Adventures in Eridell (temporary title)

here's chapter 1 of Adventures in Eridell(temporary title). If you haven't read the prologue I recommend going back and reading it. Sorry it took me so long to post this, I needed to change a few aspects of the story to help the latter parts flow better. It's a bit lengthy so read at your own descretion

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Chapter 1 

CARVER

Winter- Winter had ended and it hadn't been kind to the Raamus’s. It had come suddenly and destroyed most of the crops. A sickness had been cast over the town of Freyden, the home of the Raamus’s and their subjects. The winter had been especially unkind to Lok, the youngest of the three Raamus boys, and the sickness of the town spread to him. He fell ill during the first weeks of winter and death's cold grasp caught him near the end of it. Carver the middle Raamus of five, had a deep affection for Lok. Not one of romance, but of a protection for his little brother. Carver was close with Lok, more so than the rest of the Raamus's, and it hit him the hardest when Lok died. The town of Freyden did the usual ceremony for the death of a lord.

The walk from the keep to edge of the curtain walls where a funeral pyre was placed with things Lok held dear, a wooden training sword that Carver was teaching him how to use, a little wooden bat that Lok played with, and some other belongings. The townsfolk were in two straight lines on either side to let the men holding Loks body get through. Viscount Raamus and his family walked behind the body. The men carrying Loks body placed him on the funeral pyre and went to join the rest of the townspeople who had started to make a circle around it. Some people stepped up and told stories about Lok, as was the custom in Freyden. 

Carver, however, couldn't bring himself to do it, whether it was the pain of losing his favorite sibling or he just didn't care to speak. After those willing finished their stories, Viscountess Asanna walked up to the funeral pyre and kissed her son on the forehead. She then took the torch out of a guard's hand. With trembling hands and tears in her eyes she touched the torch with the foot of the pyre and it slowly erupted into flames. Viscountess Asanna walked back to her husband and they embraced in hug that made some of the townspeople tear up.

Carver was witnessing this sight when he noticed someone was missing from the ceremony, his younger sister, Loks twin, Sela. Carver left the ceremony to find Sela sitting on the ground in the front of the keep. “What are you doing out here?” He asked.

“You're missing the ceremony.”

“I know,” she replied without a change in her voice at all, as if she didn't care.

“I didn't want to see my twin brothers’ body being burnt because of some stupid sickness.” When she said this her voice choked up, Carver could tell she didn't come out because she would break down in the middle of the ceremony.

“It's almost over, they're just saying the sorrows to mother and father if you wanted t-”

Before he could finish Sela said one word and walked back into the keep, “No.”

Carver understood she was upset but she was his twin sister, she could've, at least, gone out for the telling of the stories. Sela was always colder than the rest of the Raamus children, maybe it's because she was born with a defect that made her eyes two different colors, a light blue and a brown. It also made her hair color a light shade of red, which was abnormal for the Raamus's who had black and brown hair. Even the viscountess herself had brown hair. 

These two changes made other townsfolk laugh at her and even saying she wasn't really a Raamus but an offspring of some other family, which Carver always assured her wasn't true. Sela was a beauty, even with her defects, which one could argue made her more beautiful. She had a small, round face, which was oddly beautiful. She was shorter than most eight year old girls, but she wasn't the shortest person in the town, that honor belonged to Wise Woman Merca. Sela’s red hair was curly and came down to the middle of her back. 

She's only eight and she's already been through so much, Carver thought to himself on the way back to the ceremony. The two townsfolk selected to do so, put Loks’ ashes in a brown urn with a thin line of gold laced around it. 

They handed the urn to the viscountess, her and the viscount held the urn as they slowly made their way to the keep. Carver was upset that his older sister, Evelyn, wasn't able to make it to the ceremony. She went to Redhaven to become a handmaiden for the Queen of North Eridell and to find a suitor. Unfortunately, Lady Evelyn had to receive Loks death by bird. Her response to news was predictable,

“I truly cannot believe this horrid disease had the gall to take our youngest sibling. Perhaps it was the will of the gods that put him there. If only I had prayed to Goddess Kydea more Lok could still be alive. I fear I won't be able to come home for the ceremony, I'm much too busy here. In any regard my spirit and mind is always with you.

Yours,

Evelyn

PS Her grace, Queen Pervie-Landen, thinks she may have found me a suitor, news to come.” 

Evelyn was always interested more in herself than in anyone else. The only reason she wanted a husband was to raise her title, a fact that Carver thought could get her hurt one day, or worse. The only person she was more interested in than herself may have been Goddess Kydea, the wife of the God Burus, and creator of people. 

After Carver got back to the keep he climbed two flights of stairs, down a dimly lit hallway, took a right, a left, and another left and ended up in his room. It was a big room, but the smallest of all the Raamus's rooms, he didn't require much. In the corner of the room was an old chest that Carver kept his sword and some clothing in. 

