C.J. Perry's Blog, page 7

Loatia, The World of the Godswar Chronicles: Aflua, the Kingdom of Light

In Dark Communion, the Kingdom of Light is mentioned only briefly. In Book 2, Rise of The Shadowalker, we meet a visitor from there, but the story will not visit this great Kingdom until Book 3. Here you can learn more about it, from races, to official religions, and from government to guilds. Almost everything needed for a campaign in this kingdom is here. Stay tuned though, more maps and details are coming…

Aflua
Races:

74% Human

11% Dwarf
10% Halfling
3% Half-elf
.5% Half-Dwarf
.5% Half-Orc
.5% Quarterling
.2% Hublin
.2% Gnome
.05% Goblin
.05% Orc

Total Population: 40 Million

Capital City: Aflua, Population: 250,000

Main exports: Tobacco, Sugar Cane, Coffee, Cocoa, Peanuts, Rice, Cotton

Main Imports: Iron, Dwarven Spirits

Longest Length North to South: 2700 Miles

Longest Width East to West: 2300 Miles

Official Religions: The God of Light, The Goddess of Healing

Outlawed Religions: God of Trickery, God of Undeath, The Shade (Night Goddess), The Tempest (Goddess of Storms)

Government: Constitutional Monarchy

King Marcus VI

Age 52
19th Level Aristocrat (NPC Class), 5th Level Fighter
Strength 16, Dexterity 14, Constitution 15, Intelligence 14, Wisdom 17, Charisma 17
Alignment: Lawful
Description:

King Marcus VI is widely regarded as the wisest king, and most beloved, in a thousand years. Under his rule, Aflua has prospered to the richest nation in the world. He chartered all eight guilds and formed the House of Guilds to monitor trade and infrastructure. More miles of road have been built, and more trade has been transacted under his rule than the five previous kings of Aflua.

He participates in tournaments, though only exhibitions. He never competes for land. Marcus is a reasonably accomplished swordsman, though unlike previous kings, does not demand victory in his exhibition fights. In several tournaments Marcus has lost or been injured.

He also is an active member of both the Temple of Light, and the Temple of Healing. He leans on both temples for guidance in life and in politics, though he is not beholden to either one.




Powers of the Monarchy: 

Declaring War
Conscripting Soldiers
Taxing the House of Lords and the House of Guilds
Creating Laws
Vetoing Laws of Either House
Law Enforcement
Foreign Policy
Granting Title (But not land. Requires majority vote of House of Lords)
Stripping Title (And therefore land. With majority vote of both houses)
Calling the Tournament of Lords*

Determining Prize Lands


Granting/Withdrawing Guild Charters
Maintaining the Treasury


Powers of the House of Lords (18 Members)

Levy taxes upon the non-guild citizenry
Creation of Laws (That do not affect the Throne)
Impeach the Throne (By unanimous vote of all land-owning lords)
Veto Power Over the House of Guilds (Majority Vote)


Powers of the House of Guilds (8 Chartered Guilds)

Sales/Service tax
Setting the price of goods and services
Trade Pacts/Tariffs with/on foreign kingdoms
Protection of goods
Impeach a Lord (By unanimous vote of all guild leaders) 
Building of Infrastructure

A Brief Overview of the Afluan Guilds

Merchants Guild:

The most powerful and richest of all the guilds. They are the travelers and adventurers of the House of Guilds. Crossing the world to bring Aflua’s goods to other nations they incur the most risk and reap the most profit. Salesmen and con-artists all, they are known for back channel deals and skimming profits. They are also the accountants, bankers, and the auditors of the House of Guilds.


Fighters Guild:

The Fighters Guild commands the militias of the individual cities and towns across the Kingdom of Light. They are free to sell their services as mercenaries and bodyguards and have made many powerful friends both at home and abroad. They also handle the registration and planning of the Tournament of Lords. Anyone who crosses the Fighters Guild will find themselves at odds with every constable, sell-sword, militiaman, soldier, knight, and Lord in nearly every nation in the world.


Mages Guild:

Mages are the scientists, engineers, surveyors, and architects of the Kingdom as well as the Kingdom’s educators, philosophers, artists and advisers. Their magic supports all other Guilds. A sword fetches a decent price, but a sword with the most minor of enchantments sells for more than a hundred times its mundane counterpart. The mages speed production of any product, predict and control weather to avert natural disasters, rid the city of pests, and summon winds to sail ships. Many who have angered the Mages Guild have disappeared, never to be heard from again – not that anyone would dare look for them.

**Spoiler Alert**

The head of the Mages Guild is Justin Hornstall, a powerful illusionist and a lawful man. However, he exercises a loose control over his fellow mages and gives them plenty of autonomy.






Smiths Guild

If it’s made of metal, it probably has the Smith’s Guild stamp. If it doesn’t, the bearer of any such item is subject to fines and imprisonment. From horseshoes to armor, and from bolts for ships and wagons to rails for the mines, the Smith’s guild has a monopoly on all metal workers in Kingdom. Cross the Smith’s guild, and anything you ever need crafted had best be made exclusively of wood or stone.


