Rightful Place's

During great wars, many men, and women fall victim; sacrificed for one or many different peoples view of the world; sometimes these persons claim the gods told them, others say they are gods. For whatever reason, when humanoids wage war on each other, innocent men, women, and children are the ones to pay the price.

This is, sadly one of those stories; this story actually begins at the end of a great war, on the night the Mountain Kingdom fell.

To bring down the stronghold that was the Mountain Kingdom, it took a war that lasted out twelve years, and a final siege that took months to plan and execute. By this point a few ten thousand lives had been whisked off of the earth, send to the abyss of the afterlife, and still many were yet to join those who had fallen.

The tyrant king of the Mountain Kingdom was named Edmond Ironfist, a name that would stand the test of time. He ruled over this kingdom for twenty-two years; his sword dove heavy into the skulls, and throats of all who stood in his way, kin or not. He felt he had to ensure himself of a long, and healthy reign, which was his reasoning for slaughtering his brothers, sisters, and father one by one. Edmond was a cruel and twisted man; power hungry, filled with greed. He could never have enough, whether it was gold, land, or beautiful women. He starved and tormented those beneath him, he was the cause of many innocent people’s untimely demise, over simple enjoyment.

He would order his men to burn down the crops of the villagers that could not pay their tax as a warning, then if they still could not produce the amount he wished for he would order their family to be raped, beaten, murdered, and then he would seize all of their possessions.

As Edmond’s greed for more land, and power started to grow, he began picking on the smaller kingdoms, claiming their land for his own. After only reigning for a short ten years, Edmond found himself in the midst of many great and formidable foes from all across this land of Tasryn.

Edmond, being such a power hungry monster of a man still had a wife, a wife who loved him greatly. She was a beautiful creature; she was given to Edmond as a peace offering from a sanctuary, a priestess. Lady Castriel Duvol was her title, and she was an elegant, and fitting queen. Even though she was forced into his arms, she did love him till the end of her days, he gave her something the sanctuary never could, she had three beautiful children; Katherine, Jasmine, and there only son Allister, the rightful heir to the Mountain kingdom.

Lady Castriel passed away five years after giving birth to Allister as an illness swept over their lands, but she died happy with Allister tucked tightly into her arms. She whispered her hopes and dreams for her son in his ear, trying to soothe the sobbing child in her last moments, her two daughters standing at the edge of the bed, keeping a brave face knowing their mother was leaving them very soon. Lady Castriel looked into her son’s innocent glimmering eyes for the last time as her’s began to fade and dull, “Become a gentleman, that I would be proud of my son. Break your father’s curse on these lands, and show these people the kindness everyone deserves.” She forced her last breath with those words, and her children cried in mourning.

The queen died knowing that she was a loving and caring mother. Luckily she never had to face the pain of watching her first daughter, Katherine being sold off to a rich king from across the great blood sea, or of her second daughter being mutilated and murdered as retaliation to her husband’s war.

Prince Allister was almost twelve when the Mountain kingdom fell; he was and would have always have been Edmond’s prize possession. He would one day have taken the throne from him, and he wanted the boy to be ready for what Edmond himself had to face, after the passing of Lady Castriel Allister was forced to attend all executions, and accompany his father on the bloodied battlefield; only after the battle was won, of course, he had to keep his prize protected from physical harm. His son had to trek through fields of corpses, as his father tried to turn him from this gentle child his mother raised, into a brutal monster of a king like himself, hoping that young Allister would absorb it all in. But the glimmer his mother once saw stayed in the boy eyes. He had witnessed true horror, he had to watch hundreds of people die, and watch them beg for mercy as his father just laid waste to all those who opposed him, but the young Allister stayed passive, he stayed innocent. Something in him, maybe it was his age, or maybe it was something else that saved him from having his father’s cruelty.

The night that the Mountain Kingdom gates fell was a night to remember, it was a night bards and men would sing, and tell tales about for years to come. The four waring kingdom’s; The Volcanic Spire, The Crystialine Colonies, and The Elves of Spirt lake had finally reached an agreement to siege the Mountain Kingdom, together as one. After arguing on the plan of attack for months, the three kingdoms decided, and waited till the winters last snow had melted away before they began their hunt for the king’s head.

