Dreadnaught had been a proud kingdom. Immense and strong. It stretched far, from the southern alps where the snow fell thick and heavily, to the vast deserts. From the city of myst on the coast of St. Alame to the deepest caverns in the Vultaran Mines. Across the great sea, in other lands, people whispered about Dreadnaught. The last kingdom that allowed magic to roam freely through the land, where witches, humans and dwarves alike could sit at a tavern over a cup of warm ale. Where the river trolls watched out for the children who swam in their streams, where wizards were still welcome in royal council chambers.
That had been a long time ago, before the war that had driven all those not human into hiding. For centuries the magic had been gone, although the whispering about the magical world had never stopped. Rather than living what had been, children were told stories of the wood fairies before bed, sung songs about the mountain giants and the mer folk. No one had seen anything non-human in centuries, it was assumed that all those who had once mingled in society had died, been hunted and killed or simply wasted away. Dreadnaught had become like it's neighbouring kingdoms; human, sullen and cold.
Law stated that every estate in the land must fly a flag of the royal colours, and so in the bleak landscape of the once beautiful country, red and gold were the only colours to be seen.
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The Chronicles of the Runaway Queen: Escape to Danger
Fantasy*This version of this book has been abandoned in favor of a re-write - currently in progress*