Shipbuilders Guild

The Shipbuilders maintain the Afluan Trade Company which serves the Crown as both the navy and the only means of oversea trade. They can distribute buccaneer’s licenses, and control all goods and immigration that comes through the ports. Run by hardy fishermen, seamen, and pirates, they are a cutthroat bunch with connections to illegal trade and criminal activity all over the world. Every thieving syndicate, pirate, and harbormaster in Loatia will have a green light to rob or even kill those unfortunate enough to run afoul of them.


Wainwright Guild

More than just a group of craftsmen that build wagons and wheels. The Wainrights also build, maintain, and establish tolls on all roads and bridges in or out of the Kingdom. They also build small towns to maintain them and have the right to claim eminent domain over all local resources required for their endeavors. Even the Lords do not cross them, lest the Wainwrights decide to construct a road through their lands, laying claim to every town and natural resource in their path.


Stonework Guild

Miners, masons, and even sculptors all belong tho the Stonework Guild. Every structure in Aflua is built by them, or held to their standards. They maintain all keeps, castles, and forts built in the Kingdom of Aflua. Therefore, they know nearly every secret passage and underground tunnel in the Kingdom. Certain ranks within the guild are privy to certain secrets, with only the Guild Master knowing all. The Stonework Guild boasts a very high percentage of dwarves in the their ranks, nearly 30%, with half-dwarves comprising almost another 15% overall.


Farmers Guild

The Farmer’s guild has first rights to any fertile land in the Kingdom of Aflua – even if someone already lives there. Independent farmers no longer exist, and the price of all food and livestock is fixed by the guild. The guild also includes ranchers, butchers, and even some of the cooks of the Kingdom. One of the more benevolent guilds, they donate large quantities of food to the every temple in the Kingdom. They often find themselves directly at odds with the Wainwright’s guild over land disputes.

Below is a map of the Kingdom of Aflua. Each color represents a different Lord’s territory. The specifics of those lords, to include character sheets will be included in the next update. Enjoy!

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The map below, is not entirely complete. More updates are coming though, so stay tuned.

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#Worldbuilding Basics: 7 Tips for Supporting Characters

What makes a good supporting character in a game or story? How do you make sure they don’t overshadow you main characters, but still stay interesting? From Han Solo (Star Wars…duh), to The Hound (Game of Thrones), D.C. Fergerson, once again, breaks down the art of storytelling in 7 Tips for Supporting Characters. It contains no less than 40 pop culture references, and of course a few shameless plugs…

Dont forget to like and subscribe to his YouTube Channel! The download link for the table he mentions in the video is below.

Here is the random table described in the video, just click to open, and then download.[image error]

Click Here to get a free copy of The Singer and the Charlatan! [image error]

Brian S. Ference Interview

We are proud to feature rising Brian S. Ference, author of Purgatory of the Werewolf. 

“In order to be happy you must create something meaningful in this world and not just be a consumer of life. It is also important to share your love freely with friends and family. I believe in confronting your fears and experiencing new things, places, and people. Lastly, everyone needs something to believe in whether it be religion, a cause, or even themselves.” – Brian S. Ference

Brian lives in Cave Creek, Arizona with his wife Rachel and three children Nathan, Lena, and Victoria. He has always had a passion for reading and writing from a young age. Brian loves new experiences, which has included operating his own company, traveling the world, working as a project manager, diving with sharks, and anything creative or fun. He is always up for a new adventure such as writing or other artistic pursuits.

And now, Purgatory of the Werewolf

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“Once again the Author, Brian S. Ference hit it out of the park. Purgatory of the Werewolf is excellent. Fantastic. The prose is so elegant that once you pick up the book you cannot or just do not, want to put it down.”

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“Mr. Ference weaves a fantastic tell that has you at a love/hate relationship with the main character… He is able to keep the focus of the story while staying true to the historical time period this novel is set.”

 

 

Book Description:

When troubled and timeless Dorian Gray mysteriously survives being eaten alive, he is given a second chance at life and vows to change his ways. Now, with the werewolf killing again, time is running out to save himself and his loved ones. He flees England and enlists with the Royal Navy hoping to escape the monster. But will his ship carry him to a new life before the full moon or plunge him into the horror of war?

The Interview

[image error] Okay, first question: Why werewolves?

 I have always been fascinated by werewolves since being deathly afraid of them as a small child. I can remember watching the black and white Wolfman with my father on TV and the nightmares that followed. I have loved werewolves ever since and it was a natural fit for me.

[image error] There are a LOT of werewolf stories out there. What makes the werewolves in your story different?

 The origin of the first werewolf is completely original. (***spoiler alert***) The painting of Dorian and the wolf cub link them together by blood. Dorian’s evil is embodied in the wolf cub who transforms into a monster. The wolf is still a wolf for most of the first book, but becomes more human-like, eventually developing thoughts and even understand words. At this point the creature is more of a wolf-were. At the end of the first book, the wolf devours Dorian, merging them together through Dorian’s strange healing power. The next morning, Dorian is somehow alive. He doesn’t realize that he and the wolf are now one, effectively making him a werewolf.

