This is an attempt to write something whimsical. So here goes..... with any luck, and with some constructive feedback, I might just turn this into a longer story. So let's call this a Chapter 1.

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Once upon a time, there lived a boy in a white box.

...Not a small white box which would leave you cold and cramped for days, or weeks, not the kind that would disintegrate within a short time.

This white box was HUGE, made of a solid, impenetrable substance known to our parts as Invincibilium, and was as big as a house!

The boy who lived in this white box had windswept, greyish-blond hair, pale green eyes, pale skin, freckles about his hands and face, and a rather angelic countenance. You see, he didn't know anything about it -- but he was a Changeling, a being who could not only change his appearance, but also events around him. Some people called his kind 'Cauchemer,' because they had an affinity for the sea, and because they were able to erase dreams and memories -- and if need be, replace them with new ones. Many in the land believed his kind to be emissaries of Josué, the deity who was believed to reside within the world.

But this boy only cared about playing in the sand and the waves near where his home had landed. Every day, without fail, he would open his bedroom window to let in welcome sunshine, and then joyfully rush out to the beach, looking for coconuts, fish and whatever other provisions he could find. He took little each time, never more than he needed, and was contented each time. He knew not where he fit in the grand scale of things, and in fact, these did not quite matter to him -- he knew of no one who was like him. When he saw other men, women or children, he would wave at them and give them a smile and walk away. He was happy with living his simple life, with no obligations to fulfil.

However, one night, as the crickets were chirping away and the boy was fast asleep, another young boy decided to steal away from his house, walk up to the beach and investigate the mysterious white box. This young boy had brown hair, blue eyes and a slighly tanned complexion from going under the sun a lot. He had a distinguished stance about him. His name was Maro. Wearing only a pair of blue silk pyjamas and a torchlight on his head, Maro approached the white box, thinking there to be some sort of dreadful monster inside who wished not to be awoken from his slumber.

Maro crept up to the box and gave it a tap. No response.

He gave it another three taps. This time all he heard was a loud snoring, coming from within the box. "Shhhhh-- there's a monster inside," he muttered to himself. He flicked the switch on his torchlight, and then he rammed and pounded and kicked upon the box with all his might!

All of a sudden, Maro was greeted with an opening window and two beady green eyes staring into his eyes. He screamed in terror.

"AAAAAAAAAAAGH--"
"Shhhhhhh." The other boy came up and covered his mouth to stop him from screaming.

Maro was dumbfounded. He took a look and all he could see was a blond-haired child with white pyjamas!

"I-- I'm sorry, I thought you were some kind of monster!" Maro bent his head and apologised.
"What do you mean, monster?" replied the blond-haired child.
"You know, these big scary fuzzy things that go ROAR! in the dark..."

Maro cupped his hands to his mouth to let out the best roar he possibly could, and tried to make himself look big by walking slowly and putting his arms out to his side. Thr blond-haired child only rolled about on the sand, laughing at Maro's antics.

Pleased to see that the other boy was amused, Maro extended a hand to him and asked him, "Hey listen, do you want to be my friend?"

The other boy turned his head in confusion and scratched it. "What's a friend?" he asked.
"I don't quite know how to explain it," replied Maro. "But a friend is someone whom you can talk to and be with, all the time, and who will always be there for you."

The other boy's eyes lit up. In his relatively secluded life he had not made any friends before. He wanted Maro to show him how to make friends, but he had not the words to say so.

"Come on, and I'll show you what a friend is," said Maro, tugging him along. The two ran down the moonlit beach together with no one to make them do anything. Their laughs punctuated the otherwise still night.

The two of them chased each other until they were all tired out. Maro pointed to a big rock on the sand on which both of them could sit down. They sat there and took in the cool night breeze.

"Hey," said Maro to the other child, "you haven't told me your name yet."
"What's a name?" asked the blond-haired child rather naïvely.

Maro, puzzled tht his friend didn't know what a name was, spet a few seconds looking thoughtfully at the stars waiting for the right words to come to him. He then turned to his friend and said,
"A name is something that people use to call you and remember you by. My name is Maro; it means blood-red. People could be named after other people, or places, or ways people ought to behave. It's wonderful having a name."
"But I don't know what to name myself..." muttered the blond-haired child.
"I know, then! I'll give you a name," said Maro, leaping up with great joy.

Maro leapt down from the rock and took a close look at his friend.

"Hm, you've done well being out here all by yourself," he said. He looked closely at his friend's eyes and continued, "Your eyes look bright and happy, like you've never cried at all. And you look like an angel. Are you an angel?"

The blond-haired child, stunned by Maro's words but not sure what some of them meant (crying? angel?), just stared blankly into Maro's eyes.

"Oh, I know what to call you," said Maro. "I'll call you Llyr! It means strong. You're a very strong boy."
"Liir." The blond-haired child tried to pronounce his name, but it came out heavy.
"Breathe a little bit, hliir."
"Hliir... hliir... Llyr."

So Maro's friend took the name Llyr, and it stuck with him ever since. The two children parted ways from each other close to sunrise, when it was almost time for Maro to wake up -- they would share a kiss on the cheek, and turn back to their respective homes. Maro would run as fast as he could until he reached his bedroom window, through he which he would clamber back into his bed.

And so it was for many nights to come that Maro and Llyr would meet each other at the same beach, where they first met each other. Maro taught Llyr how to read and write, and with that, became Llyr's history and literature teacher, going through impressive-looking tomes and scrolls. Llyr was thrilled to see them! In return, Llyr taught Maro survival skills, how to fish, and how to live with little and be content.

One night, however, Maro went missing. The air, which had once been livened up by Maro's boisterousness, grew unnervingly still. Poor Llyr, who had no other people whom he could call his friends, left the window of his white box open every night in case Maro were to pop round again. But there was no sign of his friend.

For three months Llyr waited patiently, and then one bright, sunny morning, a man in a strange red shirt carrying a strange red bag came to the white box and gave three sharp taps on it.

Llyr, troubled by the rapping on his house, shyly opened the door and let out a muffled "Hello?"
"Oh hello, Master Llyr? You have two letters addressed to you today."

He dropped both letters, one brown and one white, into Llyr's hands, and took off with a polite "Good-day!"

The brown letter had an address written on it in handwriting which seemed familiar--

The White Box
Seafront,
East Jamestown,
Westforth
JA5 9RS

(Sorry, Mr. Postman, I had to figure out what address to write for this white box.)

It was Maro's handwriting! He had received correspondence from his dear friend! But before he opened Maro's letter, he was especially curious about the white letter, which felt soft and comfortable in his hands. He brought it out to the front... and noticed a gold, glistening insignia in the shape of a crown. He had seen that symbol inthe history books which Maro had brought him some months back.....

It was the emblem of Her Majesty, Queen Cecily IV of Westforth.

Llyr's eyes bulged with terror, and his face grew pale.

What would the Queen, of all people, want with a simple little boy like Llyr?

This is a good start, Troisnyx.

Thanks @Blue-SilverDragon!

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To try and ease the tension he had from receiving a letter from the Queen, Llyr decided to tear open his friend Maro's letter and read it first. He hurriedly tore the brown paper to reveal a small sheaf of ruled paper. His reading was still not as fast as Maro's, but he tried to read the letter as quickly as he could--

"Dear Llyr,

"I'm really sorry I left and never came back three months ago. I'm sure you must be worried about me.

"You see, I'm in a boarding-school now, in the outskirts of Jesseltown. That's very far into the west; that's about five hundred miles from where you are now. I haven't told you what a boarding-school is like before; you stay there by night-time and you learn things and mingle with your friends during the day. The teachers I have are super patient with me, and they love me and my friends to bits. My friends are alright, I suppose -- some are snobbish and rather rude, some are so humble and gentle and kind. I don't quite know whom I'll run into whenever I walk the corridors of this place.

"My family comes to visit me, too, sometimes, and they always write me letters asking how I'm doing in school. It's occured to me that I've never written you a letter before, and you're still my best friend ever, I'm not going to lie. So uh, I hope you don't find it strange that a man in a red shirt carrying a red bag comes to greet you someday soon."

Llyr giggled at that paragraph, and could not stop the errant tears of joy that were trickling down his cheeks. But it still seemed he was a long way off from the end of the letter, so he read:

"There's something I need you to know -- just two days ago our school had a visit from the Queen! She sat with us and talked to us about what changes we wanted to make to our world, what we wanted to do so that everyone could live better. Now many people were talking about food banks and soup kitchens for the poor and homeless, Ether power in every home, and even days where grownups can get to be kids again, and discover what they've lost.

"She came up to me and asked if I had anything I wanted done. Then I thought of you, and the lonely white box on the beach where we used to play. She was very concerned that you were alone. In fact, she has a mission for both you and me, but it's not safe for you to remain in Jamestown.

"You see, your home is made of a material we call Invincibilium. People all over the world have been fighting for it, and the fight has just spread to the outskirts of Westforth. The Queen told me she is concerned that fighting factions would look for your home and the homes of many others', and steal these homes for themselves. She told me she would send you a letter, telling you what to do next, and she would do the rest."

Llyr's heart began to sink.

"My parents know about you and think you're a darling. They want you to be safe. I want you to be safe, too. Give it some thought, then do what you think is right. We will meet very soon -- I have a feeling in my heart that we will.

