SUMMARY: An account of the Shadow King and the fall of the western kingdom as a storyteller might tell it.
History is made by people, the threads of their lives weaving together to form a tapestry either beautiful or terrifying. The king of the west added a dark thread to the picture; he is the enemy. The kings of the northern, middle, and southern kingdoms stood against him; they are our heroes… for the most part. But in particular, our story follows the thread of one man’s life; a life that would change the course of a war and bring peace after so many years of terror when no others could.
When our hero was still but a small child, the King of the West began to build up his forces. He conscripted young men, women even, from every household in every town and village; through force and through terror he brought them into his fold and trained them to fight. In twos, tens, hundreds, thousands he sent them to the edges of their land, to their neighbors, and made war with his enemies, hoping to expand and gather more power to himself. But to his great rage, his enemies fought back with the ferocity of those defending their homes. Time and time again his forces were pushed back, but still he did not give up his plans.
Pulling his forces back and feigning defeat, the king sat it his tower by the sea and he plotted. He sent out spies into all corners of the land with one simple instruction; to find for him the one thing his enemies loved most. One by one they went and came back with their news.
The King of the North, they said, took great pride in his young son and heir, having several daughters before his son was born. Unlike the Midlands, the South, and the East, you see, they didn’t allow female succession.
The King of the Midlands was not yet married, being young yet, and loved mostly himself, taking great pride in his stamina and skill as a warrior.
The King of the South greatly loved his wife and young son.
Having failed to win his war by force, the King of the West choose to continue his war with terror, and chip away at the will and confidence of his enemies by threatening or destroying those things that were most held dear.
To the north and to the south he sent skilled thieves and assassins. To them was given the order to kill the Heir to the North and South, and to kill the Southern kings beloved wife. To the Midlands he sit another kind of assassin, not with orders to kill but to disable.
Without warning they came upon their targets, and no guards were able to stop them.
While walking through his gardens one day, the King of the Midlands was attacked. The assassin was killed by the king’s guards, but not before irreparably destroying the Kings leg and arm. From that point forward, the King of the Midlands was skilled no more, not even able to walk without help.
While riding through the woods with his guard, as was his custom, the Heir to the North and his guard were killed by arrow. They were found later that day to the great grief of the king.
While traveling home from the eastern most portion of their land, the Queen of the South and her young son, then just five years of age, were set upon by a group of armed men. Through great skill and cunning, the agents of the west separated the queen from her protectors and they killed her.
But now is where are story starts to change, for in the confusion, the agents of the west lost sight of the young prince and were not able to find him before being driven back by his protectors.
For hours the guards searched for their prince, nearly giving up in despair, when finally they found him curled up near the body of his mother. Carefully picking their charge up, they brought him and the body of their Queen home.
The enemies of the west mourned their losses, and in the south, a young boy lit the flame of his mother’s pyre and tried to be brave. This young boy is the hero of our story. His name was Emrus.
The king of the south, Emrus’ father, was a shrewd warrior, and while his grief at the death of his wife was great, it did not dull his judgement.
Discerning the strategy of the King of the West, he sent his son and heir away, into hiding, where no man could find him save the king himself. So sending his son to safety, he turned his focus of doing battle with the King of the West.
For twelve long years the King of the South lead the charge against the King of the West, with neither making much headway against the other.
All the while, young Emrus was hidden away, growing up in secret… or was he?
Unbeknownst to even his closest advisors, when the boy had grown some and was no longer immediately recognizable, the King of the South brought his son home. Emrus and his caretakers were given positions as palace servants; Emrus took a position in the stables, where his father visited him regularly, and the two grew very close.
Now Emrus looked nothing like his father, which aided their charade greatly. No one looking at the stocky blond haired king would suspect the slight brown haired youth to be his son.
