Atokra Chronicles
Book One: Innocente

Part One: Carcerato

Prologue
Sudemone, Kingdom of Sacropisa; 134 Kaieta Età, E.I.

The Agkel prisoner was dragged into the grand hall by chains. The bloody rags that covered her gaunt frame did not hide the dark purple of blossoming bruises, nor the long red gashes that crossed her pale body. Her thin face, swollen with bruises, was still held high. Her broken wings hung from a proud, straight back. Her pale blue eyes challenged each dignitary she passed to look upon what they had done, at the blood they had spilled. Each one dropped their gaze under the weight of that regal stare. Her feet were the only part of her not streaked with crimson, having been washed so she would not stain the king’s marble floors as she approached the throne.

Finally, the armored guards dragging the prisoner came to a stop, falling on one knee before the golden throne of the Lord of Sudemone. The splendidly dressed Vir sat rigidly in his throne, studying the bloody Agkel with a cold eye. His round face was turned upwards in a confident smile, his teeth bared like a wolf that has cornered its prey.

“So you have returned to my hall, heathen Agkel. Have you repented for your sins? The Sacrodeo forgives all peoples, even whores and traitors such as yourself.” The king leaned forward, his thick fingers gripping the golden arms of his throne, jeweled rings clinking in the silence of the hall. His expression was cold, but his eyes flickered with a dark glee; the pleasure before the kill.

The bloody Agkel looked up at him through the tangles of her frayed blonde hair with a defiant gaze. She straightened under the weight of her chains, fresh blood trickling from the scrapes the manacles left on her wrists. Her thin lips pursed in anger, but she said nothing.

“I am giving you a chance to redeem yourself, Agkel. I advise you take it.” The man glared down at the prisoner, his round face stern beneath his crown. The retainers lining the hall watched the scene quietly, the tension between the king and prisoner palpable. Their gaze flickered between the defiant Agkel and the scowling Vir; some held the prisoner with contempt, others merely with boredom. “Very well,” the Vir continued, settling back into his throne with his wolfish grin. “Bring in the boy.”

The Agkel’s defiant face did not change. Only her widening eyes revealed her horror. Two more armored Vir appeared at the great double doors at the front of the hall, flanking a small, blonde haired child. The boy stared ahead with eyes close to tears, latching at once to the bloodied visage of his mother. Only a thick iron collar round his neck kept him from running towards the Agkel, the other end of the chain held like a leash by one of the armored men. The guards led him into the center of the hall, the boy’s gray eyes meeting the mother’s blue ones, misery and fear shared by an unspoken bond.

“Now shall you admit your sin? Shall you admit the crimes you have committed, against your people and mine? Your husband is already repenting in the frozen pits of Nokenum, I am sure. If you are not careful, you and your son may join him. Do not fear, however; the Sacrodeo Kai is more than forgiving.” The king spread his pale hands to the vaulted ceiling, bowing his crowned head like a preacher. His thick lips twisted upwards in a malicious smile.

“Please, do not hurt him.” The Agkel turned to the king, her voice as regal as her stance; the only sign of her misery the tears welling beneath her pale eyes. “He has done nothing; he does not even know his father. There is nothing he can do to you now.”

The king winced at the mention of the boy’s father, but his menacing smile recovered quickly. His golden crown glittered against his dark hair as he shook his head. “That is not for me to decide, Mitaura. Only the Holy Patrikai can judge this- this thing.” The Vir’s face hardened as he regarded the child.

A tremor ran through Mitaura as the man spoke, her stately mask cracking. She glanced at the whimpering child- her child- and her back straightened once more, the broken wings shifting. “Please, Lord Balduino, I still hold some power with my people, with those that still fight the Latokra. Leave me my son, and I can help you. Help you fight the cretin who murdered his father.”