"Take care.

"Yours,
Maro"

No sooner than he had put the letter down had he heard the menacing screams and shouts of an angry mob out in the distance, extorting nearby residents for Invincibilium. There was also a very ominous noise, one that sounded like flames. Llyr climbed the cliffs behind him quietly to see what it was like in the residences nearby....... and it was a sorry sight.

There was a gang of men and women, young and old, all dirty and dressed in black patchwork clothes, beating up anyone they met who would not (or could not) give then 'yes' for an answer. Blood splattered all over the ground. Some of the gang members were setting fire to nearby houses and buildings. Children and babies could be heard crying.

Llyr crept back down to his beloved shore and resolutely picked up the Queen's letter. The timing of everything that Maro said was uncanny -- and yet, why was this happening? The prospect of his house being stolen and his limbs being dismembered by an angry mob did not sound appealing to him at all. But was he oblivious to all this, growing up -- had he not heard all these cries and screams from a distance? Had he not found any need to pay attention to them, until now? More questions were popping up in his head than he was able to answer.

Like Blue-SilverDragon said, amazing start! I could tell right from the start that this was written with a lot of passion, that you were excited about telling your story. That in turn made me as a reader more interested in reading on. Something else that really stood out to me was the way culture was incorporated into the story, having lots of little details to build a world.

Regarding the characters, I've definitely started to get attached to them. Reading about their little adventures so far gave me the feeling that a person gets when they're with a really good friend, and it was great. In the beginning of your posts, you said you wanted to create a whimsical story, and you were very successful in that. Can't wait to see what comes next!

At 7/4/14 12:56 PM, Troisnyx wrote: This is an attempt to write something whimsical. So here goes..... with any luck, and with some constructive feedback, I might just turn this into a longer story. So let's call this a Chapter 1.

In short - very interesting. Will read more fully and give further comments (if wanted).

At 7/7/14 06:25 AM, Mellotr0n wrote:

At 7/4/14 12:56 PM, Troisnyx wrote: This is an attempt to write something whimsical. So here goes..... with any luck, and with some constructive feedback, I might just turn this into a longer story. So let's call this a Chapter 1.

In short - very interesting. Will read more fully and give further comments (if wanted).

That'd be lovely!

At 7/6/14 06:55 PM, LDAF wrote: Like Blue-SilverDragon said, amazing start! I could tell right from the start that this was written with a lot of passion, that you were excited about telling your story. That in turn made me as a reader more interested in reading on. Something else that really stood out to me was the way culture was incorporated into the story, having lots of little details to build a world.

Regarding the characters, I've definitely started to get attached to them. Reading about their little adventures so far gave me the feeling that a person gets when they're with a really good friend, and it was great. In the beginning of your posts, you said you wanted to create a whimsical story, and you were very successful in that. Can't wait to see what comes next!

Thanks mate ^_^ I hope the subsequent chapters will be written along a similar vein.

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Still unsure of what to do, Llyr gave himself the night to think.

Upon deciding that there could be no harm in Her Majesty's suggestion -- his home would still be intact, and he'd get to see his best friend -- he opened the Queen's letter and read it, just to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

"Dear Llyr,

"I am writing to you because your friend, Maro told me about you during my visit to Jesseltown College.

"Maro has told me he had taught you to read and write in the past, and that he even taught you literature and history. I trust, then, that you might be familiar with a race of fantastical beings known as Changelings.

"The Changelings are very peaceful and want nothing more than to give people peaceful dreams and happy days. They can even use magic, and turn into dragons. But, very much like you, they live in box-houses made of Invincibilium, and this puts them in danger... I trust Maro has told you about the recent sightings of large, angry mobs on the streets fighting to get their hands on this Invincibilium. How this has started, or why this is so, is currently beyond me, but I am working with my companions, trying to find answers to the many questions we have. Needless to say, we need to bring the Changelings to safety. You may or may not know what powers you may have, but I have reason to believe that you, too, are a Changeling, and need to be kept safe.

"At the moment, fearing for your safety, I suggest that you leave for Bloomfeld, the capital. Your home will follow you closely: a highly skilled transport team will help lift the house to where you are bound. The area is highly guarded, and I plan to have you hone your powers in the safety of Bloomfeld until you are ready to undertake whatever tasks need to be done.

"This will not be done without your consent, of course. I have enclosed a response card with your letter."

Llyr pulled out a small white card with a watermark of the Queen's insignia on it.

"Just write, in block capitals, AYE or NAY on the card, and have it mailed back to me as soon as you can. I await your reply. Until then, keep safe.

"Yours,

Cecily IV
By the Grace of God
Queen of Westforth"

Llyr took one last look at the shore that was his childhood home, and then dahsed into his white box looking for a pen. Moments later he tore out of his front door with a thick pen in his hands, and without hesitation, wrote AYE in big, bold letters. Instead of waiting for the postman to arrive the next morning, he whistled a distinctive little tune. Down came a seagull to meet him!

Llyr stared at it with bewilderment. He seemed to have done it out of instinct, surely -- but what was this bird doing here? No one had ever told him he could call birds to meet him. "Oh well, I guess I'll give it a try," he muttered under his breath.

Then he came up to the seagull and whispered, "This is a reply card to be sent to the Queen." He tied the card onto the gull's legs with a piece of string, and then bid the bird fly away. "Go to her immediately!" he yelled.

The gull flew into the sunlight as Llyr looked on, hoping that he had not just made the worst mistake of his life.

Loving the story, but just a little criticism on the paragraph about changelings and so on :

i) We are told that this boy in his little white house is a changeling, and what he can do - the image of an innocent little boy is beautifully done, but we could see this happening rather than hear about it; for example, when Maro comes by and starts knocking on the door, Llyr might want something to happen - if his changeling abilities could be showcased here, then the visual would appear great, since we'd immediately get an insight into what he can do, rather than what he is.

(1st point continued) Knowing the latter might let us underestimate the former, but knowing the former keeps us hooked and reminds us who the child is (of course, if he isn't able to use his powers right now, and might not be able to until a certain predefined time, then there's no issue here - it's mentioned that he indeed doesn't know about his powers, so this is alright; if he can use the powers, though, without knowing about it's existence, we could see a little hint about what he can do, and how it works).

(One example is when Llyr feels lonely in Maro's absence - we could see him try to create a vision or image of Maro, if he knows how to use the powers he's got - it would be easier to understand him then, seeing as his actions can speak louder than any words).

Not only that, there's a very interesting little hint you've thrown in there - in the beginning, we're told that the deity believed to be residing on this planet is known as Josué, but later we see the Queen sign her letter "By the Grace of God". Not sure if these two identities are related or not, but since the former is related to Changelings and the latter we can't say anything about for the moment, it appears safe to say that there's something in the Queen's mind that isn't as straightforward as she appears.

The last clue that something's wrong is that Llyr is asked to travel on his own, with a transport team handling his house, and following him - it does feel a little odd that he needs to travel on his own (as the letter implies) but the house goes separately rather than with him - if the house is in danger, then the transport team need to arrive soon to ensure the mob doesn't take over it completely (unless the transport team makes sure the house is uninhabitable, e.g. removing the inhabitants - the mob, maybe - or poisoning the house - until further notice, etc).

Sorry about the rant, but the first point is really the only flaw in the story I can find - other than that, i'm hooked, and really interested to find out more (like, Who is the Queen? Are her motives really that straightforward? Is there some system we're not seeing here, that we've only seen hints of?). Characters are lovely, plot seems to be moving at a good pace, and the setting is familiar (and yet unfamiliar enough to inspire curiosity) - a really good story!

At 7/7/14 05:05 PM, madboysas wrote: Loving the story, but just a little criticism on the paragraph about changelings and so on :

i) We are told that this boy in his little white house is a changeling, and what he can do - the image of an innocent little boy is beautifully done, but we could see this happening rather than hear about it; for example, when Maro comes by and starts knocking on the door, Llyr might want something to happen - if his changeling abilities could be showcased here, then the visual would appear great, since we'd immediately get an insight into what he can do, rather than what he is.

(1st point continued) Knowing the latter might let us underestimate the former, but knowing the former keeps us hooked and reminds us who the child is (of course, if he isn't able to use his powers right now, and might not be able to until a certain predefined time, then there's no issue here - it's mentioned that he indeed doesn't know about his powers, so this is alright; if he can use the powers, though, without knowing about it's existence, we could see a little hint about what he can do, and how it works).

(One example is when Llyr feels lonely in Maro's absence - we could see him try to create a vision or image of Maro, if he knows how to use the powers he's got - it would be easier to understand him then, seeing as his actions can speak louder than any words).

I wish I could do so without it being too early for Llyr to discover his powers yet -- one needs a Changeling to teach another Changeling about his innate abilities, and what they entail. And so far, we haven't met any Changelings yet apart from Llyr himself.

Not only that, there's a very interesting little hint you've thrown in there - in the beginning, we're told that the deity believed to be residing on this planet is known as Josué, but later we see the Queen sign her letter "By the Grace of God". Not sure if these two identities are related or not, but since the former is related to Changelings and the latter we can't say anything about for the moment, it appears safe to say that there's something in the Queen's mind that isn't as straightforward as she appears.

In-universe, 'God' and Josué are one and the same, except that some may refer to him by other names (reasoning to come at a later point, of course.)

