The First Draft of the First Chapter (Book One)

First

On a planet that is surrounded by many friends, and one that orbits around little moonlets and baby-stars, there are three magical kingdoms. Planets in the Universe are many, but the one that one may focus on just now looks, really, a bit like Earth.

Blue, with large blobs of green - very simple, except for the facts that there are rather many strokes of lemon and orange and ivory. Those are just the birthmarks of the planet; why, when the Planet was first created, the birthmarks stood out bumpy and uneven; but, after millions of years, they have melted into the ground, which is where one can now experience the magic in its original form - not shrunk, not made simpler - just not messed with, all in all.

The Kingdom where everything takes place is called "Consilii" (in Latin) - or else "Resourceful", in English. It may seem peculiar that a fantasy kingdom would steal a word from typical "Earth" - but the fact is that the Consiles - the people that live there - do have a bit of an inkling of "Latin", for it is most important, and is taught a little bit at school where the young Consiles go.

Consilii has four main islands; Dragnia, The Triplets (people always counted The Three as one small island, because of their vexingly-small size), Ruthenium Picke and the respectable One Without A Name, also known as "The King".

Dragnia is an island where dragons roam all they like; there are many birthmarks there, but they are all very small, unlike the ones at "Ruthenium Picke" (known as "The Island of Dark") and the One Without a Name.

Dragonia is often thought of as "The plain one" in the whole of the Planet, because of how simple and wild it is; full of trees, rocks, and a little town named "Ludovic", named after the hero of dragons - or else the first Consile to ever tame one of those beasts. Mind, dragons aren't always horrendous!

The Triplets are simple also - just carefree little islands, where people live - rather, people who just want to get away "from the magical life" and spend the rest of their days in sweet air, perfumed by daisies.

Ruthenium Picke is much different from the rest, however; that was where the King of Darkness was born. But that was over a thousand year ago. Nevertheless, goblins still prowl in the night, and there are plenty of cursed castles, all in ruins, selkies, and many other nightmares.

Now, for the last "part" - The One Without a Name! That is where the capital of Consilii is - right in "City of Tilla". Nobody knows where the name had originated from, but no matter - peasants and normal townsfolk that lived in Terese Town said that Tilla was the richest; it had a castle, and many rich manors flecked all about. But really, one only had to befriend King Martin to get the trust of his wife, Riley (quite an un-royal name!) - and then, they can move in, poor peasants or not, for the Royals are friendly, and rather very dangerously naive! The people that live in The Corner Village don't know much about Tilla, or Terese; because, as one may have noticed, it was away from both of those "marks", and instead built at the corner of "The King". Fisherman said they were content with what they got, and I think so, too. Candidly, The Corner Village isn't all bad, save for the fact that it's over a hundred kilometers from the "Place of the orcs", where the respectable, muscular, long-faced, man-eating monsters still live to this day. Also, The Corner Village often feels cold, for it is right by the "Great sea", and it is a fact that many a - or most of the - Consiles like the cold.

Oh, but of course it shouldn't at all make sense for it to be very cold in the East, eh? The thing is that the Planet - and not only that - the whole one hundred and twenty-three planets! - aren't very, so to say, logical. Not quite yet, however. Being in the twenty-first century means nothing to the Consiles, if one talks only about them - why, they don't even have an inkling about what "a year" means. To them, there are no "decades", save for the "centuries" and "millenniums" and so, so on - to them, on their wrong, peculiar planets, there is only time - "time to make time", as one greatly worshipped poet said, somewhere in the ninth century, if one slips back into normal human language!

And so back to the peculiarity; one must notice that, since the planet is often horribly wrong, that the gods choose to turn chilly or send bright beams of sunlight down upon the Planet only when, well, they feel like it. Other times, the gods and occasional goddesses (for being ignorant of real "rights", females on the Planet are still believed to not be capable of much) lean over the clouds to gaze down upon the Planet, and cry, and laugh, and tear their hair (if they have any, mind) as they follow the lives of different people, all at different times of day and night.

Not to believe in the "Upper" people is a bit of a woe - a sin - for most Consiles, actually, to be frank. It is almost a rule to be Catholic, and to strongly lean on religion as a friend that never ceases. For the unfortunate type, it seems awful to have an "undying friend", and if a mother scorns her child for not reading the bible, it is always heard in the community the stern words from the pale-from-rage lips, almost unmoving, "You will go to hell, my dear, when Life flies out of your vain knuckle!" or something of that sort.

It, strictly, is not necessary to believe - and to trust - "Those Upper" people, whatever the priests may say. As once a boy, clad in grey, torn clothes said to his enraged father - "Dad, you see, you say that the Upper-ers can fix anything! And you told me that a priest is a kind of church minister, did you not? So it is by law the priest's job to mend things like the Upper-ers if he worships them so, is it not? Well, why don't you blame HIM for not fixing my clothes after I jumped into dirt just to save a caterpillar? Oh, and now I tell you - those priests know nothing! Nothing!"

