u/Much-Evening-3296

Recently I have wanted to make some songs and sing them but my song drafts are mid and I am terrible at singing. I have a pretty deep voice for my age I believe and if I try to sing high my voice cuts out tbh. I have a pretty normal life so noth much to sing about. Only thing was a relationship I had that was a date and then she messed me over by going out with someone else without telling me and we both knew we liked the other. I tried some drafts but they are terrible. I need some help. Also btw for info I am a guy

My start of my first ever fantasy book

I know the start is not great. I will refine it all eventually. Ignore the chapter names. I messed one up specifically chapter 5 since I at the start of the chapter changed what I wanted in it. It is currently like 26,000 words or something. It is not great for a fair warning. I am open to suggestions and feedback and stuff but please don't be mean or rude about it. I am new to writing and am younger so I just want some info and feedback from writers. It is a medieval fantasy type thing but it has rare early guns with their own special names. I tried to start it out with an intense moment to grip readers then let the readers get attached to the characters while peace happens then when they least expect it rip out the rug and then it is just pure intensity. For the record it is not finished and I haven't finished the current scene yet but Here is the first draft. Every 5 full chapters I plan go read the book and adjust stuff fix and plot holes fix grammar issues. I am sure I have many. Refine the book and make it better. Fair warning chapter 2 is a little bit slow. I can't fit more than one chapter so I will just post the other 4 in comments