The last clue that something's wrong is that Llyr is asked to travel on his own, with a transport team handling his house, and following him - it does feel a little odd that he needs to travel on his own (as the letter implies) but the house goes separately rather than with him - if the house is in danger, then the transport team need to arrive soon to ensure the mob doesn't take over it completely (unless the transport team makes sure the house is uninhabitable, e.g. removing the inhabitants - the mob, maybe - or poisoning the house - until further notice, etc).

Oh ho, it's nothing to do with an uninhabitable house. ^_- The house is perfectly inhabitable alright. Question is what can be done to that house is what's making everyone worried.

Sorry about the rant, but the first point is really the only flaw in the story I can find - other than that, i'm hooked, and really interested to find out more (like, Who is the Queen? Are her motives really that straightforward? Is there some system we're not seeing here, that we've only seen hints of?). Characters are lovely, plot seems to be moving at a good pace, and the setting is familiar (and yet unfamiliar enough to inspire curiosity) - a really good story!

Oh my. Well, thanks for the critique thus far -- and I hope this story delights you still, as it progresses.

Queen Cecily IV was greeted that evening by a screeching, speckled seagull at her parlour windowsill. She promptly noticed the note tied to its leg, and stood up to untie it and set it free. When she saw Llyr's massive handwriting reading "AYE" over the note, she sent for her advisor, Lughaidh mac Marsainn, head of the army and a Changeling himself.

"Send a team for the house; it must arrive in Bloomfeld *intact* and with nothing taken from it. As for you -- you will bring the boy to me personally. I will send my son Erroll and his companions to check in on Maro and his family, and tell them the news of Llyr's arrival."
"Am I allowed to turn into a dragon for this, Your Majesty?" asked Lughaidh, excited to meet a young Changeling.
"You may," replied the Queen. "Just don't do anything silly on the way, understood? Your showing off ended up in you tying yourself in knots the last time, and you needed a month and a half to recover from that!"

Lughaidh placed his hand on his chest as a mark of friendship to the Queen, and then left with quick but gentle steps. As soon as he arrived at the courtyard he leapt up into the air and let out a mighty scream! The clouds parted to reveal a glorious sunshine as he did so. While still aloft, his body turned into light, then grew into a long mass of dark grey and silver fur and scales. The once diminutive Lughaidh, who was not known for his huge stature, had turned into a wind dragon!

Flying up into the clouds he felt the cold air and winds beating upon his back. It felt great to be aloft again. However, he did not let frolicking get in the way. Remembering the Queen's orders to him, he flew back down and headed for the coast of Jamestown. He was greeted with massive amounts of soot, smoke and flames. Had the mobs taken Llyr?

He flew close to the beach to find the box still intact. The officers under his command had just arrived with a set of transporter beams to help lift the house up and relocate it. Llyr, however, was frantic. Lughaidh saw the poor boy being chased by youths dressed in black and armed with swords and clubs. Determined to get the boy out of harm's way, Lughaidh called out to him.

"Llyr! Llyr! Stand back!" cried Lughaidh.

With a quick flapping of his wings and a swish-swish of his mighty tail, Lughaidh created a gust of wind powerful enough to knock Llyr's assailants back and send them flying. Llyr was thrilled at the sight!

"Whoa....." muttered Llyr under his breath.
"No time for gawking, now. Let's move!" cried Lughaidh. "Hop on my back!"
"But what about my home?" asked Llyr.
"It'll be in one piece and in Bloomfeld before you know it," replied the mighty dragon. He then signalled to his officers to hurry up the affair and meet him at the palace once Llyr's house had been brought to Bloomfeld.

Llyr saw that this huge grey dragon was trying to be friendly, but he looked intimidating nevertheless. Still, surely it wasn't as bad as being chased by angry mobs? With a quiver in his voice, Llyr looked into Lughaidh's eyes and said,

"I've never gotten on the back of a dragon before, but I-- I'll try..."

He hopped onto Lughaidh's back, and was in for the ride of his life. Lughaidh took off at an alarmingly fast pace, dodging any stone or bullet the mobs tried to land on him. He was soon up in the air, and flew over the clouds, far from anyone's sight. Llyr felt the sparkle of the sun hit his eyes, and brushed his hands against the clouds. It was magical.

"How do you feel about meeting the Queen?" asked Lughaidh.
"Um..... scared," replied Llyr, still having a quiver in his voice.
"Everyone gets that way sometimes. But there's nothing to be afraid of," replied Lughaidh. "Her Majesty has been one of my closest friends, and has a soft spot for Changelings after what happened to them."
"I take it I'll have a lot of learning to do," replied Llyr uneasily.

The two finally made it to the palace courtyard, and Lughaidh hovered low enough to let Llyr off his back.

"Her Majesty tells me she believes you might be a Changeling," said Lughaidh. "Do you know how to use your abilities yet?"
"What abilities?" asked Llyr.

Lughaidh, shocked at Llyr's response, fell into a heap of confused dragon.

Moments later he regained his composure and began to hover over the ground once again. He cleared his throat and continued,

"You do know that you might just be able to turn into a dragon, like me, right?"
"I never knew I could do that," replied Llyr. "The most I did was call a seagull and send a message with it, and it seems to have worked. You're the first Changeling I ever met."

The answer came as another shock to Lughaidh, and he fell into a rather neat pile of confused dragon.

"Uh.... I'm taking you to meet the Queen, and I'm going to have to explain things," moaned Lughaidh, worried that he wouldn't have the words to express what he wanted to tell Llyr or teach him.

At 7/7/14 05:33 PM, Troisnyx wrote: (Text Removed due to Length)

Thanks for the reply - I read the next part, and there's something to add there - the energy in the story, the enthusiasm you've bought here is amazing, especially when it's so easy to fall into dull, gloomy images when something like a mob is involved - it's fresh, and it's really enjoyable, so I can't wait to see how things move on from here!

At 7/8/14 12:23 AM, madboysas wrote:

At 7/7/14 05:33 PM, Troisnyx wrote: (Text Removed due to Length)

Thanks for the reply - I read the next part, and there's something to add there - the energy in the story, the enthusiasm you've bought here is amazing, especially when it's so easy to fall into dull, gloomy images when something like a mob is involved - it's fresh, and it's really enjoyable, so I can't wait to see how things move on from here!

Eh, thanks : ) I just hope I won't fall into the tendency of making dark, gloomy images -- because any writer is susceptible to this; it's a matter of whether he can avert it well.

Another question has come into my mind, specifically, on the name of this story. I'm not quite sure what to call it just yet. Ought I to wait till a substantial part of this story is done before I arrive at a name?

Now, that's what I call beauty! This is the kind of stuff that needs to be published and sent out to at least 1 billion people here on earth. No cussing, no bad words, no sexual themes, etc. Maybe humanity would learn to be nicer by reading this. Troisnyx, I'm glad you're my friend! I knew I was gonna be impressed! Yayer! And I love the name Cauchmere. Reminds me of Cashmere for some reason. Like a soft, expensive fabric or something. And Maro reminds me of an alternate form of Mario. Great, great, great!

Llyr's home was placed on a hill near the palace -- to its right side, overlooking the rest of the city. Bloomfeld looked huge, with quaint, cobbled streets, strange buildings which seemed to be made of pieces of wood and bronze gears patched up together, with smoke rising up just about every chimney. It was sundown by the time Llyr and Lughaidh arrived at Bloomfeld, and the golden light of the sunset shone upon the gearwork and metal pillars and fixtures of many of the houses there, creating such a beautiful sight. There was much joy and merriment to be heard from the streets below -- was it a group of minstrels, or perhaps a festival?

The hill itself was covered in fresh grass and wild flowers, and there were rose bushes marking a natural boundary over the area. There were simple paving-stones on the ground, here and there... and much to Llyr's amazement, other box-houses, just like his!

Lughaidh took Llyr to his home, where the latter bathed and freshened up, so as to not look beat from his encounter with the mobs at Jamestown. As soon as he was finished, he came with Lughaidh to take a look around the palace.

The palace was a simple white stone construction, with simple white pillars and a rather simple network of chambers. There were occasional adornments in the stonework in the shape of a rose, but that was it. Llyr was expecting golden pillars and trim around the edges of the masonry, but he was surprised to find otherwise.

Straight ahead was the audience chamber, where Queen Cecily awaited. The audience chamber was just a simple stone floor surrounded by a wall, and pillars which made people wonder if they were functional, or just there for ceremonial purposes -- they were embedded in the wall. The pillars were engraved with vines bearing leaves on them. And the ceiling was....... high! Llyr looked up at it with amazement.

Llyr came in dressed in his simple white shirt and trousers. Lughaidh, on the other hand, had a black pair of trousers, a black waistcoat and a red tie to complement his dark brown hair and deep red eyes.

Before them was the Queen -- a lady of seemingly thirty years of age. She was dressed in a soft pink dress which bared her arms, and which went down to her ankles. Her countenance was kindly, almost motherly, and she had sky-blue eyes which seemed to fit the seemingly sad smile she bore on her face.

"Ah, 'Louie,' you have arrived. Is this Llyr?" asked the Queen.

Llyr turned to Lughaidh in bewilderment and asked,

"What on earth did Her Majesty just call you?"
"'Louie.' At least it's pronounced that way. It's spelt L-u-g-h-a-i-d-h."

