The Wars of the Seven Kingdoms

[darkguy00000]

Pre-Information

 

Dueling will take place in an unorthodox way, not in the conventional card-game. The cards will invoke actual forces to battle: much in the way the game is described "in the past" of the original Yugioh.

This fan fiction takes dueling a lot less as a plot device, it will still be prominent (Dueling IS war, and it's a story about war, so yeah).

At the beginning, there will be a lot of character development, and not much dueling.

This 'fic contains violence, both implied and described. This includes: death, wounding, pain, wars. Maybe, if I feel that it'll push the story onwards, love. Don't worry, no M-rated stuff from me.

 

Prologue

 

The shadowy figure stalked silently through the corridors of the magnificent building. It crept stealthily, unnoticed, between the columns of intricate stonework. He recoiled from the burning light, spilling out from a bracketed torch hung upon the end of the shrouded corridor. The figure padded forwards, fearful of alarming the guards he could hear conversing just a turn ahead. A keen observer would have seen his floorbound shadow tense, preparing to stop at nothing, no amount of blood spilled, to fulfill its own purpose, or the purpose of his superior. He embraced the safety and familiarity of the cold, hard wall, happy, against all sound judgement, to feel the power the darkness granted him. He became fully silent, wary of the armed soldiers chatting amiably not even a yard away from him.

 

“If only they knew...”

 

Cursing the blasted torch, the skulking figure blinked to eradicate the accursed glare from his vision, the settled, nearly tangible darkness only serving to highlight the shining abnormality. The small, flickering flame was driving away the cool, calm sanctuary of the draping twilight. He had no choice. He must fulfill his quest... she had been extremely clear about that.

 

He turned, swallowing the tiny flicker of fear that had welled up inside him. He peeked around the corner, preparing to fight to the death to eliminate the waiting guards preventing him from proceeding. But, as he glanced around, he noticed that they had disappeared of their own accord.

 

Ignoring the sick feeling of dread that had lodged in his stomach like a lead weight, the shadow stalker continued to make his way through the labyrinth-like corridors of the inner keep. He paused, expecting at every twisting turn that the Imperial Guards would come flooding from deeper into the castle, but all was quiet.

 

“Very quiet,” a voice whispered to itself. “Too quiet.”

 

But, despite all of the mysterious man's caution, nothing appeared from before his twisting path. He ruefully commended the architect of the castle: any would-be assassin or thief would go insane from the rampant paranoia the winding corridors created within their own mind. He, however, was driven by a great, and fierce, purpose. Quietly, he crept along another turn, and finally, to his relief, he saw a great light spilling around the opposite end of the corridor, it's warmth melting the knot of fear that had settled into his stomach.

 

He sidled along the wall, fearful of alerting the guards that would doubtless be waiting to ambush any who attempted to sneak through the supposedly unknown corridor he currently occupied. He leaned around the end of the frightening maze of winding passages, and was concerned, and alarmed, to find the balcony devoid of anyone. He looked around the other hanging balconies that were scattered around the throne room, all of them as bare as the one he stood upon. Alarm bells screamed within his sharply-honed mind. He scanned the roof, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end...

 

He swiveled around and searched frantically for Emperor Lee South, reigning monarch of the country, sitting peacefully on his golden throne. His panicked mind tried to link together the pieces... but by the time he had realized what had occurred, it was too late.

 

He looked across the spacious room again, and saw a patch of shadow deeper than the surrounding darkness. He raised his bow, but already his control was fading, the sharp steel penetrating, ripping through his skin, lodging into his heart. He gasped, and fell to his knees, falling on his side towards the Emperor. As his eyes closed slowly, he saw, in what seemed like slow motion, the bolt flying at a sickeningly slow pace towards the Emperor. He cast one final glance at the shadowy assassin, before the dark form disappeared, as silently as it had arrived. He let out his last breath, cursing his own ignorant stupidity.

 

He had failed. He knew the turmoil that would engulf the land now...

