Post by deepspace8472 on Dec 4, 2007 0:12:31 GMT -5
PART I: THE EARLY YEARS
“The life of Prince Vellus the Third is thought by many to be one of greatness. Born in the 412th year of the New Calendar, he was born into the ruling family of the New Athan kingdom. Thrust upon the throne at the young age of sixteen following his father’s assassination, he would lead the city-state of New Athas, and become one of the most feared individuals in the American southwest. Despite the mixed concerns as to the man’s efficiency as a ruler, all historians agree as to the colossal impact that Vellus made on the world.”
Year 423 D.A (Approximately 2550 A.D by Gregorian Calendar)
A newly revived sun shone brightly over the desert landscape, as the noted philosopher Selvyn scouted the region before him. Behind Selvyn trailed a small boy, a prince by blood, and an explorer by nature. The young boy would reach his 12th year by the next season. During the boy’s life, Selvyn had been there for him, assigned by the King himself to be the boy’s tutor and guide.
Selvyn had come highly regarded as a great scholar of the South West, and during his time abroad, he had gained renown among the cities as an influential and charismatic individual. It was because of this reputation that the King Leon the First had requested Selvyn’s services. Naturally, the ageing philosopher was honoured to tutor the future ruler of New Athas. Nearly a decade of this ongoing service had transpired, and the prince had grown into a very charming young boy. ‘He shall prove to be a very fitting heir to the throne, I would estimate,’ Selvyn once remarked at a royal banquet. The King had every confidence in the young boy, and had invested a lot in insuring that the boy would be ready, when his time of ascension arrived…
Selvyn approached a large rock formation; the side of a cliff that spanned at least a mile, he estimated. He turned to look at the boy, who had been following 5 yards back.
“Vellus, look at that…” Selvyn beckoned to the boy.
“What is it?” the boy asked, his interest was caught by the philosopher’s wily glance. Selvyn pointed to a small crevasse at the base of the cliff. Within its depths could be seen a shudder of movement. The prince, named Vellus (named after his great great grandfather, Lord Vellus the First) cautiously approached the crevasse, but was held back by the philosopher’s firm hand.
“Unless my eyes deceive me, that’s a Biter in there. You have to be careful!”
A long hiss sounded, and reverberated from the crevasse. Vellus pulled back in fear.
“It’s alright. It won’t attack you unless it feels threatened. It may have eggs in there…”
Selvyn got on his knees and peered in, all the while maintaining a safe distance from the crevasse.
The creature hissed once more, and slithered out gently. It’s tongue flickered, and its beady eyes stared long and hard into those of Selvyn’s.
“They are indeed deadly, yet beautiful creatures,” he said, getting back onto his feet as the biter slithered back into its nest. His usually white robes were now caked in auburn dust.
“Let’s keep walking,” said Selvyn, treading alongside the rock wall. Vellus nodded and obliged, and walked beside him.
“The most deadly thing about a biter…” Selvyn began, “Is their quickness to attack. They can lunge out and kill their prey in a split second; faster then the other creatures can react. This endows upon them, a remarkable efficiency to thrive, where no more then a split second can decide life… or death.”
The young Vellus nodded, and spoke up.
“That’s not very fair for the other creatures, if they don’t have a chance to run away!” he said, his light cropping of blonde hair catching wind.
Selvyn smiled at the young boy’s remark, then responded.
“My boy… The biter is a noble predator. It attacks out of necessity, not greed. The biter makes sure that it’s prey dies swiftly, with the least amount of pain. It is this quality that bestows nobility upon its killings. If it lacked the strength to kill another, it would most surely perish… Do you understand?”
Vellus nodded.
“It kills, or it will be killed,” Vellus summarised. Selvyn nodded in approval.
“Quite right, my prince. Such is the way of many things in this world…”
An hour passed, until it reached high noon. The sun now shone in all of its luminescence, and the desert heat began to discomfort the two. Seeking refuge under a cropping of isolated trees, Selvyn unfolded an assortment of nutrition, primarily consisting of soft bread, and water. Selvyn gave young Vellus a bun, and a gourd. As Vellus began eating, Selvyn continued with his lesson.
“The world is indeed a miraculous place,” stated the philosopher, dividing his own portion of the food to eat.
“Every move we make, everything we do is directed by nature,” he said.
“Without the soil beneath our feet, we could not farm. Without the rain, and the rivers, we could not drink. In this wide world, you must make nature your greatest ally. Long ago, the men and women of Earth held little regard for the planet. As was portrayed in the historical documents, their vice became their undoing…”
Vellus cocked his head sideways, and raised an eyebrow.
“My father does not speak much of the past,” the prince said, taking a fresh bite into the bread.
“He says that the past is meaningless, it’s only worth is that it mothers the present.”
Selvyn’s eyes widened, yet he maintained a calm disposition about him. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head slowly.
“No… Well, I have another view of the past. Technology and society may change, but human beings do not. By looking into the past, we can in fact see into the future, and evade potential problems. What do you know about the past, my prince?”
Vellus stared at the old man, and spoke.
“My father spoke of it as a lawless time, but a wondrous time. They built weapons that could level entire cities!”
“Yes, yes that is true. Archaeologists are learning new things about the Digital Era of mankind. Needless to say, they were a good deal more advanced then we are today. You do know that at what one point, this entire continent was one nation?”
