• Rale woke up slowly, not caring it was nearly noon. "Rale, wake up son!", his father shouted. Rale stood up shaking his head, making his long, dark hair dance across his shoulders. "I'm coming Father!", he shouted back. He slipped on his rough, baige tunic, and pulled up his trousers. He was a tall, slim 14 year-old boy who was the son of Albion, a normal farmer, but soon did he find out, he was no ordinary man. He had just left his room when Albion confronted him." Aht, Aht, c'mon boy do your chores." Rale sighed as he walked outside. Then, suddenly,a scream echoed in the distance. Far off, the sound of horse hooves were followed by the shear c***k of a sword being drawn, And his father rushed outside." Rale, inside boy, now! " Rale was grabbed by the collar and dragged inside. His father shut the door and quickly latched the bolt. Albion pointed to the rug and said "Pick it up son." Rale slid the rug to the side, revealing a trap door. He instinctively opened it, climbing down the stairs. Albion shut it. Rale couldn't see except for the torch in the corner of the room. Still he coud make out something that startled him greatly. Armor and a sword! The armor was solid silver, brocaded with illustrious gold. The great Winged Lion, royal symbol of Wrathalon's greatest knights. He looked up and saw The a glorious winged helm, next to it was a shield, similar to the armor. and next his young eyes beheld a beautiful sword! It was made of Mithril, with a golden hilt. Imbedded in the pommel was a shining saphire. Then he heard a loud bang, followed by a sickening thud. He sat there quietly, knowing his father was dead.


    TO BE CONINUED IN PART 2......