if you enjoy reading this, here's an overture I composed for the story:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKY3jQfT-co
Above the high peaks of Greygoff Valley, the sun silently descended, exhaling it's red miasma before drifting into its impalpable abyss.
At the foot of the mountains, sheltered from the icy winter winds and predators lurking in the caves and crevasses dotting the cliff-like far side of the mountains, was the small town of Greygoff itself; small, insignificant homes, housing small, insignificant people living in this small, insignificant town.
The known land of the empire stretched for miles, in all directions, stopping only at the Great Wall, immaculately crafted with smooth black brick, shimmering in the exposing sun which brightened the harsh, dull desert of which the wall dammed; no one could ever say for sure what was over it, because no one had ever crossed it; it was too high even for a creature of the air to surpass.
Surrounded by vast oceans, the peninsula the empire controlled split into two realms, separated only by the Raven-Eye river, so named because of the large island dividing it into two streams and back again. The Zarphic Desert lay in the eastern side of the empire, sand whirled rapidly, water was scarce and few had ever crossed it; any who did were blocked by the Great Wall. Lush green grasslands and beautiful, monumental mountains surfaced the lavish domain of Largate on the western side of the Raven-Eye. The king's home and capital city, Reidoc, was situated almost in the immediate centre of Largate, his imperial grounds expanding many miles from the ample palace.
The unaided, tribal people, living in the heart of the Zarphic Desert had declared war against the empire in a desperate attempt at rebelling against the king's remorseless, absent-minded attitude towards the shanty-town city – Zekric. Even larger than the capital, Zekric stretched for hundreds of miles, homing thieves, outcasts and the 'unfortunate' who happened to be born there. All manner of dark creatures, artifacts, traders and their mobile carriage homes sprouted from Zekric.
Like the Empire around it, Greygoff was also split by the Raven-Eye river; one half of the town lay in Largate, the other in Zarphic. The town was linked by a small, light red cobbled bridge; just high enough to accommodate a small rowing boat.
A male, tall with short brown hair stood on this bridge, his rough hands leaning against the cracking, pink paint coating the stone wall. His name was Okrol, a working boy aged seventeen. As he did after most bad days, Okrol walked to his favourite spot in the town, the bridge to watch the Raven-Eye open up into the unknown ocean. Dolphins leaped and splashed playfully no less than a mile away from where he was standing and where the river mouth opened.
Only the top of the sun crept over the horizon now, Okrol watched it descend, his eyes tired after his hard unappreciated work at the blacksmith's shop in the south of town. Working for Jimmy the blacksmith was either hard or harder, even Okrol's muscled arms couldn’t take the pace required in the shop. Jimmy and his long grey hair tied back, was well over eighty years old and his arms nothing but skin and bone. Remnants of a once muscular figure sagged from the old blacksmith when his arms were outstretched; his jaw line had sunken by at least an inch in the last twenty years. For his age and size, Jimmy was genuinely fit, he could lift immense loads and carry them round the shop; Okrol struggled with such a task, and for his age, he was fit.
The moment the sun sank solemnly into the ocean, Okrol relieved the wall of the weight of his hand and made for the Largate side of the bridge, where his home and family were. Okrol's weathered boots squeaked quietly as he walked down the slightly sloping bridge, his plain brown shirt and matching jacket looking very dull in the warm, orange air. As usual, after a day at the shop, Okrol's sturdy dark brown trousers were full of oil and only what his mother called 'elbow grease' would get it off.
Okrol arrived home some minutes later under the graceful light of the moon, whose reflection danced calmly in the Raven-Eye river which was quite visible from Okrol's family home, a small fraction up the mountain that bestowed part of Greygoff valley.
Okrol let himself in through the gate that Jimmy had taught him to make and continued towards the front door. On the dusty old wooden door was a single piece of slate, connected to the wood by a hinge. Okrol lifted the slate and rapped it against a blank piece of wood. Okrol's mother answered the knocking, emitting him in.
“How was your day, son?” his mother, Kel asked.
“Hard,” he replied closing the wooden door with a slight thud.
“And Jimmy, how was he with you after last week?” she asked inquisitively.
“Same as always, he moaned for hours bringing up disasters from his past; obviously I played a big part in the more recent ones. But he's OK,” said Okrol, remembering last week's catastrophe with the oil and newly finished metal, causing the whole batch to be remade.
Okrol opened the door to the small sitting area. There was his father, sitting in his usual seat, talking to a man Okrol had never seen before.
“Ah, Okrol. Glad you're back,” said his father, grinning nervously.
“Thank you father, glad to finally be back,” Okrol said smiling, subtly turning his head towards the stranger, wearing fine attire and sitting in Okrol's seat. Okrol took him to be a businessman of some kind.
There was just enough time for the stranger to look at Okrol smiling, before his and his father's face became suddenly fear-stricken; then everything went black. The last thing Okrol saw was his father and the man stand, swords raised.
Sorry for the delay.