The interest was apparent, as seen through Vellus’ eyes. They were as bright as they ever were, and he clung to every word the philosopher spoke. It was true he was somewhat learned in the workings of the Digital Era, but he was always interested in hearing about it again.
“It must have been a very strong country!” Vellus remarked.
“Indeed it was,” Selvyn replied.
“However, the country became too big that it lost the ability to hold itself together. It was fighting wars all over the world, and it wasn’t taking care of its economy and money spending. One thing that is known is that the continental nation hyperextended itself, and fell into an economic depression… Do you know what an economic depression is?”
Vellus shrugged.
“Well, after the nation’s economy stability was lost, a civil war was fought. Over the course of about 50 years, anarchy and chaos destroyed many things, and the once great nation was finally divided up into many smaller, independent city-states.”
“Just like New Athas!” Vellus exclaimed. Selvyn smiled.
“You are correct. And it was your great-great grandfather that founded the city of New Athas. It was under his wise governing in fact that New Athas became one of the largest cities in the desert. Of course, many were willing to follow such a brave man as him. And you were named after him, Vellus.”
Vellus grinned, as Selvyn stood up and packed up the rest of their food.
“We should get back to the city,” said Selvyn.
“I’m sure your father misses you dearly.”
With a curt nod from Vellus, the two started back on the way home to the great city.
“There we go, not a lot further,” said Selvyn, after a few hours had passed, and they were dawning on reaching home. Tired, and nearly out of breath, they reached the top of a perch, overlooking a plain. Visible in the center of the plain was a great city.
The city was well developed, to southwest standards. Several metallic spires twisted out of the sea of stone and wood. From this distance and altitude, the most distinguishing thing about the city was it’s sprawling wall. A thick wall was built around the city, constructed out of bright white rock. In terms of comparison with the other city states in the South West, New Athas was certainly among the most beautiful. Much of the city was composed of buildings, generally two stories of height… Atop a large hill, in the center of the complex stood the palace. It was one of the oldest structures in New Athas, built in the days of the Old Vellus I. Outside and around the palace, was a stunning garden. I t conveyed an almost magical quality about it, even from the great distance, from which Selvyn and Vellus viewed it. It was among the greatest sites of New Athas, and the King held great esteem and regard for it. Some of the garden was reserved for the ruling class, however the benevolent Leon had given the people right to venture and recess within the garden’s limits. Such was but an example, to the great King’s hospitality and admiration of his people…
Admiring the view, Selvyn turned to look at Vellus, who seemed eager to get back home. He looked down at the boy.
“That was quite a trek,” said the philosopher, through beads of sweat. Stepping down from the perch, Selvyn helped the boy down the cragged rocks. Shuffling down the mountainous scale, Selvyn panted, as Vellus quickened his own pace, moving past his tutor.
“Don’t be too reckless,” he warned the prince.
“You may fall…”
The boy heeded the philosopher’s warning only but slightly; he relaxed his efforts, yet persisted to maintain his increasingly dangerous descent down the rock path. The boy’s motions almost formed a dance of sorts, as he bounded and slid over boulders, and leapt over jagged formations. Witnessing this danger, Selvyn called out sternly:
“Vellus!”
…But it was too late. The boy was nearing the bottom when he miscalculated the distance of a small stone, and lost his footing. Tumbling, and yelping out loud, the prince landed on the rocky desert floor with a painful thud. Vellus groaned, his white tunic was now torn in several places. Cradling the hurtful bruise that he had gained, the boy hung his head, and waited for Selvyn to finish climbing down.
“You should have listened…” the old philosopher said once he reached the base of the rocky hill, as Vellus quietly held his wound.
“In many prospects, speed is not always the most efficient resolution.”
“I know…” toned Vellus, sullenly.
“I just thought it would be more fun, that’s all…”
Selvyn understood, and extended his hand to the befallen Vellus, who took it and stood up.
“All lessons are learned with time,” said the philosopher.
“And this is but another lesson…”
Selvyn sighed. It was good to know that at least the boy was remorseful and reflective of his faults. He disliked the obligation to make every aspect of their excursions a manner of calculated education, but it was his duty. Once the boy had come of age, and was ready to rule the city-state, there would be no room for error, and carelessness.
Selvyn took a deep breath, and let the air out steadily. They walked without a word, until Vellus spoke up.
“I’m sorry for not listening, teacher.”
The philosopher smiled.
“I trust you won’t make that same mistake again!” Selvyn chucked heartily. Vellus joined in with a grin.
Taking the prince’s hand, the two traveled to the gate.
At the gate, the royal guard was waiting for them.
“My prince,” sounded the voice of the man that led the guard, the royal Captain Teag. He was clad in a leather vest, and armed with a rifle. His rifle was gripped tightly to his side, and his eyes disregarded the philosopher; solely fixated on the prince.
“Come with us…” the captain’s voice was very solemn.
“May I ask what has happened?” Selvyn spoke up, confronting the captain.
“The king has requested that the prince be escorted to the palace at the greatest haste. Our scouts have reported sightings of raiders, to the west…” Teag reported.