I keep going on tangents and talking. Here it is

Chapter I: The Shadows on the Stone

The morning sun always hit the high, limestone towers of Sonth first, throwing brilliant shafts of white light through the vaulted windows of the royal keep. It washed over the polished marble floors of the grand gallery, a long and quiet hall where the tapestries of past victories hung still in the morning air. But as the hallway deepened toward the heart of the castle, the warmth vanished. Behind the towering oak-and-iron doors of the throne room, the bright daylight was choked out, replaced by the dense, flickering amber glow of iron braziers that lined the massive stone pillars. King Auden Thorne stood at the center of the chamber, not on his throne, but leaning heavily over a massive slate map table that had been rolled before the dais. His fingers pressed into the carved wooden borders of the map, his eyes tracing the jagged lines that marked the northern territories. Flanking him were his older and younger brothers, the men who held the walls and seas of the realm together. Admiral Valen, the oldest, stood with his arms crossed over a navy-blue tunic stiff with salt-crusted silver embroidery. Next to him was Commander Garrick, the younger army brother, whose plate armor still bore the faint gray dust of the dawn infantry drills. "The mountain passes are tightening, Auden," Garrick said, his deep voice scraping against the quiet of the vast room. He pointed a broad, calloused finger at the carved ridges representing the Mountain Kingdom. "My scouts at the border outposts report three separate infantry banners moving down into the rocky foothills. They aren't just patrolling their lines anymore. They’re building up heavy supply depots right along the neutral trading routes. It looks like a preparation for a blockade." "And the Dragon Empire?" Auden asked without looking up, his voice steady but carrying the immense weight of the crown. "They watch the borders as closely as we do. If the treaty is being strained, the Imperial court should have issued a decree by now." Valen shook his head, the heavy fabric of his cloak shifting. "The Empire remains silent. Twenty years of peace, Auden. Twenty years since the Great Treaty was signed, and now the Imperial court acts as though the borders govern themselves. If the Mountain Kingdom chokes off the trade caravans heading toward Market City, our treasuries will bleed before the winter snows even hit the peaks. We cannot just sit and wait for an Imperial envoy who might never come. We need to reinforce the border barracks now, even if it stirs the court." Auden sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The two decades of peace they had enjoyed was a fragile thing, a delicate glass structure that a single aggressive movement could shatter. "If we move regiments to the border without cause, the Empire will see it as an act of aggression. We must be precise. We decide nothing until we have the full reports from the morning—" The heavy oak doors at the end of the throne room didn't just open; they slammed against the stone walls with a deafening crash that echoed up into the vaulted ceiling. Auden’s hand instantly dropped to the hilt of his blade as Garrick stepped forward, his boots ringing on the marble. A border scout, his leather armor torn and splattered with dark mud and fresh crimson blood, stumbled through the threshold. He was being half-carried by another soldier, his breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps that cut through the silent room. "Your Majesty!" the bleeding scout cried out, his boots slipping on the polished floor as he was brought before the map table. "The mountains... they've crossed the line." "Calm yourself, soldier," Auden commanded, stepping around the table, his demeanor shifting from politician to commander in a heartbeat. "Speak clearly. What happened at the pass?" "We were on the eastern ridge patrol, just checking the neutral trade paths," the scout gasped, clutching a deep laceration on his arm. "A massive contingent... dozens of mountain infantry. We were trying to pull back undetected, but their scouts were already in the trees. We were spotted. Before we could even draw our steel, a mountain longbowman dropped from the treeline. The force of the arrow... it took Jaron right in the head, sire. Dead before he hit the dirt. We barely cut our way out." Garrick’s face turned a dangerous, stormy shade of red, his fists clenching so hard his iron gauntlets groaned. "They murdered a Sonth scout on neutral ground? That is an explicit violation of the Imperial pact!" "They are testing us," Valen hissed, his eyes flashing. "They want to see if we will hide behind the Dragon Empire's skirt or defend our blood." Auden stood perfectly still, looking at the bleeding man before him. The glass treaty hadn't just been strained; it had been shattered. He could feel the pulling tide of war dragging his kingdom under, but as King, he had to look at the larger board. "Get this man to the infirmary," Auden ordered the guard, his voice dropping to a low, chilling calm. Once the heavy doors closed behind the wounded soldier, he turned back to his brothers. Garrick was already halfway to the door, his hand resting on his sword hilt, his face dark with fury. "I'll go pull the boys from the yard myself. They need to see what these bastards are doing." "No," Auden said softly, his voice carrying a quiet authority that stopped Garrick in his tracks. Garrick turned, frowning. "Auden, my scouts are dead—" "I know," Auden interrupted, looking out the tall window toward the sunlit courtyards below. In the distance, he could hear the faint, muffled sounds of wooden swords clashing and the bright, echoing laughter of Lucan and Kaelen. "But look at them, Garrick. They are celebrating Lucan's knighthood. They are planning