Present Zelpha

[Hyren]

Sieged by the Wild

(Work in Progress)

[Drake]

“Your majesty, a letter.”

A courier from the postal service bow lowed, presently a finely sealed envelope bearing a seal of some foreign land. Sitting at his desk in the Blue Study, Drake dismissed the courier and turned the letter over a candle, to burn away the wax seal in order to open. Pulling the fine parchment out of the otherwise aged envelope, the Serdian King placed the letter before him and began to read it in earnest. Apparently it was not a government missive or anything that required his attention, but a letter from one of the many smaller states that inhabited the periphery of civilized Zelpha.

In this case, it was Vesperia, a Kingdom on the continent the Highlands.

There existed no established relationship between Vesperia and Serdio. While Serdian traders sometimes peddled goods in Dahngrest, this was due to the fact that Dahngrest was the only suitable port on the whole continent, not to mention the only settlement safe to deal business in. The fact that the assumed successor to the aging king of that land was interesting in opening his borders to the western lands was one that interested Drake above all. He was of that generation that believed increasing ties and trade with foreign lands was the best way of increasing the overall prosperity of his own people.

Dipping his quill in the ink, Drake began to scribble a response.

To His Highness,
Prince Faeron of Vesperia

I welcome you with open arms to visit my country. For too long the kingdoms of the Highlands have remained isolated from civilized Zelpha, for fear of foreign influences and the destruction they might play on their traditional lifestyles. While it is true that new ideas have been forged here in the west, not all of them are dangerous and radical. I am most glad of your desire to visit my country, and nothing but good can come of it. I welcome to you to visit Serdio at your leisure, as my cousin, brother, and equal. I await your arrival with great anticipation.

By His Own Hand,
Drake R.

[Hyren]

It had been barely a fortnight since the return of the Vesperian prince from lands afar when a meeting was called by the King to speak with his son. It seemed simple enough, a father and son speaking in private. Yet Faeron, from the moment it was called, knew the meaning behind it. The questions he would undoubtedly be asked by his father could spell doom for his ascension to the throne if not handled properly. Faeron could already sense what his father’s inquiries would be, and reflected on his answers as he ascended the staircase leading to his father’s bedchambers.

Silently he entered the room, and beheld the sickly King. Inside the large bed in the center of the room, a small and shriveled man lay almost hidden under massive sheets and elaborate quilts. He looked ancient beyond all reason as his countless years rapidly crept up on him. Nearly a year before Kirion had looked as youthful as Faeron, who was under half his age. Yet as was the way of his race the High-King sunk suddenly into senility, incapable of ruling. His time was upon him.

Faeron couldn’t help but feel sadden by his father’s condition, despite his overall dislike of him. Even though he was eagerly awaiting the king’s passing he found himself overwhelmed with pity, at how the once great Kirion Kritya, High-King of Vesperia, had declined to the state he was in today.

A sitting stool sat next to the King’s bed, obviously set out for the Prince when he arrived. Faeron took a seat and waited. He dared not say a thing, instead waiting for the High-King to realize his presence. Finally after what seemed like ages the King turned his head stiffly to his son, and spoke. His words were direct and to the point, not delaying for any pleasantries.

“What did you see when you went across the sea to the west, my son?” Kirion asked. Despite Faeron’s attempts to keep the true nature of his voyage secret it was no surprise the King has pieced it together, and he had prepared for this as well.

There was a long pause before Faeron spoke. “Everything you warned me off, father. To everyone I spoke, I found nothing but treachery and a desire to destroy our way of life, to take advantage of us for their own gain.” It was a bold faced lie on Faeron’s part. He had not experienced anything of the sort. The reason for the lie was obvious from the Vesperian perspective.

Ascension in Vesperia was a tricky business. By law the King was allowed to change the order of succession based on his whims and who he felt would best lead the nation. As such, even at this late stage of his life, Kirion could choose a new successor to his throne, one he felt would uphold his ideas.

Once again there was a silence. The silence was broken by the King’s now dull voice. “Now do you see why we must remain in isolation? If we were to open ourselves to the west, nothing but harm will come to our people.”

“Yes, Father. The purpose and wisdom of our seclusion has been made apparent to my eyes.” Faeron replied to his sickly father, who smiled in response. They remained that way for a moment, before the King dismissed him.

Faeron left the room as silent as he came. He headed back down the central stairs to his quarters, where he pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from his desk and began a second letter to his friends in the west.

[Hyren]

The King’s health continued to decline in the month following his meeting with Faeron. The already sickly Kirion dropped further towards his end. Each day he seemed a little older, a little slower, and a little closer to passing. All knew what was imminent. All knew what was coming. Faeron, Prince of Vesperia, was eager for what it entailed. He spent most of his days since returning locked in his study, making preparations for the grand event the would follow his Father's end.

There was a knock on the door , interrupting the Prince's work. With a loud creak the passage opened, allowing entrance to one of the King’s personal servants. The Prince looked up from his work and gazed at the man, already judging the reason for his disturbance. Normally he, or the aid, would have said something, anything, but in this case it was clear. The men stared at each other for several seconds, a deafening silence growing between them. Finally Faeron dismissed the attendant, who quietly left the room.

Once again the Vesperian Prince was alone. It seemed the day had finally come. He sat in silence, staring at the single candle which illuminated his desk, quietly pondering his next moves. In his mind an endless road lay before him, paved with plans and intentions for his rule. The path to his ultimate goal would be long and difficult, likely wrought with opposition from the established order. Yet Faeron was patient and determined.

The prince raised his right hand to eye level, examining the simple ring on his finger from several angles. The lustrous yet unadorned platinum glinted slightly in the candlelight, it's lack of decoration belaying the intense importance of the object. The ring, and all it entailed, was special and precious to him, for it meant his and his country’s future, now more then ever. Faeron smiled in the dim light as he began to tidy up.

Despite what had happened Faeron was glad. He never cared for his father much, in fact the last few months had simply been waiting for this day. Many would call it cold, but the Prince couldn't care less about what others thought of his relationship with the old king. It was his time now, and he would lead Vesperia into a new golden age, one on a scale never seen before.

Finally he stood. Faeron, High-King of the Kingdom of Vesperia, strode towards the door of his study. There was much to do.