The Suns Heir: A War of Two Kings

Rainer: A Sunbarrow No Longer.

The woodlands outside Sunwharf were a sight to behold.
Even in the snowy tempest that had descended upon the Sundom they still held a certain warmth.
Leaves shimmered with golden spines despite their snowy coating.
The swift and narrow stream that ran through the woodlands sparkled an icy blue.
It was a small patch of tree land. That had grown smaller with each year.
Local lords had come and chopped it down taking the lumber for their walls. That was until Rainer's mother had put a stop to it.
She had always been a woman of nature. As were all the men and women of her clan.
The Penrose clan resided in a land of the Western isle known as the flower valley. A valley that their ancestors and descendants had nurtured for generations.
Rainer had visited the valley all but once in his life.
He was twelve when his mother's father had succumbed to age. Rainer had scarcely known the man. But he had accompanied his mother to put her father on the pyre all the same.
The great castle that loomed over the city of Roses had been built between two cliffs.
Any attempt to scale the cliffs would have been met with death.
It was regarded as one of the safest cities in the land. As well as one of the most beautiful.
A path surrounded by blooming flowers lead up the gates of the city, and a great city it was.
Rainer had decided that it was almost as serene as Sunwharf.
It held a certain connection with nature that could not be ignored.
The young Sunbarrow had returned from his visit with a newfound appreciation for the land around him. Not just the structures built. But the trees, the rivers, and plants around him.
It was around that time he began visiting the very woods he stood in now. He had learned how to slip his guard detail and would disappear for an hour or so.
It was the one place no one seemed to look for him.

He had dressed as soon as his mother had left his chambers. For the first time in his life, he had use for a warm cloak.

He donned a butter coloured long flowing cloak over his doublet. Its top was trimmed with dark animal fur, a prize from one of many hunting trips. The leather strips that held it together were engraved with a small sun.

An hour had passed since he had left the city. An hour since his mother had told him he was to wed his child-like bride.

No doubt as he stood staring out onto the stream the workers in Sunwharf were already beginning to pack for his journey.

His tailors were likely planning his wedding attire and his mother was having the servants prepare a bed-chamber fit for the princess to return to.

Even thinking of such things caused his stomach to twist and turn in so many directions that he felt he could heave at any instant moment.

Rainer did the only thing he knew would calm him.

He drew his sword...

Within an instant, he had spun around to face a tree and his steel had met with wood.

One slash, two slashes, and then a third...

On the third, his blade had become wedged in the oak.

Rainer had not realised the strength of his swing.

Tears had begun to fall down his face as swiftly as the stream flowed beside him. Dropping to the ground the young lord found himself cradling his knees and his back against the very tree had fought against.

It wasn't fair he thought. A phrase he had never uttered or allowed himself to think.

He was a Sunbarrow, a lordling. Surely, that meant entitled him to have more control over his life than a farmer, or a miner.

Rainer jumped to his feet and hurled a scream into the sky. Toward the sun. He didn't know what else to blame, besides the God that had birthed the kingdom he stood on, the God that allowed wars to be fought in its name.