Rift
A story by Randomness
Also,
The Rite of Akos Frost,
And the beginning of many more to come,
For both those who inspired me and them,
Whomever they may be.
Chapter 1: The Prince
Most people know of the basic theory behind the universe and life. Three major components:
Space, Time and Hierarchy. Less are aware of the delicate web of interconnected threads between these three.
Before conscious beings, there was a single mass of energy, which decayed over time, over infinities now passed. It broke down, creating collections of energy which had the unique ability of awareness. These consciousness took on bodies, some stronger, some weaker. And eventually we were left with Gods. One of these Gods at some point or another, created a planet. Others created mortals, and then one created a calendar, to keep track of these mortals and the ever passing time. They decided that, for every number of rotations of a number of celestial bodies, one year will pass. Every two and a half million years, give or take a thousand, an Era passes. This allowed an Era to be split into multiple even segments, each represented by an ancient glyph.
In one of the thousands of Eras, during a segment which originally was marked with a symbol representative of the sound made by wind blowing through trees, but eventually was worked into one now meaning nothing but a soft sound - F - is where, early in both the year and the morning, the Prince was now.
The hall was filled with people lit up by silver light from the crystalline jewels lining the roof above, rows of soldiers stood statue still on either side of a deep crimson carpet, accented with yellow and gold patterns of abstract swirls. In each soldierās hand, a halberd wrapped in dark fabric, polished to a perfect shine in a sheen of grey and hints of blue. Their armour was similar in the metallic colour, and the breastplates were engraved with colourful markings, forming birds of various sorts. By their side, on a simple but carefully made black belt, hung swords. The hilts were engraved with the same birds as the armour.
Standing on a raised platform, carpeted with a soft blue material, were three figures. A woman with skin paler than snow, was silently robed, a white crown upon her head. Deep and dark lines ran under her eyes, which were a shining blue, contrasted against the pallor of her skin.
Next to her, was a large, heavily built man, similarly clad in a large thick gown. His skin had a sense of greater vitality, but a scar cut down over his jaw.
Instead of one of white, his crown was a bright gold, standing out in the cold colours of the room.
The third person was thin, tall. Swaying slightly on his feet, face obscured by long white hair. A dullness was apparent in his face.
The Princeās crown was of the blue metal which armed the soldiers, clear gemstones perfectly cut embedded in each. It was a relic, having survived the past years somewhere deep underground. It had been less than two years since the blood was at the gates of his city, and the memories were still fresh as a recent wound.
A line of soldiers were marching towards the raised platform, heads held high as a fanfare blared behind them. The first of them to reach it was a middle aged, well worn soldier decorated with medals.
The large man spoke, āGeneral Matthew Hoord Damascus, Second Division of the Royal Guard. As your king, I award you the First Order of The Impexis, for your bravery in the Siege of Kald El Viern.ā
He was bowed low on one knee, a thin head of grey hair shielding his - similarly to everybody else congregated in the hall - pale snow-like skin. A heavy medal was placed over his neck in a gentle fashion. āNow rise, General.ā
The next soldier stepped up. āCommander Mordred Zion, Second Division of the Royal Guardā¦ā
The Prince smiled slightly, then awkwardly attempted to stifle a yawn. This ceremony was long and in his eyes, dull, unnecessary and a waste of time. Another reminder of what should be forgotten.
His presence was only to keep up the illusion that the family were well, recovering from the war and leading their country into greatness. His father was a good king, no doubt, having taken full and effective control in a month after the end of the fighting. The newfound peace was welcome, if not unsettling, but a toll had been taken on the Prince of Frost, and a toll like that could not be ignored.
After the formalities had ended, he immediately took off down a large corridor, which led towards two open courtyards on either side. Veering off to the left and up a flight of stairs, which spiralled upwards in an intimidation of gold bannisters, he exited on another corridor which was lined with tapestries and paintings. A pair of silver doors marked the end of the tunnel, but between him and them, stood a young woman with silvery hair and striking, pink eyes. She was armed with an elegantly hilted blade, which reflected the light in a sharp glint, with a quick stride, she walked over with a smile. āAkosā¦ your highness I mean,ā she grinned awkwardly, āI hope everything is well.ā
And with that, she continued down the corridor.
