“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Emmeran’s mother shouted at the young adult’s back
“Outside” Emmeran muttered sullenly as he continued out the door.
“Don’t you dare turn you back on me, boy, I’m the one who provides for your sorry excuse of a man.”
Emmeran continued walking as if he hadn’t heard his mother’s insult. It hadn’t always been like this. Before the Demon Lord came life had been simple. His father was the most successful hunter in their village, known for his prowess in the thick forest that cut off their village from the surrounding world. It was during a hunting trip deep into the forest when his father discovered Emmeran. Laying between the roots of a sentient tree, protected from the dangers of the woods after his obvious abandonment. His father had taken pity on the tiny life left to fair for itself and brought him home to his wife and their four children to be raise as one of his own. That man was dead. Not truly dead, as he came home most nights, but dead to those who knew him.
When the Demon Lord Thokos started consolidating the factions of demons who lived in the mountains to the east, life in the village surrounded by the forest was forever changed. The wildlife fled, as if they knew the tragedies that were to come, and without prey to hunt, the villagers had to find other means of putting food on their tables. Some turned to farming, and others to raising animals for slaughter, but Emmeran’s father was too proud to admit defeat. He took to spending his days in the forest hunting for the phantom prey that had long since left, and the nights he spent drinking away what little savings his family had.
At first, friends had helped out his family with food and clothing, but as hard times made it difficult for them to provide for their own families, aid became more and more scarce. Before long, Emmeran’s family was without the daily necessities of life.
Emmeran’s mother took to washing other people’s clothes to attempt to make ends meet, but as the wife of the newly minted town drunk, she often had to listen to her family maligned. It didn’t take long for the insults to fester and then to bring home her dour disposition home for her family to experience.
As the adopted son, Emmeran was the most common recipient of his mother’s ire. When his father sold their house to pay of his tab at the local tavern, they were forced to move into one of the village’s poor houses.
The poor houses were nothing to speak of. They were buildings that through age and abuse had been abandoned due to their unsafe nature and repurposed by the community to house those who have no housing.
As Emmeran’s father still had some standing, though he daily damaged his reputation further, their family was lucky to obtain a house with a root cellar. In better times this may have been a boon, but as there often wasn’t enough food for the next meal, the root cellar had been converted into an extra bedroom for the extra person. It was a gloomy, dark place to sleep and often flooded in winter months, but it sheltered Emmeran from his mother’s tirades which were becoming an all too common occurrence.
As Emmeran strode out of the house and headed through the village to the west he found himself resenting his bad fortune that had saved his life all those years ago to put him in such a cursed situation. If his village were wiped off the face of the earth he wouldn’t waste any tears morning for it. No. He would sneer at their loss and trample on the memory of their heartlessness.
‘Maybe that’s a little harsh’, he thought, ‘they aren’t all bad people.’
Emmeran had long ago reached an age where he could find work, but there were few who could afford to hire the lanky man. He worked the occasional odd job which never paid well, and the rest of the time he spent in the forest. The sun had long ago tanned his skin and his dirty brown locks covered the side of his angular face. He would search for edible goods to help put food on the family table but as evidenced by his beanpole appearance, rarely did he find anything of use.
He hurried past the last houses and into the dark forest. The canopy was so thick that even the noontime sun couldn’t expose the many dark corners of the woods. One of those corners was Emmeran’s reason for leaving his house. In a quiet part of the woods, in a small hollow, was a crystal clear spring. This was Emmeran’s hideaway. He had made a bed of leaves from the litter that normally covered the forest floor, and the light filtering through the leaves made the place comforting.
Emmeran used this place when he needed to be alone. Most people had given up hope. The Demon Lord had been sending small parties of demons into the forests of the foothills of the mountains, sowing discontent and weakening the towns and villages. There was talk of an alliance between the factions of this continent, but with the constant wars between the humans, elves, and dwarven aligned races, it was hard to believe that they could put aside their differences to fight a common enemy.
The elves lived in the great forest and can hardly be bothered to come out, but once anyone steps foot into their forest, there has always been hell to pay. The dwarves mainly kept to themselves in the coastal ranges that line the western edge of Oroya, however their propensity to dig up valuable farmland and forests put them in constant tension with the humans in the planes below and the elves in their forests to the north. The humans are a pain in everyone’s side. They skirmish with the outposts of the other races and even among themselves. They are known for always looking for a new war to gain more territory and through it, money.
