook himself out of reverie. He would not bow down meekly this time. His gaze flashed up to Gavril. "Appearances mean nothing. The truth remains as I have stated. The Empire is in danger, Madlea burns, the word must be spread!"

"Have you forgotten the terms of your sentence? Leaving Saigon is akin to suicide," he said.

"And why would a madman care about something so trivial?" Kay said, mockingly. "Its a risk I'm willing to take."

Hate twisted across the elderly statesman's face. "You will not leave Saigon!" he screeched indignantly.

Kay was more then a little shocked at this outburst. Gavril had always been cool and composed in the past. Why was he so desperate for Kay to stay? The man was currently smoothing his robes down with shaky hands.

"So," Gavril said, composed once more. "Let us, for the moment, pretend that what you say is true. That an army has risen from within the Depths and that Madlea has already succumbed. What then?"

Kay frowned, unsure of where he was going with this. " Is it not obvious? Hvae your wits deteriorated so far? We must arm ourselves and prepare for war!"

"Ah," a sly smile slid open across the man's face, "I see now. Then the glorious Kay, warrior of renown will come to the rescue. I see that you have delusions of grandeur."

Kay flushed. He couldn't, in all honesty, deny this. Some small part had been glorying in what this would mean for him, the adulation, the return to civilized society. But that was not the main opportunity here, that was not what he wished most desperately for when he twisted and turned in the bed sheets at night. It was redemption he sought. Gavril was triumphant, all but crowing with glee to see his barb had hit a mark. Gods but this man was a snake! The councillor stood, sliding around the table to walk toward him.. He stopped a few steps away where he would have the advantage of height.

"You are not the striking hero of yesteryear, Captain. Your time here has had a marked effect, both on your appearance," he sniffed, "and your reputation. The people no longer care, they have fickle attentions at best, and you have long since been forgotten."

Each word hit Kay like a blow. Truths he didn't want to admit to faced him now and it was not a pretty sight. "And this is all pointless conjecture because of course, what you say is untrue. A desperate attempt by a has-been to attain glory. I know this is true for I recieved a missive from then just hours prior, via pigeon." He flourished a letter still sealed with the distinctive crest of Madlea, that of a flaming torch.

It couldn't be true! He looked wildly to Jorvah, but the man was steadily staring at his feet as if they were the most interesting thing in the word. Two spots of colour burned in his cheeks. Kay didn't even bother to look at Rel. There was nothing more he could do here. He had tried and been put to shame.

"You... have my apolgies my lord," he said. Gavril's face whitened and the other two both turned to stare at him in shock. Thick emotion made his voice rough. "It appears I was mistaken." He didn't need to look to see the shock on thier faces, whatever else they had expected, an apology was definetly not it. He knew better then to mention the dead messenger though, so silently resolved to see to the matter himself.

He turned and beat a retreat, dejected.

Hey Jig!

I really liked your first and second chapters. Your pace is very steady and your writing style shines. Kay is very well developed and I liked your descriptions of Gavril & co.

This may have just been me, but I was awfully surprised when Kay asked who was going to stop him from leaving and walked away at the end. I suppose I didn't see him as that passionate about Madlea earlier on. The little flashback right before that did help explain it, but if you perhaps pumped a bit more emotion into the part where Kay finds the dead boy, it might make it more believable.

Emotionless mentioned something about making the Dark Scout more dark. Usually, I would agree, but I rather like the objectivity you assigned to the Dark Scout and the calmness Kay showed towards it.

Despite a few spelling errors and such, this was very well-written. Now for the fun part - character impressions.

Kay

I like Kay. Kay is captain of army in Madlea, and he does take his job seriously, but he is so haunted/troubled by something of late that he takes little care of himself. He is easily-irritated as shown with the boy not at his post, and seems to keep calm in most serious situations. Holds a certain distatse toward Gavril & co. and doesn't trust him. He struggles with what his Father told him years ago and whether his blatant disobedience is right or not.

Gavril

Very manipulative. He is very powerful and is intimidating towards the other two of his Council, calls all the shots I'm assuming. I think he is involved in something that would destroy or endanger Madlea and he dislikes Kay.

Jorvah

Submissive and weak under Gavril. Unlike Rel, he does try to justify himself to Kay.

Mia

Knows Kay well enough she doesn't care about formalities, has suffered under the authority of Gavril & co.? Obviously very honest - I have the feeling she has a part to play in this story.

You know, funnily enough, I felt a little odd about that ending. In my head as I was writing the chapter, he would leave dejected... hmm, Ima have to make that happen.

Thanks for the comment!