The second book is rich with different legends of werewolves, introducing the story of the Vârcolac: “The Romani people believe in a creature called the Vârcolac. The creature supposedly returned from the grave and took the form of a giant wolf. The saliva of the undead creature spread its curse, condemning any surviving victims to eternal life as a beast.” This creature makes an appearance in the back-story of our monster hunter Van Helsing and there is a bit of mystery if there are two different types of werewolves in the world.

 I thought I had heard it all when it came to werewolves. What else don’t I know about the Vârcolac?

 One of my reader’s actually provides such a thorough overview I am just going to quote Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU:

“A varcolac in Romanian folklore may refer to several different figures, a wolf demon that, like the Norse Fenris, can and may swallow the moon and the sun, thus causing eclipses. Some legends say it is a ghost or vampire (Strigoi) while others say it is a werewolf (in some versions, a werewolf that emerges from the corpses of babies. Varcolaci are said to be souls of unbaptized children or children of unmarried parents; beings cursed by God rising because one swept dust out of the house at sunset (understand if you can); or beings coming from the sun rising if women spin at night without a candle or if they cast spells as they spin.

Varcolaci are often described as dogs, always two in number; animals smaller than dogs; dragons; animals with multiple mouth, such as octopus; spirits. Varcolaci are said to fasten themselves to the thread of people spinning at midnight, then going up to eat the moon and cover it with blood, hence the reference to the blood moon in this story. Their power is said to last as long as the thread that here ties them up to Dorian in the picture, hence the real Dorian, is not broken. If the thread gets broken, they go to another part of the sky.

Varcolaci are recognized by their pale faces, as well as the deep sleep they fall into when sending their spirits out through their mouths to eat the sun or the moon. If they are moved during their sleep they die as their returning spirit won’t be able to find the mouth where they came from.”

 You mentioned Van Helsing. He’s pretty typical auto-include for a werewolf or vampire story. A lot of authors just rely on his long history as a character in innumerable stories and movies to give him depth. How is YOUR Van Helsing different?

 Doctor Nicolai Van Helsing is very different than you may expect. His rich back-story reveals his motivations to hunt wolves and monsters stemming from his parents brutal slaughter by a Vârcolac. He develops some amazing weapons including Demon Fire but there is more to Van Helsing than meets the “eye”. I have to laugh a little at that reference. During an encounter with a Demon, Van Helsing has his eye put out and is cursed. He kills the Demon but the curse stays with him. Then his eye grows back larger and diseased. A Demon eye has sprouted which allows him to control the curse and twist it to his advantage.

 Some reviews have lauded your research and historical accuracy in Purgatory of the Werewolf. Are you a history buff? What kind of places are in the book that you had to research?

 Let me just throw a disclaimer in here:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

I find it incredibly interesting to research different cultures and histories. The second book takes us from small villages in Romania, to a werewolf terrorizing London, naval battles with the Royal Navy, and to the Forbidden City in China. History buffs will appreciate some of the historically accurate items including battles, city names, ships, nods to other horror and literature, weapons, and even the Second Opium War where England and France joined forces to invade China.

 In the 1981 film, American Werewolf in London, the transformation scene amazed the world. Werewolves were always popular, but I have always thought of that particular scene as what gave rise to the overwhelming popularity of the “modern” werewolf. 

Since then, the transformation is always part of what makes or breaks the werewolf story or movie for me. The pain and horror of it is part of the werewolf mystique. So… Can we get a sneak peek at a transformation scene from Purgatory of the Werewolf?

 “Dorian was fast asleep as a bone-white moon rose, bright and full in the night sky. He awoke screaming as the transformation began with his ribs and the bones in his back splitting. His body began healing immediately, but it was remaking itself—wrong. Fire raked through his veins as his chest and back swelled. Dorian looked down in horror as the skin on his hands blackened and stretched. The bones in his forearms and hands separated and then healed as his muscles swelled and his arms elongated. Sharp claws sprouted and punctured through the middle of his fingernails as they grew.

“He doubled over in agony, rolling to the floor as the bones in his legs shattered and doubled in length and size to support the expanding muscles. His breaths came in ragged bursts as his mind fought against the excruciating pain. Blood pooled in his eyes and clouded his vision. The red fluid trickled from his ears and fell from his mouth, the skin tearing while his jaw cracked and reformed. He could feel the nerves in his teeth explode as jagged canines pushed through the center of each tooth at once.

Dorian struggled to stand and failed. Instead, he fell to all fours arching his back as he rode the convulsions that racked his mutilated body. His heart erupted and healed as his lungs first collapsed, then mushroomed out as they burst and reformed. Every hair follicle in his body sprouted a thick black shoot at the same time.

The worst pain, however, came from the battle raging inside his head. His very being tore away in chunks of memories and emotions and in place fell vile and animalistic thoughts. He tried to fight against the overwhelming thirst for blood, but he did not know how. The need to hunt washed over him like the unstoppable flow of a raging river, swelling to an uncontrollable force by the unending rains of rage and brutality.

The screaming stopped as an elongated red eye focused on the unfamiliar surroundings. The massive wolf’s body shivered with power as the transformation was complete. The creature was a long way from the forest, but it had hunted in the cities of men before. A single thought dominated the mind of the wolf above all others—kill.”