There was only one time in known history that the different races had cooperated long enough to do something other than spread chaos. In generations past a race known as the Dragonkin were common throughout Oroya. They were a peaceful people, though known for their strength. Contrary to what their name suggests, the Dragonkin were not related to the dragons, but simply appeared to have similar features to them. They had two curling horns and scaled wings whose color showed to all who understood which element their magic controlled. Other than these defining features, they appeared mostly human.
As a peaceful people, they saw the damage done by the constant wars fought over petty feuds between the other races and tried to end them. For a time they succeeded. But one can never underestimate the power of prejudice rooted in millennia of open warfare. The Dragonkin united the waring races, but only long enough for the newly formed The Alliance to attempt the total extermination of their mediators.
Only through the heroic effort of one woman, Iandru the Brave, was the total extinction of the Dragonkin avoided. The legends say that when the city of the Dragonkin was surrounded and the allied armies were soon to break through, she created a path through the earth to a land free from the defilement of civilization. There the Dragonkin built a society for themselves, free from all strife, where they could live in harmony with all those around them.
These legends would have never been if it weren’t for the appearance of Dragonkin ships returning to trade with the land that had at one time sought their extinction. While they were discriminated against and abused at first, a measure of civility was restored once those in charge realized home much money they stood to gain if they overlooked their historic differences and allowed themselves to become rich.
Thus, with the new threat of a united demon army preparing to invade the land that the Dragonkin once called home, there were those who thought that it was only logical that the Dragonkin would negotiate a new alliance to beat back the demons from their lands.
The Dragonkin were not interested. They had long ago been cured of their desire to the Alliance and left those in Oroya to solve their own problems.
‘If only there were another Iandru to save us today,’ though Emmeran. ‘She could find a way to leave this pit of misery that I live in.’
______________________________________________________________________________
Catlia watched as the sun rose over the edge of the cliff. The succubus loved this view. After her whole life spent underground in the depths of the mountains she was finally able to feel the breeze through her blond hair. She unfurled her dark red wings and tested the air currents, wondering how far the winds could take her.
How far they could carry her if she wasn’t stuck on guard duty. As second in command of Lord Thokos’ 3rdareal cavalry she had been positioned at the opening of their caverns to make sure that no one came in or out. She had been placed there after a group of the hellions left the confines of their caverns to get a taste of the wilds beyond and never came back. Poor fools.
A search party was sent out but their bones were found picked clean in a panther’s den.
Since then their Commander had ordered all his underlings to remain in the relative safety of the labyrinth of caves that had housed them for generations. And thus, Catlia found herself stuck enjoying her first sunrise.
“A beautiful view, isn’t it?” Catlia jumped.
“I’m sorry if I startled you, young one,” stated the Incubus. “I remember the first time I saw the great circle rise above the edge of the world. A truly serene experience.”
“Y-yes sir” replied Catlia
Catlia had just been assigned to this unit of areal cavalry and Xillmeth was the commander, her direct superior. As it was his job to command the company, it was hers to watch his back.
“You are my second in command Catlia, you should address me by name. I know that you are young for your post, but you are a capable fighter and worthy of the position.”
“Thank you, sir” returned Catlia, “but if it pleases you, I prefer to use the honorific for someone as important and advanced in years as yourself.”
“Humph” “I appreciate the respect Catlia, but when we fly into battle, you cannot afford to use the honorific. A second may be all that is needed to end one’s life and I much prefer being alive over having my ego massaged.”
“Very well sir.” “Once we are in battle we shall be nothing more than a commander and his second officer, but until then you are my elder in knowledge and strength and I would appreciate it if you allowed me to treat you as such.”
“Very well.”
The two stood there watching as the new day dawned. The colors gradually were overcome by the clear blue canvas as the sun rose into the sky.
“One day we will be as the great circle,” mused Xillmeth, “with those that have so long kept us confined to these mountains fleeing before us as we claim what is rightfully ours.”
Catlia shifted uncomfortably.
“You are too young to know of the many trials we demons have gone through at the hands of the Alliance. We have a right to life and they have taken that from us. Finally we are ready to take what is ours.”
Catlia nodded
“One day we will have our own land where we can live without being forced to the corners of the earth and hunted just because of our race.”
“Yes,” murmured Catlia; ”One day we will be rulers over our own land."
Looks very promising
areal cavalry
Do you perhaps mean aerial cavalry?
Very good.
Weren't the demons part of the Alliance because they refused to stab the dragonkins from behind, or because they were never part of the races that the dragonkins tried to mediate peace?
Thanks for the chapter
Seems pretty good so far. No glaringly obvious grammar or spelling errors and a pretty solid prologue. Would love to see more of this.