When they finally struck, their armies as one unit marched towards the gates; the surprising factor of this siege was the Mountain kingdom was in the dark, not even one rumor had reached the tyrant kings ear in warning. Even as the approaching armies walked through King Edmonds lands, no one cared to call warning to their king, they just watched in silence, as the soldiers made their way through.

The three kingdoms all had different duties to achieve; The Elven folk from the Spirt Lake were the first in the gates, they were to break in and silently disarm, and eliminate the first line of defense, the Volcanic Spire soldiers were the second to charge into battle, they were to brutally make their way through the sea of now charging men, and take control making their way to the throne room, the Crystalline soldiers were to calculatedly make their way through the wreckage, controlling the passive characters in this war, mostly the maids, and butlers. A small selected group of Crystalline soldiers had the mission of capturing, and containing the King, and told to take him to the throne room, and one particularly selected soldier had the job of containing the prince and doing the same.

When the gates fell; the Volcanic Spire soldiers stormed through, and the war alarm was sound, and young Allister was awakened from his slumber and barracked in his room along with eight well-armed, and well-trained guardsmen; Allister covered his ears and sat in a corner far from the door, and away from the huge glass doorway leading to the balcony. The guardsmen stood at the ready, seven of them facing the door, hands on their holstered blades, their captain kept one eye on Allister as the young boy panicked silently, his hands over his ears, trying to keep the sounds of screaming people being brutally murdered, that was echoing throughout the kingdom.

The captain of the guards was Jessie Silvermouth; he was very young for a captain, blonde with a scruffy red colored beard, his armor had already been battle worn many times, and the marks were there to prove it. Jessie knelt down next to the boy, and placed his hand on the boy’s head, and roughing up Allister’s hair slightly, trying to ease the boy’s worry, “Don’t fret, the Mountain’s walls have never failed us before. This kingdom has stood for hundreds of years; it will not fall tonight.” Jessie smiled as he patted Allister on the head, Allister just nodded and tried to give a smile, but he was just overwhelmed with his fear, tears were streaming down his face, as he trembled uncontrollably.

Jessie turned back towards the door, just as his fellow soldiers drew their swords. A clash of steel on steel, followed by a few loud thumps echoed through the thick wood of the door. The men readied themselves taking a step closer towards the door, Jessie turned around and placed his finger to his lips. Hush, he told Allister as the boy crawled away from his location and stepped into his wardrobe, closing the door tightly behind him, with his hand over his mouth, drawing his small knife from his shirt.

The front door to the bedroom opened, and an elven man in blood stained black, leather armor walked in; he was silent as a ghost, a small curved sword in one hand, and a straight cut dagger in the other. He was wearing no helm, and his long black hair was tied loosely behind him, showing off his long elven ears, his face was dead white and his eyes were passively staring at through the soldiers. The elven man spoke calmly, “Stand down, I am here for the boy. No one needs to be harmed here today.” He lowered his weapons to his side, waiting for their response.

It was eight against one, the elven man seemed to be the one at the disadvantage, and the guards charged foolishly, the elven man kicked the first, his foot hitting the square in the chest, knocking him into three others, while placing his weapons in his sheath, he disarmed the next by breaking their hand, twisting it behind the guards back, and with one quick hit on the back of the man’s head, he fell unconscious with a loud thud. The elven dropped down as the next guard took a swing at him, sweeping the guard off his feet, the elf landed and upper cut with the hilt of his now drawn dagger, and again another soldier was out cold as the soldiers blade tumbled to the floor. The elven man made his way through seven of the men without drawing fatal blow or receiving a single wound on himself. Finally, he spoke directly towards Jessie; who stood dead still, almost in awe at the man before him, “I give you one last chance to leave, I have my orders to bring the boy, I do not wish harm to the child.”

“We both have our own orders, and duties sir. Draw your sword soldier, you are not taking the prince without a fight.” Finally, out of his trance of awe, Jessie held his sword out towards the elven man.