 Werewolf stories are notoriously bloody, how did you approach writing these scenes? Can we get another taste?

 I tried to describe everything from fight scenes, to weapons, to architecture as accurately and vividly as possible while still being somewhat concise. This means that some of the violence and werewolf scenes are going to be quite bloody as is fitting within the horror or dark fantasy genres. Here’s a little taste:

“He pulled his halberd from the chest of the great wolf. Blood gushed from the werewolf’s chest and it sank to one knee. Baltu circled it slowly, waiting for as many eyes as possible before delivering the death stroke. But suddenly the creature rose to his full height and rumbled a challenge. In response, the elite guard casually drew a curved sabre from his belt and threw it end-over-end into the wolf’s stomach. The steel blade sunk deep into the creature’s intestines, causing it to stagger and fall once more to one knee. Baltu sensed the moment was right and swung his halberd in a wide circle around his head, intending to embed the blade deep in the werewolf’s neck.

The creature’s hand shot up and caught the heavy pole, halting the blade just centimeters away from his face. No one had ever stopped one of Baltu’s attacks before. The werewolf’s other hand shot out, its claws raking Baltu’s chest. But his armor was finely made and the iron plating screeched in defiance, protecting him from harm. Baltu spun away, leaving his halberd in the werewolf’s unyielding grip. He laughed and drew a short scimitar from his belt.

He switched his throaty song to the contest of Jangar and Altan Gheej; a warrior who could see into the future. Baltu ran towards the werewolf as if in an attempt to retrieve his halberd. The beast seemed to sense his need for the weapon and pulled it back while preparing its own attack. At the last moment, Baltu rolled away from the weapon and under the werewolf’s swipe. Rising to his feet, he drove the scimitar upward between the creature’s arm and shoulder blade.

The werewolf grunted in pain and dropped the halberd into the waiting hands of the warrior, who dove to recover it. The spear of another infantryman bit into the back of the creature’s calf, pinning him just long enough for a nearby mounted archer…”

 For our D&D players out there: What are the means of killing a werewolf in your stories?

 The two books have not ventured into the typical methods like silver so we are unsure if that has any effect. The Vârcolac is killed by a bullet through the eyes but the werewolves are much harder to kill since they have healing powers. A female werewolf is killed by Demon Fire but decapitation or significant injury after draining their healing power and no food source to replenish that healing would also do it.

 Love the cover. How did you decide on it/create it?

 That is definitely a unique part of my books. I really enjoy designing my own covers and have even redesigned the first book a number of times. I’d like to share some of the different cover design concepts below.

The whiteout cover was my first concept and one of my favorite. There were actually about 30 books printed with that cover and may one day become a collector’s item. The dark blue was the longest running, and I have recently re-launched book one with the red cover which will stay.

 

 

 So, the inevitable question: What’s next?

 After spending some time marketing my second book I will begin work on the third book in the series tentatively titled Rise of the Werewolf Queen. I would really like to thank Art of the Arcane for taking the time to interview me, it has been a blast!

Thank you Brian for taking the time to talk with us!

You can learn more at www.brianference.com. You can also find him on Facebook, follow him on BookBub, via @brianferenz on Twitter, on Instagram (brianference) or on his Goodreads and Amazon author pages. Last but not least, you can also find him on werewolfbook.com.

Sign up for our newsletter to hear about other up coming author interviews!

Click Here

 

#WorldBuilding Series: 7 Tips for Strong Antagonists, by DC Fergerson

What makes a good antagonst? From Darth Vader to Dr. Evil, DC Fergerson explains. Don’t forget to like and subscribe! Also be sure to sign up for our newsletter to get a free copy of his first book, The Singer and the Charlatan, as well as CJ Perry’s, Dark Communion, and news about upcoming videos!

 

 

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Click to get a free copy of The Singer and the Charlatan and updates from D.C. Fergerson!

7 Tips for Strong Antagonists, by DC Fergerson

What makes a good antagonst? From Darth Vader to Dr. Evil, DC Fergerson explains. Don’t forget to like and subscribe! Also be sure to sign up for our newsletter to get a free copy of his first book, The Singer and the Charlatan as well as CJ Perry’s, Dark Communion, and news about upcoming videos!

Click Here to SUBSCRIBE to our Newsletter!

#Worldbuilding Basics – 7 Tips for Religion and Politics, by DC Fergerson

In every world, fantasy or otherwise, these two subjects are central to any culture. But how do you create your own? What makes a convincing convincing fantasy religion?

DC Fergerson answers those questions and more in the latest installment of our #WorldBuilding series. Be sure to like and subscribe. For an inside look at the next videos rolling out, free offers, roleplaying resources, and Amazon Gift Card raffles…

Click Here to SUBSCRIBE to our Newsletter!

Don’t forget to like and subscribe to DC Fergerson’s Channel!

 

#WorldBuilding series: World Building Basics, by DC Fergerson

DC Fergerson just completed his first video on world building. These are the guiding principals that built his, and CJ Perry’s world. The video will be a first in a series and will be aimed at helping new and veteran D&D players, novelists, and short story writers alike create worlds that suspend disbelief and draw in their readers and players.

