Chapter 1:  The Warning

The waves rose and fell rhythmically producing a soothing, almost hypnotizing sound as the sun rose so slowly.  As the tip of its head cut through the horizon a small path of light split this salty, black beast that we call “sea.”


In time, the sun rose enough to send its beams through the windows of the houses.  There was no need for clocks or any timekeepers in this city.  The people let the sun keep their time:  when it rose, they rose, and when it set, they slept.  They kept a calendar, but the concept of a daily schedule was a foreign one.

The city was a huge citadel mounted atop a steep, rocky cliff overlooking the sea.    It consisted of a more or less elliptical wall that surrounded hundreds of houses and buildings of trade which in turn, surrounded the towering castle.  Every day the sun's fingers would touch it and the stone would shine a brilliant white.

The castle was a symbol of the prosperity and grandeur of the kingdom.  It was a five tower behemoth with a huge main building.  There were five gates, one in each wall connecting the five towers together to form a pentagon shape.  The hallways connected to the gates led straight into the main building.  In all the spaces between the hallways there were very pleasant tropical gardens for the benefit of the Royal Family and their servants.  (See Appendix A, Figure 1)

This grand citadel, Gradice, is where the best knight who ever lived had resided.  On this day he was not a knight yet: that would come later.  He was a simple blacksmith who had good relations with the king.  He forged beautiful weapons.  Making decorative weapons for the castle was his current project.  (“Decorative” only in the sense that they decorated a scene, not that they were only for show or unusable.  This smith took pride in making each new creation better than the last.)

One, though, he kept for himself.  It wasn't the most valuable sword.  No, it wasn't even the prettiest.  This edge was the most balanced sword conceived; it was impossible to break.  Its hilt carried the crest of the Royal Family: the Noble Phoenix.  This still to-be-named saber was the most perfect blade that eyes had ever seen.


The sun continued to ascend and eventually sneaked through the window of a small forge, allowing our blacksmith Aceton to be seen.  He was already hard at work, forging the last of King Riten's bedecking weaponry, a steaming, glaring (red at that moment) axe.  Perhaps the best axe he had made to this day.

By the time the axe was cooled and burnished, the day was in full swing.  Happy children laughed in the alleys.  Barterers argued value with merchants.  The brilliant chefs presented their work to the grateful eaters.  Sea birds flew about the skies in Aceton's view as he walked along the lively streets, taking the scenic route to the Castle Gradice.

On many days the sky was blue, but on this day, the sky was a sort of blue Aceton had seen but once before.  It was  so saturated and outstanding that it was notably pleasant, but it became disturbing with a long gaze.

Aceton was a tall man, not the wispy kind, but the kind that--if he were not tall--would look too short.  He wore simple clothes, the clothes of a workman.  Appearances were not his main concern, unless it was related to his craft.  Nothing seemed to bother or excite him; he always had a stoic face.  One that was recently pervaded by stubble due to his involvement of work.

Eventually, Aceton made it to one of the castle gates.  “Syphil!  How have you been?” he asked the rightmost of two guards.

“Excellent.  How are you and the boy today?” Syphil responded.

“Boy?” Aceton inquired in reply while looking down and around him for this “boy.”  He found him six feet behind, running to catch up.

Gaddit was an average-sized boy.  His head rested under soft brown locks.  His eyes, very pure, and also brown gave a little sparkle in reaction to the sun's light.  About as mature as a prepubescent could be, he tried to imitate his father's usual stance with legs apart and hands behind the back.

“Gaddit, what are you doing here?” Aceton asked his boy.

“I... [huff], I thought I could help you carry your swords.  I wanna meet the king too!”  his son answered.

“Okay, I'll let you come this time.  Here, you can carry this.”  Aceton took the freshly forged axe from his over-sized quiver full of other weapons and handed it to him.  His son's eyes were big and awe-filled as he took it.  Once Aceton let go, the axe dropped down sharply and almost hit the ground.  Gaddit, finally realizing its true weight, then raised it up, slowly.  It was obvious that the axe was cumbersome, but Gaddit was so determined to handle it well that he kept it from touching the ground the entire time he had it.

Aceton turned to Syphil and said, “I guess we're all okay.”  He patted his son's back.  Gaddit was thrown off balance and almost dropped the axe.  “We'd better get these weapons to the king.  Why don't you stop by for dinner with us tonight?”

“It would be a delight,” Syphil graciously answered.

“I'll see you then.  Come along, Gaddit.”

Syphil called for the gate to be opened and Aceton and Gaddit walked in.  While walking, they both looked through the windows in the sides of the corridor.  Gaddit was moved by the beauty of the courtyards.  Actually it would be more correct to say he was “stopped.”  For quite some time he stared at them, until Aceton finally rushed him along.  They resumed walking and reached the second gate and a pair of the royal guards.

“What is your business?” the guard to the left of the doorway asked.

“We seek to present the final set of the king's weaponry,” Aceton said.