The elven man shrugged, and impatiently drew his sword, “I understand it’s your duty to protect the boy. I admire that,” the man said, waiting as the soldier charged. Their swords clashed against each other, Jesse was the first to draw blood, slicing the elven man across his face, as well as across the forearm. The elven man seemed unimpressed and unenthused about the fighting, but after a few minutes he finally took the assault, slipping past Jessie’s defensives he slipped behind him, the elven soldier took the hilt of his sword and cracked Jessie on the back of the head. Jessie slumped forward, but he wasn’t done yet. Rolling over, he stood again, facing the elven man, he was struggling to stand, disoriented by the blow, as the elven man placed his weapons back in his sheath. The head wound caused Jessie’s vision to sway, as he recklessly dove at the man, the elven soldier took a step to the side and punched Jessie square in the nose, finally, Jessie dropped to the ground, defeated. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he spoke Allister’s name before he went into blackness.

Allister heard everything, trembling silently in the wardrobe he was unsure how the interaction between soldiers unfolded, so he just placed his ear against the wood, listening carefully as footsteps approached. Allister held his knife out towards the door and tried to hold it steady. The door to the wardrobe opened and the elven man looked down at Allister who just froze in fear. “You don’t need to fear me; I am not going to hurt you.” The elven man put his hands out towards the boy, as Allister just held the blade out towards him, but he didn’t move to attack or strike the elven man. The man took the blade from Allister’s hand and pulled him out of the wardrobe. “I am going to tie your hands now, but don’t be afraid. I promise I will not hurt you.” Allister was still frozen, so the elven man put Allister’s wrist together, and tied them loosely. Allister finally looked over the soldier’s shoulder, and he could see his guardsmen all laying on the floor lifelessly. Allister’s lips trembled, and he looked up at the man in horror.

“You killed them all.” Allister started to cry, as his legs buckled under him.

The elven man ignored the child’s cry, “Can you walk?” Allister nodded as the elven man lead him out of the room, closing the door behind him, the elven man snapped the handle off the door, and tossed it down the hall.

Allister tried to stop crying, but the tears wouldn’t stop falling down his face, he sobbed painfully, but the soldier just led him down the halls as quickly as the distraught boy could move his feet. Walking through the halls; the stone walls were stained with blood, and the screams of more victims being murdered echoed loudly. Allister hyperventilated and vomited at the first corpse that laid in their path, where the elven man seemed sad, detached from the scenes before them.

Stopping at the entrance to the throne room, the elven man looked down at the boy, “You need to wipe your eyes now.” Allister did as the man asked, and they entered the throne room; it was overflowing with the conquering soldiers and the prisoners of war. The elven man spoke to Allister, his voice, was almost calming, in a weird stern way. “Stay silent, and stand tall, be brave.” Allister turned his head for a moment, and bite down on his lip, as he was pushed forward.

Walking towards the throne, Allister could barely see his father through the crowd; he was beaten and tied, kneeling at the foot of his throne, his face was covered in his own blood, and his one eye was swollen closed, he glared towards the Volcanic soldiers who were taunting, and poking at the man with their blades, playing with his crown that they removed from his head.

The captain of the Volcanic Spire smiled as the boy was pushed towards him, he jumped off the throne and adjusted his chest plate, a black dragon was burned into the gold plated metal, striding towards the boy. “Oh Zavier,” he spoke slyly, “what took you so long? Did a boy cause you that much trouble?”

Zavier; the elven soldier, held the boy tightly by the shoulder as the Volcanic Spire soldier knelt down in front of the child, a wicked grin crossed his face, “King Edmond, how do you wish to die? Letting your son watch you die a pathetic coward, begging like a dog, or should I allow you to watch the boy beg like a scared little girl, crying and pissing himself?”

Zavier stepped forward as the Volcanic Spire’s captain placed his sword to Allister’s throat. Zavier grabbed the blade, gripping it tightly as he spoke sternly, “Jason, the plan wasn’t to kill the boy.”

