Traitors of the Realm - Kingmaker Book 1

Lobo - The Talk of Rebellion Chapter 1

The days when men rode dragons and Kings fought against Kings were gone, and all that was left were ruins and death. There were many cities that were destroyed by dragon fire and Alcadia was one of them. The triangular towers stood tall and half-torn waiting for strong winds to knock them down. The buildings looked burnt and grim, struggling to stand on its own with wood at all sides, bracing its fall; even the walls that encamped around the city had a steady lean that made it appear like a structural design. The city of coal, the soldiers of Mordrid would often call it mockingly for there wasn't a stone in the city that was not covered in black. The streets were filled with human remains, buried beneath the ashy ground, being stepped upon by all those who dwell there. But the men who were buried there didn't die by the dragon's wrath but by that of King Ryker, who had no mercy for the men. There were once four Kingdoms and now there was one, the Kingdom of Mordrid, where King Ryker ruled over all.

The King's word was law and it was considered treason to speak ill of the King and his family but it never stopped Old Lobo. He was the greatest storyteller in all the land, or at least that's what he told the people of Alcadia. He stood on his small wooden stage he made for himself, speaking to over a hundred people who would listen to the tales he had to tell. Old Lobo believed that telling stories was his hobby but telling a good one was his job. He would often tell the stories of the dragons, the men who rode them and the war they fought. He stood there, taking in the cold air of the morning while the rain poured slightly over his red leather robe. His head was half bald and he wore a beard upon his face, grey and trimmed short. He was a man that appeared well over the age of sixty and was tall, thin, and stronger than he looked.

"There was no beast greater than Melador," said Old Lobo with a raspy voice for all to hear. "Melador was ridden by none other than King Rowan of Elsinguard, the most beloved King in all the Kingdoms. King Rowan had the war won, killing Heldrix in front of his master. The unruly King Ryker had fallen on the ground next to his dead beast, begging for his life as Melador's mouth came closer to him. Some say the man shit himself." Old Lobo laughed as hard as the crowd, pretending to have not told it a thousand times before.

"But as the great beast came closer to devour the sly King, Melador was struck in his heart with the largest arrow ever made. As the creature drew his final breath a dozen arrows descended upon his master. King Rowan died next to his beloved beast. The man who killed them was the traitor known as King Kade better known as the Dragon Slayer."

When old Lobo was finish telling his tales, the men cheered him on by throwing pennies onto his stage and the women who had no money to pay showed him their bosoms. The old man smiled as he gazed upon them, all different shapes and sizes, all in many colours. After the crowd left, the soldiers of Mordrid approached him, clutching their steel swords as they came closer. Thirteen of them circled around him. Their armour covered in red and silver, their helms opened to show their faces. On their chests was imprinted a flaming sun with a dragon at its centre. One of the men gripped Lobo by his collar, his light brown eyes were staring back into the dark lonely eyes of the old man.

"You mock your King behind his back," the man told him. "You will be hanged for this."

"I wasn't mocking," said the old man trying to defend himself. "Everything I said was true."

"Nothing you say is true old man. It's just another one of your stories."

"None of you were there. I witnessed it myself." Lobo confessed. "How old are you, boy?" Lobo asked. "You look twenty."

"It matters not how old I am. I do the asking, not you," said the soldier.

"When the war had taken place, I'm sure you were still swimming in your father's ballsack. You will not charge me for anything boy, for I know what I know and you know not." The young man moved his hands from Lobo's collar while his men looked on. "What's your name?" Lobo then asked.

"It's none of your concern," the young man replied.

"My son was your age when he died; he died serving the King he believed in. Be careful who you serve for it might just get you killed."

The soldier hesitating for a moment, whispered something under his breath before punching the old man in the stomach leaving him to fall on the cold wet ground. "The next time you threaten me old man, I will cut off your tongue and I'll feed it to the prisoners. The name's Axel, be sure to remember that." The soldiers all laughed as they left the old man behind, struggling to get back on his feet.

As he looked on towards the dirty, muddy ground, he saw black boots standing next to his wrinkled, shaky hands. When he looked up he saw a young, lean man with bright yellow eyes staring back at him. The young man picked him up with a look of pity upon his face.