“Ah, the blacksmith!  Carry on,” he said.

The grand double-doors opened and the father-son pair moved in slowly and respectfully.  The room was filled with splendor.  Even though Aceton had entered this room many a time in the past he was still as amazed as Gaddit to peer into it.  

A bright royal blue was the first color to meet the eyes when the doors were opened.  The floor was checkered with this blue tone and a bright, marble white.  The walls were flavored with a milder blue and accented with white, marble Corinthian pillars leading into a domed roof.  All was embellished with small and tasteful amounts of gold in various shapes.

The room was spacious and each new sound produced within echoed regally.  Such were the sounds of the steps of father and son approaching the grand throne.

“Aceton, welcome!  You're  a little early,” the king said.

“Good to see you, my liege,” Aceton responded bowing.

“And who is this fellow with you?” King Riten asked.

“This is my son, Gaddit.  (Say hello.)”

“Hi, sir,” Gaddit cheerfully said. “I like your cape, sir.”

Riten replied. “Thank you, good son.  I'm sure you will make quite a smith yourself someday.”

“I do hope so, sir,” the boy answered.

“Good, good.  Is that the last set, Aceton?”

“Yes, majesty.” Aceton presented the quiver to his king.

After examining the set he stated, “Aceton, I must declare that these armaments are of the most excelling quality.  In fact, I'll make sure that I install them myself.  Here is your pay.” The good monarch produced a sack of coins and handed it to Aceton.

Aceton took the sack, weighed it in his hands, and exclaimed, “Excuse me, good king, but this must be twice the amount we agreed upon!”

“Extraordinary quality demands extraordinary reward,” Riten told him. “Would you like to stay for a meal?”

“Thank you very much, my liege, but we have previous arrangements. Your hospitality is appreciated very much.”

“Very well. It was a pleasure Aceton.  Good day.”

“Thank you.”

The father and boy exited the castle. As they stepped out from among the cold stones, the amiable warmth of late afternoon enveloped them in its loving blanket.  It was one of the most pleasant afternoons of the season.

The white adobe buildings were turning orange as Aceton's and Gaddit's lengthening shadows passed over them.  They maintained an easy saunter, greeting most that passed by.  (Though the city was not a small one, it was a friendly one, and nearly everyone knew each other.)  The orange was starting to submit to the purple of twilight when they finally reached their home.


When they stepped inside, both were greeted with an affectionate embrace from their matron, Merin, and with the exceptional smell of a freshly home-cooked meal.  Merin's radiance in beauty and gregariousness in conversation would charm any person.  Long, silk-like hair rolled off of her shoulders and down to her chest.  She too was dressed simply, but her modesty was but another aspect of her beauty.

  "How did the king like your work?" she asked.

"This much," her husband responded and dropped the sack of money on their wooden kitchen table.

"That's great!  The king's such a nice man."

"Yes, I'm proud to be his subject."

"Well boys, you'd better get washed up for dinner.  It'll be ready in a few minutes."

"Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I asked Syphil to join us.  Do you have enough food?"

Merin smiled.  "Of course.  There's always room for guests in this house."

"You're the best.  Come on Gaddit." They left for the washroom.

"Mom, how much salt does this need?" a young girl called out, standing over a bubbling, steamy cauldron of stew hanging in the fireplace.  She was a tall young lady, not quite skinny.  In many ways she was like her mother, but much of her father filled her striking facial features.

"Well, Lina, let's taste and see," her mother answered.  They tasted it and agreed that it needed a little more.


In a few minutes, Aceton and Gaddit were clean, the table was set, and the stew and bread were cooked.  With almost perfect timing, Syphil knocked on the door.  Merin opened it and greeted him.  "Syphil, how are you?  Good to see you again."

"I'm very well, thank you.  The house smells wonderful."  He took a whiff.

"Oh, thank you.  Dinner's ready, why don't you take a seat?"

"I think I will."  Syphil walked into the dining room and sat at the table, where the family was already seated.

"A good evening to you, my friend," Aceton called to Syphil just as he entered.

"Likewise, Ace," he replied.

Once Merin entered and was seated, they all began eating.  It was a good meal, made even better by the presence of family and friends.  During the hum of bowls being filled and plates of side dishes being passed, a cloud of steam arose in front of Syphil's face from the hot loaf he was breaking when he asked, "Have you heard that Riten wants to form an army?"

Aceton dropped the plate he was about to set down.  "A what?"

"An army, you know, soldiers, generals... A fighting force."

"An army...Why, is there some sort of threat?"

"The king said that he's been having terrible feelings lately.  Feelings, like, something is going to happen.  Something bad.  As if--" Just then, the door flew open and and a soggy messenger of the royal guard rushed in, dripping on the floor.

Not allowing himself enough time to catch his breath, he managed to get out, "Aceton, Syphil...Your help is needed.  Report to the...castle gate...immediately!"