I'm going to post the second chapter now for you all, since Kylink sent it to me. It will then be followed with my critique.
Chapter Two: Coup d'etat
The blackness of night permeated throughout the fields of the Falchion nation. The moon hung low and pale against the scattered clouds as the stars shone dimly in the distance of space. Silence crept through every forest, field, and hill. A sudden tolling of a bell rang softly from the city limits of Falchion, announcing the birth of a new day. A shadow flying through the air silhouetted the moon, but became invisible as it blended into the cold night sky. The shadow flew past the fields and hills towards a red glow in the distance.
The heralding of the Oswyn factory was immediate. Harsh plumes of smoke belched into the sky by high stone chimneys erupting from the earth. A labyrinth of metal and stone curled upon the ground like an angry snake while molten steel poured through stone trenches into large tunnels. Despite the impossible, silent hour, men toiled away at carts and levers, working the industrial giants to do their bidding. What they were doing wasn’t known, soldiers guarded the entrances of most barracks, their faces illuminated by lanterns. As the fleeting shadow danced in the air, it skimmed over charcoal tattooed trees, above a craggy rock to the top of a magnificently styled architecture. It was the Holy church of Oswyn, an age old monastery, now surrounded by a filthy blackness of dust and industrialization.
The shadowy shape became more apparent as it conformed to the light of Oswyn’s upper floors. It took the form of a black bird, with a large wingspan and a twisted beak. The bird landed on a stone railing by the side of a window. With a sharp tapping, the bird signaled it’s arrival. A large man wearing a white robe opened up the glass and let the fearful creature.
“Do you have news?†The man asked.
The bird turned it’s sharp, unyielding face towards the man. As in a fit of pain, it started to shake it’s head violently. With convulsing twists, it started to writhe into the shape of a man. It panted on the ground in a terrifying manner and ended with a large groan. While breathing heavily, both hands on the floor, the bird-man pulled himself to his feet with a heavy slouch.
“Oh yes, I do, my lord.â€
The white-robed man sat on a rich and stylish arm chair. “Well go on Darkjay, what is it?â€
Darkjay uncannily resembled a bird in his movements, “King Andrew, he is going to start a resistance to the Oswyn church. He is going to remove the White Judges from the political office.†His large eyes focused sharply onto the old man.
“Hmm…†The statement aged him. “It is as I thought. I suppose that it is the time for us to make our move.â€
Darkjay looked coldly at him, “And your promise?â€
“Yes, your services have been greatly appreciated.â€
The white-robed man grabbed a vial of a watery substance and handed it to Darkjay. He held it and weighed it with his hand.
Looking at it suspiciously, Darkjay nodded his head, “Alright then. I think I will be off. You will hear more of me shortly.â€
Darkjay walked out of the room, seeming uncertain of his human legs. He walked swiftly out and closed the monastery door behind him. The white-robed man lent to the window and balanced himself against it. He focused his eyes to Falchion.
* * *
‘The Source’ by Duke August: 1:1
“In the beginning, the lord-god Infinitus came unto the world;
With his flaming arms of light, he created the universe;
The day, night, trees, flowers, and hills;
All were born as from a mother.
And to the world, he crafted his two children;
A child of beauty and love, he named this child Cronian.
The second child was one not unlike the first, he was Regulus.
Regulus was second favorite and less wise than Cronian. He was imperfect.
Through his jealousy and hatred, Regulus vowed destruction. He was a being of fury and hate.â€
Cole stared down at his book lazily, in the middle of a sunny day. He was surrounded by ten or so other nobles, all studying the literature of old. This book, The Source, was the prized jewel of literature. No one doubted its existence as reality…well, Cole did. However, there was no one who thought the same things as Cole. Most people excepted the book, did what they were told, and fulfilled the ‘natural order’. Perhaps one day a peasant could become a king, and a king could stand trial…but that wouldn’t happen any time soon.
“I would like one of you to explain the significance of this chapter.†The teacher said from his podium at the front of the scholarly party.