Llyr's mind was boggled. How did they get 'Louie' out of what felt like so many letters? But his thoughts were soon turned to the Queen, and he almost instinctively ran forth to meet her. He did not know why he did so -- he just did. He soon leapt onto her and embraced her, only as a child would.

Taken in by his innocence and love, Queen Cecily embraced him in return.

"It's alright, Llyr. It's alright. You don't need to say anything. Or if you, tell me as much as you feel you need. I'm here to listen."

At 7/8/14 09:26 AM, Troisnyx wrote:

At 7/8/14 12:23 AM, madboysas wrote:

At 7/7/14 05:33 PM, Troisnyx wrote: (Text Removed due to Length)

Thanks for the reply - I read the next part, and there's something to add there - the energy in the story, the enthusiasm you've bought here is amazing, especially when it's so easy to fall into dull, gloomy images when something like a mob is involved - it's fresh, and it's really enjoyable, so I can't wait to see how things move on from here!

Eh, thanks : ) I just hope I won't fall into the tendency of making dark, gloomy images -- because any writer is susceptible to this; it's a matter of whether he can avert it well.

Another question has come into my mind, specifically, on the name of this story. I'm not quite sure what to call it just yet. Ought I to wait till a substantial part of this story is done before I arrive at a name?

Upon thinking of a few examples, what I can gather is that the title should be what the story is all about - what happens in the first few pages/ chapters shouldn't really matter (to the title), it's more what the story is about; what drives the story, and what features most in the plot.

So on the big scale, what is the conflict that defines the story? "Game of Thrones" is a straightforward indicator of what drives the story - the conflict among those looking for power, and so on. "The Hunger Games" tells us that the main source of conflict is due (directly or indirectly) to the Games.

Alternatively, it could be about what a character has to face; Janny Wurts has done this brilliantly in her "Wars of Light and Shadow" series, with the sixth book "Peril's Gate" talking about the main protagonist's greatest hurdle in the book; the ninth book, "Initiate's Trial" is brilliant, in that it could refer to any of the dozen main characters, and even hundreds of off-screen characters, and it sums up that book pretty well - things are getting difficult for everyone, and "Trial" implies that all their knowledge will be harshly tested during this series of events.

So, I'd guess putting off the title till later would be a good move, and taking a look at the big picture overall would provide a good idea of what could best sum up your story.

P.S. I just read the next part, and I can't wait to see what's going to happen next!

Meanwhile, Maro and his parents were greeted by three gentle taps on the door, followed by the sight of a huge man who towered over any of them!

Erroll soon realised that they were intimidated by his bulky physique, and stooped down to greet them.

"Uh.... hello... is this any better?" poor Erroll blurted, believing he was making a fool out of himself. Then he knelt down. "I saw how scared you all looked. But I don't mean to scare you."

Maro's father, Reginald de Schonenstrausse, examined the man once more and mustered some courage to ask, "Who are you?"
"Oh, pardon me! Where are my manners?" exclaimed Erroll. He got back up on his feet and continued, "I am Crown Prince Erroll, son of Queen Cecily IV. I've come with a message about Llyr."

Everyone in the household was nervous about this news. Good, or bad? Was Erroll a messenger of good news, or a shadowy harbinger of ill tides?

"To begin, he is alright," said Erroll.

Maro and his parents heaved sighs of relief.

"Wait, what am I doing, just letting you stand at the door?" cried Maro's mother, Sharai. "Do come in. I'll bring tea."
"That would be delightful!" cried Erroll, his eyes lighting up at the mention of tea.

Maro's house was sleek, beautiful and built on Ether power. Everything was powered by the 'good blue stuff,' as people called it -- everything, down to the doors, the beds, the kitchen appliances, even the chairs in the living room! With a wave of a hand, Erroll's chair could recline! Water was boiled at the snapping of one's fingers, and so on and so forth. The only catch was that it could only be handled by someone who had control over Ether power (or in simple terms, magic) -- and as magic and Ether were unique to each person controlling it, these gadgets and gizmos around Maro's house could only be controlled by three unique Ether signatures. You see, Ether signatures were the manner and disposition with which a spell could be cast, and they varied from person to person -- but as controlling Ether had to be done from the depths of one's soul, Ether signatures were far more secure than fingerprints.

So Maro and his family were skilled Mages, users of Ether power. Maro was taught the art of using Ether by his parents -- he would not be taught such a thing in the school he attended, as his school presumed that all its pupils were ordinary Men and therefore, could not use Ether. Ether, his parents told him, was an energy that could be summoned from a very strong heart, and would manifest itself in many different ways -- through bursts of fire, or the levitation of objects, or the healing of wounds... the possibilities were endless. This strength of heart needed for the mastery of Ether was either inherited, or developed independently through the events of one's life -- however, it could be lost through living a life of ignominy. This is why, in Westforth at the very least, it is impossible to use Ether for evil purposes. The power acted as a check on one's heart, and people could tell when a Mage had been disgraced by having lost his power. Mages had a lively glow about them which could be seen from looking at their countenance, but their most distinguishing feature, which set them apart from other kinds of Men, was a bright light that danced about in their eyes. It could only be seen up close, if someone looked carefully into the eyes of a Mage -- but one would know a Mage by this unmistakable light in his eyes. The light usually took the shape of a tiny orb or flame, and was usually white in colour, but other colours were possible.

Erroll noticed that Maro and his parents had this tiny white light brightening their eyes, and decided to start a conversation.

"So all of you are Mages, I see," remarked Erroll.
"Yes," replied Reginald. "I developed the skill quite late, around the time I became a young adult. At the time, I lost some people dear to me, and I had to keep strong. That, I believe, was roundabout the time I noticed I could create sparks of light to brighten my dark, gloomy surroundings. One of my friends told me I could be a Mage, and that I ought to go see an older Mage about it. The rest is history, I suppose. Sharai here has had the ability to master Ether since birth."

Erroll looked at Maro tenderly and asked him,

"How do you feel about having this power?"
"Well, I've had it since I was young, but I always knew I'd be different," Maro replied almost nonchalantly. "I never told anyone about it except you. You and my parents are the only people to know. At school, I only try to practise my handling of Ether when I'm alone, or when everyone else is fast asleep. I light a tiny little flame in my room and use it to study a weak subject. Or, if my roommates are wounded, I silently think of making them better, and I heal them. They don't know what causes it -- they're just happy to be well enough to go about the day when they wake up. I'm scared..." Maro's voice began to quiver, and a tear or two started to trickle down his eyes. "If I ever told my friends that I'm a Mage, some might be extremely jealous of me. I could even imagine that they'd do something that would make me lose my Magehood."
"Like what?" asked Erroll. He and Maro's parents looked at him with concern.

Maro scratched his head a little, and then responded,

"Perhaps they'd force me into a fight. I'd perhaps lose control of myself, and start hitting others because I want to hurt them. I might just do something very wrong by being put on the spot by some of my schoolmates. I've heard them talking about Mages who have been disgraced, and they laugh and spit. If they started picking on me, I'd never live it down."
"I see," replied Erroll. "And what about your friend, Llyr? The one whom you taught to read and write? What do you think he would say if you told him about your Magehood?"

Maro's jaw dropped. So did his parents'.

"I don't know..." replied Maro. "But would he not look at me funny? I want him to accept me for who I am, and I'd like him to meet my mum and dad too."
"I came here precisely for this reason," replied Erroll in a rather calm manner. "I came here to tell you that Llyr is dealing with the exact same thing. I came to tell you that Llyr is a Changeling -- and because of the material that makes his box-house, he's been chased by mobs of angry people who want the stuff. I'm not sure what is happening behind the scenes, or what the bigger picture really is, but my mother, the Queen, has decreed that he and other Changelings who are in danger be relocated to Bloomfeld."
"You don't say...---" Maro began.

Maro knew of the Changelings through the tomes and scrolls from which he had studied, but he never knew if there were any existing Changelings at all. To him and his parents, Changelings had long been the stuff of legends.

"Please, take me to him!" cried Maro in excitement. "If you can let my parents come too, that would be wonderful! I really want to see Changelings!"
"I'll see what I can do," replied Erroll. "Pardon me for a moment."

He got up and went into a quiet corridor to have a moment alone.

Back in the palace, Llyr asked Queen Cecily a rather strange question.

"Can I tell you... what's on my mind? I want to do this without talking."

Llyr himself was taken aback that he would ask such a strange question, and muttered a confused "Oh boy" under his breath. Both Lughaidh and the Queen saw this as a sign that Llyr's Changeling abilities were beginning to manifest themselves. As Lughaidh stayed close to the Queen's side, the Queen replied,

"You may not know this, Llyr, but your question is perfectly normal for you at this age. I am a mere human, but I have a little bit of Changeling descent, so I can listen to anyone who speaks to me in this manner..... if you want to call it speaking."
"It's telepathy, but we Changelings call it simply a meeting of minds, for that is what it is," quipped Lughaidh.
"I don't even know why I asked that question earlier and I don't even know how a meeting of minds works," mumbled Llyr.