Be sure to like and subscribe to his YouTube channel to get new videos and updates as they come out. This information is invaluable, whether you are new to world building, or veteran creators like us.

ENJOY!

 

Novels that take place in our world can be found in the Books section of this blog.

An overview of #WorldBuilding by DC Fergerson.

DC Fergerson just completed his first video on world building. These are the guiding principals that built his, and CJ Perry’s world. The video will be a first in a series and will be aimed at helping new and veteran D&D players, novelists, and short story writers alike create worlds that suspend disbelief and draw in their readers and players.

Be sure to like and subscribe to his YouTube channel to get new videos and updates as they come out. This information is invaluable, whether you are new to world building, or veteran creators like us.

ENJOY!

 

Novels that take place in our world can be found in the Books section of this blog.

#CoverReveal for Rise of The Shadowalker coming soon!

I asked Aleksandra Klepacka to create the cover for Dark Communion. We worked closely together for two weeks. I shared my vision, and she created the art, all the while, tolerating my very picky requests. Below, is the progression, update by update. To witness Alex’s work in progress was truly amazing, and now, I’s sharing it with my readers. To see the full size image, just click on one, or open it in a new tab.

 

Now, Alex and I are working together again. Since last year, Alex has begun working with a few different companies, and the value and quality of her work has done nothing but increase. Thankfully, she understands the importance of keeping the same artist for the covers of a series and has agreed to do the cover for book 2 for the same price. Im grateful beyond words. Im quite certain I could not afford her otherwise. You can check out her work HERE.

For the cover of Rise of The Shadowalker, I was short on ideas, so I asked Alex to read it, and help me find the right moment, or the right vision. I explained that I could not afford to pay her until next month, but I just wanted to hear some ideas if she was willing. Im happy to say, a couple of days later I received this message:

“…I got inspired by the story and didn’t want it to go to waste.”

Attached to that email was the first bit of progress on the cover. Im glad that fellow author DC Fergerson found her and shared her email with me last year, and grateful that she is not only a talented artist, but a good person. She understands what it’s like to create a career with nothing but your own two hands and a dream. Not only that, but someone that loves the story almost as much as I do.

Thank you for reading, and thank you Alex, for supporting my dream. I can’t wait to see my new cover when it’s finished. It’s sure to be amazing.

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Sneak Preview: Rise of The Shadowalker

Chapter One – A Prince of Darkness

Justin descended the ladder to the bare stone floor of Freedom Hall. He ducked his head under the dragon skeleton’s jawbone on his way to a stack of crates. Thunder boomed and rain drummed on the peaked roof. His black hair stuck to his neck and sweat ran under the gold-trimmed collar of his crimson robes.  In the summer, without the doors open wide, the great hall became a brick oven.

The Queen’s Empire’s lack of amenities, and in some cases basic needs, made him miss Dromkin, the capitol of the Gnomish Guild-State. He had apprenticed under his wizarding master, a gnomish Archmage there for four years. Coming home had been like a trip back in time. In Dromkin, tubs had enchantments that heated water as it filled, and light orbs banished the darkness when he entered a room. Here, he boiled buckets over a hearth for baths, and the halls used torches for light.

Examining the last dragon tooth as it lay on its bed of hay in the crate, he used a piece of rawhide to tie his black hair in a short ponytail. When he came home, it measured longer than his mother’s. They shared the same nail-straight, black hair. He had it cut to spare himself a heat stroke. Despite the weight, his enchanted crimson robes did a fair job of keeping his body cool in the summer, but not his head, neck, or face.

Freedom Hall had no windows, just narrow slits on the second floor that whistled and howled in the wind. The iron torch sconces spaced along the walls added to the heat, so Justin had doused them, leaving only the oil lamp chandelier above the dragon’s head for light. He had left his light orb on his desk, back in his room in the main keep. His mother had forbidden him to carry it around the keep. It was the first one in the Empire, and it would not do to have the High Priestess of the Dark Temple’s son carrying around a glowing testimonial to the God of Light.  

Only one tapestry adorned the room; navy blue, displaying the Night Goddess’ five red stars of the Ouroboros constellation. It hung on the wall behind the long, rectangular table where his mother, her entourage of Red Knights, and Priests sat during celebrations. Another one sat folded atop the crate next to him. Also navy, it bore the five red stars as well, but they encircled a heraldic dragon. Justin fought the urge to wipe his face on it and used the crimson sleeve of his robe instead.

His mother must have called the storm. It had come in so fast his ears popped, and the shadows deepened within the hall in seconds. Good. Maybe it would break the oppressive heat of the past few days. The idea that something could be amiss had occurred to him, but he continued working. The city had legions of Red Knights at its disposal, the militia, and his mother. She could wipe out a small army on her own. If she needed him, she knew where to find him.

He ducked under the dragon skeleton’s open jaw and climbed two rungs on the ladder. He inserted the tooth into the socket of the jaw bone and held it in place as he fished two loadstones from a hidden pocket in the sash of his robe. The words of the spell spilled forth and Justin opened his hand. The lodestones came together with a click in unison with the tooth and jawbone. The magnets disintegrated on contact and the spell vanished from his memory.

