i once told y'all i'd be working on three stories at the same time.
the ones y'all know about are The Next Conspiracy, and Tears from the Clouds, Cries of the Wind.
The other story is as follows:
This is the story of Baylen Gabriel. I’m currently writing on it offline, so it's far far far from finished. Tell me what y'all think.
Prologue
The last Langovian king, Laram Langovian, died almost one hundred years ago. He was my great grandfather. After his death a riot began. Laram’s most faithful friends and bodyguards sent my grandfather and his mother from the city to the neighbouring city-state of Balkina for refuge. They lived outside Balkina for the rest of my grandfather’s life. When he died my father and mother moved away from Balkina to a place called the Island of Kyte.
I am Baylen Gabriel Langovian, son of Roril and Mihana Langovian, heir to a forgotten throne.
When I had told them I was leaving, my mother’s face became pale, and my father only gave a nod. He walked out to the stable with me, not saying a word. When I had saddled my horse, he went back into the house. My mother stood in the door, little trickles of tears on her cheeks. She walked out to bid me farewell. My father appeared in the doorway, his sword in his hands.
“I want you to have this, Baylen… this is the family blade. It was crafted for your great grandfather, Laram, when he was young… Good bye, son.” With that, he turned and walked back into the house.
“Your father thinks you are making a mistake, Baylen…”
“Perhaps I am.”
“Perhaps…be careful, dear! Don’t do anything foolish.”
I only gave a nod, then started riding slowly to the gate. I knew I must go. Something called to me in the wind. Every gust that blew seemed to call to me.
The Island of Kyte was little more than a lot of land in the middle of the water. It was flat, with only a few houses and some public buildings. It was all I had ever known. I didn’t want to die an old man who had never seen more than this little island. I wanted to die both an old and wise man or a young man with a blade in his chest. Preferably the latter of the two.
Deep inside, I knew I wasn’t going to Hawkir to claim my family’s right as king. I just wanted out. Out of the house and off of the island. I wanted to roam. I wanted to be free of worries and cares. How naive I was…
<pre>Chapter 1</pre>
The trip started out rather short. I took a ferry to the coast of the mainland. Then I took the highroads to Balkina, where I learned that Hawkir was now deserted. At first, I didn’t believe them. How could that magnificent place my father told me about be gone? People don’t just leave.
The first day I was in Balkina, I met a fellow there named Jericho. He was a traveller from a place called Forn. His face was pale but weathered like the other travellers I’d met on the road to Balkina. He said it used to precipitate constantly in Forn, and that a group of three released something called the Power of the Fifty Seven Saints, and the sun started showing through the clouds everyday for half the day. I made a mental note to ask him more about it later on.
I was to meet Jericho in the Metal Cow Inn and Tavern on the twenty-first hour. He said he would introduce me to some fellow travellers that could probably tell me a bit more about what happened in Hawkir.
So far I had told no one who I was. I decided I would shorten my name to Baylen Gabriel. If I went around calling myself Baylen Langovian, they would think I was crazy. To them, the Langovian line died out when it’s rule did.
Sometimes when there wasn’t a star in the sky, I would take a walk around the island I called home. I longed so much to be free of its watery confine. Now, here I was over a thousand kilometres from home and missing it. I missed the smell of the oak rafters and the wood burning in the stove. I missed my mother and father.
Tonight was such a night. The moon was crisp and clear, and a cold wind was blowing through the down. Not in the mood to be around people, I took the alleys to the Metal Cow. It was a large building made totally of what appeared to be wood.