Lughaidh waved his hands as if to grip a fragment of the air and stretch it, and lo and behold, a shiny, transparent blue board came out of thin air! He picked a pen from his pocket, carefully opened it and began to draw explanatory pictures... simple ones, which looked almost like childish scrawls on a piece of paper. Llyr giggled. Lughaidh went on to explain,

"For minds to meet, one mind must be strong enough to either initiate a conversation, or to listen." He pointed to a picture of two boys, one trying to listen but not being able to, and the other trying to speak but not being able to. "If both sides want a meeting of minds, but have not developed that ability yet because of age, they need an adult with them -- they can't do it otherwise."

Llyr simply nodded.

"Fortunately, both Cecily and I can hear even faint whisperings of the mind. So we'll try and listen to you. It's going to feel uncomfortable, perhaps even painful on the first try, but don't be afraid."
"Painful??!" yelped Llyr, alarmed by the thought.
"Headaches, nausea, fatigue, vomiting..."
"Do I really want to go through with this......."
"I think we'll stop the lesson for now, and concentrate on getting you used to this."
"But why should I?" replied Llyr after feeling he had been batted back and forth. "Why can't I just be an ordinary human being?"

Lughaidh knelt down so his face was about the same level as Llyr's, and placed his hands on Llyr's shoulders.

"You are thinking of Maro, are you not?" Lughaidh began.
"Yes, but what of it?" replied Llyr.
"You want to protect your friend from any harm, do you not?"
"Of course I do."
"That desire to protect may seem ordinary, but very few actually act upon it."
"What do you mean?"

Erasing all his drawings on the magic blue board, Lughaidh began to draw again. This time Llyr did not giggle; his eyes were fixated on Lughaidh's drawings. As he drew a rough picture of a man covering for his friend in his time of need (but with shifty thoughts in his heart), Lughaidh continued,

"A man may choose to protect his friend if he needs something from said friend later on -- but the minute this friend is not needed, he is a thing thrown away. The promise to protect and to cherish a friend grows empty, meaningless. There are very few who do keep to that promise. We Changelings are bound by honour and friendship, and some Men do the same. Anyone who is bound by such strong values is extraordinary in and of himself. You wouldn't leave Maro even if you didn't need him, now, would you?"

Llyr was so taken in by the values of honour and friendship, and his thoughts turned for a moment to the beautiful, golden shore outside Jamestown, where Maro first met him. He did not want to let such a kind encounter mean nothing.

"A Changeling changes many things -- his appearance, his manner of speaking, others' dreams and memories, and perhaps even fate itself," Lughaidh continued. "Knowing that we have so much power in our hands, yet wanting to use it in good will, we try to learn how to be Changelings, even though it may hurt us the first few times. Doing good will hurt--" Lughaidh stopped, and his eyes grew stern and had a piercing glare about them -- "but it is worth it."

Llyr screamed as soon as Lughaidh gave him that piercing stare. Flashes came to his mind -- flashes of mobs in Jamestown, heaps of Invincibilium houses being thrown into a pit in an attempt to melt them, a figure standing over the hill of coveted Invincibilium, laughing!-- a tall white fortress with cannons on every side, legions of Men, Changelings, Mages and various other kinds of people he had never met before, all stepping up to face it but dying from having been beaten back by the force of each cannon shot...

Suddenly, the flashes ceased. Lughaidh had placed his hands on Llyr's head, and he closed his eyes as if to rest.

"We'll talk later, because you need to take your rest. You're still not used to this sort of power yet."

Llyr woke up and found himself in a rather comfortable bed -- a rather soft one, with a moderately thick blanket over his body. The sheets were a faded rose pink, and right above him were Ether-powered lights that looked like stars floating in the air. It looked simply magical. Behind the bed was a huge window with white curtains which had been drawn. The last light of the setting sun shone straight through the window and on the bed, covering it and Llyr's face in an almost paradisical light.

Still staying by his side was Lughaidh, this time wearing spectacles over his eyes, examining a book about the history of Westforth. It was handwritten from start to the page it was on -- the book itself was bound with red cloth, and had thick, yellow pages with tea stains in it. Seeing that Llyr had come to, he turned to the boy and asked him,

"How are you feeling?"
"I feel fine," replied Llyr, placing his hand on his head to make sure it was not throbbing.

His eyes caught sight of the book Lughaidh was reading, and he soon discovered that it was the castle's history records... and the particular page Lughaidh was reading had information on when he was younger and still struggling to come to terms with his Changeling self. At the time, there were many other Changelings hovering through the skies, watching over the people, keeping the peace, and answering telepathic calls from whomever should summon them. There were several names that Llyr had never even heard of before -- a long list of two hundred names of dragons alone, to say nothing about Changelings who could turn into other kinds of beast.

"Whatever happened to them?" asked Llyr. "You know, the dragons..."

Lughaidh heaved a weary sigh and replied,

"There was great animosity between the chieftains, kings and leaders of the various lands in the world, and the dragons, who, being Changelings, could tap into the truth with their ability to meet minds. Many of them were caught and arrested while in human form, and bound with brass cords that cut into their flesh, restraining their movement and their ability to transform. Then they were put to death by various means..... I won't go into detail here. I lost many friends from this great transgression."
"And what about now?"
"We are few and far between, and we hover far higher into the clouds so no one can see us. This is why we have been thought of as the stuff of legends. It's been hundreds of years since that fateful day, but--"
"*Hundreds* of years?" asked Llyr in amazement.
"Yes. We Changelings are long-lived, some of us living for a thousand years."

Llyr fell silent, and took a few moments to grasp that information.

"Lughaidh...." Llyr spoke again with a little quiver of his voice, "if it was a battle against truth the last time, what would stop it being a battle against truth now?"
"What do you mean?" asked Lughaidh, puzzled.

Llyr took a moment to gaze upon the Ether stars in his room, in a bid to calm himself down, hoping he wouldn't be plagued by flashes of awful happenings. He then continued,

"When you stared into my eyes, I had visions... or dreams? I don't know how true they are. But I saw a figure in the dark, standing over a mountain of Invincibilium, laughing. He had melted it all, and would use it to build an empire which no one would stop. An empire which Men and Changelings and other tribes would not be able to stop."
"They are dreams," replied Lughaidh. "What you see will not necessarily reflect what will happen in the future. They may, however, act as symbolism for events that are being set in motion. We Changelings sometimes have these dreams."
"Oh," replied Llyr. "If the Changelings were killed for being able to see the truth, then I don't think it far different today. I was afraid... when I had those dreams, I feared for my life. I didn't think I would live to see what I saw in those dreams."
"And you think the Invincibilium is a ploy to kill, once and for all, any Changeling who stands in the way of someone?"

Llyr nodded slightly.

"It would seem far-fetched, but I was always told never to neglect the wisdom of a child. Will you let me think it over?" asked Lughaidh.

After Llyr let him go, Lughaidh made his way to the palace courtyard and sat down alone to think.

The moon was shining a beautiful beige in the sky, and there was a meteor shower that night. But even the breathtaking beauty of the Bloomfeld sky that night was no concern of Lughaidh's. All that was on his mind were the musings of a little Changeling child. His eyes grew weary and he was about to drift off to sleep. But before he could, he heard a voice... it was Erroll's. Erroll had initiated a meeting of minds, being part-Changeling himself.

"Lughaidh, this is Erroll. Maro and his family are fine. They want to visit Llyr very badly. Maro especially."
"I think we have to do more than just make them casual visitors," replied Lughaidh. "I have a bit of logic coming from our young friend, and if it's anything to go by, the Invincibilium theft is worse than we thought. We need to train Changelings and Mages once again, like we did hundreds of years ago."
"What??----"
"Come and meet me in the palace immediately, Erroll. Do not take Maro with you yet -- I need to speak with you about this alone."
"Alright. Erroll out."

Tired by the day's affairs, but trusting that Erroll would find him and wake him up, Lughaidh closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

.....unfortunately, this meant pain for everyone else living in the castle: Lughaidh was such a loud snorer, and his snoring could be heard as far as the box-houses on the hill near the palace! The royal residence was rocked by the loud cacophony of snores, but there was no hope of ever waking Lughaidh unless Erroll was there. Moans and groans could be heard from within the palace walls, but none of these would stir poor Lughaidh from his slumber.

Still checking out this story whenever there's a new post, and it's been amazing to watch it progress! There's definitely a lot of depth and lore present in the story already, which is great for keeping the reader interested in the world you're presenting. New characters and places are presented organically, which is something that too many people take for granted when reading a story. Can't wait to see what comes next!

At 7/18/14 09:23 PM, LDAF wrote: Still checking out this story whenever there's a new post, and it's been amazing to watch it progress! There's definitely a lot of depth and lore present in the story already, which is great for keeping the reader interested in the world you're presenting. New characters and places are presented organically, which is something that too many people take for granted when reading a story. Can't wait to see what comes next!

Fancy seeing a reply from you -- thank you so much! ^_^ I admit feeling awfully shaky sometimes when writing new sections in the story, but we'll see what happens.

-------------------

Back in the residence of the de Schonenstrausse family, Erroll came back out of the corridor to meet Maro and his parents and say a quick goodbye.

"You're not leaving us, are you?" cried Maro.
"I'm afraid I have to," replied Erroll. "I've just been summoned to the palace by the Queen's counsel. He's a good friend of mine, and he has just told me that trouble is brewing... far greater than we'd imagined. I can't make any promises now, but you may be invited to see Llyr and the Changelings, and more than just in passing."