Selvyn nodded, realizing the danger that both he and the prince were under, whilst they were in the wilderness. There would be no greater plunder then the capture of a royal, and should they have been attacked while outside, there would have been no way to appeal for aid.
“Upon the scout’s report, we dispatched a few Recon crews to find you… I guess they failed… Comes, my prince. The king is waiting.”
With that, Vellus bid Selvyn farewell, and walked through the city gate. Within a matter of seconds, the prince and his entourage vanished into the crowd, leaving Selvyn alone at the gate. Walking inside, he ventured into the sea of people before him. The courtyard bustled with commerce, though activity generally toned down around midday. Cargo trikes zipped through the main square; the pedestrians autonomously made way for them. Passing through the courtyard, Selvyn found refuge under the shade of a canopy, and rested.
Vellus approached the throne room; Captain Teag treaded alongside him. The great hall was the oldest section of the palace; the entire city in fact. The hall had, over the years undergone several renovations. What was once composed of aluminum foil had been replaced with gray stone. The original ornamentation had remained, however. The vacant bomb casings and sculpted sheets of metal that lined the hall’s walls were a solemn reminder of the digital age, and the horrors witnessed in years passed. Despite the rather morbid styling of the ornaments, the hall was filled with bright luminescence.
Stepping up to the electronic door, Teag rapped on it with the butt of his rifle. A second passed, and the door slid open, revealing an elaborate throne room. Stepping forward, Vellus and the Royal Guard marched in between the rows of Doric columns, and entered a circle, enclosed by the columns. On the outer rim of the circle were 5 seats, one of which; dressed in the most regal fashion. Upon four of these seats resided an Administrator, each specialized in a single facet of the city’s workings. Upon the fifth (and central) throne, sat the great King Leon. He was dressed in a neatly sewn cloak, a mechanical console by his side. He smiled in relief when he saw that his son was alright.
“My son!” exclaimed Leon.
“It is good to see you back.”
Vellus nodded.
“It is good to see you, father.”
Teag stepped forward.
“The philosopher Selvyn brought him back. I have already sent out a telecommunication to recall the recon squads.”
“Very good,” replied the King.
“You’ve done well, Captain. You are dismissed.’
“My lord…” Teag bid farewell, bowing slowly and backtracking towards the door. The rest of the Royal Guard followed suit.
“Vellus…” the King said to the boy, after the Captain had departed.
“All in the world is not right. I’m sure Selvyn must have told you of the unstable political situation in the South West…”
“Yes, father,” replied Vellus, quite learned of the other city-states that bordered New Athas, and the numerous nomadic and barbaric tribes that populated the region.
The king paused, silently contemplating whether or not it would be a wise decision to vividly inform the boy of the precarious situation their kingdom was in.
“My boy…” Leon began; his words were tense, compact, and concise in their intonation.
“Our ambassadors to the outlying nomadic tribes have reported that there have been a lot of diplomatic talks between the sects. There have been suggestions that the sects may be planning to confederate… come together, so to speak…”
Leon got out of his seat, walked towards Vellus, and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“I know this is a lot to take in, but it is necessary knowledge for you to become a king.”
“I know that , father…”
Leon led Vellus out of the chamber, and onto a balcony, overlooking the whole of New Athas.
“In time, this will all be yours.”
“I know that, father…”
Leon sighed.
“Well, this matter at hand is very serious.”
Vellus looked up at the king, and the king spoke.
“There was once a city, founded long before the Digital Age. It was born at the dawn of civilization, in fact. Humanity was at it’s most barbaric, in this ancient time, with the exception of this city. It was the city called Old Athas, and it’s culture spread through much of the old continent known as Europa. Despite the prosperity, and influence of Old Athas, it was eventually overcome by the raw brute of the primitive armies that opposed them…”
The king paused, and took in the beauty of the cityscape before him, then continued.
“I always admire the first king for naming our cit y so. It represents our civility, in the face of the other states and tribes that plot against us. They are envious of us, my son. They seek our prosperity, and yearn to exploit it to their own designs… I’m getting old, son.”
The king was indeed growing old. What had once been a strong, virile man was now hunched over, enslaved by the pains of age. As Vellus stared into his father’s eyes, he wondered as to why the king would want to deal peacefully with the barbarians. It had been the raiders that had taken the life of dear mother, so many years ago. Why didn’t he want war?
Suddenly, from behind the King and Prince spoke the King’s Yeoman.
“My king, you are needed…”
The king turned around, and nodded to the Yeoman.
“I will see you soon, my son,” said the King, as he walked off the balcony; back into the throne chamber… As the King and Yeoman left, it left the boy to his own ponderous thoughts, as the high sun burned over New Athas.
“A traveler has arrived,” informed the Yeoman, standing next to the king, as he took to his throne. Frowning, the king beckoned to the electronic door.
“Grant him entrance,” he instructed, as the door made way for a frail, and visibly injured old man. Judging from his apparel, King Leon assumed him to be one of the outer regions. Immediately, the guards heightened their alert, and stood ready to attack. The king shook his head slowly, and the guards relaxed. It was apparent that this man was indeed befallen by tragedy.
“King Leon,” said the old man, his eyes were wide with fright, as if he had spotted an apparition.
“I am Mayor Janning… I come to you, to ask… to plead for asylum. My people and I, the townsfolk of Prestohn were attacked. Our village was destroyed at the hands of the Bern sect…” the man spoke as if he was reciting a script.