“It is the church’s place to decide what is to become of such a- such an abomination,” the king snapped. “I have no use for you, or your heathen allies. The Sacrodeo shall see your Latokra dead without your help, as surely as your late husband. Ligio, take the boy away; make sure he is ready for the journey to Erumii. Pray the Patrikai is merciful, Mitaura.”

A tall, stone faced Vir appeared at the king’s side, three golden flames of rank on his armored chest. The soldier bowed to the king silently before stepping towards the blonde haired child, his calm brown eyes well accustomed to obedience.

Mitaura’s outraged cries stopped the man in his tracks. “You shall take him nowhere! I have endured your tortures and your dungeons, but I refuse to endure your self-righteousness any longer! You preach the peace of Kai, yet you kill without mercy. Who are you to-“

“Silence!” the king roared, pulling himself to his feet before his throne, “You dare profane the Sacrodeo’s name with your heathen tongue? I shall do as the True Light commands me, and none shall question my judgment of His will!”

Mitaura’s pale face regarded the king with open malice, blood dripping onto the floor as she raised one slim finger to the king. “Then I curse you, Balduino, you and your so called gods. The Pystokra shall rise once more, and he shall smite your pathetic Patriaky. Kill me if you will, but I pray you shall live to see your god fall to ours.”

The king’s eyes blazed at Mitaura’s words. His round face was red with fury as he pointed one commanding finger at the Agkel. “Remove this blasphemer from my sight! Take her where her poisonous blood cannot stain my halls, and kill her!”

Mitaura’s two guards seized her roughly by her thin arms, scowling at the Agkel, and pulled her forcibly towards the door. The prisoner’s cold eyes remained on the king, spitting at the Vir as she was dragged away. Her spittle left a spray of red on the pale stone floors.

“Mana!” the young boy cried, straining against the stone faced Vir’s grip. His gray eyes streamed with fresh tears, his short arms outstretched towards his mother.

The Agkel turned her pale eyes towards her son, the icy blue softening to a deep azure. “Peace, child,” she smiled at the boy, soothing him in her native tongue, “It is your destiny to avenge your father. The Traignos would not let you die so easily as me, my son. My Edisi.”

“Mana,” the boy cried again, watching as his mother disappeared through the great double doors.

The tall Vir beside him placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder, his deep brown eyes troubled. “It-it’ll be okay. I promise.”

_____________________________________________


Hello everyone! I know it's not really Tes fan fiction, but I just thought I'd share my current story with everyone here at Chorrol. Some of you may know me, but for those of you that don't (the majority, I'm certain), I frequent BGSF, as well as some other writing forums. I've been wanting to join here for quite a while, but never had the time. Now, however, I plan on coming regularly, both with updates on this story and, hopefully, some good reviews for other member's works. Thank you all so much for reading, any and all criticism is very much appreciated.


EDIT: Changed up the king's responses a little bit. Hopefully he'll come off as more of a jerk now, who is simply toying with Mitaura.

I will be back to read, just can't tonight - exhausted and my eyes feel like they are on fire. I am in a hugely busy cycle at work right now. I did want to pop on and tell you that ... "I'll be back..." (said in an Arnold voice) - and to say it is so great to see you posting on here !!!

Welcome!

Certainly an interesting start you have here, but I have no idea what an Agkel or a Vir is. I expect you will explain that later on though.

Welcome to the Chorrol Arena! Good to see you over here, Darkom.

This was wonderfully done. You pulled me right in with the poignant plight of the winged mother and her son. It looks like you have perhaps set the stage for the young boy to become someone special. I expect he will remember his mother's words.

Nit: 'Help you fight the honoured user who murdered his father.'
Here you got caught by our insidious naughty word filter. Instead of giving you an easy to see indication that your word was censored, it sneaks in some innocuous looking substitute words.

WHEW !!! What a scene for a beginning of your story !!! Powerfully written to bring emotion and imagery both !! Awesome Write!

Thank you. And yes, it should become clearer as the story progresses, but I prefer not to come out and say it outright. I had hoped you could tell those two were races, Agkel being a winged race and Vir being generic humans. As far as the other foreign words go, some are also identifiable by context clues, while some I've intentionally left vague. My apologies if they break immersion.