to sneak off to the taverns. Let them have the afternoon. Let them enjoy their last few moments of peace before we bring them into the horror of this world." Garrick looked out the window, his chest heaving with anger, but slowly, his shoulders dropped. He thought of his wife, Rosalind, and how this news would break her heart, and he thought of his son's innocent laughter. He looked at his brother, then nodded tightly. "Two hours, Auden. Then we call a full Thorne meeting." "Two hours," Auden agreed. "Valen, ready the fleet. Garrick, secure the gates. Let our boys laugh a little longer while they still can." Down in the open, sunlit training squares below the keep, the heavy shadows of the throne room had not yet fallen. The air down here smelled of turned earth and leather, completely detached from the stifling scent of burnt iron in the council chamber. Lucan circled slowly to his left, his boots grinding into the loose white gravel of the courtyard. At seventeen, he had just earned his knight’s spurs, and the heavy ironwood training greatsword in his hands felt like an extension of his own arms. He kept his stance loose, his eyes locked on his younger cousin. “I’m just giving you time to prepare an excuse for when I disarm a freshly knighted lord,” Kaelen shot back. With a sudden burst of speed, Kaelen lunged forward, his wooden blade whistling through the crisp morning air as he initiated the clash. Lucan met the strike with an explosive block, using his superior leverage to twist Kaelen’s blade right out of his grip and send the fifteen-year-old tumbling backward into the mud. Kaelen hit the ground hard, but he immediately let out a loud laugh. Seeing Lucan already raising his ironwood greatsword for a mock overhead finishing strike, Kaelen scrambled, desperately grabbing his fallen wooden weapon and hoisting it just in time to catch the blow. The sharp crack of their practice blades echoed through the training courtyard. Kaelen pushed himself up, wiping mud from his chin as he leveled his blade tip directly at Lucan’s chest, dropping into a low stance for a stabbing charge. “What are you waiting for?” Lucan taunted, fighting back a grin as he circled. “Don’t want to end up in the dirt again?” “You’re the one going into the dirt!” Kaelen yelled, launching himself forward. He charged hard, but Lucan simply sidestepped to the right with effortless grace. Kaelen’s momentum sent him diving face-first into the soil, and Lucan lightly tapped his wooden blade against Kaelen’s back armor plate. “Dead again, cousin,” Lucan said, extending a hand to pull him up. “Not bad, though. You’re definitely better than I was at your age.” Kaelen took his hand, sighing as he brushed off his tunic. “I have to be honest, Lucan. I’m just not that good with a sword.” “Nonsense, you’re great with it,” Lucan said firmly, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ll keep getting better. I know you’re going to become a knight alongside me.” “Okay, fine. But one of these days, I will beat you,” Kaelen muttered. Then, with a sudden smirk, Kaelen whipped out a wooden training knife from his belt and poked Lucan right in the ribs. “Dead, cousin.” Lucan gasped, taking a step back. “Oh, come on! I call cheap shot! Good surprise attack, though.” “Thanks, Lucan,” Kaelen grinned, sheathing the wooden dagger. “Alright, ready to head to that tavern with the girl you’re always eying?” Lucan teased, nudging Kaelen’s shoulder with his elbow. Kaelen’s face flushed redder than it had during the fight. “Okay, fine. I’ll ask her to do something with me tomorrow.” “Good. Do you actually have an idea of what you want to ask? Because if you don't, I can give you a suggestion.” “To be completely honest, I have no idea what she and I would even do,” Kaelen admitted with a nervous laugh. “What’s your suggestion?” “Ask her to eat lunch with you tomorrow under the tallest tree in Sonth,” Lucan said, his tone softening with genuine advice. “At midday, the sun hits the branches perfectly. It’s the best lighting for a romantic lunch. Now come on, let's get to the tavern.” Their shared laughter echoed across the training yard, carrying all the way up to the high window of the keep where the king and his brothers stood watching. Garrick watched them go, a heavy sigh escaping his chest. “Look at them, having fun... when likely in the next month, they will be battling on the front lines.” The heavy, yeast-scented air of the crowded tavern was a welcome escape from the castle. As soon as they walked through the threshold, Kaelen stopped and pointed toward a girl with a mass of bright hair working near the back. “Her?” Lucan raised an eyebrow, letting out a low whistle. “Not bad, Kaelen. Not bad at all.” The two cousins slid into a corner wooden booth. “Two Smoky Ales, please,” Lucan called out. “Coming right up,” the tavern keeper muttered, looking thoroughly exhausted as he wiped down the counter. Lucan leaned back against the stone wall. “So, how has being a squire been treating you so far?” “It’s fine, I suppose,” Kaelen grumbled. “But it’s mostly just cleaning armor and polishing swords. Not actually fighting.” “Yeah, that happens a lot, to be honest. That is basically the definition of being a squire,” Lucan laughed. “Well, I have that escort mission to Market City coming up in a few weeks,” Kaelen said, his confidence returning. “Should be routine. I’ve already done it fifteen times.” The tired tavern keeper returned, thumping two heavy, foaming mugs of Smoky Ale onto their table. “Thanks,” Lucan said, tossing a coin before turning back to Kaelen. “So, what’s her favorite drink anyway?” “Her favorite drink is the Pi—” Kaelen didn't even get to finish the name before the tavern keeper leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, anxious whisper. “Sorry to interrupt, young lords, but I couldn't help but