The king couldn’t help but let some of his astonishment shine through his expression. He had heard about Prestohn, a township of 750 souls. An independent settlement, it had managed to evade the militaristic clutches of any of the Sects, until now, it appeared…
“Where are the rest of your people?” said the King, stroking his snowy beard.
“Most are dead…” each word appeared a pain for the elder.
“But I was able to get about 200 people out before they started shelling it with artillery. They’re waiting at the gate.”
“Why did they attack you?” inquired Leon; his worst fears were now realized.
The old man tried to compose himself, and took a gulp of air, to calm his nerves.
“The sects are destroying any settlements that are opposed to the motion of confederation. You have to understand, above all, we value our independence…”
“You don’t have to explain that to me,” the King said.
“My noblest of lords, my people are naught but refugees. They don’t wish to partake in this conflict. May you be so kind, as to grant us a place to stay safe from this aggression?”
The king smiled.
“You’ve been through a lot. I’m sure we can find accommodations for your people. My kingdom is yours.”
Janning grinned, revealing a set of brittle teeth.
“Thank you, my lord. We have many able men and women to work. We’ll contribute to the best of our efforts.”
“I’m sure you will, Mayor. Go back to your people, tell them to enter the city and go to the town center. Your people need a leader right now, more then ever.”
“Yes, my lord. Yes…” Janning bowed down to Leon. Despite the fact that the Mayor had only but met the king, it was clear that the Mayor held a lot of respect for the king. Whether it was because of the King’s benevolence for one who would (in usual instances) be considered political adversary, or simply the king’s charismatic manner, Janning was obviously struck by the king’s willingness to help. It was quite a rare quality in a ruler today, to be of such benevolence…
“Open the gates!”
The gates of new Athas opened, releasing a flood of refugees into the city’s commercial district. They overwhelmed the courtyard, and flowed down the city’s tight streets, like water to a trickling stream. City guards were as shepherds to the flock of frightened refugees. Citizens peeked out of their residence and workshops to observe the swelling commotion. Evident in the refugees was a sense of relieved agony. At the forefront of the refugees was Janning. Weaving their way through New Athas, Leon watched the Prestohnese from the safety of the Royal Observatory. Beside him stood Selvyn. A grim expression passed over the two men, as they witnessed the solemn refugees trail into the Civil Compound.
The relations between the outlying sects and New Athas had been strained for as long as any historian could recollect. Since the founding of the city-state, New Athas had been strongly opposed to the fundamental political applications of most of the sects. Years ago, the sect-lords imposed violent force on any subject that defied their will, although in recent years, the sect-lords had been relieved of some of their more draconian policies. Not but twenty years prior to the birth of Prince Vellus, the warrior-militia of New Athas was deployed in the wildland, and fought hard against the mindless tribesmen. Over 800 of the city’s populace were killed throughout the course of the altercation. After heavy casualties on both sides, the fervor for the war died out, and New Athas tended to it’s new scars. Ever since the war, there had been little to no open contact with the sects. King Leon however, had taken the precaution of keeping a close watch on the region’s stability…
“Look at them, Selvyn,” the King spoke, he conveyed no expression in his words.
“It makes you remember…”
“The war of the Wildlands, milord?” Selvyn inquired, already certain of the King’s response. The king nodded slowly, watching as the speckle of distant proportion leading the refugees (Captain Teag) reached the compound, and filed the refugees through the gates.
“I was there, Selvyn… I’ve seen what war can do. I’ve seen the fashions in which it can change people. I’ve seen monsters, Selvyn.”
Selvyn stood silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. For a second, he believed a tear to fall from the king’s face.
“Well… such are the ways of war, milord. It was the barbarians that instigated the war. And we won, did we not?” Selvyn tried to comfort the King, but it was clear that the memories of past fighting occupied the royal’s mind.
“The historians of Athas may say that we won that war, and have vanquished every hostility we have faced. But that is but a convenient illusion, my friend. Unless you would consider ‘victory’ a matter of slaying the innocent. We took the lives of children, damned children… At the time, it seemed most prudent to drive the sects from their homes, out of New Athan jurisdiction. But what we didn’t consider was the sectfolk’s fervor for the defense of their homesoil. They just wouldn’t leave, Selvyn…”
“They are but actions that a leader must take some day…”
“I am first and foremost responsible to the citizenry of New Athas. Attempts to assure our safety and vitality through more tasteful means are always tried first…” the King winced, holding back tears “…but it is the end effect; that is the zenith of importance, not the means.”
“Than for what purpose did our founders lay the City’s foundation?” Selvyn’s voice was raised now, his zeal evident. “Was it not to hold back barbarism, to forge a new civilization based on liberty and justice? If it is not possible to fight a war of honor, than we must do all we can to ensure that the peace remains! Perhaps if we could send an emissary to reason with them and present our point-of-view? Far too many wars plague history that could have avoided if only communications were made more clear.”
Leon sighed and slumped up against the wall, “Oh Selvyn, Selvyn! How grand your vision is, if it were only possible. I have always trusted your judgement, above those of many of my advisors and although I believe your ideas to be foolish you have showed me up before. I’ll arrange an armored trike to take you over to the Sectlands immediately.”