Thanks Acadian, it's good to see you again. I'm very glad you liked it. Yes, the boy is the main focus of the story, as the next chapter will reveal. Thanks for pointing out the autocorrect too, I'll have to go change that.



Thank you very much Malx, that's exactly what I was going for. I've been told the king's emotions are a little sporadic, but I'm trying to think of a solution to that. Meanwhile, first real chapter will be posted soon. Thanks again to everyone for reading.

A vivid and gripping beginning. I’m happier reading through a few times to figure out all of the new terms than I would be with explanations inserted into the drama, I like your choice to let things stay vague until the story reveals them. I am a little confused about the king’s state of mind. I think he is disgusted by the Agkel in general, and really disgusted by Mitaura and her son for some reason. Mitaura’s husband was maybe a Vir? But anyway, despite his revulsion, he genuinely wants Mitaura to admit wrongdoing for religious purposes? Am I close?

I’m looking forward to the adventures of the gray-eyed son, accompanied by the stone-faced but compassionate Vir named or titled Ligio.

Sporadic? Well, he's a king, isn't he? Aren't they kind of sporadic anyways? I mean, look at George the Third!

I liked the beginning of this well enough, and the ending left me intrigued enough to want to see what happens next. I don't mind all the new terms - they'll become clear with more context. I rather enjoy figuring out the vague items as the story goes on - kind of like real life and learning a new culture by immersion.

Thank you very much. You're the first person that's told me I got across exactly what I was trying to do. The Vir are so high and mighty, they can't stand other races that don't follow their religion. They are highly dogmatic, like Spain or Italy in the High Middle Ages, and call other races heathens. They are, however, charged by their god to show mercy and try to enlighten the other people, to convert them. Thank you for letting me know I got across somewhat.

Yes, her husband was a Vir, but that's all I can say on that. It becomes a big part of the mystery of the story. And right again, the main adventure is the son with some help from the soldier, Ligio. I'm very glad you liked it; I'll have to put up the next chapter soon.



Haha, true enough, though there's no excuse for unrealistic characters in literature, even minor ones. Good to hear you are interested, and I'm glad you can take the new terms in stride. So many people have told me they don't like them, I was starting to get worried.

Thanks to both of you for reading and reviewing my little story.

Chapter One

The Montascan Creed; First Chant

“We believe in the one Sacrodeo: Kai, the True Light of the Santofia, maker of Aythur and Tare, and the Savior of all things, seen and unseen. We believe in the first Deo, Morikai, Creator of the Vir and Mother of all Faithful. We believe in the second Deo, Lybikai, Father of the Righteous and Master of the Meditagia.”

Erumii, Stati Patrikai; 18 Kalijeru, 143 Kaieta Età, E.I.

“A coin, boy? A coin for a lost one?” The old beggar reached out towards the young boy, his grimy hands shaking. The Vir sat against a white-stone city wall; his clothes little more than stained rags, barely covering his sickly frame. A steady stream of brightly clothed people bustled about behind the boy, a light crowd for mid-afternoon in the forum.

The blonde haired boy looked down at the beggar pitiably, frowning at the white glaze of his unseeing eyes. The boy reached into a wide red sash at his waist- bright against his pure white robes- and pulled out a single silver coin. The beggar still held out his trembling hands expectantly, a hopeful smile hiding behind his unruly silver-white beard.

“Blessings of Kai be upon you,” the boy bowed his head as he handed the beggar the coin,
the golden Hypario round his neck shining in the last orange rays of sunlight. His thin, pointed face was softened by wide gray eyes, barely visible beneath a mess of dark blonde hair. His features still held the open innocence of youth, his smooth cheeks only blemished by the beginnings of acne.

