A Guide to Kingdom Building

Chandea, Year of Severus, 16, I.R., the 1st day of Winter, Broken Springs

Water. There was no one around him but the cold, freezing water as he slowly sunk deeper and deeper. It was getting harder to breath, as the icy liquid filled his lungs refusing the air to go back in it. Adaloun looked up from the depths and saw a ray of golden light dancing in the surface of the water, as his body slowly went numb.

He could've just closed his eyes and sunk deeper into the dark, cold depths of the unknown waters. He could've surrendered himself in death's embrace and end it all for good but he still wanted to live. He opened his eyes and fought back his numbing body. He moved his arms violently and paddled as hard as he could while using the last air in his lungs for one powerful struggle.

He pushed through the wild swirling current, and out into the surface as the last ounce of air was about to be consumed. He finally made it to the surface just enough for him to choke from the liters of water he drank. He spat some and coughed as violently as he could. Before he could gasp for that sweet air, he much needed.

The sea had an ominous golden glow right above the surface. He turned around and saw nothing but floating wood and some other flaming debris. He looked up and saw two golden orbs slowly fading from the sky.

"A-anyone there?!" His legs stiffened as if someone was tugging him down. He vigorously flapped his arms to keep him afloat. "G-g-g-ghwyn…myr? U-urfa-al? O-orph…ella? Anyone?" His voice slowly cracked and faded from the cold, but no one answered.

"Oyue!" He called out. "Oyue!" He shouted as he lost his voice.

He tried to keep himself afloat a few times, but the fatigue settled in, and his body surrendered to the numbing cold. Adaloun slowly sunk in the cold, dark waters. He felt something pulling his legs as he tried to struggle with the remaining strength he had left. Alas, it was all for naught!   

He looked down and saw pale withered hands pulling him down the abyss. He struggled to get out of their grips as quickly as he could, but his legs were too weak to make the effort. He flapped his hands harder to get back into the surface, but the cold hands of the death were gripping him tightly.

In his last-ditch effort, he looked down and wanted to stare at the death straight in the eyes. But what he saw terrified him. As he looked below, he saw the glowing eyes staring straight at him. Their faces were slowly unveiled from the dark waters and to his surprise, it was his comrades. Their pale, lifeless faces struck him with fear.

He tried shouting but water filled his lungs. He tried swimming once again, but his body is saying no this time. Adaloun's body finally shut down and slowly sunk deeper and deeper into the darkness—into the abyss.

"AAGGGHHHH!" Adaloun woke up from his dream covered in sweat.

He looked around and saw nothing but the darkness in his room. His head was pounding violently as the sweat dripped from his body like he was bathing in water. He cursed under his breath and got out of bed. He staggered towards his kitchen and took a drink of sour wine from a gourd.

It tasted bad, but it was good in drowning his sorrows, forgetting the worst times of his life. Forgetting his long-gone friends and the life that was supposedly promise to him after they got out of that damned hell hole.

He chugged some more, before the sour wine filled his belly and came back up his mouth. He threw the gourd as he spewed the wine all over his kitchen. After vomiting, he wiped his mouth and simply went back to bed.

Adaloun was a broken man. He lived while his friends died at the hands of the people he trusted. Just as he expected, he was simply used by the people who promised him their freedom and the so-called goddess who promised them their protection.

He went back to bed as his head throbbed violently. The moment he closed his eyes, he noticed a pale blue glow shinning in his eyes. He opened his eyes and saw the small moon peering from his window. Out of spite, he opened his window and shouted at the moon.

"Fuck you, Oyue! Fuck you, and your kind!" He gritted his teeth. "Why can't you just let me die?!"

He slammed the window and laid down back on his bed.

Ever since he survived the drowning, Adaloun had been tirelessly trying to kill himself. However, he every time he did the deed, it always got interrupted. When he tried to hang himself from a tree, the branch suddenly broke. When he tried to drown himself in the river near the village, he was quickly washed up on the bank by a mysterious wave. He tried jumping on a cliff, but his fall got cushioned by a well-placed thick bush and soft tree branches on his way down. His last attempt with ending his life also failed horribly when the dagger he was about to slice his throat with, shattered when Adaloun's gladius prevented it from touching his neck.

Adaloun had to wash his sorrows and frustrations away through the hard, bad-tasting liquor because Oyue wasn't letting him kick the bucket just yet. Now, he was stuck in this impoverish village plagued with famine and death. A more depressing scene that contributed nothing to his well-being.

Most of the times he would rather get drunk and only preferred being sober if he needed to cry or ran out of wine. He spent his days toiling the bone-dry fields, plowing the withered vegetables, or plucking mushrooms at the edge of the dry field for him to consume.

It wasn't a life fit for him, he thought. But on the other hand, he also thought he deserved the life he had now due to arrogance and pride. The same thing that killed his comrades in the first place.

The cold winter winds blew from the outside. Adaloun shivered from the chilling air and covered himself with his tattered blanket while closing his eyes hoping that sleep will come for him once again. It never came to him, and on the wee hours of the morning, before the rooster crowed, he heard a wailing woman from a distance.

Adaloun cliked his tongue, "Death has taken another life." He sighed. "Why can't it be mine?"