Talyron Stories Vol. 1

Hello everyone,

Just been having a blast writing content for Aylia's Story. I was putting together the conversations between Aylia and Saladin and felt like writing a bit about the world reacting. And so, the first Talyron Stories was born. Just a bit more lore before the storm :-)

Tales from Talyron - Volume 1

The disciple pulled the message from the pigeon’s leg just as he had the many times earlier that day. The Church of the Divines received messages regularly from all over Talyron. The only thing to distinguish this message was the origin. He scanned the seal, eyes widening slightly to see the message was addressed directly to High Priest Pendar, but the shock didn’t last as another pigeon arrived. He dropped the message into the appropriate basket and continued his duty.

The message sat for over a day as low-ranking disciples of the church scurried to and from. When the basket was finally collected by a boy of no more than 12 cycles, the message was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. The boy shuffled the rolled parchments into loose piles based on their destination. The message from Zalran stood alone, the only one addressed to the High Priest. As if noticing it for the first time, the boy grabbed the message, eyes scanning the seal. The High Priest? Only the most urgent of messages would risk the Council’s wrath by circumventing them to go to the High Priest directly. Sweat beading down his forehead, the boy regretted his laziness in not retrieving the message baskets the day prior. He briefly considered destroying the message to hide his failing, but with a heavy sigh, he pushed the rolled parchment into his robe and began to run.

The High Priest Pendar looked up from his desk as the door opened. A small, sweaty boy entered and bowed deeply. Pendar’s brow raised at the interruption and went even higher when the boy produced a rolled parchment and placed it on the desk. With another deep bow, the boy scurried off while Pendar’s attention remained locked on the parchment. The old man’s brow wrinkled in frustration. He would have to speak with to the Master of Disciples about this, but the thought was fleeting. He took the parchment and was stunned to see its origin. “Zalran?” he thought. Perhaps the King of Kavidan, or Eminence Arturo might message him directly, but Zalran? Breaking the seal, he unrolled the message.

“High Priest,

Your humblest of servants, Saladin of the 3rd rank, priest of Zalran, beseeches you to send an emissary to Zalran immediately. Through Divine guidance, an Eliandre has awakened. She claims to have a message from the Goddess Tanaia. This humble priest must confess to have also received guidance from the Goddess nights ago. Please, send assistance as soon as able.

Your ever devoted servant, Saladin”

Pendar’s hands trembled as he gaped at the message, reading it over and over. His mind struggled to put his understanding of the words into place. An Eliandre? The ancient ones had returned? As those pieces finally clicked, so too did their true meaning. Pendar sprang to his feet with agility he’d thought long forgotten. His roar had every disciple, and even a few priests, in the vicinity rushing towards his office. Within moments, those same disciples were blurring away in all directions carrying new messages. The Council of Prophets would need to be convened, there was much work to be done. If what he’d just read were true, the world was on the precipice of change…

*      *      *

A week later, a dust-covered courier arrived at the Kavidan royal court bearing a message for King Octavian. The courier knew not what the message contained, only that the red markings along the seal indicated urgency. He waited, head bowed low in deference, as King Octavian unrolled the parchment and scanned the contents. He could not see as the king sat upright, re-reading the message.

“Send for Sudoh!” the king bellowed, causing the messenger’s head to rise in shock. Where a calm, proud king had once sat stood a red-faced giant. Those eyes fell on him. “What do you know of this!?”

“I… I am merely a humble messenger, milord!”

“Is it true?” the king demanded.

The messenger cried, frantically pleading that he knew nothing. His pleas were silenced when the large king yanked the messenger to his feet and hurled him across the court. The king rounded on his attendants, prepared to vent his frustration further when an aged man entered the room.

“Milord?” the man said smoothly as he crossed the room.

“Read this,” the king demanded.

The man took the parchment and read, his eyes flickering back to the beginning once finished. Silent for a moment, the man’s brow creased in thought.

“Interesting,” he finally said.

“Interesting? That’s all you have to say!?” the king bellowed, anger rising once more.

“Well, sire. If true, this is surely remarkable. Yet, I’ve learned never to trust something of this import until verified. Allow me the time to send my own men and verify these claims.”

The king calmed, sliding back into the large throne behind him. His finger steepled before him, he glared at the aged man. “Sudoh, do not fail me in this. Who knows what kind of power an Eliandre may wield. If Trellion were to reach her first…”

“I understand, sire. I shall send my best men immediately.”

The man named Sudoh gave a curt bow and turned to leave. As he crossed the room, a smile spread across his face. An Eliandre, alive? It truly was a momentous time to be alive!

*      *      *

Eminence Arturo Deftfoot flawlessly maneuvered the galleon towards the harbor. The wood creaked as the massive ship turned and Arturo smiled. This three-masted hulk would be the pride of the Trellion navy. Cannons lined both sides of the ship, more than any other ship could hold. His new plans regarding the weight distribution for these heavy cannons had worked. His system to store ammunition in batches near each cannon would also speed up reload times considerably. Trellion’s might would only grow as more of these magnificent ships were produced.

His focus returning to the task at hand, Arturo ordered his sailors to prepare to dock. A deft turn of the wheel aligned the ship with the largest dock. It was then that he noticed the small group waiting. His attendants would be there of course, but the presence of his generals gave pause. What had he missed during this hunt?

Hours later found the Trellion court abuzz with activity. Attendants rushed maps onto a large table that had been assembled in haste. Arturo looked on as his advisors and generals detailed the area surrounding Zalran.

“If Kavidan did move, they’d have to come across the river here,” General Tarkon stated, stabbing a finger down on the map near Hannaven. “The bridge near Zalran remains broken.”

“We’d estimate that it would take at least a week to mobilize and 2 or 3 more to reach the crossing. They’d be at their weakest during the crossing itself,” another general added. “If we could get regiments of infantry here and here, it would make crossing nigh impossible.”

Arturo rubbed his chin, weighing all sides. The costs of mobilizing the infantry, of supplies, of war itself—all on the chance an Eliandre had actually appeared? Was the risk worth it? Could he risk it being true and not acting? It was said the Eliandre challenged the Divines themselves. A ludicrous proposition, to be sure, but even the most absurd tales often carried a grain of truth. No, his plans to expand the navy would have to wait.

“Assemble the knights. Tarkon, you will lead this operation personally. Do not engage unless provoked, but DO NOT let those dogs cross the Divine.”

The general’s hand flew to his head in a salute. He turned from the table to relay orders to his attendants. Arturo dropped into his chair, praying to the Divines that he was not making a mistake.