“Grazie! Grazie, my boy!” The blind beggar cried fervently, pressing his dirt streaked hands together in thanks. The boy smiled as he stepped away from the old man, white robes swishing as he moved to rejoin the open square that was the Anthemian Forum. The sun was setting behind the tall white walls surrounding the city, the buildings surrounding the forum casting long shadows on the people below. The last rays of sunlight streaked the sky with orange, casting the clouds between a rosy pink and burnt gold.

The boy had nearly reached the tall stone statue at the center of the square when a rough hand turned him around. His gray eyes met the foggy whites of the beggar. “You are the one,” he whispered, unseeing eyes wide with disbelief, “The one to bring the very gods to their knees.”

The blonde boy struggled against the beggar’s grip, but the old Vir’s withered hands clamped like iron against the boy’s slim, bony shoulders. His thin face formed a mask of terror as the beggar continued, “Yes, I am sure, it is you! You are the one to complete the final cycle, to fulfill the Profiteia, as it was foretold!” Spittle flew from the old man’s lips as he spoke, catching in his unruly beard, some of it hitting the boy’s face. “The true Atokra shall rise- to command the people against those that would profane that name! Your mother shall be avenged, your father freed, and you shall fulfill your destiny!”

‘Someone save me!’ the boy thought, turning helplessly to the people passing by. Few so much as glanced at him, hurrying across the edges of the forum, fear plain on their faces. Even the street vendors stopped hawking their wares, shuffling behind their stands with their heads down. Erumii was not the grand city it once was; the people simply scurried past, not wanting anything to do with something that might bring the Sentinella. Not with the Patrikai’s justice hanging on their swords.

The blind Vir drew the boy close, his rancid breath washing over the blonde boy’s face. “Break away from their chains, boy, before it is too late. The Patriaky’s gods must fall, so the Santofia may burn again in this world!”

“Let go of me!” The boy shoved the blind beggar away, his eyes close to tears. The beggar fell back, grimacing at the boy’s words. The boy backed away from the Vir, but did not run. “What did you mean, avenge my mother?”

A smile tugged at the old man’s lips, wrinkles creasing along his dirt streaked face. “Spread your wings, boy; they are still there, even if you cannot see them.”

“What do you mean?” The boy practically whispered back, confusion mingling with the fear on his face. Before the blind Vir could respond, though, a gauntleted hand grasped his shoulder, yanking him roughly backwards.

“Screaming at children, beggar? The Sacrodeo shall teach you better.” The white cloak of the Sentinella marked the guard as surely as the golden flame on his breastplate, glaring at the old man through his polished basinet. Behind him stood two more armored Vir, faces even harder than the steel they wore at their hips. The pair seized the beggar roughly by the shoulders, dragging him off for the Cattedrale’s dungeons.

“Break your chains boy!” The blind Vir shouted back, struggling uselessly against the Sentinellas’ grip, “Break them before they bind too tightly, before they crush you! You are the one! You-” The beggar slumped into silence as one of the guards struck him with an armored hand.

‘My chains…’ The boy shuddered, watching the golden flames of the Sentinella’s cloaks disappear into the maze of city streets. People began streaming past once more, giving the boy- and the white cloaked guard that stood by him- plenty of berth.

“Are you alright?” the officer asked, calmly if not that kindly. The boy nodded, wiping his eyes with one long white sleeve. “Do not worry about him, my boy; mad beggars spout prophecy as often as not these days. We shall take care of him- the Investigators shall soon show him the Mercy of Kai.”

The boy nodded again, his white robe stained with grime where the beggar had held him. His soft gray eyes stared up at the guard, wide with lingering fear. The guard’s face dropped, flickering to a frown of annoyance before hardening to indifference once more. “What is your name, boy?”

“D-Donatello, signore, Donatello Dovere,” the boy stammered. “I-I’m a student at the Holy Ordine.”

The Sentinella nodded, looking past the straight rows of square-cut stone buildings, up at the white dome of the Cattedrale Sancrale in the distance. “Would you like me to escort you back to the Ordine, Donatello?”