Sharai shook Erroll's hand, then drew out her right hand, folded all but two fingers, and placed them on Erroll's forehead. It was a Mage's sign of safe partings, a sign that the parting person would remain in the thoughts and prayers of those left behind.

"Fly swift and sure, Your Highness," said Sharai.
"Drop the formalities, please, and just call me Erroll."

So he came to be known simply as Erroll by Maro and his parents.

They saw him out the door, but they certainly did not feel the same again. They were filled with awe and wonder at having encountered a prince.

Erroll walked a certain distance away until he came to a quiet back alley, where nobody could see him. Bringing his right hand to his heart, he muttered under his breath,

"My journey cometh to its end.
To kith and kin and abode me send."

With that, a swirl of pink light appeared on his heart, and spread to the rest of his body until he was completely covered in it. The light then began to wane, then completely disappeared. Erroll had recited a verse to bring him back to his home, the palace.

The same pink light grew in the palace courtyard until it revealed a silhouette of his form, then disappeared. Erroll was home.

As soon as he found himself back at the palace courtyard he was greeted by Lughaidh's familiar, yet painfully loud, snoring. No amount of physical touch or sound could rouse Lughaidh from his deep sleep, bar a few. He only woke to the sound of war drums (which meant he was needed in battle), the dinner bell (because he loved food), or tickling by a feather pen that Erroll always brought with him (because he never could know when he would need it).

Erroll decided to pull out the feather pen..... and he began to tickle Lughaidh's nose.

Lughaidh sniffed heavily, and then sniffed again, and again..... and again..... all the while making the silliest faces he could in his sleep. Then, he let out a REALLY LOUD DRAGONSNEEZE!

"HAAAACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPH----"

A powerful gust of wind from the sneeze blew even the bulky Erroll off his feet. There were confused shrieks coming from inside the palace; the sound had startled the people inside. The sound was at least loud enough to wake Lughaidh up!

"Erroll, you sick, twisted little git," moaned Lughaidh. "You could've woken me up with the drum or the dinner bell!"
"At the expense of waking others up thinking there's an emergency?" replied Erroll rather calmly.

After Erroll helped Lughaidh back on his feet, the two of them made their way through the network of corridors to the palace library. It was guarded by a huge, heavy door which had no handles... or no visible way to open it. Erroll cleared his throat and said to the door in an authoritative voice,

"Erroll of the House of Wainwright, authentication code Echo-Whiskey-3472, requesting entry."

A voice seemed to come from the door, the voice of a scholarly old man.

"Permission granted. Now don't you go wasting all your precious rest hours here, Your Highness."
"I'll try not to," replied Erroll.

The door slid open to reveal a huge space, with walls that seemed to tower up to fifty feet -- seemingly to accommodate Lughaidh's dragon form. The floor itself was extremely wide, and the room was spacious. There were dark red silk-covered sofas and cushions dotting the floor, and Ether lights that looked like a chandelier, or a string of big yellow beads, the brightness of which could be altered at will. There were four desks further inward, each with a stack of note-papers and a reading light on it. The walls were covered with bookshelves... which, like the door, were made of rosewood and towered all the way to the ceiling. There were tomes and scrolls of many kinds in them. Each shelf had a ladder that went all the way up to the ceiling. It was every scholar's dream to be able to enter the royal library!

Lughaidh dragged himself to the centre of the room, then beat his chest to transform into a dragon once again. Once transformed, he flew up to the top of the room and looked in the shelf on his left, which was marked "To Be Opened During Impending Emergency." There were a series of books on the running of academies for Mages and Changelings, as well as a few books on possible discoveries on the underside of the clockwork planet Tellus -- their world -- and apparitions of a particular City of Dreadful Night, of whose existence no one was certain.

Lughaidh carefully picked a green book marked "Emergency Protocols" with his wings, and slowly lowered his body to bring it down to Erroll. Having done so, he transformed into a human onde again, somersaulting from mid-air and landing squarely into a comfy sofa.

"Showoff," muttered Erroll under his breath, with a sly smile on his face.
"Git," muttered Lughaidh in reply.

The two of them shared playful, masculine banter with each other -- and never meant to call names to each other in spite. They had always done so in jest, and they knew that they needed the banter more than ever now, to lighten up a situation that could put Westforth at the brink of emergency.

Erroll brushed off the thick layer of dust that had been gathering on the cover and across the pages. It spread everywhere, almost like a puff of smoke, which left him and Lughaidh coughing heavily. As soon as the air had cleared, Erroll turned the pages, going past the many prefaces which had been written by past rulers and generals, until he came across a page which began with the words, "In the Event of a National Emergency".

"I knew there were mobs hunting down Invincibilium and chasing after Changelings in box-houses -- I've seen them -- but I don't know if I can call this a 'national emergency,'" said Erroll to Lughaidh, feeling rather uneasy about the matter.
"Let's see the signs, shall we?" replied Lughaidh, gesturing to Erroll to look within the pages for telltale signs.

Westforth was a land that relied heavily on Ether power and the strength of its people, especially those gifted with mystical powers (such as Mages and Changelings). Each person was precious, and there would always be a way for each person's talents, however different or ungainly, to be put to use in service of the Westforthian people, or anyone else who needed these talents. The Changelings were especially precious, because there were so few of them left -- and there were even provisions in that green book for the unlikely, but unfortunate, event if Changelings were nearing extinction.

"You and I know that Changelings don't often need houses, but appreciate them," said Lughaidh. "When a Changeling is born into the world, he is not born out of a parent's womb as a baby. He materialises onto the earth, complete with a box-house, in the appearance of a young child of six or seven. We don't have parents; instead, we treat each member of our race as blood brothers."
"Yes, I know that," replied Erroll. "What has that got to do with the price of fish?"
"When I was with Llyr earlier this evening I had the history records open, and he was curious about them, so we read them together. We both chanced upon a list of two hundred dragons, many of whom were my friends -- and I told Llyr about the Transgression against the Changelings that happened hundreds of years ago. I told him the truth -- that they were put to death because they could see the truth, and the rulers of the surrounding lands were not happy with it."
"Did we not have a period where our own rulers couldn't stand Changelings?" asked Erroll.
"I'm afraid we did, but it's a thing of the past. Cecily ain't like that anyway."

The hostility of Westforthian rulers to the Changelings happened a thousand years ago, and only the oldest Changelings, those who survived it and still lived to tell the story, could truly recount the horrors of it. Similar killings happened in Westforth in those times, where captured Changelings, be they in dragon or human form, were bound with cords that cut through their flesh. Some were tortured and killed in the prison cells, stabbed to death repeatedly with knives, spears and iron carding combs. After a hundred or so years, the brutality against Changelings was brought to a complete halt when a fire dragon, Aodhagán mac Niadh, was brought to the scaffold, instruments of torture piercing his neck and back -- and a little child of Mankind, about three or four years old, exclaimed in a loud voice, "What are those bad men doing to him?" in full view of the public. The people knew that children could see the truth, but did not want to lose them at the expense of wiping out their own existence -- and came to understand that truth could serve to free people, if they gave truth a chance. Aodhagán was released and nursed back to health, and along with the other remaining Changelings, allowed to fly freely, to speak freely and to be themselves.

Ever since then, the Westforthian rulers fought hard to prevent such a thing from happening again. As centuries passed, it became much less of a grudge, and far more of a matter of benevolence and peaceful coexistence.

"Llyr thinks that the mobs are acting under the direction of someone -- he doesn't know who -- but he thinks that they are out to kill young Changelings, and that attacking their houses is the best way of doing so. Like me, he has had visions, which, as I told him, could be faint signs of events that are being set in motion. He's seen a figure on a hill of Invincibilium, laughing maniacally; he's seen a tower built with all this looted precious substance, which is so powerful that even the strongest alliances of Men, Mages, Changelings, Sprites and Elementals were killed from being knocked back by powerful shots and blows. Children don't lie, Erroll -- they don't lie unless they have to, because they feel they cannot tell anyone. He has opened up to me, because he knows I was like him once."
"How are we going to find out if Llyr's visions hold water?" asked Erroll.

Lughaidh got up from his seat and went to the shelf on his left. There was a stack of maps neatly rolled up and tucked away in the corner. He took one; it was a map of Elegeia -- a map of their world. Taking a pen from a nearby desk, he came back to where Erroll was seated. Erroll clapped his hands twice, and the map sprung up into the air, promptly unrolled itself, and tacked itself to what seemed like thin air!

"So we are here," said Lughaidh, marking an X on what was approximately Bloomfeld. "The Transgression took place here, here... and here."

He promptly marked three areas with an X: the vast desert-like expanse of Fortaleza, to the west, the icy plains of Calcun, to the north, and Havenford -- or 'Sauveterre' as it was then known -- a mass of land to the south which was once under Westforth, but broke away about two hundred years ago and created its own iron-fisted republic.

