Chapter 3 - The Village

Author’s Note - We’re back on Earth, or what remains of it. Centuries have passed and life, though not flourishing like in the 21st century, has stabilized. We’re still building backstory and will continue to do so for a couple more chapters.

As far back as anyone could remember, the village of Horl had been in this valley. High mountains kept the village safe from invaders, and the tribes of Louren who lived in the forest were friendly to the humans who farmed and kept sheep. The Louren, though savage in appearance, were a peaceful folk who only hunted when they needed to. They brought furs and meat into town to trade for bread. Many of them worked side by side with the humans of the town, guarding the sheep from the creatures driven mad by the Urzustand.

Urzustand was obviously the work of demons, risen from hell to punish us all for our sins. Every day, we tried to live righteous lives, so that one day, the savior would return and lay waste to our enemies. Apparently, our prayers were answered in the form of the Louren. They were strong, fast, and vicious - but only as enemies. As allies, they were stalwart and loyal. Horl couldn’t have asked for better allies.

Every year, the Spring festival would come. As was tradition, a huge cross was erected in the town square. Round rocks, painted with the brightest paints anyone could find, were placed in a circle around the cross. No one was sure where these traditions came from. The elders each had their own story, and each of them were convinced it was correct.

“We are warding away the faeries. Faeries can’t stand bright colors,” said Emil.

“The cross is there to represent the sacrifice and rebirth of Easter, the goddess of Spring,” said Luthera.

“They’re all wrong. The painted rocks are there to summon the spirit of Pyotr, the great rabbit who rules over the spring time,” said Torbin.

No one would agree, but they never came to blows over it. Just some friendly bickering, a favorite pastime of the old folk.

This year’s Spring festival came with a rather large celebration. Merchants had come early, due to a light winter and early thaw. And with them came news. News of new kingdoms, new magic, and new wars. The wars on the coast were old news, but apparently, those wars were spreading inland.

Rumors abounded of a new school that was formed to organize and govern magic. Not sure how that would work, what with mages being all powerful, but what did mundanes know of such things? It was not our place to meddle in the affairs of the arcane. You were either born with power or not. There would always be a wall between the haves and the have-nots. But it was better this way. Let them worry about the cosmos and how dangerous the world was instead, and let men worry about crops and the coming winter.

The biggest, juiciest piece of news though, was that a huge festival was to be held this summer crowning the new king. People would come from far and wide to see the new king and his wife. Everyone was saying it would lead to an era of peace and prosperity.

Of course, everyone was wrong.