[darkguy00000]

Chapter I: The Emperor is Dead!: A Land in Chaos.

 

Hazi paced, attempting to vent his pent-up frustration – or, more accurately, fury. He sat down heavily behind his desk, piled high with matters of the country.

“What do you make of this?” he snapped at Malakai. “The Emperor South is dead! Murdered! What will happen? To the throne, the continent, the... the order!? The peace?!”

Malakai, his face covered by a fan of dark blue – so dark it was nearly violet – feathers, did not flinch. “The first question I can answer,” he replied, his voice icily calm. “I assume you are aware of the normal laws concerning succession of the Imperial Throne?”

“Yes,” said Hazi, chest heaving as he attempted to calm himself. “The eldest son of the previous Emperor will succeed his father.”

“And, you know what befalls the throne should the Emperor remain childless?” continued Malakai, calmly and patiently.

“Then, the eldest male of Imperial blood with succeed the throne,” replied Hazi, forcing the anger out of his voice.

“And should there be nobody fitting the description?” asked Malakai, voice still totally emotionless.

“Is this relevant?” asked Hazi, the buried fury surging into his mouth, as bitter as bile.

“It was you who asked me my opinion,” pointed out Malakai.

“And this nonsense about the laws of succession is your opinion?” shot back Hazi, not in a mood to be toyed with by the man's infuriatingly calm, nonreactive attitude.

“It forms part of it. But, that is the case. There are no known relatives of regal blood. The bloodline is extinct. And I take it you know what happens after such an event?”

 

A look of sickening revolt crept over Hazi's face. “No... that... that is not possible, surely you are merely making a fool of me...”

“No,” replied Malakai, lowing his violet fan inches so his eyes were clearly revealed. “I am as infuriated and disgusted as you are, Hazi. Do not think for a second I wish her to gain more ill-gotten power. You know what could befall the Seven Lands now.”

Unable to stomach a response, Hazi instead concentrated on the room he sat in. It was typical of Southern architecture: brightly lit by bracketed torches placed at regular and exact intervals along the walls, made of solid stone and intricately carved in symbols of Southern lore. On the floor was a thick carpet, with complicated and perfectly symmetrical patterns weaving magnificently through the soft fabric. He looked up, and Malakai stared back, his eyes smiling in some intrinsic way, without the help of the rest of his body.

 

“I wager it was her who paid for the assassin...” muttered Hazi quietly, his rage swallowed by a much deeper, much darker force within him.

Malakai's expression changed slightly. “I... agree with you,” he said lowly. “But now, I fear, is not the correct time or place to discuss such things. If she truly instigated the assassination, then surely she will be looking to eliminate sympathizers of His Highness, and I am almost certain we shall be included as one of that number.”

“And I am proud to be so,” replied Hazi. “But I can understand your point. What must be done?”

 

Malakai raised his fan to it's former position, so only half of his eyes were visible above the slightly rocking, deep blue feathers. “I have pondered that single question since the time I knew His Highness had passed away. And, each hour, I have drawn the same conclusion, time and time again.”

“And you say?” asked Hazi expectantly.

A faint smile crossed the lips of the strategist. He leaned forward, and whispered a single word into his friend's ear:

“War”.

 

 

“I insist, my lady!” cried Hagylesha desperately. “I mean... Your Highness. Please! I beg of you to reconsider!”

“Naught can be done for now,” replied her companion icily. “And I fear your concerns may be as much for you to keep your skin as it is concern for mine.”

“Your Highness,” said another woman next to Hagylesha. “I fear there may be truth in Lady Hagylesha's words. There is... turbulence in the south. The spies...”

“Let them rage,” dismissed Her Highness. “They can do nothing, try as they might.”

“But,” protested Hagylesha, jogging slightly to keep up with the unrelenting pace of Her Highness' stride. “The Southern and Southwestern lords are highly aggressive. I would not be shocked should they make an attempt on your life.”

