Don't Mine At Night

I

Power is a fickle thing. It is desired and sought after. It is the cause of many great wars. And, it is the downfall of many exceptional rulers. Power is a breaking point for many people- it exposes them for who they truly are- it breaks them down to the very marrow of their bones and judges them, for better, or for worse.

This, fellow reader, is one such tale of power- and what those who crave it, would do to obtain it.

Chapter One

The kingdom of Paelakia is a thriving one. Stories are told by the hearth of how it came to be so large and so prosperous out of great pride and tradition by those who live there. Fathers, great, known warriors from across the lands, and mothers, equally fierce in their love for their homesteads, pass on stories of the McCubbin tribe and how they grew from such humble beginnings, mere wandering agents, into benevolent monarchs of an equally significant place. Textbooks write about how the eldest McCubbin son, now ruling king of Paelakia, lifted his sword against the fearsome beasts that plagued the land- making the kingdom a safe haven for weary travelers looking to rest their tired bodies.

His ancestors, however, came to Paelakia in hopes to settle down. What they found though, instead of a city (or village, for that matter), was a large pile of rubble. The buildings, once, what may have been a humble port town, had long since been abandoned. Towering inns, shoppes, and homes were now ribbed with the ghosts of prosperities lost to time. Some speculate that the poor town was a victim of bankruptcy, or perhaps a raid cultivated by bandits. Whatever the case was, it seemed that everyone had packed up and moved, leaving only the shell of what once was a lively place behind- to rot.

Thusly, the McCubbin tribe did what any reasonable band of travelers would do: they ransacked the place.

And as they did, it became more apparent what future the town could hold. Anyone could see the advantages of owning a settlement on the water- trade would be abundant if they re-opened the ports, leaving room for a steady currency inflow, and eventually, inhabitants.

From humble beginnings indeed- what was once a pile of brick and dirt quickly grew in popularity- it sprouted buildings of iron, gates of steel and gold, lush shrubbery and farms, churches far too magnificent for any small town to boast about, and a brand-new shopping district until it settled happily as a large kingdom of magnificent grandeur.

For the next two hundred or so years, the kingdom would thrive and flourish through means of business and trade. The monarchy was handed down to each son, a torch of pride and of great honour, and with each passing king, the riches of Paelakia became ever so more abundant, and the happiness of the people never faltered.

What the public never saw, however, was the internalized struggle between the McCubbin family.

Being the eldest, Brandon McCubbin was entitled to the throne- as it was tradition, and, really, the common practice among neighbouring domains. It was his in theory because nobody was willing to make the first move in overthrowing him; it would upset the common folk and throw off the image of a balanced hierarchy that the family had worked so hard to maintain- but it was speculated that he was more than lax about his royal duties; enlisting commanding militia officers to do his dirty work, and hiring professionals to turn up to council meetings. There were even whispers of an affair, though nobody could prove this to be true (or untrue, for that matter).

There were stories of his achievements, sure- but that's all they were- made up falsities to bridge the gap between greatness and incompetence in order to preserve the peace. After 200 years, things were bound to become a little shaky.

However, this story is not about that.

This story involves two castle guards, both at the top of their training class, highly skilled, and both wanting only one thing: to be the best.

Daniel Rodd was born under the light of changing tides. Raised in Paelakia, the young man grew up only knowing greatness. He came from a long line of paladins and warriors- those who strived to leave their mark, to bring peace and prosperity to each and every family, to make the world a safer place- a better place. His father was revered for his strength and feats that no ordinary man could accomplish- a military captain until the very end. Because of this, Daniel modelled himself after the image of his father and, when he was old enough, enlisted in the Palace Militia Training Corps- where he spent the earlier part of his teenage years under the mentorship of some of Paelakia's finest military leaders.

Today, he stands one promotion away from Head of Arms- the King's most trusted.

Logan Cutrer was brought into the world on quite different terms. Some might argue that his beginnings were similar to those of the McCubbin tribe. His family had much of the stereotypical humble start that this story clings to. The Cutrer's, however, were natural born mercenaries. They were trained in deadly combat and in the ways of brute force. Where Danny relied on honour and tact, Logan was reared with the knowledge on how to disarm and, in many cases, dismember, his foes as quickly as possible.

For Logan, Head of Arms was the perfect position for someone with this set of skills.

This is where the story begins, with the rivalry of two soldiers- in a far-away, fantasy land, where magic reins freely, and trouble has been lying in wait for a very, very long time.