Jason laughed standing up, the blade sliced through Zavier’s hand, blood dripping from the now open wound, Allister’s eyes locked onto the wound, it had to have been painful, but the Elven man didn’t seem to care, or wince. Jason spoke with a chuckle, “The plan wasn’t to spare him either, this is war what did you expect to happen?” The soldier stood up and pushed Zavier back away from the boy, spitting at the elven man. Zavier just stared back at the man and stepped in between Allister and Jason once again.

“We only need to kill the king, the boy had nothing to do with this. The death of a boy will not end this war.”

The two men locked stares as the king laughed, “Bickering among men, how pathetic.”

“Be quiet, your child’s life is in jeopardy.” Zavier pushed Jason back away from the boy, that was the first sign of emotion in the man’s voice, and even then it was detached, “End this war with the head of a corrupt king of a spike, not with the blood of an innocent child.” In Zavier’s eyes there was determination, there was the slightest hint reflecting in his eyes.

Jason snorted at Zavier, pushing passed Zavier and grabbing Allister by the hair, two Volcanic Spire soldiers placed their swords against Zavier’s throat as he tried to push forward again. Zavier stopped in his tracks, standing tall, and emotionless he watched as Jason walked towards the king, dragging the boy along with him, he kicked the king once in the crotch, laughing as the old king kneeled over, “Will you beg for your son’s life?” as he forced Allister to his knees placing his sword to the child’s throat.

Edmond stiffened and sat up straight, staring right back at his tormentor, “I will not beg like a dog, I am a king, and my son shall die a prince!” Edmond proclaimed loudly spitting at the Volcanic Spire Captain, hitting him dead in the eye.

Allister’s heart skipped a beat, he held his breath to prevent hyperventilation, he held back his tears as fear took over. The boy expected the man to remove his head the moment his father opened his mouth; out of fear Allister closed his eyes while his lips trembled, but Jason just laughed and slapped the king on the back, pushing Allister back into Zavier, the two soldiers removed their swords from Zavier’s throat, leaving a small cut from their blades, as it began to bleed minimally, “Zavier, for once you may be right. Edmonds death will do tonight, having the king realize in his last moments that his heir to his throne is going to grow old, as a miserable slave gives me enough pleasure for tonight.”

Allister stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet, Zavier caught him and pulled the boy into his chest keeping Allister upright. Allister faced his father, their eyes met. Jason walked behind the king and pulled Edmond up by the hair, placing his sword to the king’s throat. The crowd went crazy, cheering echoed all around, Jason smiled towards Allister who just stared at the blade being held against his father’s throat.

“Allister, watch and remem-” The king was quite literally cut off, as Jason’s sword sliced cleanly through Allister’s father’s neck. Blood gurgled, and oozed from the king’s mouth as Jason decapitated the king, raising the head well above his own, again the crowd roared. The tyrant king was dead; the war was over. Zavier quickly picked Allister up, and headed out of the throne room, Allister was in total shock; he was soaked in his father’s life blood. His hands trembled as all he could think about was he was now alone in this world.

Zavier knew he had to remove the boy from the castle grounds or he too would die tonight in the victory celebration.

Once outside the castle gates, Allister looked back towards his home. The place he was born, the only place he really knew, he watched as soldiers began to set it ablaze, all his father’s banners, paintings, and everything valuable was being taken or destroyed. Allister’s lips trembled, this would be the last time he saw his home he thought sadly.

“I know it’s hard to lose a parent, but now is not the time to cry, these people you see. They will feed off your moments of weakness, force them to go hungry, boy.”

“Why does it matter anymore?” Allister asked putting his head down and turning away from his home, Zavier placed the boy down, walking straight as Allister’s whole body went seemingly numb.

After three hours of walking, the pair reached the caravan where all the horses, as well as the weapons, and supply carts waited. Zavier lifted the boy up and placed him on the back of one of the supply carts; it was the first of many in a long line, cutting the boy’s binds, he then cuffed the boy’s ankle to the edge of the cart. Allister curled up with his face against his knees, Zavier saw it in the boy’s eyes, as he spoke softly, “Now is the time.” Almost as if on cue Allister began to cry. He was now alone in this big world, and nothing mattered anymore.