“I have many, many people to... deal... with any assassination plots,” replied Her Highness calmly. “The Southern governors, with their military lineage, can only be expected to act in this manner. They have been raised to handle any problems with violence instead of rational discussion. They are nothing better than the barbarians they claim to defend us from.”

 

Momentarily chastened, Hagylesha and Nohnnaz stared at each other, communicating silently.

“My lady!” cried Hagylesha desperately. “I genuinely fear for your life. Can you not... be relocated? To a more... secure location, perhaps?”

Her Highness turned and stared at Hagylesha, contempt in her eyes. “You would have me flee from the Southern... barbarians? On the eve of my greatest victory?”

Hagylesha, trembling, fell to the floor. “I have only your safety in mind, Your Highness,” she said, her every fiber shaking.

Her Highness turned wordlessly from Hagylesha's prone form and walked away, her smart, echoing footsteps radiating an unspoken message: Do not follow.

Nohnnaz watched, silently, as her lady swept out of the inner castle, before turning around and helping Hagylesha back to her feet.

“Thank you,” murmured Hagylesha.

“We have greater problems...” said Nohnnaz wistfully. “You genuinely believe that the Southern lords will attempt an assassination?”

“I fear worse,” replied Hagylesha, trembling as though the words she spoke sapped strength from her body. “I fear... war.”

 

 

Meanwhile, on the broad Northern Plain, a large, armored man sat astride his war charger. His face, which normally shone with confidence and pride, was currently contorted into a grimace of annoyance. He held a pristine deck of cards in one hand, which he was shuffling absently, automatically: he had repeated the task so often before that his brain could complete it without thought. He turned slightly as another horse trotted up behind him.

“Kheretap,” he said, turning back to the scene before him.

“Lord Tuio,” said Kheretap, bowing as best he could while trying to remain steady.

“I take it the battle is going well?” asked Shiiai Tuio, Prime Minister and High General of the Northlands, still not taking his eyes from the scene below.

“We have nearly eliminated all of Heilish Stantera's troops,” confirmed Kheretap. “Master Knawi is proving more than a match for the Eastern defense force. It seems your gamble has paid off after all.”

Lord Tuio was silent for a moment, until:

“Reinforcements?”

“I have reason to believe that they have expended all of their...” supplied Kheretap, trailing off as he viewed the change in the scene of horror below. A behemoth figure rose from across the plain, lumbering forwards, thunder pealing horribly around it, lightning crashing around it in vicious coils of deadly electricity from a clear blue sky. It walked, as easily as if it were simply off for a midday stroll, though hordes of troops, sweeping them away with great, heavy swipes. Kheretap cringed as he heard the faint sounds of the screams, far below them, conversing calmly on the cliffs above.

“That can't be...” muttered Kheretap. He turned to face Shiiai Tuio. “Don't pretend you do not know what this is! There was to be no first use of... them in this war!”

Tuio turned away, face as firmly set as steel. “It seems Master Knawi has found his match,” he said icily, and spurred his steed away, leaving behind him a scene of horrible pandemonium and a bewildered and terrified Kheretap, still struggling to come to terms with the new giant terrorizing the battlefield below. He turned his horse, and began to gallop back to the castle, hanging precariously over the bowl-shaped valley the plain was carved from.

 

Tokz Knawi, originally a nomad of the D'strais Deserts, south of the Southern lands, looked up into the face of his opponents, then returned his patient, yet somehow penetrating gaze to the table between them. Tokz, or as he was revered within the North Coalition, “Master Knawi”, was a master tactician and fine strategic adviser, proving invaluable to the war effort of the North Coalition against the Treble Alliance of the Eastlands. He, right now, was feeling perplexed. He stared at his opponent, Heilish Stantera, a faint smile playing across her face. Wordlessly, Tokz glanced to his right, at a perfectly rectangular pile of cards. He reached out, slowly and deliberately, and picked up the top card, adding it to the four other, almost identical cards already in his left hand. A small smile crept across his tanned, wise face. Just at that moment, Kheretap charged headlong into the room, his own deck of cards held in one outstretched hand. He carefully picked one card up from his deck of cards, and threw it onto the table...