Twenty years later, the boy, named Eddi House, became the "church minister", for he seemed to have forgotten what he had said only two decades - or rather, "some time" ago. But until his barbaric father died, he always came to him at evening to hit him and say - "You know nothing, son, nothing, nothing!"

Nevertheless, being Catholic is not bad, and even if one little rebel gets an occasional scolding, often for the rest of their lives they carry the hopes of going to "Heaven" if they rightly behaved or else, if were excellent all their lives, become one of the "Upper" people. One day, some time ago (actually, it was ten years previously!), a poor peasant's wife saw her husband die and then, a few months later, said that she saw him smiling at her, peering over the edge, looking very young and happy.

But one had to be clever, cunning, sly, bright (in the sense of being smart), positive, determined motivating and strong-minded to get Up There. However, it is unlikely that any of the Consiles were as perfect - in that sense.

For an interesting fact, there were already twelve Upper-ers, eight of which were men and four were women.

There is Mistress Snowdrop, the fragile young woman with falling white hair over her albino face. Nobody knew where she lived before she came to be one of the Upper-ers, but many still think she is from one of the Triplets, being very slight and tender, and seemingly built of love and health and the breath of the wild. Surely her name wasn't such a ridicule before - rather, it was Stephanie Daphen.

Then, there is Lord Pebblar, a man with a scruffy black head, the same moustache, and very wide, very expressive eyes of the tints that are the colours of the birthmarks of the Planet; orange, white, yellow. And so if one stares into them for long... well, somebody once said that they would get paralyzed if they looked into the two pools for too long - into the pools that sun cut through one, slicing the air with malice - or that was at least the "somebody" said.

Next was Lord Merge, a stout old man with long greying hair and a fantastical look about his blue-veined face.

Forwards on the list, Mistress Stone, the seemingly stony (pun intended, if there is one) thirty-year-old of dull lips and high cheekbones.

Lord Labestar, next. He was the most cruel, surely! He had piercing eyes, just like his brother, a twisted little mouth and a bumpy face - in the means of "full of zits". And not one could describe the droll look of his unimpressive, shallow eyes - not one. Not one except Pebblar.

The others aren't worth mentioning - actually, surely they are, but one gets the point from the first Five, yes?

Now, moving onto hell: when a woman speaks sternly to her child, saying they were to go to hell, she does mean "Ruthenium Picke", if she is one of the Consiles. The truth is, that every kingdom has an island, all evil, flowing with dark blood. It is the mere believe that after life, if one is bad, then they are sent to "Ruthenium Picke" (again, if they were from Consilii). But the beliefs were so strong (are, perhaps, still!), that they drive the people mad if they really put their mind onto being good and if one unfortunate cully someday spills "Sap wine" on their suit, then of course the poor man feels restless  and ashamed until they die! Fancy, such a little thing!

Sap wine may be brought up now, just as well. Now, sap in Consilii is a sort of bitter, round yellow seed dotted in crimson that is said to be very good for the body. It also tastes nice - very nice - when introduced to wine; because the slight grape effect, mixed in with the tongue-biting flavour, may make a rather good lunch; just say one had been kicked out of their home for, why, doesn't that happen really very often? - and one stopped in front of a stall in one of the markets to buy some Sap wine from a fat little seller (generally fat, they are, with no offense meant, because every once in a while the seller sneaks a bite or a sip into their mouth, building up the habit bit by bit), and then took a sip while hurrying to work. Well, it is very hard, the wine, and tends to stay in one's stomach for quite a while afterwards because of the "pressure".

Another national food is red cheese, which one must not describe, and let another know that the one thing that makes the cheese so red is the blood of an orc.

One must also be rather interested why orcs don't live at Ruthenium Picke. And the answer is simple; they just like The King, with all its healthy grasses and plants and soul-healing (pardon, if that is  no word!) rains. It was a long, long time ago that they had moved from Ruthenium Picke into the mountains! And the mountains are very small, but they are very steep and sharp also, mind, that they never could be mentioned on the Official map of Consilii. Because it can only display large, major items!

Now, of course there are other magical folk that live on The King. For an instance, the Djinns, living five hundred kilometers from the "Corner Village", are really very jolly and proper and good! Old little men, going on about their daily jobs, bringing back their wives and kids food. The only thing unnatural about them is that they, of course, can make one's wish come true. Just like that, one must assure the other!

Then, second-lastly, are the pixies. They live in the "castle" ruins, with sharp, pointed faces, mischievous natures and playful habits. Usually, they don't disturb one - unless one promises them blackberries and brings none. It is deathly to mess with those!

Finally, there are the sirens. And after this, one never must say that The King is all good!

Mind, they aren't the everyday lovely, friendly mermaids - no, they are the sirens; the ones that live in the "Singing waters"! One is most likely already familiar with what they do - sing, sing, and then take those poor sailors down to the bottom of the ocean to rip off their heads. However, it's not only sailors that they take down there...

And so, this is Consilii - in all its glory!