Hi, I’m author, writer and fantasy writer Paul Lang! Today I want to show you a free excerpt from my upcoming FREE eBook “The Useless Prince” On October 11th, this will be available for download on amazon kindle. Did I mention that it will be free?
CHAPTER 1: FATHERLAND
The nation is a portrait of its ruler. It shapes itself in conjunction with his spirit. -Xenus Durandal, The Element King
To be born on Alto-Samaar is to be born into slavery. Xenus Durandal, known by many far and wide as The Element King, does not have subjects, he has slaves. All must obey him, but no one has to like it. Nobody really likes The Element King, maybe not even The Element King.
So I, Deraldo Milensua Lacturn, ninth and youngest son of house Lacturn, was born a wealthy slave. My father and brothers were all servants of great renown, Lords of the third and fourth rank respectively, but I did not wish to give anyone the right to command my spirit. I stayed as useless as possible for the first twenty-eight years of my life.
When my eldest brother Saffhieur was promoted to Southern Commander, I had an orgy with three elf women on the roof of the tavern. I considered our accomplishments about equal. When my second oldest brother, Losseth, discovered a new alchemical compound, I introduced the youth of the city to a new strain of Pixie Dust, the good kind that makes your eyes bleed. When my third brother Areistul won the Element King’s Arm Tournament, I fell in love with a beautiful commonborne girl and we made our eyes bleed together. I considered that an accomplishment for a while, at least, while it lasted.
I brought her home to the mansion once. My father was, of course, outraged. We got into a big fight which ended the same way our fights usually did; I told him he was nothing but a slave to the Element King, and he asked me when I would find a cause to stand by.
This was our impasse. I didn’t think I would ever find a cause. I wasn’t the type who cared, but I couldn’t help but notice that he and my brothers had something that I didn’t, something that made them content, a place, a function, conviction, even if it was a terribly misplaced conviction.
Soon after the fight with my father, the commonborne girl left me. I like to pretend that it didn’t bother me too much. I’ve never belonged to anyone, so I suppose neither did she. She left me for a merman who played a fancy harp; one of the Syrro people of the deep.
I hope the rumors about Syrro are true and he eats her alive.
That night I considered going off to the tavern and drinking until my skin turned blue. Maybe when I woke up the next day, I wouldn’t even remember her. I’d been down that road before, and for some reason I decided to try something new. I followed my father to a meeting of the Gold Parliament. I wanted a distraction, and I had a standing invitation to accompany him. He seemed pleased that I was showing an interest in matters of state. I wasn’t, of course, but I was running out of new drugs, and perhaps politics could be their own sort of drug.
All of the nobles there were dressed in the finest gowns. All of them were clean and proper, respectable, men with light skin and hair, all of them biologically linked to the Durandal line or one of the other Founding Families in some way, just as my father was.
The hall itself was rich and ornate, a rounded cathedral with seats arranged on a balcony of a deep, twisting stairwell which led to the Chamber of Laws. The meeting itself was less fanciful. There was a lot of slow, boring talk, a lot of discussion of trade and policy and land allocation. I was smart enough to understand and follow all of it, but I was incredibly bored.
Then, when I had nearly given up on the drug of state, the man of the hour emerged. I never saw him walk in, a large, red curtain simply parted, and there he was, sitting on his glorious throne, draped in gold and crimson, his distant face, handsome with its blue eyes, well formed features and blond beard, barely moved as he spoke. The whole room fell silent.
“I am concerned with the plight of the colony, Laskmeer.”
To this day, I could not describe the tone or the cadence of his voice, it was like wind and fire and rushing water. I could swear his mouth never moved, and he never blinked. Were it not for his words and the movement of his gloved hands, I would have said he was a statue.
“Though they are our offspring, they are not like us. Their ways are not our ways. Their gods are not our gods. It would break our heart if they were to betray us.”
I’ll admit I didn’t know much about Laskmeer. I knew it was a name that meant “Death Hole,” and that the Samaa people, the original natives of Alto-Samaar, had been “given” the continent to live on one-hundred-and-one years ago. I knew, like everyone, that this was just a cruel trick to get rid of them and annex new territories.
“Who shall we send to be our eyes in the land of our children?”
I also knew that my girlfriend was sleeping with a fish man, and that I wanted to leave.
I said, “I’ll go.”
Afterall, what’s one death hole to another?
(Want to know what happens next? Read the rest on October 11th!)
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