Next to the chest was an armor stand housing Carver’s armor, it was a darkish shade of red with a black bat on the chest, the symbol of the Raamus family. Although it hadn't seen any wars it was constantly being repaired since Carver insisted on wearing it during training. He was a skilled swordsman but a terrible shieldsman, he couldn't block anything with a shield so he was always getting knocked on his ass when using one. Carver, hating the shirt he had worn at the ceremony, disrobed and walked along the side of his room shirtless until he came along his bureau and put on some more comfortable clothing. 

He finally got a chance to observe himself in the mirror next to the bureau. He was toned, not as toned as he would've liked, but he could hold his own in fight. Carver was thirteen, but looked more like he was sixteen. 

His brown hair came down to his shoulders and some of it was tied in the back with a ponytail. He had a round face with piercing brown eyes and some freckles. His lips were a tint of red and, even when he didn't mean to, they always made it look as if he were upset or angry. His beard was more of a stubble than a real beard, Carver never cared for a beard anyway. After staring at himself in the mirror for far too long Carver grabbed his sword from the chest and walked out of the keep to the barracks. 

A small stone building hectically erected after the Siege of Gromn. A siege where pirates sacked Gromn, a town without a standing army, and killed everyone and everything. They murdered all the men and boys and raped the women and girls before slitting their throats. The baron and baroness had their heads cut off and hung on spikes in front of the town. After that anyone who didn't have a standing army made sure to get one. Freydens’ army consisted of forty men from the village. There may not have been a lot of them but they were fierce.

“Sorry to hear about your brother, C, he was too young to die.” Someone said when Carver walked into the training area, a sect. of the barracks that was outside. It was Enri, Carver’s best friend.

“Yeah, you and everyone else.” Replied Carver getting ready to spar.

“CARVER!” Screamed General Franz, “PUT THE SWORD AWAY! YOU NEED TO NOT BE A TOTAL DUMBASS WITH A SHIELD IF YOU WANT TO LEAD AN ARMY!”

Carver, without saying a word, sheathed his sword walked over to the weapons rack and picked up a shield. It was wooden and square shaped with a black bat in the center.

“Ah good you can follow instructions, I guess you're not as brain dead as I thought.” Laughed the general.

“I’m going to take a swing at you try not to get hit, or do I don't care” and with that the general, putting all his strength into it, crashed his sword down on the shield with a loud clanging sound. The force of the hit caused Carver to lose focus for a second, and before he knew what was happening he was on the ground with a sword to his throat.

“PITY! You actually looked like you were improving,” the general retorted, still keeping the sword at Carver’s throat. General Franz looked intent on pushing the sword through Carver’s neck but in that moment, if only for a second, General Franz’s facial features softened and he lifted the sword up. 

Carver, hell bent on succeeding, picked up the shield and screamed at the general, “AGAIN!” The general, much to happily, took his sword and in one swinging motion and crashed down on the shield. Carver, anticipating it this time, dug his feet into the ground and when the sword came down he was ready. The sword bounced off the shield and Carver bashed the shield into General Franz's chest and took him to the ground. Carver, happy in succeeding, extended a hand to the general, who promptly threw it away.

“Enjoy the smugness now kid. It ain't going to last.” The general said through gritted teeth.

“It's my lord, General Franz, not kid” Carver retorted. The general huffed and walked away.

“That was awesome, C!” Enri screamed walking over to him, “oh sorry, my lord.” They both laughed and started sparring with each other.

“What's his problem with me anyway?” Asked Carver pivoting his feet and blocking an attack from Enri.

“I dunno. He’s just a duchy general?” Enri answered blocking Caver’s strike and kicking him back.

“I don’t like it. Honestly I don’t trust him, and I definitely don’t like him.” Carver said thrusting his sword at Enri.

“He’s a general, nobody likes him.” Enri laughed blocking Carver’s thrust and delivering a counter attack. “Besides he’s like a thousand, he’ll die soon anyway.”

“Yeah I guess.” Carver laughed and blocked Enri’s strike, pulling him in and then pivoting his body to knock Enri over. 

They were finishing up their sparring match when a man on horseback came riding in. It was Lord Andrus Raamus the fifth, Carver’s older brother and next in line for the title of Viscount of Freyden. Lord Andrus Raamus the fifth, named after his father Viscount Andrus Raamus the fourth. He was sixteen and everything about him was perfect. 

Andrus had a tan chiseled face, and a muscular body. His eyes were a piercing brown color and he had short bushy brown hair. He had a short, full beard and full, red lips. 

He looked upset, Carver didn't know where he went or why, but if Andrus was sent it had to be important. For Viscount Raamus to send the golden child to do something, that something was definitely important. Andrus left shortly after the ceremony and had been gone for, what Carver could assume, two hours. Carver, knowing it wasn't a family matter or he would've been informed, went back to his training.

“Carver!” Yelled Andrus from his horse. “Meet me in the Great Hall in ten minutes.” Carver, knowing it was urgent, quickly sheathed his weapon and ran into the Great Hall. “... and he had at least 20,000 men,” sighed Andrus as Carver was walking in. “Carver, good you're here” Viscount Raamus said. 