 

The battle below turned to even worse confusion. The plain on which the battle was fought was split in twine, huge crevasses rumbling into being. In the castle above, the two women next to Heilish stepped forward, one raising a taut crossbow, the other a razor-edged sword.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” barked Anita Tiaori, aiming the crossbow squarely at Kheretap's heart, pounding still at the arrival of the gigantic monster below, terrorizing his own men with crashing lightning and pealing thunder. He shuddered involuntarily as more screams leaked up from the plains, far below.

“What is the meaning of this?” retorted Kheretap, throwing an accusing finger upon another card, lying dormant on the table between Heilish and Master Knawi. It lay there, independent of the terrible carnage it was wreaking on the scene below. “There was an agreement! They were to be sealed-”

But Kheretap's words of rage were silenced with a simple wave by Tokz Knawi. Tokz, small, sly grin still evident across his tanned features, flipped over a card on the table...

 

The castle shuddered from the force. Kheretap looked frantically from the only window within the tower, overlooking the horrible battle below. He saw one half of the battlements crumble, as errant lightning bolts, discharging terribly from the huge monstrosity, struck all along the castle walls. Kheretap ducked as half of the room's roof crashed down around him, and gasped in horror as the crossbow discharged, leaving the bolt embedded in the remains of the wall behind him.

“What's happening?!” shrieked Heilish, pointing an accusing finger at Knawi. “This is your doing! You've killed us all!”

Kheretap was roughly pulled from the ground by strong hands, and only saw the three women fleeing the collapsing building before he, stricken with panic and his heart pounding, lost consciousness.

 

Malakai, on the other side of the world, woke in cold sweat.

“No, it can't be...” he muttered to himself. He paced quickly out of his quarters, pausing only to snatch a large iron-wrought key from a table adjacent to his bed. He made his way swiftly and silently through the sleeping palace...

“It can't be,” he repeated, as he made one final turn and found what he was searching for. A large, heavy gate barred his path. He could not help but smile wryly as he fumbled with the heavy key, attempting to slide it into the ancient steel lock. It had been implemented to keep whatever was locked inside safe and secure, but now the security of the entire Seven Lands rest on him being able to procure it immediately. He finally turned the key, and impatiently made his way inside the dark passage.

 

A dimly lit cavern welcomed him. The walls, made of the rock that some parts of the palace were carved from, had intricate and symbolic figures dancing around it, weaving a mystical pattern that had been forged centuries past. But it was not on this that Malakai's eyes were trained. He stared at a large pinnacle of ice, winding its way from the floor with scant regard for gravity or temperature, it's sheer defiance of all natural law making it all the more breathtaking. Malakai looked at it in horror. Normally the ice was as clouded and opaque as a pearl, but now it was clear as crystal. And it was humming, a tiny sound that echoed in the tiny cavern into a terrible, terrible din, the cry of lost souls, of warriors thirsting for revenge, of trapped demons, wishing to be free...

 

And in the core of the ice, was the one thing Malakai so desperately did not wish to see... a single card, sealed within the magical ice. He found himself reciting a verse under his breath...

 

Five brothers bound

Sealed and trapped

When they are found

Strength all but sapped

 

Their powers restored

Ending the loop

And no one shall hoard

All five of the troop

 

And they shall be sealed

Once more, yet again

Man will have no shield

The world will fall... then.

 

 

 

 

 

Challenge Time! Attempt to name 1 card that has featured in this chapter. 5 points if you get one, 20 if you get the big one (the card's not necessarily big, but that's the one I'm most interested in anyone getting). PM me if you reckon you know.

[darkguy00000]

Bump. Nothing? No-one? I'm in over my head here...