The Misty Kingdom

A kingdom is in trouble and a lone hero is needed to save it. How cliche.

Long ago, in an unknown kingdom...that is the start of my story. Well, it wouldn’t be a very good story if the beginning was too cliche, now would it? So let’s start this story with something interesting, though, that may already be.

Now, I could tell you about some ancient kingdom that was ruled by a man who was greedy and selfish and cared about no one but himself, and was ultimately defeated by some great hero with a special weapon, but, that’s not this story. Our story begins, behind a wall of mist. This mist was unusual in the sense that it was always there. It never lifted, it never thinned, and no one could go see what was inside, except for the people that were already there. The people on the outside of this mist called the land inside “the Misty Kingdom,” because many people thought they saw a castle floating just above the mist, as well as reported encounters with people inside the mist. The people inside the mist, of course, called their kingdom by its real name, Alacia.

The kingdom was ruled by a gracious king, fair and just. He ruled alongside his dearest friend, and most trusted ally, the White Mist Dragon (or “Misty,” as her friends simply called her). The people of this kingdom were happy, for their king was happy, due to the alliance between humans and dragons.

Mist dragons were special, being they had two forms. One was their mist form, a form that was a cloud with a thousand star-like lights inside. At the head of this formation, was their heart, which glowed like a red gem in the sunrise. Their physical form was what most resembled a dragon. Typically, their wings were small, thin and useless for flight. Their body’s were slender and they stood a head smaller than the average man.Their skin was smooth and silky, because they had no scales. It glistened in the sunlight in a beautiful way.

The relationship between the dragons and humans was not always so great. At on time, the Great War between mist dragons and humans killed off most of the dragons. No one remembers really why the war started, maybe territory or a misunderstanding. But, what people do remember is that many dragons were slaughtered, until few remained.

The king, who had joined the fighting, had encountered a mist dragon. But, instead of trying to kill each other, the dragon merely wanted to plead with him, and the king with it. One said that the other attacked and they were merely defending themselves, and vice versa. They continued to argue back and forth without end, until they realized, they didn’t remember why they were fighting to begin with. “If we don’t remember, why do we fight?” the king said.

The dragon agreed, and right then, they both decided to return to their people and tell them to end this fighting, for the dragon present at this meeting was the White Mist Dragon, the queen of the mist dragons. Afterwards, the dragon and the king both met in the Mist Palace, a castle that rested on a floating cloud of mist, to discuss the final details of the peace treaty.

Now, I could tell you all the little details that came with the discussion, but that would take too long and be too boring to do so. But I will tell you, both sides agreed to not kill each other like that again, and the White Mist Dragon lived with the king ever since, the end… or is it?

The dragons and the people agreed to never again pit war against each other, though one still had a dark hatred for humans. He never forgot the slaughter on his own people, and wanted revenge.

On a seemingly peaceful day, the king and Misty were enjoying the beautiful afternoon. The sun was warm and the breeze was cool, making for moderate temperatures. Then, suddenly, a dark, pitch black cloud covered the sun. The king looked up, wondering if it was going to rain. When he did, he saw a familiar sight that shocked him, for it was too big to be what he thought it was. But it had to be. What he saw, was a huge, Black Mist Dragon in its mist form. The mist seemed large enough to swallow the entire castle.

No mist dragon was this big in its mist form. I mean, they got bigger, but not that big. In a matter of seconds, the entire castle was swallowed into the giant mist, and when it lifted, no one was left, not even the White Mist Dragon.

No one can say what happened afterward. All they know is that the castle appeared to be empty, occasionally seeing a dark figure in the windows resembling a dragon. News of the castle being taken would not be known for a long time, especially to the outer edges of the kingdom.

Weeks afterwards, I don’t know how many exactly, a small village to the southeast of the castle was preparing for the merchants to pass through town. These merchants came through in order to sell their wares and trinkets, as well as bring news of the outside world, or at least the world within Alacia.

The merchants, of course, brought only bad news this time. They still had their wares and trinkets, but the news was terrible, but I already mentioned it so I won't repeat it. The villagers were terrified. Some mumbled to their neighbors, some cried, some were just flat out hysterical, particularly one guy, who ran around screaming his head off like a some kind of idiot.

The local tavern was busy as always. Men were talking and laughing, fooling around like men do, travelers talking of their adventures or taking a load off. It was then when someone, a member of the village, rushed in and said, “ The Mist Palace has been taken.” People stood up from their seats and joined the mob that crowded around the man, asking him all sorts of questions… except for one.

This man was sitting silently in a corner, not moving from his spot. He wore thin rimmed glasses and had a messy head of thick brown hair. He was tall, thin but fit, and appeared to be no more than eighteen years old. Instead of joining the crowd, he simply got up, and went out the back door.

His name was Clark. He lived a mile outside of town, so he lived out of the way of everything that went on in the village. His house was an old, one room shack that was rather run-down. Clark opened the door, which creaked against its rusty hinges. The inside was a bit on the messy side, with old shirts and trousers on the floor, dishes on the table that were in desperate need of cleaning. On the right was his bed, messy, his mattress full of holes, and at the foot was a trunk where his clothes should have been.To the left, a shelf full of books that he had read a thousand times over, memorizing each word on each page. Each book was filled with information, both useful and trivial. The far end of his home held the kitchen, which needed the most cleaning, with crumbs and scraps of food scattered across the counter.