“What? Me?”
“The life of Prince Vellus the Third is thought by many to be one of greatness. Born in the 412th year of the New Calendar, he was born into the ruling family of the New Athan kingdom. Thrust upon the throne at the young age of sixteen following his father’s assassination, he would lead the city-state of New Athas, and become one of the most feared individuals in the American southwest. Despite the mixed concerns as to the man’s efficiency as a ruler, all historians agree as to the colossal impact that Vellus made on the world.”
Year 423 D.A (Approximately 2550 A.D by Gregorian Calendar)
A newly revived sun shone brightly over the desert landscape, as the noted philosopher Selvyn scouted the region before him. Behind Selvyn trailed a small boy, a prince by blood, and an explorer by nature. The young boy would reach his 12th year by the next season. During the boy’s life, Selvyn had been there for him, assigned by the King himself to be the boy’s tutor and guide.
Selvyn had come highly regarded as a great scholar of the South West, and during his time abroad, he had gained renown among the cities as an influential and charismatic individual. It was because of this reputation that the King Leon the First had requested Selvyn’s services. Naturally, the ageing philosopher was honoured to tutor the future ruler of New Athas. Nearly a decade of this ongoing service had transpired, and the prince had grown into a very charming young boy. ‘He shall prove to be a very fitting heir to the throne, I would estimate,’ Selvyn once remarked at a royal banquet. The King had every confidence in the young boy, and had invested a lot in insuring that the boy would be ready, when his time of ascension arrived…
Selvyn approached a large rock formation; the side of a cliff that spanned at least a mile, he estimated. He turned to look at the boy, who had been following 5 yards back.
“Vellus, look at that…” Selvyn beckoned to the boy.
“What is it?” the boy asked, his interest was caught by the philosopher’s wily glance. Selvyn pointed to a small crevasse at the base of the cliff. Within its depths could be seen a shudder of movement. The prince, named Vellus (named after his great great grandfather, Lord Vellus the First) cautiously approached the crevasse, but was held back by the philosopher’s firm hand.
“Unless my eyes deceive me, that’s a Biter in there. You have to be careful!”
A long hiss sounded, and reverberated from the crevasse. Vellus pulled back in fear.
“It’s alright. It won’t attack you unless it feels threatened. It may have eggs in there…”
Selvyn got on his knees and peered in, all the while maintaining a safe distance from the crevasse.
The creature hissed once more, and slithered out gently. It’s tongue flickered, and its beady eyes stared long and hard into those of Selvyn’s.
“They are indeed deadly, yet beautiful creatures,” he said, getting back onto his feet as the biter slithered back into its nest. His usually white robes were now caked in auburn dust.
“Let’s keep walking,” said Selvyn, treading alongside the rock wall. Vellus nodded and obliged, and walked beside him.
“The most deadly thing about a biter…” Selvyn began, “Is their quickness to attack. They can lunge out and kill their prey in a split second; faster then the other creatures can react. This endows upon them, a remarkable efficiency to thrive, where no more then a split second can decide life… or death.”
The young Vellus nodded, and spoke up.
“That’s not very fair for the other creatures, if they don’t have a chance to run away!” he said, his light cropping of blonde hair catching wind.
Selvyn smiled at the young boy’s remark, then responded.
“My boy… The biter is a noble predator. It attacks out of necessity, not greed. The biter makes sure that it’s prey dies swiftly, with the least amount of pain. It is this quality that bestows nobility upon its killings. If it lacked the strength to kill another, it would most surely perish… Do you understand?”
Vellus nodded.
“It kills, or it will be killed,” Vellus summarised. Selvyn nodded in approval.
“Quite right, my prince. Such is the way of many things in this world…”
An hour passed, until it reached high noon. The sun now shone in all of its luminescence, and the desert heat began to discomfort the two. Seeking refuge under a cropping of isolated trees, Selvyn unfolded an assortment of nutrition, primarily consisting of soft bread, and water. Selvyn gave young Vellus a bun, and a gourd. As Vellus began eating, Selvyn continued with his lesson.
“The world is indeed a miraculous place,” stated the philosopher, dividing his own portion of the food to eat.
“Every move we make, everything we do is directed by nature,” he said.
“Without the soil beneath our feet, we could not farm. Without the rain, and the rivers, we could not drink. In this wide world, you must make nature your greatest ally. Long ago, the men and women of Earth held little regard for the planet. As was portrayed in the historical documents, their vice became their undoing…”
Vellus cocked his head sideways, and raised an eyebrow.
“My father does not speak much of the past,” the prince said, taking a fresh bite into the bread.
“He says that the past is meaningless, it’s only worth is that it mothers the present.”
Selvyn’s eyes widened, yet he maintained a calm disposition about him. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head slowly.
“No… Well, I have another view of the past. Technology and society may change, but human beings do not. By looking into the past, we can in fact see into the future, and evade potential problems. What do you know about the past, my prince?”
Vellus stared at the old man, and spoke.
“My father spoke of it as a lawless time, but a wondrous time. They built weapons that could level entire cities!”
“Yes, yes that is true. Archaeologists are learning new things about the Digital Era of mankind. Needless to say, they were a good deal more advanced then we are today. You do know that at what one point, this entire continent was one nation?”