"Do we know anyone besides you who is still travelling the skies?" asked Erroll.
"Yes. There are at least ten of us, all of them my direct subordinates."
"Alright. I take it then that your idea is to hover high in the air and scout any activity related to the looting of Invincibilium and the possible capture of Changelings?"
"Yes."
"I will not stop you on this one," replied Erroll with an air of resignation. "Go take your rest. When you are fully refreshed, I want you to assemble your platoon and meet my mother and me at the throne room. You will brief her on this mission, and I will tell her that we have talked about this. This seems to be the only way to make certain the world's affairs, before they blow out of proportion."
"You don't want me to go, do you?" asked Lughaidh.
"I just don't want you or any single member of your platoon to die," replied Erroll. "And I don't want Llyr to--"
"He'll make it," replied Lughaidh. "And so will we. You have my word."

Erroll knew Lughaidh to be a man of his word, delivering his promises according to every word he uttered. When he said nobody was going to die, nobody was going to die.

The two of them left the library, and as they walked out, the lights shut out behind them one by one. They retreated to bed -- Lughaidh to his soundproofed box-house, and Erroll to his simple, yet princely chamber.

At 7/22/14 07:46 AM, Troisnyx wrote: WALL OF TEXT

A bit of inconsistency there; I intend to name this world Tellus -- I didn't realise I had already named it.

I haven't been at this for nearly a week now; time to get my act together.

--------------------------------

Early the next morning, Erroll passed the message to his mother, Queen Cecily IV, who then summoned Lughaidh and told him she was going to inspect his subordinates, his platoon of Changeling scouts, before sending them off to survey the situation in Tellus. The inspection was to take place at noon. Lughaidh initiated a meeting of minds with the members of his platoon -- whom he considered his friends -- and passed the message on to them, telling them to make haste, to bring only a few provisions with them, and to travel light.

"If you need to bring a book or a scroll or two to make sure it is or is not an emergency, feel free -- but remember, just ONE OR TWO," he urged them. "No heavy haversacks -- I don't see how practical it is for you lot to carry them anyway -- no massive loads of food or drink. Her Majesty will brief you on this mission later. Be punctual, and be ready. I will see you all later."

Lughaidh himself took leave of the Queen and Erroll and went straight to the library to make preparations. He took with him the two sources he had used the night before, namely the map of Tellus and the green book of things to be done in a national emergency. When noon drew near, he went to his box-house, rummaged through the endless maze of bric-a-brac in it (you see, he was a very, VERY messy person) and uncovered his ceremonial drum... from beneath a mountain of clothes and sheets of paper. The clock was ticking by rather quickly and he was still in his room, searching underneath his bed and his shelves -- now where the devil did he put his drumsticks? He needed to summon his platoon publicly, to tell them that something was brewing, but how could he do so if he still didn't have the very objects he needed?!

The Queen and Erroll were waiting at the palace courtyard, not only for the scouts' arrival, but also especially for Lughaidh's arrival. Erroll was pacing back and forth.

"Where's Lughaidh?" asked Queen Cecily.
"I don't know, Mum," replied Erroll rather dryly. "He isn't normally this late..."
"Would you like me to go check on him?"
"Give him a few more minutes; I think he's nervous about the whole thing. Yes, he's given me his word that he and his friends will all come back alive. That's not what's on his mind -- I think he's frightened of the repercussions of this mission."

At ten minutes past noon, Lughaidh finally came out running from his home in a panic, with his drum slung on his shoulder, and the book and the scroll tucked neatly into a bag on his back. He was panting and puffing, and he slowed down as soon as he arrived at the courtyard and saw the Queen and Erroll ready to greet him.

"Your Majesty, I'm so sorry, I---" Lughaidh began, but was soon stopped by the Queen.
"Don't worry. I know why you're doing this."

Lughaidh flung his haversack down to the ground, closed his eyes and began to concentrate. The otherwise hot noon air was quelled by a fresh breeze, and flower petals scattered about, blown away from seemingly distant trees. Feeling the wind on his face, and believing himself to be in the right disposition to call his friends, Lughaidh pelted on the drum with all the strength he could muster.

This loud thundering was heard all over the palace and in the surrounding areas. All hands in the castle gathered by the windows and the balconies to see what the fuss was about. Even Llyr crept out of his house upon hearing the distinct tapeta-tapeta-tapeta coming from the courtyard. Ten people dressed in white coats with red trim were seen running through the palace gates into the courtyard -- Lughaidh's signal was meant for them. Some were quick, light and nimble, almost dancing and skipping their way in. Some, on the other hand were rather tubby, and came in panting, puffing and wiping sweat off their faces. One in particular -- bless his dear heart -- was so stout and clumsy that he tripped and fell as soon as he got past the gates!

As soon as they all made it, they dressed their line and stood ram-rod straight, awaiting the Queen's address.

"Stand easy," she told them.

All of them relaxed. Lughaidh called each one of his companions by name to make sure that all of them were there.

"Ivor Cadwallader!"
"Aye!" cried a thin, blond-haired boy who looked eighteen in the age of Men.

"Seisyl Howell!"
"Aye," said another thin boy who looked to be about the same age, except his skin was slightly tanned, and he had curly jet-black hair.

"Síle ní Brádaigh!"
"Aye," came the soft, silken voice of a young woman with white hair.

"Taylor Breckenridge!"
"Aye!" came the voice of another woman, but this time, more upbeat and boisterous.

"Róisín ní Dochartaigh!"
"Aye..." came a voice that was almost inaudible, for it came from a rather short woman, trapped between a few tubby men.

"Robert Colquhoun!"
"Oooye," came the rather mellow voice of the rotund man who had tripped and fallen by the gate. Everyone chuckled at the response, including Lughaidh and the Queen. Needless to say, he was the butt of jokes in the platoon, but he didn't seem to mind one bit.

"James Macaslan!"
"Aye," came another mellow voice from a big, stocky man with blue hair.

"Eoin mac Naoimhín!"
"Aye," said a fiery, red-headed, rather tubby man.

"Sable Ruskin!"
"Aye," came a rather high-pitched, timid voice from a boy stood at the very end of the line.

"Nicholas Urquhart!"
"Aye!" cried a tall man with rather shiny skin -- he had been heavily drenched in sweat.

They were referred to as men and women, boys and girls, because that was indeed what they were -- but nothing ever led people to be confused between the words 'man' and 'mankind' -- for the former was undertood as a gender, and the latter, a race of people.

Lughaidh called one more name in his list.

"Trevor Wallace!"

Silence. No one responded.

"Trevor Wallace? Is he here?" asked Lughaidh, his face creasing with worry.

One by one, Lughaidh's friends hung their heads in sorrow.

"Trevor Wallace has been recently executed," said the soft-spoken Síle. "We only received word of his death moments before you summoned us."

Lughaidh, Erroll and the Queen were overcome with shock. Llyr, who had been peeking from behind the palace wall, listening in the whole time, grew fearful of the whole affair, and stayed behind that wall, not daring to breathe for fear that he might be heard, and called out of his safe spot.

"Tell us how it happened," said a rather grief-stricken Lughaidh.

Síle gave Lughaidh the account of Trevor's death:

"Trevor and I were roaming the skies, and just so that we could stop somewhere to explore, we stopped at Havenford, down south. Specifically, this place... what was it called? -- Ehvawntye or something like that--"
"Éventails," replied Lughaidh.
"Yes, yes, that one -- the one with the huge grassy fields and poppies and dandelions scattered about here and there, and you can even find a few wind turbines there too, because the wind' s constantly blowing there. Anyway, Trevor had a thing for me, see, and Éventails is supposed to be a place where people propose to the ones they love -- you know, engagement, marriage... and so he knelt down to propose to me and he had this ring pulled out. I was just so overcome with joy... but before I could say yes, we were jumped by a gang of thugs, who were all dressed in black and had their heads completely covered, except for the eyes--"

Síle could be a bit of a chatterbox at times and her friends would otherwise start ribbing her for it, but this time, they remained silent and let her speak.

"These men knocked me out. I blacked out, only to be found by Eoin two days later -- he was concerned that he had not heard from me or Trevor in a while, and he found me here. We tried to speak to Trevor's mind, but there was no response.

"So we went looking in the nearest town, Northanger, which was quite a distance from where we were. I kept asking people, 'Have you seen a thin young man who is about yay tall, has short brown hair and blue eyes, and wears a three-leaf clover on his chest?' But no one knew of such a person. We never gave up, we kept on searching -- and our search took us to the outskirts of Northanger, close to the mining town of Ironstakes.

"When we arrived there we saw an old man passing by, and we asked him the same question we had asked people before. He said yes..... but then... but then..." Síle trembled, and tears began to form in her eyes. She paused, and then continued, "he told me that a band of thugs, apparently the government's task force, had him bound with barbed wire and were dragging him towards Ironstakes. He had been knocked out, in the same way that I was knocked out, and they were taking him to the underground prison there.

"Executions are nearly always carried out at Ironstakes, and Eoin and I began to fear the worst. I couldn't watch -- I couldn't bear to see Trevor dying -- and so Eoin sent me home."
"I then tried to bend and burn my way through the maze of wires and metal traps --" Eoin continued. "Ironstakes is a heavily guarded town -- and as soon as I made it into the town I saw Trevor, from a distance, already on the scaffold, with the noose having been put around his neck!

"These thugs surrounded the scaffold, and one of them told the people in a loud, almost incendiary voice, 'This man is to be put to death for not conforming to the order set up by our dear Leader. He and his kind have spread forbidden stories, and are also magic users!' -- at that, there were gasps of horror, even anger, coming from the people. All of them broke out into lud clamouring and wailing; they all wanted him dead...

