The world was glorious among this time, bright and clear, high-definition without the science at our fingertips. It was clean and fresh, full of wonder and glory. Its creatures living in peace with one another, even the Ogres and Trolls did not disturb its neighbors smaller than them. The Elves, were not as proper as legend tells, for the Elves believed in elegance through diplomacy rather than beauty. They were still beautiful. Beauty was simply a title one would say in relation to the Elves, especially to the royal family, who were the Guardians of Reydothe and the soul backbone of leadership among the world which was not won by power or dominance, nor by drawing sticks, but by lifespan for the Elves far succeeded any other creature among them. Reydothe needed leaders who were healthy and wise to lead, and the Elves spent no expense at doing what was best for Reydothe. They sought peace and equality of all creatures, big or small, ugly or beautiful, and devised their own Democracy of Laws, called Reydothe's Scroll.
Reydothe's Scroll, consisted of 20 main laws with consecutive details towards each one. The basics included: No killing even among defense, no violence or stealing even among desperation, equality does not judge based on differences but only similarities of livelihood; that all living creatures are subjugated under or upon Reydothe's soil, and no living creature is above another. Elves saw everyone as their brother even without blood ties or racial differences. We are born, therefore we are all equal.
The kingdom, however, was losing its stronghold on Reydothe's creatures and accused of abusing its power or being hypocritical to its laws, for no creature is above another, thus Elves should not be in full control. The creatures of Reydothe were correct, however, through change came differences of opinion and a slow process in improvement to consider. Patience was far from on their side and against them at every turn. Things went downhill after the two Princes were born, their leadership in question and almost far from their reach.
The fraternal twins, Nexyl and Venril, Princes of Reydothe and of Elven descent, were born when turmoil was merely a rumor and rapidly growing. They grew up learning everything there was to know about democracy and leadership. Nexyl being the older of the two was forced to know far more about the history and the government the Elves adopted while Venril focused more on social affairs and civil liberties. The division of the two princes, both of equal status to the throne, shaped their own personalities and opinions. Nexyl, the stoic, critic always supporting logic and wisdom over personal emotions strongly believed that the Kingdom was top priority and Venril, the outgoing, optimist who always saw the good in others despite outward appearance and reputation strongly believed in the people's welfare and their safety was top priority.
Venril was always helping others, providing food and shelter to those in need and always making time to play with the children. He even traveled some to neighboring villages to help in anyway possible. He even risked his life numerous times to help build shelters or protect the people he came into contact with. His brother, Nexyl, saw this illogical and foolish. He believed a leader cannot lead or offer his hand in friendship if he is always knocking on death's door trying to help them.
Nexyl believed a Prince should focus on his duties at home rather than the affairs of foreign lands. Venril was not about to do sit around and waste time with politics at home. The restless Venril was not at all eager at obtaining the throne and was asked to leave most of the duties and responsibilities on his brother. He did not want to cause his brother any distress, nor was he being selfish in agreeing to such a request. He felt that one cannot build his home without the foreign land that surrounds it, otherwise it does not differentiate itself from being a home to return to. This led him to take half of the responsibility of his brother's by lending his hand to others in anyway possible.
The week was young and Venril's was certainly the most challenging of any he has ever faced within the 400 years he walked Reydothe. His body was average in height and lanky in statue. It was, however, masculine and bold, broad and strong. He trained in many weapons, simply for protection purposes of his people and for the art of the craft. His favorite was the bow, the target always a board on a haystack, never a living creature for elves did not seek food from living creatures but from the growth of the land. He never understood the Dwarves for their obsession with meat and ale. He tried it once with his Dwarf allies in the West and the next morning, he was not so eager to get up nor willing to try a second round.
Venril never sought death of anyone around him but did not mind if Death sought him if it meant standing in its way to that of another's livelihood. Death was always one step next to him for he was always risking his own life for the sake of others. Which set him apart from any and all other beings around him. His brother yelled at him once for his foolish actions, saving a young boy from drowning when the tide was far too strong to fight.
Nexyl adored his younger brother, but was not always proud of his ways. Nexyl spoke to Venril almost as if he was the adult speaking to a child, never understanding reality and the limitations one can endure when facing such obstacles. Nexyl almost regretted speaking harshly to his brother for he feared Venril would do something even more unspeakable. How right he was, for Venril was about to face the most tragic of all tales not yet spoken, especially not in friendly company for the words spoken were far from polite, rather forbidden it seemed for the very word spoken was either a rumor or a threat to the ears of fear. Dragon.
During this time, Nexyl feared to speak a word of the darkness he felt within the land. It's presence all so familiar with the rise of the Dragons underfoot. The first Dragon born only 11,000 years before his own birth and was slowly growing with each decade. Nexyl feared that the Dragons were going to cause an uprising against the Elves and desperate action was needed. The legends of the Dragons and their own birth were long forgotten by then and only tales of their actions among the others were placed into questions with rumors of destruction and chaos from beasts as hideous and ill-tempered as the Ogres. Nexyl was on his own quest to seek out the truth of the Dragons before another one showed up. Little did he know, that time was quickly upon them.
Nexyl walked the slim path of the garden from the Palace his family shared, along with the two servants he kept close at hand for business pleasures. Nexyl saw his brother not far from the path, playing happily with the Werecat children. He despised many different races, mainly for their differences from the Elves and more importantly the darkness that rumored through the wind. He knew that one or two of the races among Reydothe would rise against the Elves, and he was training both in mind and in craft for what may happen next. He trusted no one outside his only family and possibly some of his family. It was hard for him to admit that he suspected a few of his own family members would deceive him, he hoped one of them was not his brother. He cared deeply for his brother, so much so in fact that he expected his brother to always find confidence in confiding in him of any secrets on mind and any faith in hand. He hoped to find the same respect from his brother to do the same.