The interest was apparent, as seen through Vellus’ eyes. They were as bright as they ever were, and he clung to every word the philosopher spoke. It was true he was somewhat learned in the workings of the Digital Era, but he was always interested in hearing about it again.
“It must have been a very strong country!” Vellus remarked.
“Indeed it was,” Selvyn replied.
“However, the country became too big that it lost the ability to hold itself together. It was fighting wars all over the world, and it wasn’t taking care of its economy and money spending. One thing that is known is that the continental nation hyperextended itself, and fell into an economic depression… Do you know what an economic depression is?”
Vellus shrugged.
“Well, after the nation’s economy stability was lost, a civil war was fought. Over the course of about 50 years, anarchy and chaos destroyed many things, and the once great nation was finally divided up into many smaller, independent city-states.”
“Just like New Athas!” Vellus exclaimed. Selvyn smiled.
“You are correct. And it was your great-great grandfather that founded the city of New Athas. It was under his wise governing in fact that New Athas became one of the largest cities in the desert. Of course, many were willing to follow such a brave man as him. And you were named after him, Vellus.”
Vellus grinned, as Selvyn stood up and packed up the rest of their food.
“We should get back to the city,” said Selvyn.
“I’m sure your father misses you dearly.”
With a curt nod from Vellus, the two started back on the way home to the great city.
“There we go, not a lot further,” said Selvyn, after a few hours had passed, and they were dawning on reaching home. Tired, and nearly out of breath, they reached the top of a perch, overlooking a plain. Visible in the center of the plain was a great city.
The city was well developed, to southwest standards. Several metallic spires twisted out of the sea of stone and wood. From this distance and altitude, the most distinguishing thing about the city was it’s sprawling wall. A thick wall was built around the city, constructed out of bright white rock. In terms of comparison with the other city states in the South West, New Athas was certainly among the most beautiful. Much of the city was composed of buildings, generally two stories of height… Atop a large hill, in the center of the complex stood the palace. It was one of the oldest structures in New Athas, built in the days of the Old Vellus I. Outside and around the palace, was a stunning garden. I t conveyed an almost magical quality about it, even from the great distance, from which Selvyn and Vellus viewed it. It was among the greatest sites of New Athas, and the King held great esteem and regard for it. Some of the garden was reserved for the ruling class, however the benevolent Leon had given the people right to venture and recess within the garden’s limits. Such was but an example, to the great King’s hospitality and admiration of his people…
Admiring the view, Selvyn turned to look at Vellus, who seemed eager to get back home. He looked down at the boy.
“That was quite a trek,” said the philosopher, through beads of sweat. Stepping down from the perch, Selvyn helped the boy down the cragged rocks. Shuffling down the mountainous scale, Selvyn panted, as Vellus quickened his own pace, moving past his tutor.
“Don’t be too reckless,” he warned the prince.
“You may fall…”
The boy heeded the philosopher’s warning only but slightly; he relaxed his efforts, yet persisted to maintain his increasingly dangerous descent down the rock path. The boy’s motions almost formed a dance of sorts, as he bounded and slid over boulders, and leapt over jagged formations. Witnessing this danger, Selvyn called out sternly:
“Vellus!”
…But it was too late. The boy was nearing the bottom when he miscalculated the distance of a small stone, and lost his footing. Tumbling, and yelping out loud, the prince landed on the rocky desert floor with a painful thud. Vellus groaned, his white tunic was now torn in several places. Cradling the hurtful bruise that he had gained, the boy hung his head, and waited for Selvyn to finish climbing down.
“You should have listened…” the old philosopher said once he reached the base of the rocky hill, as Vellus quietly held his wound.
“In many prospects, speed is not always the most efficient resolution.”
“I know…” toned Vellus, sullenly.
“I just thought it would be more fun, that’s all…”
Selvyn understood, and extended his hand to the befallen Vellus, who took it and stood up.
“All lessons are learned with time,” said the philosopher.
“And this is but another lesson…”
Selvyn sighed. It was good to know that at least the boy was remorseful and reflective of his faults. He disliked the obligation to make every aspect of their excursions a manner of calculated education, but it was his duty. Once the boy had come of age, and was ready to rule the city-state, there would be no room for error, and carelessness.
Selvyn took a deep breath, and let the air out steadily. They walked without a word, until Vellus spoke up.
“I’m sorry for not listening, teacher.”
The philosopher smiled.
“I trust you won’t make that same mistake again!” Selvyn chucked heartily. Vellus joined in with a grin.
Taking the prince’s hand, the two traveled to the gate.
At the gate, the royal guard was waiting for them.
“My prince,” sounded the voice of the man that led the guard, the royal Captain Teag. He was clad in a leather vest, and armed with a rifle. His rifle was gripped tightly to his side, and his eyes disregarded the philosopher; solely fixated on the prince.
“Come with us…” the captain’s voice was very solemn.
“May I ask what has happened?” Selvyn spoke up, confronting the captain.
“The king has requested that the prince be escorted to the palace at the greatest haste. Our scouts have reported sightings of raiders, to the west…” Teag reported.
Selvyn nodded, realizing the danger that both he and the prince were under, whilst they were in the wilderness. There would be no greater plunder then the capture of a royal, and should they have been attacked while outside, there would have been no way to appeal for aid.