"One of the men asked Trevor if he had any last words. He said 'Give me time to think,' -- he saw me from where he was -- and he mentally spoke to me. He asked me to convey his love for Síle."

Síle burst into tears, and the rest of the platoon rushed to console her in her grief. Eoin spoke again,

"And as for the Queen... first, he declares his undying loyalty; second, he wants us to know that not only are rulers everywhere killing Changelings -- this time, they're killing children too, or simply anyone who sees truth, or a different side to the story. Why this is, is currently beyond him -- but he trusts we'll find a way.

"Then finally Trevor spoke in a loud voice, 'I am here now for having been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and from this there is no escape. I declare my undying love and support for all who can see the truth, and all who are working to uncover the truth in the face of oppressive regimes. As for you who bound me and brought me here, and those who are about to kill me... I forgive you; now do what you must. May Josué receive me with all the love in His heart as I go to meet him.'"

Silence befell the courtyard once more. The rustling of the wind did little to ease their grief. Lughaidh, having been privy to Llyr's theories about a new wave of killings, quickly took his leave and searched for Llyr.

Lyr, upon having heard the full account of Trevor's death, had run straight to his house. He was on his bed, crying, when Lughaidh found him.

"What do you want?" asked Llyr in a rather frustrated voice.
"You heard the news," replied Lughaidh. "The bad news is, you were right."

Llyr turned his head around and saw Lughaidh kneeling by his bedside.

"The good news is," Lughaidh continued, "we know our problem and we're going to sort it. We're going to need to rebuild our school of magic and healing, especially for Mages and Changelings. You know what that means?"
"No..."
"Well, Erroll has gone to meet your friend Maro and his family, and they're alright, and they want to see you. Now, they kind of have to -- Maro is a Mage, a very skilled magic user, and he is coming to terms with his powers in the same way that you are."

Llyr paused for a moment, and then a small smile creased his face. He wiped his tears from his eyes and said,

"I don't think I've seen a Mage at work, but there's always a first time."
"Are you looking forward to seeing him?"
"Yes. I just wish Trevor didn't have to die."
"This is war, I'm afraid," replied Lughaidh. "What Havenford has done is an act of war, repeating the same Transgression of centuries past, but this time, extending it to simply anyone who opposes the so-called new world order. In war, there are going to be lives lost. And I fear that Havenford might not be the only ones committing this act of war. Nevertheless, we must uncover what is going on -- and expect to die, rather than live."

Lughaidh said no more, and slowly left Llyr's house. He sat in the courtyard alone, his face flushed, his heart split with pain. Changelings are never known to lie, and what Lughaidh said (about keeping himself and every one of his subordinates alive) was the truth, he meant it -- but he felt an inexplicable grief. It was not meant to be, and Lughaidh felt like a liar -- a bold-faced liar.

Lughaidh returned to the courtyard, apologising profusely for his momentary disappearance. He told the Queen and Erroll about Llyr's theory turning out to be true.

"Shall I send for him?" asked Erroll.
"I don't know if that's a good idea; he's really frustrated with himself, and bitterly sad that someone had to die."

Having finished speaking, Lughaidh joined the line formed by his friends. Erroll ordered them to stand ready, and gave them a rather unexpected command --

"Listen up, everyone. In light of Trevor's death, a new plan must be set in motion. Our initial plan was to oversee the world and see if the Invincibilium theft is part of something greater. Now we know that at least one Changeling has been put to death. I want you all to roam the planet, and help me find out: one, if there are any other people being put to death for similar reasons; two, the attitude of the various kings and governments towards this; three, if the Invincibilium thefts and the killings have annything to do with each other. No need to give me the minutiae, for this is a scouting mission. I myself will look in Westforth, to find any lawbreakers who are acting in the same way as... well... what we heard."

"And, I think it safe to say that there are sufficient grounds for us to rebuild our School of Magic, where we used to train Mages and Changelings centuries ago. We don't know how long it'll take us to get to the bottom of this matter, and we need fresh young talent to aid us.

"Go now, and fulfil your task."
"Aye-aye, sir!" Lughaidh and his Changeling friends responded loudly, in unison.

And with that, they set off in the most spectacular fashion: they leapt into the air and beat their chests at the same time; it loked almost choreographed! -- and they all turned into dragons. It was a colourful affair, as beams of light of various elemental colours appeared in the sky during the transformation sequence. But this glorious sight was cut short by a cry of "Careful!" from the Queen...

...oh no. Lughaidh had done it again -- he tied himself into knots, and he had the other dragons tied together with him! Many of them grimaced in pain; some were quite visibly annoyed.

Erroll shook his head in disbelief, and thrust his hands forward and cried "Unbind!" in a loud voice. What looked like a number of chains of light formed around Lughaidh and his friends, and then broke. Lo and behold, the knots came loose, and Lughaidh and his friends were able to flry freely again!

"Please, please do not let me have to do this to you again," cried Erroll, who had been weakened by his own spell. He spluttered as he spoke.

One by one, the dragons took off -- they flew at top speed, up into the clouds, tearing through them as they went, leaving behind massive gusts of wind. Llyr came running out to see them, and he was amazed. He couldn't tell which dragon was which -- all he knew was that there was a red dragon, with big, thick scales -- and then there was a smooth blue-purple dragon, with scales like those of a rainbow trout, and then a shiny golden dragon whose body shone like the sun -- but he could only catch glimpses of them. The last to leave was Lughaidh, and he noticed that Llyr was there -- and so, he gave him a wink. In his mind, Llyr heard, "I'll be home soon. Don't worry."

And with that, Lughaidh was off. Llyr smiled, turned around and headed back to his box-house.

-----------

It was a bright, sunny day over Bloomfeld. The breeze was simply magnificent. Down in the streets, everyone went about their daily trades. A murmur of voices could be heard from a distance -- voices of people buying and selling, haggling and complaining. The city had come alive.

Back in the palace, Erroll kissed his mother goodbye before leaving. He had left her a request -- that all the strong men in the castle see to the rebuilding of the School of Magic. It was to be built about a stone's throw away from the palace, on firm, hard soil. Erroll promptly left -- he closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Within moments he was aloft, and up in the air -- and his big and bulky body became light. He hovered over the and past the city centre, and soon after he passed out of sight.

Queen Cecily flicked her hand, and a transparent blue contraption which looked like a microphone appeared out of thin air and hovered in front of her lips. She spoke,

"Attention, all personnel and friends of the House of Wainwright. In light of recent developments, I now declare that Westforth is a country at war. A few things need to be done. First, the election of a group of trustworthy people to direct the nation. Second, the establishment of a task force, to ensure that none of the violence that is happening in surrounding nations is happening in our own backyard too. Third, the rebuilding of our School of Magic, so that young people may aid us in our endeavours.

"I will consult Crown Prince Erroll and Queen's Counsel Lughaidh mac Marsainn on the first and second matters. For now, there are many capable hands among us in the palace. Let us now set off, gather materials and begin construction of the School. I will personally gather what I can. We will meet at Charles' Edge, which, as you may already know, is two miles east of here. My men and I will mark out the plot, and we will begin laying the foundations. Queen Cecily IV, out."

This is side information for those who have been interested in this story -- I've drawn some unfinished concept art.

Wow... There's just SO MUCH!
And it's GOOD!
I'm only halfway through so far, but what I've seen of the tale of Westforth is pretty damn great. It's surprising, it's fun, it's light-hearted, and it's just brilliant all around. Makes a fantastic change of pace from all the grim and gloomy stuff I usually find on this forum.
My only gripe is that whenever I read the name Llyr, I can’t help but think of Lrrr, ruler of the planet Omicron Persei 8.
Troisnyx, what you’ve achieved here is something fantastic! Keep it up!

At 8/4/14 12:49 PM, bobbillin wrote: Wow... There's just SO MUCH!
And it's GOOD!
I'm only halfway through so far, but what I've seen of the tale of Westforth is pretty damn great. It's surprising, it's fun, it's light-hearted, and it's just brilliant all around. Makes a fantastic change of pace from all the grim and gloomy stuff I usually find on this forum.
My only gripe is that whenever I read the name Llyr, I can’t help but think of Lrrr, ruler of the planet Omicron Persei 8.
Troisnyx, what you’ve achieved here is something fantastic! Keep it up!

Thanks, I'm glad you enjoy the writing.

However, I am almost tempted to stop the writing altogether, because these characters, and some themes, were part of a story/roleplay between @AlbertStClare and myself. We formed a lore together in years past, and decided to rehash it, but often bounced ideas back and forth.

I started this story as an innocent attempt at writing a story, not to pass off someone else's work as mine, and the story so far is mine -- but it'd probably conflict with what he had in mind.

In fact, I'd best not continue it at all... and render to shambles what little writership I have.

That--- really surprises me. Talk about a sudden twist. Bolt out of the blue. Boom.

It’s good you’re humble and fessing up - even if it’s a bit late - but damn, what a shame. I was just getting attached to this story. I guess it’s true that “good artists copy, great artists steal.”

But surely this story doesn’t have to end on such a melodramatic, depressing note. Maybe you and Albert can work together again? Or at least you can find it in yourself to be a dirty thief again ;)
(I’m just kidding about the thief part!)

Which character did you role-play, by the way? Maro or Llyr?