Clark went to the center of the room and sat at the only chair at the table. He sat quietly for a few seconds, his hands under his chin like he was pondering something. He sat there, then stood up and said, “Finally!” He had be waiting for an opportunity like this to prove his skills as a swordsman, a real fight against a real opponent.

Clark went to the trunk at the foot of his bed and opened the lid. Inside were spare clothes, as well as a sword he had purchased from a merchant years ago. The sword was polished, shiny enough to see one's own reflection like a mirror. The sword’s blade was an arm long and the handle was a hand a half. It was not the fanciest sword ever, but it was his, and he trusted his life with it. He put the sword in its scabbard and pulled the belt around his waist, fitting it so it would not fall off.

He then went to the kitchen and searched the cabinets for whatever food he could find. He gathered all the food and tied it up in a handkerchief, stuck the bundle in his bag, along with some extra clothes. He packed a map, as well as some books he might need on the journey. While he was doing all of this, he smiled, knowing he will soon start on the most exciting and dangerous adventure of his life. In fact, it was his first one.

Clark began his adventure by walking out his front door, not knowing if he would return. He then headed towards the Mist Palace, where he knew he would face a great evil. I could tell you the details of his journey to the castle, but that would take too long, so I will just summarize. He passed through the vast forest taking three days to walk through. He then journeyed across the white water rapids that almost killed him. The rest of the journey was just flat plains for miles and miles.

Just in sight of the castle, he passed through a village. The people there had seen what had happened to the castle. The description provided by the people was accurate enough, though no one could say what was going on inside the castle. Anyone who had gone to investigate had never returned.

Despite the warning of the people, Clark continued to the castle, anxious to meet his challenge head on. He decided to go for the direct approach and climb the stairs that led to the castle. From the bottom, the castle looked a mile away. Clark knew he had a long walk ahead of him.

It took what seemed like forever to get to the top, reaching the large gate that, though normally closed, was wide open. Getting in was obviously the easy part. Finding whoever or whatever was inside might be a bit difficult.

Before entering, Clark decided to leave his belongings outside the gate, taking only his sword, which he drew as he walked inside. The hall he entered was huge, with a red carpet that laid stretched out in front of him for what seemed like fifty paces. It was odd, nothing was broken, and the carpet was intact. The tapestries that hung on the walls were also unharmed. One would think, considering the circumstances, that the castle would in shambles, but there was no evidence of any struggle at all.

Clark decided to move as quietly as possible, as to not disturb the enemy he knew he would encounter. After negotiating the great hall, Clark found his way through the maze of corridors that filled the castle. Windowless halls were lit by torches. Clark was puzzled by this, since no one was supposed to be in the castle.

Finally, Clark had made his way to where he thought he would find his enemy, the throne room. The room was almost as big as the hall he first entered. A red carpet, similar to the one in the great hall, led up to the throne, which appeared to be made of gold, dressed with red velvet cushions.

Clark searched around the room for the enemy he came to face, sword held close. Then, someone spoke:

“You are very brave, little one.”

Startled, Clark continued to look around the room, unable to see who spoke to him. The voice was deep and ominous, as if every word was an ill omen. “ Look above you,” the voice said. Clark almost could not believe what he saw. The mist was that of a mist dragon, only darker, larger and more ominous (that is such a fun word to use, when used in a sinister sort of way).

Gathering all his courage, “Come into your physical form, unless you are too afraid to face me,” Clark demanded, moving into a ready stance, both hands holding his sword. Clark’s forehead was dripping with sweat. Something this big should not exist, Clark thought to himself, shaking nervously.

“As you wish, though you may faint of fright,” the voice said. The mist descended, beginning to take a physical form. The dragon was much larger than Clark anticipated. “You humans,” the dragon said, “you slaughtered my kind, and you expect me to forgive? The others of my kind may have done so, but I will not.”

Clark stood his ground, despite the dragon being almost as big as the room itself, the dragon’s tail nearly knocking over the throne. “I am not afraid of you,” Clark said, knowing the dragon would see through his bluff.

“Hm, you are a brave one, aren’t you?” the dragon said, with a mocking tone. “You may actually be more entertaining than the ones that came before you. It matters not, for I shall soon become powerful enough to swallow this entire kingdom - whole. It is almost sad, for you shall not live long enough to see it.”

“We shall see about that,” Clark said, as he charged forward towards the mighty dragon, sword at ready. The dragon attempted to snap at him with his massive jaws, teeth sharp as razors. Clark merely dodged and continued his charge, screaming out a ferocious battle cry. “I will end this, and you will be unable to stop me!” Clark yelled. The dragon changed form, and tried to sweep Clark up into his mist. Clark continued to charge forward, unafraid, heading towards the dragon’s heart. Clark had disappeared into the mist, only to emerge unharmed. The mist had vanished. Falling behind him was the dragon’s heart, cleaved in two. The two pieces fell to the ground with the sound of a falling gemstone. The dragon’s heart turned pitch black. The dragon was no more.

The following the news of the dragon’s defeat, a celebration took place everywhere, for the kingdom was saved. The king was alive and told the tale of how the White Mist Dragon saved him from certain death. She had given her life to protect the king from the Black Mist Dragon by cloaking him with her own mist. The energy it took to do so forced her to use up all her energy, causing her to perish.

In order to protect the kingdom from a similar threat, a new order was established. This order would be known as the Knights of the Mist, protectors of the kingdom. Clark would be the first of its members.