As time passed, Emrus gained more and more authority as a palace servant, until eventually he was given the position as their king’s squire; being taught and trained by the king himself for battle. All the while the king maintained the ruse that his son was still hidden away, even taking time now and then to visit him. All the while Emrus stayed at the palace and cemented his position as a servant in the minds of the people.
History does not tell us how many actually suspected, but it does indicate their illusion was quite strong, deceiving many of the kings closest advisors.
On and on this went until Emrus was 17 years of age, and had begun to grow strong both as a warrior and as a leader; having no lack of practice thanks to the King of the West.
Now the King of the West had learned much from his initial campaign, and had not yet tried such a thing again. Instead he continued his new campaign of terror against the kingdom. Small groups of highly trained men would attack outposts deep within enemy territory. Important officials and their families would be found dead within their homes. Soldiers prowled the borders, killing anyone who wandered into their range that didn’t belong; sometimes even their own people fell victim. Towns and villages near the border, such as this one here, dealt with raids in the middle of the night.
There were no great battles in this war, no great victories or defeats to point to, only slow destruction and terror that penetrated into the very hearts of the kingdoms.
The King of the West had learned his lesson indeed. Some say that the warlords learned their craft from him.
Now, every so often the King of the South would go to the border lands and assess the situation, provide support, and encourage the beleaguered villagers who refused to live anywhere else. After all, it was their home, was it not?
The King of the West came to understand that nothing he did caused the resolve of the South to falter.
So when the days came for the King of the South to tour the borderlands, he sent his best men and assassins to do battle with the forces of the south.
The battle was fierce and without parallel in all the long 12 years of the war, and in the end the forces of the south were able to beat back the forces of the north but not before their king was gravely injured; far to injured to survive.
In a tent at the edge of the battle zone, the King of the South took his most trusted advisor in one hand, and his beloved squire in the other, and made known the secret they had worked so hard to keep. And so, revealing his son, the King of the South died.
Through their grief, Emrus and the king’s advisor devised a plan. The King of the West was a formidable enemy, even though they had defended their borders against him, and he had shown himself relentless in his goals. Instead of throwing away all the work that had gone into keeping Emrus hidden, they determined to use this to throw off the King of the West. Instead of ruling openly, Emrus would rule in shadow, as unknown to his subjects as he was to the King of the West.
For ten years Emrus ruled his land in secret and did battle with the King of the West, for the first time using his own tactics against him. For ten years the people of the south lived in doubt.
Emrus saw this in his people and knew time was short, for he did not lock himself away or hide in the palace, but, along with a well trusted guard, he traveled the lands, even into the western kingdom itself at times. He knew the fear, the despair, the hope, the joys, and the needs of his people perhaps better than any king before him.
In these years the kingdom was well ruled, and even despite the threat of the west, they began to rebuild and even prosper. And yet the threat was still there, the borderlands were a place of strife, and many began to doubt the very existence of their king.
Things were coming to a head, not only within the southern kingdom, but without. For nearly twenty years the King of the West had fought this battle, and while there was no waining of his determination, he was getting old and his time was running out. As this began to settle on the the old kings thoughts, his determination only strengthen to accomplish his goals and more and more he pushed towards open war for the first time in many years.
Bigger and bigger the raiding parties became, and longer the battles to stop them, until it was undeniable that they were at war. Still Emrus was not yet willing to give up his advantage.
With his trusted guard and friend, Emrus went to the governor of the borderlands, an old friend of his father’s who knew Emrus as the king’s squire, and he offered his assistance. Trained to lead, it was not long before Emrus was leading the governors forces with his blessing. Great was his ability on the battle field and he grew in renown among the people and became much loved by them; the people he had been traveling among and coming to know throughout the years.
Yet as the battles became more fierce and it became clear that soon the fate of their kingdom would hang in the balance, he saw his people’s spirit begin to wain as there was no sign of their king.
Emrus composed a message and sent it with a courier to the palace, to his chief advisor and one of the only men who knew him for who he really was. In his message was a plan, and the plan was as follows.