hear you talking about an escort mission to Market City. Word around the docks is that the Mountain Kingdom has soldiers sitting right on our borders. They’re moving toward the neutral supply lanes. Sorry to bother you, truly, but if I were you, I'd try a different route.” The man nodded tightly and walked away, leaving a sudden chill at the table. The boys took a slow sip of their ale, the weight of the words hanging between them. “Okay,” Lucan said, trying to shake off the tavern keeper’s grim news. “Are you ready to go ask her? Wait, how do you even know what her favorite drink is if you haven't talked to her?” Kaelen took one more massive sip of his ale to build his courage. “Her favorite drink is Pine Forest Red wine. And... do you actually believe what he just said? About the Mountain Kingdom soldiers? For once in my life, Lucan, I’m really not looking for a fight. If I die out there on the road, I’ll never get the chance to marry her.” His brow furrowed with sudden anxiety. “Hey,” Lucan said gently, reaching across the table to knock his knuckles against Kaelen’s arms. “I don’t know what’s true and what isnt right now. Just focus on the fact that you might get to kiss a girl for the first time today. What’s her name, anyway? Do you even know it, or have you just been staring?” “Of course I know it. It’s Lyra,” Kaelen said. “Nice. Pretty name. Now get up, order her a drink with that gold in your pocket, and go talk to her,” Lucan urged, shooing him out of the booth. Nervously, Kaelen stood up, his boots feeling heavy as he walked over to the bar where Lyra was organizing clean cups. He tapped a gold piece onto the counter. “One Pine Forest Red for her, please.” Lyra turned around, her eyes widening slightly as the wine was poured. “My favorite. How did you know that, Kaelen? We don’t exactly talk much when you aren’t volunteering to help me down at the farms.” “Just a guess,” Kaelen stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I... I also hope to change that. The talking part, I mean.” Lyra crossed her arms, staring at him with a suspicious but playful smirk. “A guess? Really?” “Okay, fine!” Kaelen confessed nervously, his cheeks burning. “Whenever I’m in this tavern and you are too... sometimes I watch to see what you order most. But I look at you in a good way! Not a creepy way, I swear.” Lyra let out a bright laugh, the tension instantly breaking. “Have you ever actually talked to a girl before? Besides, you looking at me makes me feel a whole lot less weird about the fact that I’m always looking at you.” Kaelen blinked, completely caught off guard as Lyra picked up her glass and took a sip. “You... you look at me?” “You bet I look at you,” Lyra said, her smile growing wider. “Every girl our age in the lower district looks at you. I just hoped I’d be the lucky one.” Kaelen took a deep breath, remembering Lucan’s advice. “Well... my cousin Lucan over there swears I have absolutely no courage unless I have a sword and a shield in my hands. So, I wanted to ask... do you want to have lunch with me tomorrow? At midday, under the tallest tree in Sonth. The light shines beautifully through the branches then. I can bring a basket of the best royal foods straight out of the keep's kitchens, and a bottle of that wine you love. Though I can tell you love it, since your cup is already halfway empty.” Lyra chuckled, looking down at her glass. “Well, are you asking because you actually like me, or because you just want to prove your cousin wrong?” “No, it has absolutely nothing to do with Lucan,” Kaelen said automatically, his voice completely earnest. “I’m asking purely because I’ve had a massive crush on you since the day we met when we were nine years old.” Lyra’s playful smirk melted into something incredibly soft. “Well... since you’re asking just because you like me, and since we’ve known each other since we were kids... I have absolutely no reason to say no. Yes, Kaelen. I will meet you there tomorrow. I have no reason not to.” “Yes!” Kaelen celebrated, a massive weight lifting off his chest. “No reason not to do what?” Before he could finish the syllable, Lyra leaned across the counter and pressed a soft kiss right against his cheek. “Goodnight, Kaelen,” she whispered, her eyes dancing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Kaelen walked backward all the way back to the booth, completely stunned, his hand resting against his cheek as he watches Lyra head out the back door. She threw one last, massive smile over her shoulder before disappearing into the evening light. “So, looks like that went remarkably well,” Lucan laughed, slamming his empty mug down. “Finish up your ale so we can head out. Anything to say about it, lover boy? Other than the cheek kiss, of course.” Kaelen sat down, finally breaking his trance. “I knew you were going to bring up the kiss. Let’s head out in a second, let me just finish this last sip.” He glared at his cousin playfully. “Wait a minute... how did you know that the tallest tree was such a perfect spot for a date? Unless... No way.” Lucan’s grin turned entirely guilty. “You didn’t!” Kaelen gasped. “Who did you take there?” “Okay, fine,” Lucan held up his hands laughing. “I may have asked a girl out using the exact same lines, and yes, we went to the exact same tree. That’s how I knew it worked so well.” Laughing and shoving each other's shoulders, the two cousins pushed through the tavern doors and stepped out into the cool evening air of the alleyway. But their laughter died instantly. Standing at the end of the alley, his face grim and shadowed by the twilight, was Commander Garrick. His iron gauntlet was resting heavily on the hilt of his broadsword. “Boys,” Garrick said, his deep voice carrying an urgent, chilling weight that they had never heard before. “We have urgent business. Follow me to the throne room. Now.”

