There was a flutter of wings and the rustle of leathery wings as a black robed figure stepped out onto the balcony, followed by a second, slightly smaller black robed figure. They crossed the balcony, passing over the charcoal brazier's cold grey ashes, and leaned over the balcony's stone guard rail, gazing down at the lights of the valley of Esdor.
The city was not as bright as it had been. The lights of eight years prior seemed brighter, for the days had not been so dark. But the night was dark no longer. Sometimes heavy clouds still covered the sky above Esdor, as they had for more than a decade, but they were fewer and further between. No longer was the city under the pall of perpetual twilight. It had been eight years since they had last seen the sun. It had not been seen since it had fallen from the sky.
Heaven had been brought to Earth on the wings of a comet. The Esdonian people had known that the comet would bring their salvation; the harbinger of their deliverance from the harvests sent by the Morthani to their western shores.
The comet had struck on a Sunday evening in the middle of a late autumn evening, eight years before. The white light of the comet had lit up the entire sky in a blinding display of light and colour. When the white light had faded, heaven itself had fallen to earth.
The King, a man of God and a man of the people, had ascended the throne eleven years before, at the age of nineteen years old. He had hollow cheeks and a straggly beard. The hair was thin on the crown of his head, and lighter from sun damage. He had been home from university, praying to God for deliverance from the Morthani harvests, when the comet struck.
He had been blind for days afterwards. Sore eyes were a common occurrence for anyone in Esdor who had been present when Heaven fell. The King had ascended to the throne with a mission.
Esdonia was a small country, a hundred and twenty thousand square kilometres. It was birth rate neutral, with a population of five million. There were thirty cities of varying sizes in the country, with the capital city of Esdor being the largest of them. Esdonia had been ruled for three hundred years by the Dusled before the King's ascension to the throne.
The Dusledra were not averse to the existing order. Their reign was one of piety and of peace. They were pious men and women, but they were not men of war. The King was a man of war. He was raised by his father to be a man of war.
His mother was a fine harp player, though. The King had been raised by both parents, even after the Dusledra's great purge. The Dusledra believed in their laws with fanatical zeal.
The Dusledra were as elvish as one of the great houses of the elven peoples. They had come to Esdonia with great ships, flying the banners of their houses.
They had been welcomed by the people of Esdonia. They seemed from the start to be holy men and women. They had showed respect to the gift of God on the comet that had fallen. King Harald attacked them less than two years later. The Dusledra were the victims of an invasion by a fanatical king who had never seen the ocean. The King was not sorry for his actions.
Haraldus (he was now given the moniker Dusledra, to distinguish him from the other Dusledra) was raised to the throne of Esdonia by the ruthless military policies of his father, King Harald the First. The King's reign saw the formation of the army first, and of the navy next.
He had concluded that the weapons of the King were the sword, the spear, the longbow and the ship. The King's bloodlust had been great before the revolution against the Dusledra, but his need for weapons had been greater.
The military kings of Esdonia had always been men of war. The King was the one who had led the Esdonians against the Morthanians. The King was the one who had killed the Morthani king. The King was the one who had destroyed their city.
The King was the only one of the blood of Esdonia who had ever seen the Morthani. It was the King's army that had landed on Morthania's shores. It was the King's army who had destroyed the Morthani city. It was the King's army that had struck down the Morthani king.
King Harald Haraldus Dusledra, the First, was crowned in the church of Saint Michael and Saint George in the capital city, in front of the nation and the gods.
The King smiled at his people as he descended the royal staircase into the heart of the city. The city of Esdonia was filled with a sense of joy. Seven days of destruction and God's wrath had filled the city with death, but it was the salvation of God's children that filled the city with joy. The King was the salvation of his people.
The King was born a year after the first Morthani expedition had landed on the shores of Esdonia. The King had been the rump of his parents' initial plans.
It was not that they had thought the child they were raising would be the King, but they had realised just how difficult it would be to rule a kingdom that was born in war. They had decided to have as many children as possible. The King was the fourth child of the second generation of Esdonia.
The country was being run with a silver spoon in one hand and an iron fist in the other. It was running with a mandate from the gods. God had aided them in their conquest of the Dusledra. God had helped them reclaim the country for the children of holy Esdonia. The King was good with a sword, a spear and a bow. He was immersing himself in the practices of his ship.
The King did not have time for a family. His duties to the nation were always felt by the King, a man of God and a man of the people. The King knew the people of Esdonia would be expected to rise against the Dusledra in the coming weeks. The King knew that they would expect the first of Esdonia to lead them into battle. They expected it of him. It would be the King's responsibility.
The King was greeted with a feeling of love from the people; the gods had blessed his rule. The King craved to purge the sins of his nation with the martial might of his army. The King was prepared to offer himself to God and the people as a sacrifice to save the innocent. The most virile men of Esdonia would be offered up to the gods as a sacrifice.
The King knew that he was not strong enough to lead his people into battle. The men of war-craft were his to command. The army was his creation. The King was the one who would lead the Esdorians against the Morthani. It was a plague upon the world, but there were those who could see clearly that God's cause was that the Esdorian army be ready to slay the elves and their terrible reign in Esdoria.
It would be the King that would lead his army, but not the King that would command it in battle. The King would lead his officers and captains in some glorious battle. The King would lead his captains in some glorious battle at the behest of God, to save the land of Esdonia from elves.
The King's task was a Herculean task. It was a task that would not prevent the King from being a good husband and a loving father to his son. The King was a man of war, but he was also a man of peace—a man of God, but also a man of the people.
The King's father was a holy man, but he was also a man of war.