Before the boy could answer, a worried voice called out through the crowd, “Don! Donatello!” The owner of the voice ran towards the boy, his white robes flapping out behind him, the golden Hypario at his neck bouncing wildly. The Vir’s robes were a mirror of Don’s, save for a wide red stripe running from collar to hem down the center of his chest, and a snowy white zucchetto skullcap surrounded by tufts of silvery hair atop the priest’s head. “Don, what’s going on?”

“The boy was being accosted by a beggar, good priest.” The guard cut in before Don could answer. “We have dealt with the matter; the filth shall be punished accordingly.”

The balding man looked up at the guard suspiciously, putting a protective hand on Donatello’s shoulder as he spoke, “It is good to see the Sentinella doing their duty, signor. May Kai bless you in your work.” The monk gazed kindly down at Don, his eyes twinkling beneath bushy white brows. “Now, if you do not mind, I shall personally see him back to the Ordine. I am the one meant to watch over him, after all. Thank you again for the help, signore, the Santofia illuminate you.”

The Sentinella nodded, saluting the two robed Vir before he left, walking briskly off in the direction of his two companions. The great forum’s crowd swallowed him as quickly as it had the unconscious beggar, the golden flame of the Santofia rippling on his cloak as he passed the thick marble columns of the Valerian Basilica and down the wide Erumii street.

“Are you alright, Don? Did that beggar hurt you?” The old Vir knelt down beside Don, one wrinkled hand on the boy’s white-robed shoulder.

“No, Father Raniero, he just frightened me is all.” Don’s gray eyes traced the smooth cobblestones of the forum, his thin lips quivering. He did not mention the beggar’s frantic words, words that would certainly give the infamous Investigators yet another reason to harm the old man. The boy marked the triangle of the Santofia on himself, tapping his forehead and shoulders, praying for the blind beggar’s safety.

“Well, everything will be alright now, Don. You are lucky the Sentinella arrived when they did; who knows what such mad Vir will do? They would dance for the Noke if they thought it would earn them a coin.” The old Vir stood, smoothing down his robes with both withered hands, a reassuring smile wrinkling his tanned face.

Don nodded, his uneasy smile not quite reaching his worried gray eyes, half covered by his wild blonde hair. The older Vir put one white robed arm around the boy’s shoulder, leading him briskly through the lively forum. “Come, we shall see if we can convince the cooks to leave an extra tart unattended in the kitchens.”

The boy’s small white teeth flashed as he laughed; letting the priest lead him back in the direction of the white domed Cattedrale, past the towering statue in the center of the forum. The grim stone eyes of Lucius Populius, the last of the great Erue Secundi, followed the pair of robed Vir across the square, the golden flames of the Sacrofia in his stone hand glittering in the sunset.


_______________________________________

Thanks to everyone for continuing to read my humble little story, I really appreciate you all taking the time to do so. As always, criticism is highly encouraged, I'd love to hear what everyone thinks.

What a way to start a new chapter- with a warped version of the Apostle's Creed! Though it doesn't exactly follow the format of a well-known Christian profession of faith, I still recognized the triune structure in the First Chant of the Montascan Creed. That alone arrested my attention right at the beginning. Kind of familiar, but still strange enough to spark my interest and keep me reading.

Then you follow with a scene right out of Renaissance Milan (or was it Florence?). I loved how an act of kindness ended up in a whirlwind of confusion for the boy, and an unhappy fate for the blind beggar. Then the actions of the guard, duty-bound but obviously wishing to be elsewhere. Lastly the appearance of the boy's guardian, who seems to be a delightful character.

As we like to say here on this forum: S.G.M.

This was a very effective scene to show us what has been happening to the boy for the last few years and what he is doing. It also gives us a nice glimpse into his character.

Some interesting world building going on here. Between the description of Don's mother and the beggar's words, I am intrigued by the idea of wings.