The walk back up the winding stone paths of the keep was entirely silent. The playful banter that had filled the alleyway evaporated under the hard, rhythmic clicking of Garrick’s armored boots against the cobblestones. Lucan and Kaelen exchanged anxious glances, their chests tightening as they crossed the threshold into the grand gallery. The cheerful, golden ambiance of the lower city was completely absent up here; the massive oak doors of the throne room stood wide open, guarded by sentries with drawn halberds. Inside, the heavy air smelled of burnt tallow and cold sweat. King Auden stood by the map table alongside Admiral Valen, Queen Elena, Lady Maeve, and Lady Rosalind. The presence of their mothers signaled to both boys that this was no ordinary military briefing.

King Auden looked up as they entered, his expression shifting from deep worry to a forced, resolute calm. "Step forward, boys," the King commanded gently. He looked at Lucan, noting the fresh knightly spurs resting on his boots, and then at Kaelen, whose tunic was still smudged with the training courtyard's white mud. "Before the heavy tides of this world pull us away, we must honor our blood. Valen, step forward with your son." Admiral Valen moved to the center of the room, drawing a beautifully polished steel broadsword from his hip. Lucan, realizing what was happening, instantly dropped to one knee on the cold marble floor, his head bowed. Valen tapped the flat of the blade against Lucan's left shoulder, then his right. "By the grace of House Thorne and the walls of Sonth, I declare you Sir Lucan Thorne, a true knight of the realm. Stand, my son."

Lucan stood, his heart swelling with pride as his mother, Lady Maeve, rushed forward to embrace him, tears glistening in her eyes. The room felt warm for a fleeting second, a fragile pocket of joy. Kaelen clapped loudly, beaming for his cousin. "And what of you, young squire?" Queen Elena asked with a warm smile, turning her gaze to Kaelen. "Your father tells me you were practically running down to the lower gates today." Kaelen rubbed the back of his neck, his face flushing red as he looked at his mother, Lady Rosalind, who gave him an encouraging nod. "I... well, I asked Lyra to meet me under the Great Sentinel tree tomorrow at midday, Your Majesty. She said yes. I am going to pack a lunch from the kitchens." The women offered a collective, soft laugh, and Garrick even managed a slight, proud twitch of his mustache. "A beautiful spot for a first love," Rosalind murmured softly, stepping up to touch her son's face. "Enjoy that sun tomorrow, Kaelen."

"He will have to enjoy it quickly," Auden interrupted, his voice dropping like an anvil into the center of the room, shattering the short-lived celebration. The King looked toward Garrick, nodding grimly. Garrick stepped up to the massive slate map table, slamming his iron gauntlet down onto the northern border lines. The sudden crack made Kaelen jump. "Two hours ago, a border scout stumbled into this keep covered in our own people's blood," Garrick growled, his eyes locking onto his son and nephew. "The Mountain Kingdom has broken the twenty-year treaty. They ambushed our eastern ridge patrol on neutral trading territory. They didn't just capture them—a mountain longbowman shot Jaron straight through the head. He was dead before he hit the dirt. They are advancing on our supply lanes toward Market City as we speak."

The color completely drained from Kaelen's face. The tavern keeper’s rumors weren't just gossip; they were a death sentence for his upcoming escort mission. He gripped the hilt of his practice dagger tightly, his mind flashing to Lyra’s big smile and the kiss on his cheek. If I die out there, I'll never get the chance to marry her. Lucan stood tall, his hand instinctively falling to his newly knighted blade, his face setting into a hard, stony mask. The golden peace they had known their entire lives was officially gone. The reality of war had arrived.

Edit: Just Chapter 1 for this post. Will post the 5 chapters over the next few days/weeks

My start of my first ever fantasy book

I know the start is not great. I will refine it all eventually. Ignore the chapter names. I messed one up specifically chapter 5 since I at the start of the chapter changed what I wanted in it. It is currently like 26,000 words or something. It is not great for a fair warning. I am open to suggestions and feedback and stuff but please don't be mean or rude about it. I am new to writing and am younger so I just want some info and feedback from writers. It is a medieval fantasy type thing but it has rare early guns with their own special names. I tried to start it out with an intense moment to grip readers then let the readers get attached to the characters while peace happens then when they least expect it rip out the rug and then it is just pure intensity. For the record it is not finished and I haven't finished the current scene yet but Here is the first draft. Every 5 full chapters I plan go read the book and adjust stuff fix and plot holes fix grammar issues. I am sure I have many. Refine the book and make it better. Fair warning chapter 2 is a little bit slow. I can't fit more than one chapter so I will just post the other 4 in comments