Justin tested his dentistry. Satisfied, he descended the ladder. Tomorrow at sunset, the anniversary celebration of the Battle of Hornstall would begin. Justin leaned to the side with one arm over his head, stretching the knot in his spine with a groan. He had finished his project just in time, his back could not take much more. Justin’s master had once told him human backs were too long for real work. At almost seven feet tall, Justin agreed – he preferred his books.

He surveyed the crates scattered about the room with tufts of hay hanging out the sides and strewn on the floor. Old plates and half-empty wine goblets littered the tables. He had spent twenty days in Freedom Hall assembling the skeleton. In all that time, he never once thought to clean up. He left through the back side entrance that led into the keep only to relieve himself, and spell-locked door when he did. His mother wanted the heraldry change, and the indoor monument to remain secret. He never noticed just how bad the mess had gotten.

Justin backed away from the ladder for a wider angle on his work, ignoring the mess as best he could. He posed the dragon’s horned skull low, neck arched, and mouth wide in a silent roar at the grand entrance. The body was supported by a single stone pillar, holding the dragon up in a mid-flight pose so as not to obstruct use of the room. The wing bones spread over the width of the hall, delicate tips touching the stone wall near the ceiling. The tail curled high above the table, in front of the tapestry, and along the wall.  

The mess came back into focus and brought anxiety along with it. He leaned against the arched double doors of the grand entrance with a heavy sigh. The two illusions he planned to use to finish the display were all he had left. He planned on an illusory storm to fill the rafters above, complete with lightning and gentle breezes.

“Justin!” His mother’s voice came from under, and between the steel banded doors.

Justin leaped away from the entrance, heart racing. The mess. Freedom Hall, as part of the keep, also served as the Temple. If his mother saw the hall in this condition, she might finally make good on her threat to throw him in the dungeon. She yelled again, closer this time and with a distinct note of panic.

“Open the door!”

The crossbar that held the main doors closed measured as thick around as Justin’s waist. He squatted, and lifted the twelve foot beam with his shoulder. The heavy door creaked open, and his mother slid in behind him. Panting, she swiped her wet hair out of her face that had come loose from her braid. Her night-blue scale mail

“Deetra is right behind me.”

Justin struggled under the weight of the crossbar that took two normal men to lift. His voice shook with the strain. He took a short shuffling step to keep it balanced.

“Tell her to get in here.”

Armored footsteps ran up the cobblestone road outside, and the door opened a second time. Deetra pushed it closed behind her. Deetra ducked under the crossbar and moved away from the door, breathless and holding her halved glaive in either hand. She stared at the door, the visor of her ruby helm cut in half, revealing one eye and a deep cut in her cheek. Her armor had been cut clean through in at least a dozen places.

Justin took a step to replace the beam, but the doors opened a third time and bumped him. He let the beam drop with a boom that rattled the chandelier above. He turned to face the latest intruder, ready for whatever horror made Deetra and his mother run for the castle.

The door was pushed open further with a creak, revealing the wet cobblestone street outside. In front of him stood a knight clad in silvery armor, streaked with blood from the slit in the full visored helm to his steel sabatons. The knight took a step back, visor pointed at the open mouth of the dragon skull suspended behind Justin.

Deetra stood next to him, on the balls of her feet, half of her broken weapon in either hand. She hesitated. Justin had never seen his stepmother hesitate when the time for battle had come. Ayla stood behind them, whispering a prayer.

Justin took the moment to ask the only question that came to mind.

“Who are you?”

His mother answered by screaming from behind him. “She’s the daughter of a back-stabber who betrayed his own kind!”

Justin checked over his shoulder. His mother’s face was twisted with hatred, but for the life of him, he had no idea what traitor she referred to.

The silver knight turned her gaze on Deetra. “Hiding on holy ground? Truly, you are a great knight.”

Deetra pointed at the shining blade at the silver knight’s side. “I’ll come out when you put down that sword.”

Justin’s eyes went to the knight’s weapon. It beamed with its own light. The hilt was the body of a dragon, with wings as the weapon’s crossbar. The dragon’s mouth grasped the three-foot-long blade. He resisted the temptation to Detect it for magic; the answer was obvious. He held out a hand behind him, signaling his mother and Deetra to move back.

He stepped over the fallen crossbar, getting between the silver knight and his mothers. “They’re not coming out, and you aren’t going to step foot on holy ground. So, since we seem to be at an impasse, let’s talk.”

The knight’s visor pointed above him to the dragon skeleton suspended above the room and she took another step back. The narrow eye slit prevented Justin from reading her gaze. Wizards were rare in the south, but unlike in the Queen’s Empire, they existed. Anyone from the south had a fair chance of understanding what the red robe meant. The Red Wizards of Drokin, historically, served as arbitrators in the south.

“You’ve seen our faces. Let us see yours,” Justin said.