“Upon the scout’s report, we dispatched a few Recon crews to find you… I guess they failed… Comes, my prince. The king is waiting.”
With that, Vellus bid Selvyn farewell, and walked through the city gate. Within a matter of seconds, the prince and his entourage vanished into the crowd, leaving Selvyn alone at the gate. Walking inside, he ventured into the sea of people before him. The courtyard bustled with commerce, though activity generally toned down around midday. Cargo trikes zipped through the main square; the pedestrians autonomously made way for them. Passing through the courtyard, Selvyn found refuge under the shade of a canopy, and rested.
Vellus approached the throne room; Captain Teag treaded alongside him. The great hall was the oldest section of the palace; the entire city in fact. The hall had, over the years undergone several renovations. What was once composed of aluminum foil had been replaced with gray stone. The original ornamentation had remained, however. The vacant bomb casings and sculpted sheets of metal that lined the hall’s walls were a solemn reminder of the digital age, and the horrors witnessed in years passed. Despite the rather morbid styling of the ornaments, the hall was filled with bright luminescence.
Stepping up to the electronic door, Teag rapped on it with the butt of his rifle. A second passed, and the door slid open, revealing an elaborate throne room. Stepping forward, Vellus and the Royal Guard marched in between the rows of Doric columns, and entered a circle, enclosed by the columns. On the outer rim of the circle were 5 seats, one of which; dressed in the most regal fashion. Upon four of these seats resided an Administrator, each specialized in a single facet of the city’s workings. Upon the fifth (and central) throne, sat the great King Leon. He was dressed in a neatly sewn cloak, a mechanical console by his side. He smiled in relief when he saw that his son was alright.
“My son!” exclaimed Leon.
“It is good to see you back.”
Vellus nodded.
“It is good to see you, father.”
Teag stepped forward.
“The philosopher Selvyn brought him back. I have already sent out a telecommunication to recall the recon squads.”
“Very good,” replied the King.
“You’ve done well, Captain. You are dismissed.’
“My lord…” Teag bid farewell, bowing slowly and backtracking towards the door. The rest of the Royal Guard followed suit.
“Vellus…” the King said to the boy, after the Captain had departed.
“All in the world is not right. I’m sure Selvyn must have told you of the unstable political situation in the South West…”
“Yes, father,” replied Vellus, quite learned of the other city-states that bordered New Athas, and the numerous nomadic and barbaric tribes that populated the region.
The king paused, silently contemplating whether or not it would be a wise decision to vividly inform the boy of the precarious situation their kingdom was in.
“My boy…” Leon began; his words were tense, compact, and concise in their intonation.
“Our ambassadors to the outlying nomadic tribes have reported that there have been a lot of diplomatic talks between the sects. There have been suggestions that the sects may be planning to confederate… come together, so to speak…”
Leon got out of his seat, walked towards Vellus, and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“I know this is a lot to take in, but it is necessary knowledge for you to become a king.”
“I know that , father…”
Leon led Vellus out of the chamber, and onto a balcony, overlooking the whole of New Athas.
“In time, this will all be yours.”
“I know that, father…”
Leon sighed.
“Well, this matter at hand is very serious.”
Vellus looked up at the king, and the king spoke.
“There was once a city, founded long before the Digital Age. It was born at the dawn of civilization, in fact. Humanity was at it’s most barbaric, in this ancient time, with the exception of this city. It was the city called Old Athas, and it’s culture spread through much of the old continent known as Europa. Despite the prosperity, and influence of Old Athas, it was eventually overcome by the raw brute of the primitive armies that opposed them…”
The king paused, and took in the beauty of the cityscape before him, then continued.
“I always admire the first king for naming our cit y so. It represents our civility, in the face of the other states and tribes that plot against us. They are envious of us, my son. They seek our prosperity, and yearn to exploit it to their own designs… I’m getting old, son.”
The king was indeed growing old. What had once been a strong, virile man was now hunched over, enslaved by the pains of age. As Vellus stared into his father’s eyes, he wondered as to why the king would want to deal peacefully with the barbarians. It had been the raiders that had taken the life of dear mother, so many years ago. Why didn’t he want war?
Suddenly, from behind the King and Prince spoke the King’s Yeoman.
“My king, you are needed…”
The king turned around, and nodded to the Yeoman.
“I will see you soon, my son,” said the King, as he walked off the balcony; back into the throne chamber… As the King and Yeoman left, it left the boy to his own ponderous thoughts, as the high sun burned over New Athas.
“A traveler has arrived,” informed the Yeoman, standing next to the king, as he took to his throne. Frowning, the king beckoned to the electronic door.
“Grant him entrance,” he instructed, as the door made way for a frail, and visibly injured old man. Judging from his apparel, King Leon assumed him to be one of the outer regions. Immediately, the guards heightened their alert, and stood ready to attack. The king shook his head slowly, and the guards relaxed. It was apparent that this man was indeed befallen by tragedy.
“King Leon,” said the old man, his eyes were wide with fright, as if he had spotted an apparition.
“I am Mayor Janning… I come to you, to ask… to plead for asylum. My people and I, the townsfolk of Prestohn were attacked. Our village was destroyed at the hands of the Bern sect…” the man spoke as if he was reciting a script.
