Dem'rick and the Dryhirian Stone

Prologue

Outside a blizzard was brewing. Dire clouds crept over the white tips of the Vaasean Mountains as they descended upon the bustling capital of the Tamarian Republic. The merchants in the market square moved methodically, knowing the way to pack up their wares quickly and efficiently before the storms arrival. Children ran home, shoppers dispersed swiftly, and soon the once lively city was quiet before the first snowflakes hit the clay roofs. The wind intensified, snow churned in masses from the darkened sky covering the city in a blanket of white.

Dem'rick observed the falling snow from his perch in the north tower. The long awaited storm had finally arrived and now the frozen flakes would consume everything in its path. Fortunately, the capital city was built on an underground hot spring source, the only thing keeping them alive during the frigid winters. This tower was the tallest point in the capital, built before the ancestors realized the warmth from the ground would not reach this point. Dem'rick could feel the chill in the air, seeping from the stone walls and chilling him to the bone.

If Deverow did not arrive soon he would freeze to death. Dem'rick peeled open the handwritten note, reading it once more,

Meet at the north tower of the Parliament wing

the moment supper is finished.

~Deverow

That was almost half an hour ago, and Dem'rick was growing restless. He could have rushed out to the stables before the storm hit to visit Nadire, a beautiful mare now stuck in the stalls until the snow settled. She was going to be extremely upset and he could only imagine the amount of treats it will take to gain her favors again. Despite his prayers, he knew this ruthless storm would last for several days and his visit with Nadire would have to wait.

"Good, you're here." The silky voice drifted behind him, just before the figure slithered into Dem'rick's view. Of course the Crown Prince, heir of the Tamarian Republic would remark on Dem'rick's tardiness when in reality it was he who was late.

Dem'rick lazily crossed his arms in front of him shifting to a new position to get a better look at his friend. The striking crystal eyes of the Prince shone through the dim light of the tower, calculating everything in his wake. They shifted from the tower room and back to Dem'rick, radiating with control and authority. He was incredibly precise, down to the nonexistent wrinkles on his stark shirt, and each button in their place. The Prince's hair reminded Dem'rick like a golden crown, and he mocked his friend countless times about not needing a real crown on top of that glowing head of his.

"At your command," Dem'rick mocked, giving a slight bow before returning to his position against the windowsill.

A crooked grin showed on Deverow's face, amused by the comment, but as quickly as the grin arrived it faded back into a dour line. Dem'rick's smile faded, noticing Algamir, Deverow's sword strapped to his hip, "I'll get straight to the point."

"By all means, you kept me waiting, why not keep the anticipation?" Dem'rick shrugged, but Deverow coolly shifted towards the window, pressing his forearms against the sill and staring into the swirling snow, reflecting his own fair skin, "What's going on?"

"What do you think of the Tamarian Republic?"

A question to answer a question, Dem'rick knew Deverow's tricks, twist the tongue and deceit the mind. But why was he asking about their country? Their home? Something was off. Dem'rick ran his hands through his inky curls, "The Representi are handy, useful in knowing what the people think of political decisions when they come for their meetings," Deverow nodded his head in agreement, but his eyes still focused on the falling snow, "Then there is the High Council," Dem'rick chortled, "when those portly noblemen, no offense, finally come to decisions and actually vote they are quite useful in settling foreign affairs, mainly with the Babeckian Empire. Then there is your family—" Dem'rick stopped, unsure of Deverow's quiet nature, he narrowed his eyes slightly before resuming his grim disposition, and Dem'rick wasn't sure if he caught it. "Your father does a nice job persuading the High Council in his favor—"

"Why should we have to persuade those mongrels?" Deverow snapped, his brows narrowed and his grip tight on the windowsill.

"That's just how it works, your ancestors—"

"I know what my ancestors decided," he turned away from the windowsill, away from Dem'rick and paced around the room, his grip now on Algamir. The gold imbedded in the swords black sheath glittered in the candlelight, "the world has changed; now it's time for decisions to be made and our country to rise."

"What is wrong?" Dem'rick asked, his friend halting in his spot his paint stained hands resting on the stone wall. The silence stretched between the two, the only sound was the wind whistling bringing snow through the window.

"I'm going to abolish the High Council."

A twist turned in Dem'rick's stomach as the two friend's met eye to eye.

"Those men sitting on the High Council will never agree to the ideas I have for this country," Deverow stepped towards the open window, his boots crunching on the snow seeping in from the window, "There is so much potential, opportunities for expansion, and exploring the world beyond Nishume. There is a whole other land to the north, where no one has explored—"

"Because anyone who has gone never returns," Dem'rick interrupted, letting out a sigh trying to take everything in, rubbing his temples slowly.

"I'm only telling you this because I need your help."

Dem'rick had to chuckle at the idea that Deverow needed his help for anything. He crossed the tower's floor and set his hand on the railing of the staircase, "What can a low-life orphan do for a Prince?"

Deverow shook his head, "I will never understand why you still consider yourself an orphan," he whispered more to himself than to Dem'rick, "Forget class rank, you and I have abilities that make us superior, combined and none can stand in our way, we can change this world to our vision."

Dem'rick took a deep breath; a sudden chill crept into his bones, "We have a chance to make this world perfect." Deverow's words echoed through his head, "Slavery abolished, the world under one ruler, and no more senseless dying."

A chuckle rose from Dem'rick's throat as he closed his dies, seeing the memory of his parents death and the children being taken from their homes to be put into slavery hearing their screams in the night, "You sure are a snake," Dem'rick quipped, a sly grin spread across Deverow's face as he leaned against the wall. Could what Deverow be asking is that they could end all of that and the world finally be at peace after years of bloodshed?

A chance to make this world perfect. Dem'rick could not recall his parents' faces, their lives stolen from him at a young age, but the smell of their blood and the murderers face still innate in his mind. So many stories were like his in this world, and now there is a chance to stop it. Under the rule of one King, Dem'rick thought, which in a few short years could be Deverow, "I'm surprised you had to ask."

Deverow approached Dem'rick, his left forearm facing upward outreached for him to take it. A pact made between two individuals that were upheld until death. Dem'rick gladly grabbed Deverow's forearm with his own, the two stared directly in each other's eyes.

"A pact is made," Their voices in unison.