The Blood of Alchemy

A Short Prologue

Dedicated to those who offer me feedback. You are the people keeping this community going. Be one of them :)
_______________

The Blood of Alchemy

By: Richard Harley

________________

A short prologue.

The City of Oros, during the reign of King Edmond I.

_______________

"Your Grace, Oros is falling. The trained men, they fight strong, but our archers have only taken three of their beasts from the sky, and the militia has fled to try and save what is left of their homes. I fear how long the rest will stand," the soaking hooded messenger reported nervously.

"I think I can see that," Edmond responded with ice in his tone. He did not move a muscle, nor turn to look at the man, but continued to gaze out from the battlements of the high balcony, letting the heavy rain pelt the pauldron on his shoulders.

From where he stood he could watch the whole of his city, while it burnt and broke. Terrible looking drachyn flew through the darkened skies, jetting blue flame from their snouts, while others tore through the charred houses, destroying everything he and his father's fathers had built. The storm clouds overhead were weeping fiercely onto the battlefield, and both moons shone faintly behind them in the distance, their dim faces close together like eyes that watched the slaughter, taunting Edmond as he watched the destruction with them.

It was as if the sky had sympathized with the soldiers of the burning city, and tried to help with the rains, but had only made things muddy and sloppy in doing so. Drops fused red with blood as they struck the ground with graceful bounces; the way raindrops do if you watch them closely. The thick black smoke of wet wood rose from the homes of the smallfolk and the wealthy alike, and yet no matter how many tears fell from soldier, or sky, the city still fell by the blue flame of drachyn breath.

Men, woman and children ran like fireflies in the distance. Burning bright as they ran through the streets and then falling to extinguish in the puddles. Burning, sprinting, and then falling. Burning, sprinting, and falling. Merchants and fishers alike had packed their ships with refugees and were starting to leave port, while others jumped into the Oroshi Bay and tried to swim out towards them. The massive stone church of the Great Vicars, the only structure that rivalled the castle, was a pile of rubble, and the castle, like to be next, was barely holding off the seige.

"Tell them they must stand a while longer." Edmond said, through gritted teeth. He lifted a hand to point east across the smoke with his index finger. "Look. Out on the horizon."

"I cannot see through the haze, my king. The storm and the smoke are too thick." His messenger replied.

"Just there, don't you see?" Edmond kept his finger pointed. The messenger squinted his eyes.

Just beyond the haze there was a sea of flowing blue and silver, moving much to fast for men to run.

"The God's are good, my King. The Scillians!"

"And not a moment to spare. Now run, and tell the rest of the men that they will be at the gates on horseback within the hour."

"Yes, at once."

The messenger ran down the stoney spiral staircase and out into the muddy battlefield that had once been the castle grounds, while Edmond continued helplessly to watch the drachyn burn and ravage his people.

He had heard the power of the Arbolian empire before, from history books, but he had not imagined the half of it. It was true, the Arbolians had always been profoundly proficient in the art of alchemy. Scholars travelled there to learn the magic, and came back as blaspheming scientists. He had never liked the study, or art, or whatever the different people had called it. This was exactly why, he thought.