'Twas a frigid winter night in the plague-stricken country of Dakan. Their sole peaceful border to the west, surrounded by the Arken Sea. To the south of Dakan lies the warring countries of Tarak and Mayla, who have been at war for as long as anyone can remember. Tarak, a land whose technological superiority has won them respect from many neighboring countries and has helped them in their battles against Maylonians. The Tarakian king, John Sualt the eighth, rules over the sovereign nation whose borders have been closed to the Dakanese. The timid agricultural land of Maylo, ruled by King Mydako Shakar, has aided the outmatched Dakanese in their war against the neighboring countries. East of Dakan lies the large lands of Ru'Shar. A largely militaristic nation, Ru'Shar lays claim to the largest, most powerful army on the Shielian continent. The ruler of Ru'Shar is the iron-willed widowed queen, Alissia Quentol. A shady history exists between the two nations, and Alissia has thus far opted a stand of neutrality within this intercontinental war. The north is bordered by the allied nations of Pagan and Natura, both of which have recently declared war on Dakan. The Pagans pride themselves as being the naval power of the Shielian continent, as it is bordered by almost nothing but water. Their king, Timothy Carte the second, is good friends and brother-in-law to the Naturan king, Elron DeMont. Natura, a quite primitive land with respect to the other countries on Shiel, is a land covered with vast forests and lakes. Their army, though lacking technology, is the most skilled group of fighters to ever be massed together.

This leads us to me, Lance Lielon, prince of Dakan and next-in-line to take the throne of the Dakanese nation. My king and father, Nathan Lielon, is in the midst of fighting a losing battle against illness and old age. With my father upon the throne in his weakened state many relentless attacks upon our kingdom have emerged, orchestrated by our fierce rivals. Within our capital, the flourishing city of Daku, chaos and disorder have run amuck. With my father bedridden and my mother two years dead, no one has stepped up to take control as we await the successor to the throne to be named. Although many would like for me to become ruler of Dakan, there are many nobles who believe that I, being simply the age of ten and seven, am too young to handle such a role. They would see my uncle, Claude Rotek, upon the seat of power. The time grows nearer, the condition of my father worsening by the day.

It is a cold midwinter night in the land of Dakan. Snow falls freely from the sky, assailing the sleeping castle. The watchman of the main gate leans against an adjacent wall, half asleep. The small candle by him has melted into itself, nearly dousing the flame. A gust of icy wind blows in through the small lookout, causing the guard to shiver. He pulls the soft gray wool cloak closer to his body as he glances out across the endless array of snow, that seamless sea of white powdery flakes. He begins to ease back and doze off again, but catches a glimpse of a moving creature. He peers out, squinting to try and see that figure again through the raging flurries. The watchman sighs out of sheer boredom, and then spots the animate object. A small message horse slowly advancing through the harsh terrain, a white-cloaked figure atop it. It slowly grows nearer and the person raises a small white flag with the Ru'Sharan symbol, a golden dragon standing tall upon its hind legs with its wings extended out into the air. The watchman, upon seeing this sign of peace from the neutral nation, swiftly goes to notify the royal family of this unexpected late-night visit.

A light knocking on my door awakens me, and in steps a timid man, the insignia of his uniform being played upon by the candle-light in my room. His well-groomed hair reaches down to the middle of his neck, pulled back and tied together with a small strand of string. His nervous brown eyes fix upon me as he rubs his cleanly shaven face while shifting his weight as he awaits for my acknowledgment. I arise from my bed, dressed in my light-green undergarment. He stands patiently as I take up the candle and stride over toward the young lad. The dark gray uniform decorated with a few patterns identifies him as the head watchman of the night shift. A light rapier rests within the scabbard at his side, hanging from his rough leather belt. Once I stood in front of him he casually snapped to attention, a common courtesy when before a man of higher rank. I motion for him to be at ease and he does so, then bites his lower lip before speaking.

"My prince, sir. A messenger approaches bearing the royal symbol of Ru'Shar. She has been sent to the customary diplomatic quarters, sir."

"Very good. You may return to your post to finish out your shift. May it be a swift and uneventful one for you."

"Thank you, sir." With that the guardsman headed back through the stone corridors of the castle, returning to his post atop the main tower. I walk back toward the dressing area of my room to slip on my royal diplomatic garb. My tunic, a lighter shade of gray than that of a common soldier, rests sprawled out across a large wooden chest, my scimitar atop of the tunic. I hastily slip into my clothing, checking in the mirror to make sure I look presentable. Satisfied, I fasten the scabbard with my scimitar on my left, and throw a soft gray shawl over myself before I tread outside my chamber. Torches burn dim at this hour as I make my way through the stone halls of the sleeping castle. I come across the door wherein the representative is awaiting my arrival. The wooden door opens with little sound as I slip in, shutting the door behind me.

The walls of the rectangular room are decorated with books and maps, many dealing with the history of the Dakanese culture and geography. Writings about past wars and militaristic strategies, deceased members of the royal family, legends and heroes, religion, relations with neighboring countries, navigation charts and maps, past climatical recordings and tales of undefeatable generals line the shelves within this vast room. Long tables to either side are cluttered with open books and loose scrolls, each table with eight chairs surrounding it. At the middle table sits a slim figure, covered with a white cloak, the hood pulled back to reveal shoulder-length brown hair. Candlelight shines upon her face, revealing her feminine features. She rises upon hearing the door close, a distant look in her bright blue eyes. I take a few steps forward, extending my hand in greeting. She follows suit and I take her hand, gently bringing it to my lips as I take a slight bow. She blushes, motioning with her free hand that such formalities are unnecessary. She sits back down, and I seat myself across from her. She reaches into her cloak, removing a rolled up scrap of parchment, sealed with wax which has the Ru'Shan royal symbol imprinted within it. She breaks the seal and unravels it as she begins to speak.

"My most humble lord, Prince Lance Lielon of Dakan, I have come to thee to relay a message from my most gracious queen Alissia Quentol of Ru'Shar. In these times of tragedy which have befallen the Dakan royal family, we know you are anxious to know how Ru'Shar shall stand in this rigorous war which has plagued the entire continent of Shiel. Our nation shall stand as thus: Whereupon the naming of the new king shall fall, our decision shall follow. If Prince Lance Lielon succeeds the throne, Ru'Shar shall aid the ailing nation of Dakan. Should Claude Rotek get chosen for the throne, Ru'Shar shall oppose Dakan. May god look upon the nation of Dakan with mercy."

She looked up from the parchment, her blue eyes fixed upon my face, awaiting my answer. Subconsciously, I began to rub my small beard, taking in the words she read. My deep green eyes gaze into hers, causing her to shift nervously. She began to relax as I looked over at a statuette of our king, my father. A heavy sigh escapes from my lungs as I look back at her. "M'Lady, thou hast brought to me news of great importance. I thank ye kindly for relaying this message to me, and hope your journey home to be one of ease. Tell your queen that we acknowledge and fully understand her message and her motives. I hope that Ru'Shar and Dakan may be allies during these times of war, but her gracious decision is a wise one. May your queen have a long and prosperous reign." With that, I take a bow as the woman finishes writing the message down. Finally completed, she curtseys and takes her leave, heading back into the night.



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