Carver nodded and walked over to his seat in the Great Hall. Viscount Raamus was sitting in a tall, dark wooden chair adorned with bats on the top and on the edge of the arm rests. Next to him, in a slightly smaller chair, was Viscountess Asanna. Andrus was standing next to Viscountess Asanna, where his chair is usually positioned. Across from Andrus’s chair was Evelyn’s chair, currently unoccupied. Next to Evelyn’s chair was where Carver was currently sitting and across from Carver was a bored Sela staring longly into space. Next to Carver’s chair was Lok’s chair, Carver got sad when he looked at Lok’s empty chair. The rest of the long table was strewn with various chairs, one of which General Franz was sitting in. 

Carver was listening to Andrus speak and noticed a scar on the left side of his face that he could've sworn wasn't there a few days ago. “Carver, you remember Earl Wallas Barlom right?” Asked Viscount Raamus.

“Earl of Brightmarsh, our sworn enemy, was a friend, double crossed our marquess to move from viscount to earl? I think I'm familiar with the guy.” Carver replied.

His father laughed, “yes that's him.”

“What happened?” Carver pondered

“Why do you assume something happened?” His father retorted

“You called me in here.”

“So?”

“So, you only call me in here for boring parties or if something threatens the future of the Raamus name. And since I haven't been informed of any parties I'll ask again, what happened?”

“He's dead,” both Andrus and the Viscount said at the same time.

“Good.” Carver said without a hint of emotion or remorse.

“Not good,” replied the viscount, “the marquess he was sworn to will be here in a few days.”

“So we just tell him we didn't do it.” Carver cautiously objected, “we didn't do it right?”

“No, of course not. We hated the man but we wouldn't kill him.” Viscount Raamus assured. “But it won't matter, we had scouts placed along the road where he died. We had motive and people, that'll be enough for the marquess.”

“So what do we do?” Carver inquired, worry starting to form in his voice.

“I'll confront the marquess myself when he arrives” started Viscount Raamus, “if we do this right we may be able to walk away from it.”

“And if we don't”

“That's why you're here” the viscount started to sound worried, “if I fail I want you to take your sister and mother through the secret tunnel to get away.”

“What about Andrus?” Carver queried

“He has his own mission. Promise me you'll do this.”

“I promise, father.” Carver stated while standing up and heroically pounding his fist on the table.

“Good, besides our family General Franz is the only other person that knows about the secret tunnel, so don't take anyone else ok.” The words came out more like a command than a question.

“Ok,” Carver said sheepishly. “Good, good. Now that that's out of the way, Andrus, how many men are willing to help?”

“Four families said they'd aid our cause, but with the numbers Marquess Bujle has it still wouldn't be enough.”

“Lets hope it doesn't come to that then.”

The viscount turned to his wife who had been sitting quietly in her chair up to this point. “Asanna, would you kindly get Wise Woman Merca?” She gave a lovely smile and left the Great Hall. “My lord” chirped General Franz, “I strongly advise against having Merca see the future, her eyes are not what they once were.”

“If this turns to bloodshed I want to atleast know if my family will survive.”

General Franz nodded and didn't say another word. The group waited a few minutes until Viscountess Asanna and Wise Woman Merca walked in.

Merca was short and had a slight hobble when she walked. Her white hair came down to the middle of her back and was oddly straight for being such an old woman. She had pale, wrinkly skin and light blue eyes. If a stranger were to look at her they would no doubt run away. She looked scary, but was the nicest person Carver had ever met. “Merca” said the viscount, “I've called you in here to-”

“See the future, I know my dear.” When she spoke her words were soft and calming and she was the only person that got away with not calling the Raamus's lords or ladies. “I must warn you that my visions are not like they once were. I cannot always see what you want me to or how you want me to see it.”

“I understand Merca.” The viscount acknowledged putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Alright then my dear, please step back.” 

Carver watched in amazement as Merca placed a plain wooden bowl on the table in front of her and was adding plants into it while chanting something he didn't understand. The last time Merca used her sight, Carver was too young to remember. 

Merca grabbed a knife and took out a small brown satchel. She finished the chanting and cut the bottom of the satchel. Carver watched as small greenish rocks, the size of sand, fell out. The concoction flew up into a smoke of green when the rocks hit it and Merca’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. “I see talking. Of who I know not, but one is black, anger. The other is a mix, greenish-yellow, worried," Merca  prophesied,  “The escape you seek is blocked by a figure, black, serious. Two are dead, one whose emotions are ash and another, tan, fearful. Six escape, too many emotions to read at once.”

“After that is darkness, I can see no more.” Merca stated apologetically as her eyes rolled back to the front of her head. “I'm sorry I can only see emotions now and not faces.”

“It's alright Merca.” Carver assured after the silence became unbearable.

“You're too kind. I feel light headed after that so I think I'm going to lie down.”

“Thank you Merca.” The viscount said. “I'll call my squire to help you back. Rodrick!” A young man dressed in black leather armor ran in. “Yes m’lord?!” Asked Rodrick excitedly. “Can you escort Wise Woman Merca back to her home?”

“Oh…sure m’lord” Rodrick replied, the smile dissipating from his face. The few days before Marquess Bujle arrived came and went relatively unadventurous, but when he did arrive it would change the entire land of Eridell forever