I keep going on tangents and talking. Here it is

Chapter I: The Shadows on the Stone

The morning sun always hit the high, limestone towers of Sonth first, throwing brilliant shafts of white light through the vaulted windows of the royal keep. It washed over the polished marble floors of the grand gallery, a long and quiet hall where the tapestries of past victories hung still in the morning air. But as the hallway deepened toward the heart of the castle, the warmth vanished. Behind the towering oak-and-iron doors of the throne room, the bright daylight was choked out, replaced by the dense, flickering amber glow of iron braziers that lined the massive stone pillars. King Auden Thorne stood at the center of the chamber, not on his throne, but leaning heavily over a massive slate map table that had been rolled before the dais. His fingers pressed into the carved wooden borders of the map, his eyes tracing the jagged lines that marked the northern territories. Flanking him were his older and younger brothers, the men who held the walls and seas of the realm together. Admiral Valen, the oldest, stood with his arms crossed over a navy-blue tunic stiff with salt-crusted silver embroidery. Next to him was Commander Garrick, the younger army brother, whose plate armor still bore the faint gray dust of the dawn infantry drills. "The mountain passes are tightening, Auden," Garrick said, his deep voice scraping against the quiet of the vast room. He pointed a broad, calloused finger at the carved ridges representing the Mountain Kingdom. "My scouts at the border outposts report three separate infantry banners moving down into the rocky foothills. They aren't just patrolling their lines anymore. They’re building up heavy supply depots right along the neutral trading routes. It looks like a preparation for a blockade." "And the Dragon Empire?" Auden asked without looking up, his voice steady but carrying the immense weight of the crown. "They watch the borders as closely as we do. If the treaty is being strained, the Imperial court should have issued a decree by now." Valen shook his head, the heavy fabric of his cloak shifting. "The Empire remains silent. Twenty years of peace, Auden. Twenty years since the Great Treaty was signed, and now the Imperial court acts as though the borders govern themselves. If the Mountain Kingdom chokes off the trade caravans heading toward Market City, our treasuries will bleed before the winter snows even hit the peaks. We cannot just sit and wait for an Imperial envoy who might never come. We need to reinforce the border barracks now, even if it stirs the court." Auden sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The two decades of peace they had enjoyed was a fragile thing, a delicate glass structure that a single aggressive movement could shatter. "If we move regiments to the border without cause, the Empire will see it as an act of aggression. We must be precise. We decide nothing until we have the full reports from the morning—" The heavy oak doors at the end of the throne room didn't just open; they slammed against the stone walls with a deafening crash that echoed up into the vaulted ceiling. Auden’s hand instantly dropped to the hilt of his blade as Garrick stepped forward, his boots ringing on the marble. A border scout, his leather armor torn and splattered with dark mud and fresh crimson blood, stumbled through the threshold. He was being half-carried by another soldier, his breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps that cut through the silent room. "Your Majesty!" the bleeding scout cried out, his boots slipping on the polished floor as he was brought before the map table. "The mountains... they've crossed the line." "Calm yourself, soldier," Auden commanded, stepping around the table, his demeanor shifting from politician to commander in a heartbeat. "Speak clearly. What happened at the pass?" "We were on the eastern ridge patrol, just checking the neutral trade paths," the scout gasped, clutching a deep laceration on his arm. "A massive contingent... dozens of mountain infantry. We were trying to pull back undetected, but their scouts were already in the trees. We were spotted. Before we could even draw our steel, a mountain longbowman dropped from the treeline. The force of the arrow... it took Jaron right in the head, sire. Dead before he hit the dirt. We barely cut our way out." Garrick’s face turned a dangerous, stormy shade of red, his fists clenching so hard his iron gauntlets groaned. "They murdered a Sonth scout on neutral ground? That is an explicit violation of the Imperial pact!" "They are testing us," Valen hissed, his eyes flashing. "They want to see if we will hide behind the Dragon Empire's skirt or defend our blood." Auden stood perfectly still, looking at the bleeding man before him. The glass treaty hadn't just been strained; it had been shattered. He could feel the pulling tide of war dragging his kingdom