"Micah," the old man whispered with mud dripping from his robe.

"You're the only man I know who tells stories just to offend the soldiers," Micah told him.

"Not stories," the old man reminded him, "the truth."

"Where should I take you this time uncle?" Micah asked. "Home, or maybe you would like to go fishing with me?"

"The tavern for me," Lobo whispered while Micah carried him through the streets.

When Micah's mother had died some years back, Old Lobo accepted the responsibility in taking care of the babe that killed her. Micah was lost in grief and didn't know how to raise a child but Old Lobo showed him how. While Micah was walking along the path, the girls all looked at him blushingly. He was pettier than all of them and old Lobo knew it. The girls were jealous of Micah's long yellow hair as well as the dimples upon his cheeks.

"I see how these girls look at you," said his uncle. "Men use to look at your mother the same way, don't be fooled by it. Women are cunning but your mother was never that. At least she gave you her looks and pretty hair."

"The men used to watch my mother because she was a harlot. I spent half my life inside Gus's tavern."

"She never wanted that life, your father forced her into that when he abandoned you both," replied Lobo. "My sister wanted a good life for you and she would be wanting the same for little Skyler but good things don't exist anymore. She did what she had to do to put food on the table for the both of you."

Micah had reached the tavern where his uncle requested to be, the smallest and only tavern in the entire city. There weren't much people who lived there anymore, only a few thousands. There were once over a million people when the war took place, but those who were left alive fled for their lives. Some remained to pick back up the pieces that were left. Old Lobo had left his nephew on the outside as he entered into the tavern, smiling at all the harlots as they lined up at the front to greet him. He saw red hairs, blonde hairs and some with no hairs at all. He passed them by for he needed a drink to numb the pain he still felt in his gut. There was hardly anyone there; just a few men who were as old as Lobo and the Taverntender named Gus. He took his seat at the long counter waiting for Gus.

"Pour me a drink, will you."

Gus poured the drink into the long, round cup, filling it to its brim. His hands were long and thick, his head round and bald, and fat were hanging from his neck. "I haven't seen you in a while, Isn't it a bit too early to be drinking?"

"No," said Lobo. "It's the same for death, it's never too early to die."

Lobo looked around and saw that the roof was newer than he had last seen it. Arches were newly designed and round, furnished tables and chairs sat without a single stain. "Something's wrong, your roof does not leak anymore and it's not burnt. What have you done?" Lobo wanted to know.

"I saved all the money I had and I repaired it."

"Go tell your lies to another fool," Lobo told Gus. "You can save as much as you can but never this much. I spent a week in the cells and you fixed this place up in less. Don't tell me you joined another doomed rebellion."

"Quiet," said Gus. "This is not like all the other rebellions. This time we can stop the cruelty of King Ryker. I haven't even joined them; their coins were a gift for my information."

"Who was it?" Lobo asked, curious to know.

"King Asher and his sister, Princess Elia. The children of King Rowan."

"If they start a rebellion against King Ryker, they will lose their lives and thousands of others with them." Lobo said the words in surety.

In his time he had seen a few rebellions caused by previous Lords who had lost their titles and castles when Ryker had won. Old Lobo had given up hope and had accepted his life. There will be no fighting for this old man, he would often promise himself. All the rebellions he had ever seen since the war was five and all five had ended in its first month. All the men were put to be burnt alive for the crimes they committed. The King would have once let his dragon do his bidding but they were none left alive.

"I will join no rebellion in my precious time left in this miserable country," said old Lobo.

"If you join," Gus told him, "you will get a hundred Drags. Even more if you can serve as a general in their army and provide valuable information. You can have enough to start a new life in Heartfell. Just think about it Lobo. Skyler would have the life your sister would have wanted for her, and Micah could still fish and sell."

Old Lobo took his cup and drank all the ale it held. He wondered if all those things could be true. A new start with his family in a foreign country where there were dozens of brothels and taverns on every corner. Gus poured his old friend another cup of ale while Lobo looked at him confused.

"Think about it Lobo, it would cost you nothing at all," added Gus. "A life better than this shit one we've known."

"All it would cost me is my life and the lives of my family, but if it pleases you send them over," replied Lobo. "I would like to hear what they have to say for themselves."