The knight stood in the doorway for another moment. Time stopped as she lifted her visor with her sword hand. Her creamy skin, framed by curls of flame, made Justin’s heart to skip a beat. The last of the wind outside pulled at her hair. Eyes the color of spring grass roamed over him, taking in the red robes. When they met his, Justin’s stomach dropped, like from a sudden fall. His mouth went dry. She nodded once and spoke again, her tone respectful, but firm.

“Stand aside, wizard,” she said, indicating the direction with a wave of her gleaming sword.

Justin blinked, and the moment broke. This woman was an enemy, and one powerful enough to have made the Empress and the General of the Empire run for holy ground. His mother and Deetra never ran – not from anyone or anything.

“No. Surrender now, and I will see to it that you are returned home,” he said, and then added, “Alive.”

His mother gasped behind him. “You have no right to -”

Justin interrupted her with clenched teeth. “Empress. Let me handle this.”

She came up alongside him and glared at the green-eyed knight from just out of the sword’s reach, daring her to enter the temple. “I was your age when I killed my first Minotaur to avenge my mother. I slit the beast’s throat and drowned him in his blood – the morning after he raped me.”

The wind had picked up again as the storm dissipated outside. Rays of sunlight pierced the gloom above. The breeze and the mention of his minotaur father sent a shiver up Justin’s spine. The very thought of him brought an overwhelming dread and shame. Justin was the product of that horrifying rape. His mother had told him the story of his father once, but only after Justin had asked. Since then, she never spoke of him and Justin never asked again.

His mother continued: “But you’re avenging a man who betrayed his people to serve half-beast slavers.”

Before the curse was broken and the minotaurs’ souls were reaped by the Dark Queen, the minotaurs used human women as breeding stock. Justin’s mother and Deetra, both slaves selected for that purpose, had led the revolution to reestablish the Empire under human rule eighteen years ago.

People lingered in the rain dampened street. The storm had broken the heat wave, and more gathered in the ward of the keep as people ventured out of their homes. As Empress, his mother could not afford to lose face. The standoff could not last much longer. He put a hand on her shoulder.

“Mom. Please. Let me -”

She shrugged his hand away. The knight white-knuckled the pommel of her sword as his mother continued. His mother wanted the Guardian to enter and attack. The hallowed ground of the temple would cut the Guardian off from her God, weakening her. The Empress baited the Guardian again.  

“He stabbed a man through the back.”

Anger flashed across the red haired knight’s expression. She recovered her one step back from her initial shock of seeing the dragon skeleton. The sword hummed, its pearlescent light intensifying.  

Justin barred his mother’s path with his arm. “Mom. St-”

Deetra came up on Justin’s other flank. “But not before he plotted the death of hundreds of innocent people at Hillside. Your father was a monster. ”

They were talking about Dylan, the Guardian of Light whom his mother had tricked into the Dark Temple’s crypt and ultimately defeated. If Dylan had succeeded in killing Justin’s mother, the people of the Empire would still live in chains. The atrocities he committed in the name of the God of Light were well remembered by the people of the Empire.

The knight swallowed before she spoke. “I know my father fell from the Light.” The sword burned brighter and she lowered the visor. “But my Lord spared him from the Abyss, and now he is my light in dark places.”

She stepped onto the threshold and the already glowing sword flared to life. The crowd outside gasped. His mother and Deetra took a reflexive step back, shielding their eyes. The colliding dark and light divine energies around the knight swirled and eddied in tenebrous snakes. Shadows leapt and danced on the walls and into the ward outside. The sword’s hum vibrated the chandeliers above.

Justin backed up, one arm out to corral his mother back with him. He dipped the other hand into the sash of his robe and retrieved a bit of wool – his spell’s component.

“Deetra, I need ten seconds!”

Illusion called for imagination and concentration. The believability of the image depended on his attention to detail. Deetra cut in front of him with a spinning strike at the Guardian. Ringing steel pierced the room as the blade of Deerta’s halved glaive struck the knight’s shield.

Justin held the wool between his eyes, envisioning every bone he placed, the layout of the room, and the way sounds carried through the rafters above. The battle raging a few feet in front of him dulled, muffled by his focus on the spell. The spidery and ancient words fell from his lips, leaving his mind, drawing the magic forth. The pinch of wool disintegrated under his fingertip and cascaded over his eyelashes and nose.

A shriek, a cross between a bird of prey and elephant, ripped through the great hall. The metal bindings that held the dragons segmented tail up on the wall burst out of the stone. The stone pillar that supported it cracked and collapsed in a plume of dust.

Deetra and the silver knight both stopped mid-clash, heads lifted to witness the impossible. The dragon’s clawed feet landed, splintering the wood tables. The bony wings folded to its body with series of clicks. The skeletal dragon leveled its empty eye sockets on the silver knight and glared.

She took a step back, shield up. The slit in her visor alternated its focus between Deetra and the animated skeleton. Deetra dropped her broken weapon and grabbed the Guardian’s mirrored shield. The shield flashed a blinding, brilliant white. Deetra screamed in pain, but held on.

The flash of light and Deetra’s cry broke Justin’s concentration. The illusion would last just another few moments before it faded. Justin pointed at the intruder. The dragon lunged. The knight let Deetra have the shield and dove to the side. The dragon’s jaws snapped shut above her. Deetra dropped the shield and stumbled back.

