Mythical Book #1

Chapter 1

The hair on Niall [Nye-all], King of the Fairies, arms eagerly perk as the sun's radiance crowns the jagged snow-capped peaks that edge fairy country Tir Na Siog [Teer-Nah-See-Ohg]. Slowly cracking his eyes open, rays of light hit the clouds, causing the sky to explode with color and imagination. Leaning on his balcony of solace, he takes in the scents of pine and cedar that usually brings him some tranquility, 'This is much better than dealing with Dunbhaile's daily drama.'

Almost on cue, echoing in the distance from his capital city of Dunbhaile [Doon-val-la], are barking dogs followed by people arguing with obscenities, 'And there it is,' Niall's head shakes, 'Isn't it a bit early for this, people? Guess I'll be hearing whatever that argument is about, later today.' Helping defend the city's existence though, are hints of wood smoke from cooking fires, that evolve into smells of sausages, breakfast meats, and breads. Niall eagerly takes in a deep breath, 'Ah, but at least the food is amazing!'

A fire light flickers out at a border outpost on a mountain peak, catching the King's attention, 'Time to hear the news of the day. Better go start my kingly duties instead of standing here complaining to myself.' Another breeze of crisp morning air blows in, Niall snatches it one more time with a deep inhale. He tugs on his tunic over his rounded belly, to straighten it. Niall then folds his red and gold wings around his shoulders like a cape. In one motion he pivots, and heads toward his throne.

Hesitation always occurs when Niall approaches the High Throne. Not because of its symbolic status, but because this style was built for his father. Almost as a ritual, he walks around the throne, making sure it approves of his presence.

Embedded and etched into the back is the royal mark; three circles which start at a point that is thick then it thins out as it arcs back around to form the circle. They are laid out to form an isosceles triangle, with three smaller exact copies in the same triangle pattern in the center.

Niall's hand glides across the cold polished quartz crystal structure, trimmed in gold. Staring at the symbol, several memories of his father surface that he's tried to forget for a long time.

'You. Little. Pathetic. Fool! You think you can live up to being a king?' The Old King's scratchy, piercing, voice echoes.

'You're a pixie now, but you listen like a damn sprite! Look!' The Old King grips the back of pixie-Niall's neck forcing him to look at a map. 'Lord, I cannot believe you're my only son and heir! PAY ATTENTION!'

'Father, look at the toy grandma gave me!' Young sprite-Niall, with innocent enthusiasm, holds up a handmade wooden centaur statuette.

'I care not for this. Toys are not for Kings. Wait until you fight a real Centaur!' the Old King grouches, snatching the toy. He then chucks it across the throne room, as it shatters on the back of the throne, 'GET BACK TO YOUR STUDIES!'

Niall finalizes the unnecessary, yet habitual, inspection by grabbing onto the worn-down golden knuckles on the throne's arms to sit. As he clears those negative memories, one finger starts to tap. Next, the rest of the fingers impatiently move in a rhythm. With a huff and then a sigh of impatience, Niall stands and begins to pace. A grouchy bark emanates from his stomach, 'Maybe I should reschedule the news of the day to be during breakfast. What is taking them so long?'

A BOOM suddenly echoes, caused by one of the throne room doors being swung open. Quickly snapping from his boredom King Niall asks, "What's the matter, Sean?" as he notices Sean, one of his consolettes, a bit more anxious than usual hastily waddling in.

"King Niall...Sire...the Dwarves and Elves... have declared war on each other and are about to battle!" the consulate breathes out. The multitude of copper-colored metal tassels hanging from his metallic gray robe, jiggle wildly as he approaches the throne. Sean halts in front of Niall. Drops of sweat rain down his cherub face, creating a puddle on the sandy tan-and-green marble floor. Sean, is a pudgy, fiery red curly-haired Fairy, who is also afraid of flying. He recently had his wings clipped, and the wounds are still bandaged.

"Where is the battlefield?" King Niall asks, while walking around Sean. His steps are large and blatant, avoiding the sweat puddle. His eyes are averted as to not watch the fountain flow from Sean's face.

"North of Koralis, in a small valley by the Mining Highlands." Sean generally points in the direction towards Koralis [Core-alice].

"Why? What is their excuse this time?" The King exasperates out rolling his silvery ice-blue eyes. Suddenly Niall's nostrils curl from a whiff of Sean. He hides his face-cringe as he coughs slightly. Sean hands Niall the scroll. Niall unties it, snaps the royal wax seal, and unrolls the scroll. He takes a little enjoyment at the amount of light the crystal roof tiles let in; it makes it easier to read the print.

As he starts to read, Niall wanders purposely, but not obviously, over to the Violet-Velvet Vines. They wrap up the support pillars, to the ceiling and creep into the sharp archways. Niall never gets tired of their fragrance, as they give him a much appreciated break from Sean's unpleasant aroma.

"The Elves have stated that some of the Dwarf mines have crossed into their border, and are tired of them impeding on their lands. Especially using, "Mining Purposes," as their reason for doing so. They claim that their complaints have been ignored for too long, and they are taking action," Sean summarizes the scroll. All what Sean said is confirmed as Niall finishes reading. Rolling the scroll back up, he hands it back to Sean.

"I don't recall any such specific complaints," Niall sighs, rubbing the long bridge of his nose, "Sean, I have a headache now. Fairies aren't supposed to have headaches, but the Dwarf and Elven conflicts annoy me so much that it leads to my discomfort. For ages, they have always seemed to find excuses to fight one another! And more often than not, there is no serious reason for their bickering, but they will fight viciously just to prove the other wrong! But as a King I have to make them be peaceful with each other, and how am I supposed to do that when their grievances between each other stem all the way back to the Wars of Power?" Niall rants then sees the blank expression on Sean's wet face. "Sorry, Sean, just venting. Alright then, round up some soldiers. Let's go stop a war,"

"Sire." The consulate bows his head slightly with a large amount of sweat spattering to the floor. Sean then pivots and runs out of the room to start gathering troops. The Fairy King, looks down at the sweat puddle, rolls his eyes, and shouts out to his servants to come clean up the unsightly mess.