As was expected, no one cared to humor the teacher. It was Cole’s time, once again, to express some knowledge in the classroom.
“Well, it explains the origin of the world, good, and evil.†Cole blandly stated.
“Why, yes!†The teacher proclaimed, “Our Prince of Falchion is such a wise boy!â€
This brought curt looks from the other sons of Nobles. Cole looked down as the teacher went into the mantra of knowledge that Cole didn’t care about. He was definitely curious about the origins of life, but he felt that this story seemed more like folklore than anything else. He looked down the page.
‘The Source’ by Duke August: 1:4
“Yea, Regulus swore vengeance on the tribes of man;
He brought swift and unyielding hatred in the form of the sword and lance;
Man become corrupted and fought endlessly against hordes of monsters;
O Regulus was king of man, but man would revolt.â€
Cole sighed. Maybe if he could have been there in the past, he would believe this story. The teacher dismissed the class with a wave of his hand. Cole looked up and an attendant, not any different in age to him, grabbed his books and raced back to Cole’s personal study. Cole walked out of the class and saw a group of his classmates talking. As Cole approached, they looked up and walked away. Cole could command fear and respect, but only because of his name.
It was an uneventful day for Cole. Similar to almost every day. Walking in the gardens, thinking to himself, and collapsing back to his room to think about life and his chances of escape from his platinum prison. He picked up his practice sword from under his bed, and waved it around. He had taken fencing lessons, and it seemed to improve his skill a little. He looked at the hilt of the sword. It said ‘A classic Long Sword. The prize of the steel coast.’ Cole put down the sword and crawled into his bed. He picked up the Source and looked at an inscription, halfway through the book.
‘The Source’ by Duke August: 13:8
“The King of the time, he was Kylink.
Though he had royal blood, he championed for peace;
Though he was the pupil of swordsman, he abhorred weapons;
Kylink was different than his fellows.
The king ran from his castle and disguised himself as a peasant.â€
Cole smiled at this passage. It described himself so much. He muttered, “Kylinkâ€. He felt a great connection to Kylink. His eyes slowly started to close. Cole’s breath slowed and he became at ease. In his dreams, he was a champion of peace. He was a man of the people. He was Kylink.
* * *
A sudden jolt woke Cole. The castle was aflame. A dream…no, this wasn’t a dream. He heard something. It was his attendant. What was he saying? Cole stared sullenly. He snapped to reality.
“Cole! C’mon! We have to hurry! The castle is under attack!†The attendant was crying.
Cole moved quickly, his heart was pounding. He looked out the window. The city was red and glowing. He hurried around a corner, towards the tower. He knew exactly where he was going. There was a hidden escape route, just by his room. The attendant fumbled with a key, and opened up a monument, pushed it aside, and exposed a long passage down through the castle. The attendant pushed Cole towards it.
“Aren’t you coming?†Cole screamed.
“Just go!â€
Cole grabbed onto the ladder and went down. One rung at a time. His heart was thumping in his chest. This was it. This was the time that his father had been talking about. He quickly stopped going down the ladder, and felt in his pocket. The red stone was there. There was one thing that Cole had to do. He had to find Knives…and he couldn’t let people know he was a Prince. Everything was going so fast.
He got to the bottom of the ladder and was in a dark sewer. He felt his way forward, as dust and debris fell on him. A mad party was overhead, fighting, causing dust to rain on him. As he pushed forward, he felt grime and spider webs. Cole cried. He couldn’t help it. A life of richness and nobility weakened his resistance to the world. As he pushed forward, he saw a small beacon of light. He reached the end of the sewer and saw it blocked off by weeds and thorns. This was very far outside the castle. He pushed out of the sewer and noticed he was in an unknown part of town…a dark and wooded grove.
He sat on a stump of a tree. His life was over…but somehow, Cole felt different. He took off his jewelry and nobility clothing. He wasn’t Cole anymore. He shed his royal blood, he was now Kylink, the runaway king.