under, but as King, he had to look at the larger board. "Get this man to the infirmary," Auden ordered the guard, his voice dropping to a low, chilling calm. Once the heavy doors closed behind the wounded soldier, he turned back to his brothers. Garrick was already halfway to the door, his hand resting on his sword hilt, his face dark with fury. "I'll go pull the boys from the yard myself. They need to see what these bastards are doing." "No," Auden said softly, his voice carrying a quiet authority that stopped Garrick in his tracks. Garrick turned, frowning. "Auden, my scouts are dead—" "I know," Auden interrupted, looking out the tall window toward the sunlit courtyards below. In the distance, he could hear the faint, muffled sounds of wooden swords clashing and the bright, echoing laughter of Lucan and Kaelen. "But look at them, Garrick. They are celebrating Lucan's knighthood. They are planning to sneak off to the taverns. Let them have the afternoon. Let them enjoy their last few moments of peace before we bring them into the horror of this world." Garrick looked out the window, his chest heaving with anger, but slowly, his shoulders dropped. He thought of his wife, Rosalind, and how this news would break her heart, and he thought of his son's innocent laughter. He looked at his brother, then nodded tightly. "Two hours, Auden. Then we call a full Thorne meeting." "Two hours," Auden agreed. "Valen, ready the fleet. Garrick, secure the gates. Let our boys laugh a little longer while they still can." Down in the open, sunlit training squares below the keep, the heavy shadows of the throne room had not yet fallen. The air down here smelled of turned earth and leather, completely detached from the stifling scent of burnt iron in the council chamber. Lucan circled slowly to his left, his boots grinding into the loose white gravel of the courtyard. At seventeen, he had just earned his knight’s spurs, and the heavy ironwood training greatsword in his hands felt like an extension of his own arms. He kept his stance loose, his eyes locked on his younger cousin. “I’m just giving you time to prepare an excuse for when I disarm a freshly knighted lord,” Kaelen shot back. With a sudden burst of speed, Kaelen lunged forward, his wooden blade whistling through the crisp morning air as he initiated the clash. Lucan met the strike with an explosive block, using his superior leverage to twist Kaelen’s blade right out of his grip and send the fifteen-year-old tumbling backward into the mud. Kaelen hit the ground hard, but he immediately let out a loud laugh. Seeing Lucan already raising his ironwood greatsword for a mock overhead finishing strike, Kaelen scrambled, desperately grabbing his fallen wooden weapon and hoisting it just in time to catch the blow. The sharp crack of their practice blades echoed through the training courtyard. Kaelen pushed himself up, wiping mud from his chin as he leveled his blade tip directly at Lucan’s chest, dropping into a low stance for a stabbing charge. “What are you waiting for?” Lucan taunted, fighting back a grin as he circled. “Don’t want to end up in the dirt again?” “You’re the one going into the dirt!” Kaelen yelled, launching himself forward. He charged hard, but Lucan simply sidestepped to the right with effortless grace. Kaelen’s momentum sent him diving face-first into the soil, and Lucan lightly tapped his wooden blade against Kaelen’s back armor plate. “Dead again, cousin,” Lucan said, extending a hand to pull him up. “Not bad, though. You’re definitely better than I was at your age.” Kaelen took his hand, sighing as he brushed off his tunic. “I have to be honest, Lucan. I’m just not that good with a sword.” “Nonsense, you’re great with it,” Lucan said firmly, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ll keep getting better. I know you’re going to become a knight alongside me.” “Okay, fine. But one of these days, I will beat you,” Kaelen muttered. Then, with a sudden smirk, Kaelen whipped out a wooden training knife from his belt and poked Lucan right in the ribs. “Dead, cousin.” Lucan gasped, taking a step back. “Oh, come on! I call cheap shot! Good surprise attack, though.” “Thanks, Lucan,” Kaelen grinned, sheathing the wooden dagger. “Alright, ready to head to that tavern with the girl you’re always eying?” Lucan teased, nudging Kaelen’s shoulder with his elbow. Kaelen’s face flushed redder than it had during the fight. “Okay, fine. I’ll ask her to do something with me tomorrow.” “Good. Do you actually have an idea of what you want to ask? Because if you don't, I can give you a suggestion.” “To be completely honest, I have no idea what she and I would even do,” Kaelen admitted with a nervous laugh. “What’s your suggestion?” “Ask her to eat lunch with you tomorrow under the tallest tree in Sonth,” Lucan said, his tone softening with genuine advice. “At midday, the sun hits the branches perfectly. It’s the best lighting for a romantic lunch. Now