It’s fine the way you have it. You’re just baiting the hook there. I was just head scratching there for a second.
And to be honest I had imagined the Vir as a lizard race. I think there was a book that I read a long time ago that had a race called Vir. Now what was that book…

Now onto the chapter:


That doesn’t sound comforting at all.

Some time has passed since our opening and the boy doesn’t remember his mother anymore. Does he possess wings like his mother? The beggar said something but I’m not sure if he was being literal or not. Does the boy pass as a Vir or is he significantly different looking from them?

I was basing it off the Nicene Creed, actually, but they're similar enough that it doesn't matter. That was my goal, to show the parallel with Christianity, while outlining the basics of the Virian religion. It's also a hook, yes, and I'm glad you think it worked.

Milan, Florence, Rome, what have you. The idea is an Italian city that simply grew from Roman roots, rather than started over again, so there's a lot of marble and old buildings leftover. The whole of the Vir are basically early Italians/Spaniards. Thank you very much for the positive feedback though, I'm glad you liked it.



Good, good, I'm glad that came across. The idea was to show what he's been up to for the several years since the prologue, and how it has affected his growth. This, in turn, makes him the character he is, so I'm glad that came through.

I am very interested by them myself, I find too few fantasy worlds use them at all. The possibilities for travel, warfare, architecture, and many other things are very intriguing to me, and I'm doing my best to decide how I want it all to play out. For example, tall city walls don't matter very much when the enemy army can simply fly over them. Of course, a natural consequence is that they're too light to make effective heavy fighters; archers, though, is a definite possibility, especially given their enhanced, "hawk-like" sense of sight.




A lizard race? Not quite the impression I was hoping to give, haha. No, the Vir are just normal human beings; I tried adding in some instances where they are described as "men" instead, so hopefully that helps. Originally I tried to avoid the word "man" altogether, but it got too confusing.

And no, the Investigators aren't comforting at all.

Correct, he does not remember his mother, except in brief flashes, which I will explain in the next chapter. He did possess wings, but, again, in the next chapter I will reveal how they were removed to make him look considerably more Vir-ish. The beggar is meant to be a Tiresius style character, spouting off a prophecy that has implications, but the words themselves aren't clear to either the reader or Don just yet. Don does look like a Vir, though a skinnier one, and his hair color is unusual. Most Vir have dark, Italian like hair, and their skin is of a much darker shade than Don's.

Thanks to everyone for reading though, I appreciate all the comments.

I had this image of a crocodile sitting on the throne. Where did I get that from? Who knows.

You can rock a powerful scene like no one else! The scene with the prophet/beggar and Donatello was chilling and intriguing - a mystery looms! Awesome Write !!!

I like the way you describe the scene while it is happening. You gave a vivid picture of the crowded square without stopping the action to tell about it. I am intrigued by your story, and enjoying it very much!

Thank you Malx, I always appreciate the positive feedback. I seem to focus more on compact, highly emotional scenes rather than large chapters, so I try to fit as much tension into them as possible. Glad to see the suspense is mounting as I'd hoped.



I'm glad you like the style, my good man. I'm not a fan of pausing the emotional buildup and dialogue to go off on the setting, it ruins the pace, so I try to throw in tidbits when I can. Thank you for reading, I appreciate the feedback.

I'll post the second chapter soon, but my writing is being interrupted by an RP at my own forum that I've started, so the third one will probably be a while in coming. My most sincere apologies.

That may be a timely interruption, RL is taking so much time right now that I have been barely able to read the stories on the forum. I've had no time whatsoever to update my own story in quite a while, and don't see a break in this busy period for a while to come.

Have fun with your RP !!! Is that over at the Scribes Corner?

That is unfortunate, I hope your schedule eases up soon. Thanks though, it's going pretty well so far. And yes, I am hosting it at the Scribe's Corner, if you want to check it out. Not currently accepting new members, I'm afraid, though it seems you wouldn't have time to join anyway.

URG! I'm already a member there ... unless I've been booted out !!!! (??? urk!)