The Fall of the Ardenta
Dark times ahead for the world it seems with a cruel king now on the throne, having carried his way there with blood and treachery. After centuries of peace, is the city once again heading to war? One thing is for sure, the people will not stand for a king that turns on his own people.
The history of Crystal Dell is starting to come together in paper not just ideas floating around in my head. Hopefully more will follow soon and the history can catch up with the modern world my stories are set in.
[https://www.sofurry.com/view/883816]The Warring Age[/url]>>>
[https://www.sofurry.com/view/822852]To Have chapter 1[/url]>>>
I'm also going to be opening a round of 1000 word commissions soon, so if you are looking for a short story to go with an image or a bit of history to go with some characters or just a short fic, keep a look out for my journal.
The rule of the Ardenta continued for centuries, the line of their lineage and power unbroken despite the death of the Lord who forged them. He had been unbowed and a figure to be feared even until his latter years, his weakened frame hidden inside armour that has been passed down from one lord to the next, from first son to first son.
His body may have weakened but Fort Ardenta had grown from a simple HoldFast to a foreboding fortress to one of the largest cityes in the land. With the end of the war and the last vestige of resistance crushed by the might of the dragons, the city could begin to grow. While they still ruled with an iron paw, commerce and trade began to supplant war.
Mostly from fear, the surrounding lands that still remained neutral or allied to the Ardenta were keen to appease the newly risen clan, sending tithes and tributes of wealth and goods that only swelled their coffers from the riches they had plundered from the lands recently conquered.
So did their military might, the forces of the capitulated kingdoms enfolded into the standing army. Those who chose to serve were allowed to stand as elites. Some clans especially like the bears and raptors who saw where the wind was going. Those who had resisted to the last were pressed into service as shock troops, barely higher in rank than the slave class. The Minotaur's were one that suffered that fate, their whole race bound into that servitude.
It was the prey caste that came off worse, all rights stripped from them, bound to serve as slaves to their new masters. As with all slaves, they outnumbered the strong but couldn't stand up to them. The rabbits, mice, deer, foxes and ferrets were born into bondage and chains. The lands they once had taken from them along with their freedoms. They had no power and rights, whole families bound to serve one clan of predators or another.
The Ardenta and other feline clans grew more powerful during this time of peace, their influence and wealth growing and accumulating. With their victory in the war, nothing could challenge them. And so they ruled for hundreds of years, the family secure as the title of Liege Lord was passed from father to son, each first son carrying the legacy of his father and his family history.
Until one fateful day, Lord Jern of the Ardenta gave birth to two sons, not twins but born so close as to be twins. Two sons sired from the same litter. Ardat and Terray. Near identical save for their eyes. Ardat, the elder, had eyes of piecing silver. His younger brother, Terray, had eyes of deep crimson. Eyes that mirrored his brothers cruel purpose. He coveted and was jealous of his brothers position, of the knowledge that he would rise to the throne. And he could not countenance that.
He carried that hatred until his brothers rite of passage, the time when he must spend two moons in the wild, surviving by himself. Terray was determined to make sure he didn't. He and group of soldiers loyal to him lay in wait for his brother as he was hunting. Not knowing he was the prey. One arrow felled him as he bent over his kill, driving deep into his side. But the would was not mortal. Neither was the second or the third shot. Just enough to cripple him.
Such was the cruelty of Terray. He wanted his brother to see him as he took his last breath, to know that he was the cause of his death. And he took that breath with his own claws, cutting his throat as he lay struggling to rise.
News of the death spread quickly, Terray having planned things so he made it back to the city before his brother's body was found. Long before. Now all he had to do was wait for the day when he would be crowned king. And he wouldn't wait long.
There would be no rite of passage for him. He had proved himself already. Such was his will. He had garnered enough support to be proclaimed king without that rite. Many of the lords who supported him had looked for better times ahead, rewards for having supported the upstart king. But they had not counted on the levels he would go to so as to hold into his power. Terray was not the king his father was or his brother would have been.