The Land
of Fantasy III :
I know I have told you many tales of epic battles, but now I must pull out my lyre once more and tell you another one of King Astalder. Not many years after I had spoken to you last had past when the good king of Silmataurea had possibly his greatest adventure yet; to save me. Only five years had past since I told you the last story of Astalder. Not many things had happened since then until one night, around the time the full moon was the highest, an army of Mankind came to take from him his rolling lush kingdom of Silmataurea. Evil darkness in the hearts of those who forgot that which they just learned, they pushed their way into his villages, killing his people and storming his castle. There was nothing for him to do but let them come and watch his whole kingdom parish under the arsonist’s flames.
Astalder put another piece of wood on the fire which pranced before him. Tired, confused and angry, he sat down in front of it. His friend, the drawven King Otho often told him of the angel, which he wrote down his last vision of on the warn parchment he held in his hand. He sighed to the heavens as it brought forth much needed water to finish putting out the flames which the mysterious riders set fire to his homeland. Everyone was dead. Once more he cursed at the loss of the good people of Silmataurea. He looked to the only thing that was left from his castle, a parchment with his fathers golden symbol still sealed upon it. He broke the seal and read the words, hoping there was a reason that it was the only thing to survive. Maybe the Fates were telling him something.