Zavier’s expression never changed, from the moment Allister saw the man, even now as he watched this boy cry his little eyes out. He just stood next to the boy and the cart, standing at the ready, as much as Zavier’s expression never changed, he did feel terrible sorrow for the boy, and currently, he had to protect the boy.

Zavier as the morning sun rose tied his charcoal cloak onto himself and placed the hood up; looking at the boy as he slept curled up, cheeks still wet from the tears, Zavier walked over to his horse and pulled a wool quilt from a bag, and gently tossing it over the sleeping child.

That whole night Zavier contemplated his actions as he stitched his arm and hand. Was sparing the boy from Jason’s wrath really the right decision? Yes, the boy didn’t deserve to die, but how was the young boy who was born to be a king adjust to living as a commoner? As an orphaned child. Zavier was accustomed to the terribtable way people treated an outcast like him, and he could only imagine that people would treat the child of the man who murdered hundreds worse than himself. And even though Zavier managed to get Jason to spare Allister’s life, the boy still had more people to convince. This young child who was covered in the dry blood of his father, still had struggles ahead, he still had many battles to fight. How was he going to cope with all this?

Allister jolted awake hours later, the sun was just peeking through the hills in the distance, and tossed the quilt off of himself; his heart raced, as panic filled his face, he looked at Zavier’s calm face, his captor, and slowly began to calm himself down.

“Good morning,” Zavier said as he picked the quilt off the ground, folding it and tucking it under his arm, he just inspected the boy and asked. “Are you in need of anything?” Zavier’s voice was calming to the boy.

Allister tucked his legs back to his chest are stared right back at Zavier, “Water, please, and a cloth.” Allister hesitated to speak as he looked away from the elven man, his eyes locking on his blood stained arms, and clothing.

“Sure.” Zavier walked over to this beautiful red and white horse, placing the blanket in one of the satchels, and grabbing a canteen and a rag. “Are you hungry?”

Allister shook his head as he took the water, placing his legs down hanging over the edge of the cart, watching the man closely, “Who are you?” Allister asked as he took a long drink before soaking the rag, squeezing it in his hands.

Zavier placed his hands on the hilts of his blades and stared through the boy, “My name is Zavier; I am the elected commander of the soldiers from the Crystaline forest.”

“No last name?”

“None.”

“Are you a soldier then?”

“No,” Zavier responded quickly as his horse nudged him with his nose.

“Then why are you here?”

“My fighting skills were required. I was asked to fight for the freedom and safety of the people of the Crystaline Colonies.”

Allister looked at the man, his lips trembled as tears began to form in the corner of his eyes, “Why do people have to fight for anything. Who has the right to decide who gets to live, and who gets to die?” Allister was sobbing uncontrollably, as Zavier looking down away from the boy.

Zavier didn’t hesitate to answer, “No one should have that right. Even your father in my own opinion didn’t even deserve to die this night. He deserved to be punished for his crimes, but not killed, and not in that way, but I had no say in that matter.” Zavier was a pure pacifist. Maybe it was his elven nature, or just because he knows how cruel life can really be.

Allister wiped his eyes, only as more tears fell, “You killed tonight, you killed to get what you were ordered to get.”

“I didn’t kill any of your soldiers if that is what you were referring towards. My sword didn’t take a single life this night. I broke the handle off the door so when your guards woke, they could leave, but it would be difficult for anyone to enter while they laid unconscious.”

Allister sniffled and rubbed his red eyes dried, “But why?

“As I said no one has the right to choose who gets to live and who gets to die.”

With that Allister froze, this man, this elven man who spared his life confused him. Allister began to frantically clean the blood off his arms, he was rubbing his skin raw. Zavier reached out and placed his hand on the boy’s and said nothing. Allister’s face crunched as he began to cry again. He wanted everything to be normal again.