Before his father died, he had begun training a group of men meant to achieve similar feats inside the western kingdom as the forces of the West achieved inside the southern kingdom. After his father died,
Emrus continue this goal, and this group of men became his own elite force; the only soldiers in the kingdom who knew their king.
Emrus called for them now, but this time not for raids against outposts, but to strike at the very heart of the west: their king. For over ten years they have been preparing for this end, and now the time had come.
While Emrus led his forces to battle at the border, supported by reinforcements from around the kingdom, his elite force would strike out at the King of the West himself. To make sure the distraction was as complete as he could make it, Emrus would fight, not as a well liked general, but as the King of the South.
Now you may have noticed that I have said nothing about the Midlands or the North, but they too were enemies of the West and had been holding their own for as long as the South.
In the over twenty years since the war began, though, neither the North or the Midlands had the ability to do much more than defend their own borders, being riddled with strife both within and without. If it had not been for the great courage of many fine men and women living near the borderlands, the King of the West might have conquered those lands, for the leadership of both the North and the Midlands was questionable at best.
It was a time of great change in both of those lands.
After the murder of the Heir to the North, the king retreated into his grief, giving more and more power to his generals and refusing all pressure to produce another heir, instead naming a distance relative, unknown to the court, as his heir.
When the old king died and his heir came to the throne, many of the villagers, on the front lines and beyond, complained. They felt he was an interloper and didn’t belong and very few gave their support to him, or at least gave it without complaint. It wasn’t long before there was a revolt. For the next thirty or so years the land went through a succession of rulers until settling on what is actually the present line. Not that they haven’t had their share of conflicts, but mostly among themselves.
It is truly a testimony to the spirit of the people that they didn’t fall to the West in those days. The same can be said of the Midlands, for they dealt with their own power struggles after the injury of their king.
The will and strength of the Midlands king proved greater than many thought possible. While he struggled with his injuries he did not let them crush his spirit completely. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of his body. Crushed it was, and after only a year it gave up on him and the king died; still young, still unmarried, and still without an heir. The same power vacuum as in the north.
While not as bloody as the struggles of the North, the potential heirs of the south squabbled amongst themselves for years before the matter was settled. Still, even after the matter was settled, the south could do little but defend its borders, never having been one of the strongest military powers.
And so the south remained the greatest threat and greatest hope for all peoples in the battle against the west.
After conferring with his advisors and his generals, the plan was set for both the raid and the attack on the border forces of the west. And to the great delight of all his people, Emrus took up his place as king, coming out of the shadows, and led his army in full regalia.
The battle was a fierce one, the forces of both kingdoms advancing and retreating, advancing and retreating; the forces of the south drawing out the forces of the west. And when all eyes were on the battle of the borderlands, the elite forces of the south struck. Through subterfuge, diversion, and skill, they made their way into the very heart of the west, and there they struck down the King of the West, the man who have been the driving force of terror for so many years.
On the battlefield, the forces of the south dealt harsh blows to the leadership of the west, taking out some of their strongest leaders, but still the west fought on, even when word of their king’s death reached them. They fought without direction, but still they fought.
After seven long days, and great sacrifices on both sides, the forces of the south beat back what remained of the once great war machine of the west; they had achieved victory, though it would take three more long years before they could celebrate and peace returned to their lands.
In the end, the western kingdom became a protectorate of the south, though the people were now wild and unruly. Eventually the south pulled back, the land of the west becoming the wildlands of today; lawless, fractured, ever changing.
Emrus, the shadow king of the South, ruled from the shadows no longer; ruling in peace for another 41 years until his death, the rule of the kingdom passing to his firstborn son. Many knew him as Emrus the Wayfarer, for even in peace he liked to travel the roads of his kingdom, spending time with his people and hearing their tales.
And that, my friends, concludes the tale of the Fall of the West and of Emrus, the Shadow King of the South.