"The Primordials each hold sway over different facets of our world. Whether through conscious will or not, these beings dictate how each aspect of existence functions. The sun rises and sets due to one of the Primordials controlling the tilt and rotation of the world. The tides rise and fall due to the moon being held high in the night sky through a Primordial's thoughts. Their very identities are bound to upholding these fundamental aspects. They are like kings upon the world with total sway over their subjects, with their subjects being the very elements of existence itself.
Mankind has long since known the names of these eldritch beings. The people of today know not how, but since the very beginning of civilized man their names have been uttered, ingrained in our minds like the basest of instincts. Whether muttered through curses or in prayer, they have held sway over our entire history. From the most ancient stone tablet to the most recent printed book, these twelve notorious appellations have appeared, so intrinsic to our lives that we can never truly escape them.
I list the names here now so that I may keep track of our targets. Our enemies. Then I will mark them off, cross them out one by one, for every Primordial we destroy.
1) Primordial of Enmity: Borosmemnok
2) Primordial of Amity: Zantas Maladan
3) Primordial of Eos: Kroasfortaska
4) Primordial of Eventide: Fallmahd'akee
5) Primordial of Prestidigitation: Omadzaburik
6) Primordial of Machinery: Machalaziel
7) Primordial of Inception: Olnusborika
8) Primordial of Dissolution: Ramadbanaros
9) Primordial of Terrene: Ghulstafavol
10) Primordial of Sidereal: Hayarmaenis
11) Primordial of Principium: Stasmakrosi
12) Primordial of Ataxia: Unknown, or nameless
These are the twelve names that stand against our grand crusade. In order to build a better world for all of humanity, we must destroy them all. Only then can their Mantles be passed on to-"
“You’re unusually quiet this day,” a deep, baritone voice spoke up.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Roused from writing in my journal, I glanced to the side and smirked at the familiar face of the speaker who had ridden up to match my horse’s gait. I gave him a slight nod, a greeting to one of equal station.
“Good morning, King Mulmin. Quite surprising to see you without a tankard of wine in your hand.”
The man chuckled, a smarmy smirk of his own warming his rugged features. “Indeed? I doubt it’s as surprising as me finding you so silent. Usually, at dinner you are regaling our royal table with tales of ancient history, the wonders of far-off lands, and the heroic ventures of great kings past.”
I averted my gaze, hoping to the heavens that my face did not suddenly turn flush. I was a man of twenty-five, for goodness’ sake, and a king on top of that. I had my dignity to uphold.
But good King Mulmin was right. I do tend to get quite spirited when discussing tales and stories with my peers during the dining hour. It couldn’t be helped, though; such subjects have always fascinated me. Even as a small boy learning the ways of the world and kingship, I always found time to read a tale or two. The world was a fascinating place, after all; as were the people who lived in it.
Case in point, King Mulmin was quite the interesting figure. Though only three years my senior, he was already twice my size. The large black stallion he was currently riding looked to be barely able to hold him, and I felt awful for the animal knowing that Mulmin would be riding the poor thing hard into battle.
"My words were too forward, my friend. I apologize if I caused offense." Mulmin's expression turned serious, his handsome face creasing with concern.
I waved my hand dismissively. "Truth is never rude, at least not in my kingdom. We value honesty above false courtesies in Ispara."
"Ha!" Mulmin's laugh boomed across the column of soldiers marching behind us. "You're fortunate then. In Kastor, such words would demand satisfaction. I'd have dragged you to the wrestling pit by now."
"And I suppose you'd have me stripped to the waist, oiled up, and grappling with you until one of us yielded?" I raised an eyebrow at him.
A slight flush crept up Mulmin's neck. "Well, those are the traditional rules..."
"I've read about Kastorian wrestling traditions. Fascinating culture, really. Did you know that in the ancient times, your ancestors would-"
"My liege!" A voice called out from behind us.
I turned to see Lord Burien riding hard to catch up, his usually immaculate appearance somewhat disheveled. His horse's flanks were covered in sweat as he must have ridden far and fast to reach us.
"My deepest apologies for the interruption, Your Majesties." Burien bowed his head to each of us in turn. "But Queen Ayen's scouts have returned."
My heart quickened. We'd been waiting for this news for days. "And?"
"They've found it, my liege. The entrance to Zantas Maladan's demesne. The Primordial of Amity's sanctuary."
Mulmin's expression hardened, all traces of our earlier jest vanishing. "Where?"
"Three days' ride east, hidden in a valley between two mountains. The scouts say it's heavily guarded by..." Burien hesitated, glancing around nervously.
"Speak freely," I commanded.
"They say it's guarded by creatures of pure light. Beings made of peace itself. They... they make men forget why they came. Turn them away with smiles and gentle words."
I exchanged looks with Mulmin. We both knew what that meant. The Primordial was using its power over Amity to defend itself. How fitting. And very, very dangerous.
"Let us go, King Mulmin," I said, before turning to Lord Burien. "Have the other leaders been informed?"
My aide nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. All of the Kings, Queens, and generals of the Crusade stand ready to march forth."
"Excellent!" Mulmin grinned. His brown eyes shone with both determination and excitement upon the prospect of finally battling a Primordial. "Let us begin our campaign in earnest, then!"
"Yes," I agreed. "It is time. Let this be the first step to attaining humanity's true greatness!"