Nexyl needed desperately to speak with his brother about this, merely for support, but he was not about to mention it. He hoped his brother would be mature enough to understand the difficult stress he was under in deciding what it was he should do. He needed his brother, as a brother and as a friend, not as a prince or diplomat.
"Venril, a word please." Nexyl shouted to him across the garden highly infested with flowers not grown on Earth but vaguely similar to bell flowers and roses. Nexyl enjoyed the flowers and the grass, he loved the smells and more importantly the sights. He was a visual learner and he loved many sights to gaze upon, however, his vision in his left eye was growing weak and he wanted to do anything he could in order to fix it. He was sometimes caught closing his eyes or winking in order to see, but he was a man of high class and did not wish to hint towards his own faults. He never considered revealing a negative side to him as an image to perceive but sometimes he couldn't avoid it.
Venril was busy playing with the Werecat children, a humanoid beast of cat-like qualities. He told the kitties to count to 1000 as fast as a butterfly flutters and that he would return shortly after. He then rushed to his brother, standing upright and stiff, as he expected his brother of such finery and grace would stand. He noticed his brother was rather tired that day, his skin under his eyes covered in glitter and make-up to hide the dark shadows of many restless nights. He felt bad his brother was doing all the work while he was basically out playing freely. He wanted to take on some responsibility but he was once told by Nexyl, "Not to Worry." He remembered those words as well as he remembered his brother's face that day, it now aged but still the same.
Nexyl's Elven light was dim, almost weak and cloudy from the stress. An Elf's light is an outward glow that marks the strength and wisdom they obtain. All Elves have one and when asleep it dims, thus the brighter an Elf is in spirit, the brighter the glow. Nexyl's was dimming, not by death though, but by lack of sleep. If his glow dimmed too low, Nexyl would certainly fall asleep for keeping that glow bright takes a lot of energy out of an Elf, thus leaving them weak after each spark or change.
Nexyl was tall and graceful, long golden hair that was almost white, a platinum blond, that flowed as luxurious as the sapphire rivers curving through the forest, the very green his silk cloak was mimicking. His skin was fine and smooth, ravished in wisdom but still young, almost equivalent to a human's mid-teens. His body was tall and lanky, not as masculine as Venril's for he was a man chained to a desk rather than with the craft. He has dabbled in many of the craft, but not so highly as his brother. He was strong though, especially in a game of wits. He was a genius in a word game and among a game they adopted from the human world they once heard of centuries ago, called Chess. It was reformed to fit the Elven world and to better the game within its challenge.
Venril, with his dark hair, cut short and jagged unevenly with his bangs covering most of his forehead, shone with colors of the sea and his cloak as brown as the tree bark that howled in the wind. Venril''s skin was darker than that of his brothers, taking after his father it seems and with countless hours outside working. His skin was smooth and round, younger looking than Nexyl even only seconds apart from one another. He felt as if there was a huge age gap between the two of them, Venril appearing younger and slightly shorter than Nexyl who was tall, almost a giant in the Elven world. He was no where near as beautiful as his brother and certainly not as graceful. He certainly was, however, more easy-going.
"Yes, dear brother?" He asked respectfully, yet curiousness never far from his mind.
Nexyl seemed almost uptight about his news, so much he waved his hand to his servants to leave them and motioned to his brother to follow. "Come brother, walk with me." He gestured gracefully before they traveled along the path together within the garden.
When far enough away from ear shot, Nexyl begun his news. "Reydothe is under great need of protection." He said, his light looking cloudier than before.
"Protection? From what?" Venril asked, confused and uneasy now, his stomach wrenching with distress and his own light dimming.
"From the uprisings, of course. Reydothe grows impatient with Elven leadership, calling us hypocrites among our own law." He said looking even more stressed than usual. "I fear it is almost a matter of time before we are facing a sight no other has ever seen on Reydothe, a war."
"War? I heard of no war among the Dwarves. There is a rumor though. A rumor floating about the neighboring villages, talking of a division of power extending further than Elven command. Is that your work, dear brother?"
"Indeed it is. Ogres are wanting their own King, Dwarfs are growing testy of us Elves, and the Dragons." Nexyl spoke almost unable to breathe.
"Nexyl, you alright? What of the Dragons?" Venril responded calmly yet unable to find the strength to touch his brother for support.
"They are uprising against everyone, and they are born without breeding. It doesn't make any sense. How are their more than there was a decade ago. There is nearly five new Dragons soaring through our skies. Not to mention, there has been villages in the South that are burned nearly to a crisp. I don't know how to control that in which I don't understand." He said, his hand finding his spot on his forehead as he grieved in distraught.
Venril placed his hand on his brother's shoulder and forced him to look at him. "If you need answers, dear brother, simply ask. I have found the hidden history lain deep beneath our soil. It tells the tale of the Dragons, and the legacy of their reign." He said showing an optimistic sign of satisfaction to have the answers to his brothers questions, simply to ease the turmoil in his mind.
"Where did you come to find such information? However did you find the truth?" He questioned almost dumbfounded by his brother's find and somewhat envious he couldn't find it himself. His brother was always out and about, however, did he find secrets underneath the Kingdom?
"The passage beyond the statue we used to play under, there is a switch that leads deep underground in an old cavern that has since long been abandoned by our ancestors. The planks above the door frames are written in Ancient Elvish, possibly 1000-years-ago. Our Great Grandfather is the keeper of the tale."
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