Zavier sat on the other side of the cart, he gave Allister a change of clothes, nothing he had could fit the young boy, but Allister wanted to be out of his blood stained clothes, He asked Zavier to keep the garments. Together Allister and Zavier sat alone for five days and nights, finally the soldiers returned from the conquered kingdom, cheering, and dragging along miles and miles of women, slaves, some soldiers they spared, and the heads of their victims; at the head of the pack was the Volcanic Spires men, Jason, the fourth son of the Volcanic Spire’s King, Gregory Nightshade, and their captain holding Edmond’s head up high on a pike with the Volcanic Spire’s flag waving in the wind. Everyone was covered in the blood of their enemies, and happy beyond belief, Zavier was repulsed by these people, but he dared not show it, he dared not to show anything. Even the people he called neighbors were cheering as they were soaked in blood. Zavier turned his face from them, “Would you rather ride with me, or in the cart, Allister?”

Allister watched in horror as his father’s head was paraded towards him, “I don’t want to ride with you.”

Zavier nodded and turned towards his horse, “As you wish,” Jason marched right to the cart and flaunted Allister’s dead father’s head in the boy’s face. “Leave him alone Jason,” Zavier said as he stepped between the man and the boy.

Jason glared and backhanded the elven man, Zavier didn’t move a muscle as the man’s armored hand connected with his face. It reopened his wound from Jessie earlier. “If I wasn’t so happy about being the man who single-handedly slew the tyrant king, I would cut out your tongue for speaking to a prince of the Volcanic Spire like that. Remember your place, Bastard.” Jason spat in Zavier’s face, but again the elven man didn’t flinch. Jason growled as he taunted the boy one last time before turning away.

Zavier turned towards Allister who curled up against the cart looking blankly ahead of him.

Just before noon, they were on the road: The Volcanic Spire lead the pack, and then elves from the Spirit lake dragged along behind, while everyone from the Crystaline Colonies marched in the middle of the pack.

Allister was alone in the cart, the other people that were taken as slaves and prisoners of war were attached to the carts and chained along together. Among them was Allister’s caregiver, and his late mothers midwife, a dwarven woman Savanna Grey, she taught Allister everything he knew. She was an older woman; her head was full of gray hairs with tints of the once fire blonde she once had. She was the only person who could get away with calling Allister out for anything, or punishing him for misbehaving, she was the closest thing he had to a mother since his real mother’s passing.

“Allister, stop sulking, how many times have I told you to keep your back straight!” Savanna barked, whistling for the boy’s attention, she was three prisoners down from his cart. Allister just nodded and followed the woman’s orders sitting up straighter, “You are a prince Allister, stand tall and proud. You’re from the Mountain Kingdoms!”

“I am not a prince anymore.” Allister mumbled looking down at his hands, even though the blood was wiped off, and the stains were gone, he still felt dirty, still felt that his father’s blood was all over him.

“Rubbish, they can take your land, and they can take your families lives, but they cannot take away where you come from.” The dwarven woman was correct, but these words didn’t comfort Allister because he didn’t care or know how this would affect him later.

“Savanna, what is going to happen to me?” Allister’s lip trembled, he fought the urge to cry again.

She snorted angrily and turned her head towards Zavier who was riding slowly beside the cart, keeping an eye on Allister. “Hey you! Soldier on the horse!”

Zavier turned his head towards the loud dwarven woman and regarded Allister’s question, “We are headed towards Travelers Valley, the main city of the Crystaline Colonies, and the high council will decide your, and his fate. I have no control over the counsel, but in regard to Allister, I’ll plead to them to spare the boy’s life as I’ve already done. Likely of they allow, he will be placed in snomeone’s care. Allister looked at the man who turned his head away from the pair, Savanna snorted at the idea but then silence fell over them.

It was a long stressful ride for Allister, between his grief and the torment poor Allister was exhausted and mentally drained. It was a month before the Elves of Spirit Lake parted ways with the caravan, and another three weeks before the Volcanic Spire soldiers marched away, and only after three more long uneventful months, of bouncing along in a cart, chained and being verbally abused by other soldiers, while also watching in confusion as Zavier was verbally abused by his fellow men. Finally, they reached Travelers Valley the place where he would be judged for crimes he didn’t commit.