The silver doors opened into a large yet simply furnished room. It had a bed at one end, near to a wide set of windows, and a desk at the other where a doorway opened up onto a balcony.
On the wall a thin blade was hung, along with a large black cloak, moving gently in the breeze. The ground outside was lined with a thick layer of snow across a wide, blank space which hung below. The surrounding city was obscured by the tall wall of black bricks, however the birds which flew far above must have been able to see for miles upon miles around the clear, silent sky.
Akos whistled, and one of the birds - a large falcon - swooped down and landed obediently on the balustrade.
Taking a small piece of paper and a wooden tube from his desk, the Prince wrote a short but simple message.
To Dulzura Winters,
I hope you are doing well. Since I last wrote, my father has been at work rebuilding the country. The Royal Guard has been completely reformed, and a new General was chosen. The peace is welcome, but I still canāt help fearing the worst each day. Give Tobias some water when he arrives.
On another note, did you ever get that new job? Are you allowed to tell me what it is now?
If you canāt write back hopefully Iāll get a chance to see you in Grandia, father is heading there for a feast of some kind in a few months,
Akos.
Placing the note in the tube, and labelling it with the address, āDulzura Winters, Grandia,ā
Akos slipped it into a small pouch on the leg of the bird.
āGo Tobias, fly. Ettzen El Crie, Ettzen!ā
With one more complex whistle, the bird seemed to understand. It spread its wings and was quickly in the freezing air.
The bitter wind was enough for Akos to want to return indoors, but when he did he found an armoured man, with a blue emblem on his chest, carrying a flag of the same colour. The emblem was of a falcon, similar to the birds outside. The bird was crowned with the spiked crown that Akos and his parents wore upon their heads. A Military Herald.
āLord Frost, General Damascus requests a conference at the Royal Barracks.ā
He sighed, āTell Damascus Iāll be there.ā
After glancing around the room, and taking the thin blade from the wall, Akos set off back down the corridor and the stairs, heading towards the barracks at the edge of the palace.
Various soldiers were milling about, or inspecting weapons for dust. Many of them bowed or saluted as he passed. One beautifully carved door stood out from the rest, and a flag with the same symbol hung outside it. The Prince strode into the room and found a desk littered with papers, and the General standing behind it. His new medal was neatly pinned onto his uniform with the rest of his decorations. His wiry moustache was neat, almost perfectly straight and even, but grey like his hair and dull like his eyes.
āGeneral. I see youāve taken toā¦ decorating this place with my emblem.ā
He shifted uneasily. āFrost, I thought Itād be suitable for your personal guard to be moreā¦ personal. Iāve invited you here so we can organise the ninety soldiers King Ledus has assigned to you.ā
āThat would be Your Highness, General.ā
āSuch insolence, Frost. I have fought for your family for years, and almost died for this country in the Stamstani war. King Ledus has assigned both you and I our positions. That makes us equals. Especially considering, Iām the one putting my life on the line whilst you sit, write and train those Rift forsaken birds which Iāve plastered over my office in respect for you and the King.ā
Akos smiled in exasperation. āIt, unfortunately, does not make us equal General. I am still above the Royal Marshal, who I believe is your superior. I could have you imprisoned for words such as that Damascus and youāre lucky I do not. If this meeting was just a waste of my time, Iāll be leaving.ā
With a grunt of displeasure, the man spoke once more. āI believe that we should split your unit in half, keeping as many soldiers as we can by your side at all possible-ā
āSplit it into three. Blossom can command my personal bodyguard, Zion can command the main unit and then, promote Captain Ether will you. He can control the reserves. Iāll organise each group with the commanders independently. You shall not give direct orders to any commander unless myself or any of your other higher ups say so. Do you understand?ā
With the last sentence, Akos couldnāt help but to smile.
āYou have no right to strip me of my power,ā A flash of anger took over Damascusā face, āThe Marshalling Council will hear of this.ā
āThe Marshalling Council is in ruins and, even then, wouldnāt dare to bypass my command. Goodbye, General. I hope your new role as ceremonial General of my āRift forsaken birdsā suits you well. Donāt step too hard on thin ice.ā
With a sharp turn, he left the room, leaving one sharp point of an icicle pierced through a stack of paper on the desk.