The Forgotten Kingdom

Chapter 1

    Desmond awoke, as he did every day, before sunrise. First, he lit the candle by his bed, then he let his bare feet hit the solid wood floor to get his clothes for the day – a fur-lined tunic and woolen leggings. After getting dressed, he fixed his raven hair from his eyes and left his room. He trudged down the stairs, grabbing a crook hanging by the door, and left the house.

    Normally, he began his day of work by checking that the goats were all in their pen, but not today. When he arrived at the loafing shed, he saw a figure in the dark. Holding his, crook in both hands, fearing this might be some sort of goat thief, he crept slowly upon the mysterious figure, only to realize that it was his father was already counting the sleeping goats.

    "Father?" Desmond c****d his head and lowered his crook as his father turned to face him with his usual cheery smile, obscured by his graying, bushy black beard. "What are you doing here, have you already-"

    "Desmond," his father said, raising his large hand to cut him off, "Ole Gilford came by jus' a bit ago, said he needs extra help at the forge today."

    "And Elsabeth isn't enough?" Father shook his head, closing his green eyes.

    "Seems the town's gettin' bigger soon," his father said as he scratched his beard, looking at the nearby palisade wall. "Gonna need plenty of axes and saws to clear them woods, and Gilford’s gonna need someone to help haul ‘em."

    "What about the goats?"

    His father let out a chuckle. "Your mother and I can handle the goats and the cheese alone for one day, we were doing it before you and your sister were born." His father clapped his hand over his shoulder with a warm smile, "now go and wake up your sister, she can't be sleeping through the day."

    Desmond nodded and left to return to his house. It wasn't an impressive house when you looked at it by itself, but when you compared it to the nearest houses that were barely big enough to fit a family, it seemed like a manor. Its thatch roof was like any other in town, but the wooden house was big enough that he, his sister, and his parents had their privacy. Its size, combined with the nearby shed for cheesemaking, the goats' loafing shed, and the garden made it one of the bigger lots in town.

    Cynder wasn't a large town, and it was on the edge of the kingdom, so he doubted that the expansion was going to be anything else but housing - which he was hopeful for, as many of his neighbors deserved better houses. Still, he'd heard rumors that the mayor had come into the good graces of the Chieftain, Archon of Fire herself Brenneka Byron. Of course, his sister had been the one to tell him that, and she had a habit of trying to make him believe crazy things. When they were children, she had convinced him their oldest goat was secretly their brother who'd been cursed by a rogue Turner.

    Even so, if what she said was true, then the expansion might be for something like a tavern, or hunter's lodge. The mayor was never satisfied with being the mayor of such a small town, and if he really had acquired the Chieftain's favor, an expansion might be another ploy to earn more favor from her. The thought was enough to turn Desmond's stomach. But those thoughts were for another time; now he had to face the insurmountable task of waking his sister.

    When he entered the house, he first smelled bacon, then he saw his mother cooking breakfast. He placed his crook on its hook by the door. He made his way over to his mother by the kitchen fire and looked over her shoulder.

    "Morning, Desmond," his mother said with a bright smile that momentarily masked her crows' feet as she tucked a stray blonde hair behind her ear. "What are you doing inside? Did you get an early count?"

    "No, father said Gilford came by and wants me to help him and Elsabeth at the forge today," Desmond said, looking at the strips of meat that she had in the pan. Their savory aroma made his stomach growl, for a moment he considered taking a piece to rouse Elsabeth, and subconsciously raised his hand.

    "You wait until its ready." She pointed her wooden spoon at him with a stern, blue-eyed gaze and Desmond felt his face heat up from embarrassment as he dropped his hand.

    "I wasn't going to-"

    "Sure you weren't. You and your sister are just alike, always wanting a nibble before its ready."

    "Speaking of Elsabeth, I should go and wake her," Desmond said, looking to the stairs.

    "Good luck with that." His mother said with a laugh, "Ellie could sleep through a stampede if you let her." Desmond kissed his mother on the cheek, before hurrying upstairs to his sister's room.

    As soon as he opened the door, he was shocked to find her already halfway dressed. Granted, she looked like she'd been raised from the dead, but she was standing all the same. They looked almost identical, with their mother's blue eyes and their father's black hair. If it weren't for Elsabeth preferring to keep her hair long and Desmond keeping his short, and the muscle that Elsabeth had developed from apprenticing under Gilford, they'd probably look identical.

    "What are you doing in here, Desmond?" She groaned once she realized the door was open. She rummaged around a small pile of fabric as she asked.

    "I was coming to wake you up."

    "Why?" She almost sounded offended, raising up from the ground with her boots in hand.

    "Well because Gilford-"

    Any grogginess still in her left at the mention of her master, replaced with an indignant fire that was typical of his twin. "What did that old man have to say? And why would he say it to you instead of me, I'm his apprentice not you," she huffed, turning to him with her hands on her hips, dropping the boots as she pointed her chin up. "You couldn't hold a hammer properly to save your life."

    "Gilford said-"

    "And now that I'm thinking about it, why did you just barge in here instead of knocking? I could’ve been-"

    "I'm helping you at the forge today!" Desmond shouted over his sister, his face going red again.

    There was a moment's pause.

    Then Elsabeth broke out into raucous laughter, bending over at her middle from the laughter. Desmond's blush quickly faded into a very annoyed glare.

    "What's so funny?"

    "You?" She pointed at Desmond, "At the forge? Helping me?" She pointed at herself, flexing as she did so, before her laughter redoubled.

    "Fine, keep laughing, I'll just go and get the bigger plate from mom," he said, turning to leave.

    "Over my dead body," she shouted, hurrying to lace up her boots as Desmond shut the door to head downstairs.