The king couldn’t help but let some of his astonishment shine through his expression. He had heard about Prestohn, a township of 750 souls. An independent settlement, it had managed to evade the militaristic clutches of any of the Sects, until now, it appeared…
“Where are the rest of your people?” said the King, stroking his snowy beard.
“Most are dead…” each word appeared a pain for the elder.
“But I was able to get about 200 people out before they started shelling it with artillery. They’re waiting at the gate.”
“Why did they attack you?” inquired Leon; his worst fears were now realized.
The old man tried to compose himself, and took a gulp of air, to calm his nerves.
“The sects are destroying any settlements that are opposed to the motion of confederation. You have to understand, above all, we value our independence…”
“You don’t have to explain that to me,” the King said.
“My noblest of lords, my people are naught but refugees. They don’t wish to partake in this conflict. May you be so kind, as to grant us a place to stay safe from this aggression?”
The king smiled.
“You’ve been through a lot. I’m sure we can find accommodations for your people. My kingdom is yours.”
Janning grinned, revealing a set of brittle teeth.
“Thank you, my lord. We have many able men and women to work. We’ll contribute to the best of our efforts.”
“I’m sure you will, Mayor. Go back to your people, tell them to enter the city and go to the town center. Your people need a leader right now, more then ever.”
“Yes, my lord. Yes…” Janning bowed down to Leon. Despite the fact that the Mayor had only but met the king, it was clear that the Mayor held a lot of respect for the king. Whether it was because of the King’s benevolence for one who would (in usual instances) be considered political adversary, or simply the king’s charismatic manner, Janning was obviously struck by the king’s willingness to help. It was quite a rare quality in a ruler today, to be of such benevolence…
“Open the gates!”
The gates of new Athas opened, releasing a flood of refugees into the city’s commercial district. They overwhelmed the courtyard, and flowed down the city’s tight streets, like water to a trickling stream. City guards were as shepherds to the flock of frightened refugees. Citizens peeked out of their residence and workshops to observe the swelling commotion. Evident in the refugees was a sense of relieved agony. At the forefront of the refugees was Janning. Weaving their way through New Athas, Leon watched the Prestohnese from the safety of the Royal Observatory. Beside him stood Selvyn. A grim expression passed over the two men, as they witnessed the solemn refugees trail into the Civil Compound.
The relations between the outlying sects and New Athas had been strained for as long as any historian could recollect. Since the founding of the city-state, New Athas had been strongly opposed to the fundamental political applications of most of the sects. Years ago, the sect-lords imposed violent force on any subject that defied their will, although in recent years, the sect-lords had been relieved of some of their more draconian policies. Not but twenty years prior to the birth of Prince Vellus, the warrior-militia of New Athas was deployed in the wildland, and fought hard against the mindless tribesmen. Over 800 of the city’s populace were killed throughout the course of the altercation. After heavy casualties on both sides, the fervor for the war died out, and New Athas tended to it’s new scars. Ever since the war, there had been little to no open contact with the sects. King Leon however, had taken the precaution of keeping a close watch on the region’s stability…
“Look at them, Selvyn,” the King spoke, he conveyed no expression in his words.
“It makes you remember…”
“The war of the Wildlands, milord?” Selvyn inquired, already certain of the King’s response. The king nodded slowly, watching as the speckle of distant proportion leading the refugees (Captain Teag) reached the compound, and filed the refugees through the gates.
“I was there, Selvyn… I’ve seen what war can do. I’ve seen the fashions in which it can change people. I’ve seen monsters, Selvyn.”
Selvyn stood silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. For a second, he believed a tear to fall from the king’s face.
“Well… such are the ways of war, milord. It was the barbarians that instigated the war. And we won, did we not?” Selvyn tried to comfort the King, but it was clear that the memories of past fighting occupied the royal’s mind.
“The historians of Athas may say that we won that war, and have vanquished every hostility we have faced. But that is but a convenient illusion, my friend. Unless you would consider ‘victory’ a matter of slaying the innocent. We took the lives of children, damned children… At the time, it seemed most prudent to drive the sects from their homes, out of New Athan jurisdiction. But what we didn’t consider was the sectfolk’s fervor for the defense of their homesoil. They just wouldn’t leave, Selvyn…”
“They are but actions that a leader must take some day…”
“I am first and foremost responsible to the citizenry of New Athas. Attempts to assure our safety and vitality through more tasteful means are always tried first…” the King winced, holding back tears “…but it is the end effect; that is the zenith of importance, not the means.”
“Than for what purpose did our founders lay the City’s foundation?” Selvyn’s voice was raised now, his zeal evident. “Was it not to hold back barbarism, to forge a new civilization based on liberty and justice? If it is not possible to fight a war of honor, than we must do all we can to ensure that the peace remains! Perhaps if we could send an emissary to reason with them and present our point-of-view? Far too many wars plague history that could have avoided if only communications were made more clear.”
Leon sighed and slumped up against the wall, “Oh Selvyn, Selvyn! How grand your vision is, if it were only possible. I have always trusted your judgement, above those of many of my advisors and although I believe your ideas to be foolish you have showed me up before. I’ll arrange an armored trike to take you over to the Sectlands immediately.”
“What? Me?”