The dragon struck again, its jaws clacking closed inches from the silver knight. He had to end this fight now, before the illusion dissipated, and without killing her. There were too many questions left unanswered.

“Deetra, get that sword away from her!”

The dragon struck again, but the silver knight was ready. She swung her sword with two hands and a scream of effort. The dragon vanished before the blade touched it. The knight had overcommitted to the attack and stumbled forward, trying to recover, and collided with a table. The room returned to its previous state; tables unbroken, no debris, and skeleton still suspended above the hall.

Deetra jumped up onto the table and stomped her armored foot down on the knight’s wrist, pinning the sword. The silver knight swept Deetra’s legs from under her. Deetra landed on her back with a crash of metal on wood that echoed through the rafters above.

The silver knight brought the sword down through Deetra’s breastplate. Ayla screamed from the back of Freedom Hall as Justin bolted toward the knight. Deetra grabbed the blade of the sword and held it with her burned hands, preventing its withdrawal. The blade sputtered and smoked, the God of Light’s power further cooking Deetra hands in her gauntlets.

Justin leapt in a flying tackle. All seven feet of him collided with the silver knight. The sword came loose from her hand as they tumbled to the floor together, Justin on top. Her visor came up as they landed, face to face.

Justin hugged her arms to her sides, and again he noted her emerald colored eyes. She headbutted him in the nose. His vision blurred and eyes flooded. Blood ran from his nose and onto her helm. He squeezed her tighter and turned his head to the side.

“Justin! Help! She’s dying!” His mother’s voice pleaded from the table above him. The knight below him struggled and kicked.

“I can’t let her go!” Justin yelled back.

His mother dropped down from the table to the floor, her black boots next to his head. She whispered the prayer of humility.

“Mother of night, your daughter is in need and begs…”

The silver knight’s struggles turned frantic and she screamed in his ear. “No! Get her away from me!”

“… humbly, for the voice of the Goddess.”

Ayla leaned down. Her voice vibrated the air around them. “Don’t move.”

The struggling stopped. The knight lay there, rigid as a plank of oak, green eyes wide with terror. His mother pulled him up by the arm. Her hands, face, and neck were blistered and burned. Her long onyx hair had shriveled. She did not seem to notice or care.

Deetra laid atop the table, sword in her chest. Blood ran between the boards in rivulets. Deetra’s eyes went to him. She opened her mouth to speak but it had filled with blood.

His Mother showed him her burned hands, her voice frantic. “I can’t pull out the sword and I can’t heal her with it still in there.”

Justin peeked under the table. The sword had not penetrated the wood. It should just come straight out. He flexed his hands once, readying himself for the inevitable pain. He grabbed the hilt with both hands and a sharp breath of anticipation.

Nothing. No fire. No pain. The sword came out with a simple pull. Justin stared at the weapon in his hands, his stepmother’s blood filling the groove in the center of the blade and dripping to the floor.

His mother shoved him. “Get that thing away from her.”

Justin walked backward away from the scene as his mother knelt next to Deetra, tears spilling down her blistered cheeks. She whispered the prayer while holding Deetra’s hand. She kissed her wife on the forehead.

Deetra sputtered, coughed, and rolled to spit a mouthful of blood over the side of the table. Justin stood in the center of the room, sword in hand. His mother cupped her hands below her chin and prayed again over Deetra.

Justin marveled at the sword. It weighed next to nothing. It fit his hand as if made for him.

Deetra sat up and pulled a dagger from a sheath at Ayla’s waist. Deetra stepped on the bench seat of the table, and then down to the floor to stand over the silver knight. She put the dagger to the Guardian’s throat.

“Wait,” Justin said, but stayed back. The sword no longer glowed, but keeping a safe distance from his mother and stepmother seemed prudent. “We need to know who sent her, and why.”

His mother stood atop the table, her face healed. She stared down at her attacker, wintery blue eyes distant. There were times when memories from her life of suffering overwhelmed her. It did not happen often, but it crushed Justin’s heart each time. He knew his mother’s tale, and it was a story he could never have survived. Deetra watched and waited, dagger to the silver knight’s throat.

“Ayla,” Deetra said, but his mother did not hear her. She was lost in a reverie of pain.

“Mom?” Justin urged.

Running armored footsteps approached from the now crowded ward. The crowd stood back a few dozen feet from the open doors of Freedom Hall, muted by fear and awe. They parted as a squad of eight Red Knights ran for the door.

“Mom,” Justin said again. “She has to live. There’s too much we don’t know.”

The Red Knights cleared the crowd and ran across the cobblestone ward, boots echoing in the silence. His mother blinked and looked at him, then down to the sword in his hand. Justin laid it on a table to his right but stayed within reach, afraid to leave it unattended.

His mother closed her eyes and nodded. Deetra shot him an angry look over her shoulder. She removed the dagger from the girl’s throat and spit in her face. The first Red Knight made it to the door and Deetra pointed at the silver knight with the slender blade.

“Take this murdering piece of shit to the dungeon.”