come on, let's get to the tavern.” Their shared laughter echoed across the training yard, carrying all the way up to the high window of the keep where the king and his brothers stood watching. Garrick watched them go, a heavy sigh escaping his chest. “Look at them, having fun... when likely in the next month, they will be battling on the front lines.” The heavy, yeast-scented air of the crowded tavern was a welcome escape from the castle. As soon as they walked through the threshold, Kaelen stopped and pointed toward a girl with a mass of bright hair working near the back. “Her?” Lucan raised an eyebrow, letting out a low whistle. “Not bad, Kaelen. Not bad at all.” The two cousins slid into a corner wooden booth. “Two Smoky Ales, please,” Lucan called out. “Coming right up,” the tavern keeper muttered, looking thoroughly exhausted as he wiped down the counter. Lucan leaned back against the stone wall. “So, how has being a squire been treating you so far?” “It’s fine, I suppose,” Kaelen grumbled. “But it’s mostly just cleaning armor and polishing swords. Not actually fighting.” “Yeah, that happens a lot, to be honest. That is basically the definition of being a squire,” Lucan laughed. “Well, I have that escort mission to Market City coming up in a few weeks,” Kaelen said, his confidence returning. “Should be routine. I’ve already done it fifteen times.” The tired tavern keeper returned, thumping two heavy, foaming mugs of Smoky Ale onto their table. “Thanks,” Lucan said, tossing a coin before turning back to Kaelen. “So, what’s her favorite drink anyway?” “Her favorite drink is the Pi—” Kaelen didn't even get to finish the name before the tavern keeper leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, anxious whisper. “Sorry to interrupt, young lords, but I couldn't help but hear you talking about an escort mission to Market City. Word around the docks is that the Mountain Kingdom has soldiers sitting right on our borders. They’re moving toward the neutral supply lanes. Sorry to bother you, truly, but if I were you, I'd try a different route.” The man nodded tightly and walked away, leaving a sudden chill at the table. The boys took a slow sip of their ale, the weight of the words hanging between them. “Okay,” Lucan said, trying to shake off the tavern keeper’s grim news. “Are you ready to go ask her? Wait, how do you even know what her favorite drink is if you haven't talked to her?” Kaelen took one more massive sip of his ale to build his courage. “Her favorite drink is Pine Forest Red wine. And... do you actually believe what he just said? About the Mountain Kingdom soldiers? For once in my life, Lucan, I’m really not looking for a fight. If I die out there on the road, I’ll never get the chance to marry her.” His brow furrowed with sudden anxiety. “Hey,” Lucan said gently, reaching across the table to knock his knuckles against Kaelen’s arms. “I don’t know what’s true and what isnt right now. Just focus on the fact that you might get to kiss a girl for the first time today. What’s her name, anyway? Do you even know it, or have you just been staring?” “Of course I know it. It’s Lyra,” Kaelen said. “Nice. Pretty name. Now get up, order her a drink with that gold in your pocket, and go talk to her,” Lucan urged, shooing him out of the booth. Nervously, Kaelen stood up, his boots feeling heavy as he walked over to the bar where Lyra was organizing clean cups. He tapped a gold piece onto the counter. “One Pine Forest Red for her, please.” Lyra turned around, her eyes widening slightly as the wine was poured. “My favorite. How did you know that, Kaelen? We don’t exactly talk much when you aren’t volunteering to help me down at the farms.” “Just a guess,” Kaelen stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I... I also hope to change that. The talking part, I mean.” Lyra crossed her arms, staring at him with a suspicious but playful smirk. “A guess? Really?” “Okay, fine!” Kaelen confessed nervously, his cheeks burning. “Whenever I’m in this tavern and you are too... sometimes I watch to see what you order most. But I look at you in a good way! Not a creepy way, I swear.” Lyra let out a bright laugh, the tension instantly breaking. “Have you ever actually talked to a girl before? Besides, you looking at me makes me feel a whole lot less weird about the fact that I’m always looking at you.” Kaelen blinked, completely caught off guard as Lyra picked up her glass and took a sip. “You... you look at me?” “You bet I look at you,” Lyra said, her smile growing wider. “Every girl our age in the lower district looks at you. I just hoped I’d be the lucky one.” Kaelen took a deep breath, remembering Lucan’s advice. “Well... my cousin Lucan over there swears I have absolutely no courage unless I have a sword and a shield in my hands. So, I wanted to ask... do you want to have lunch with me tomorrow? At midday, under the tallest tree in Sonth. The light shines beautifully through the branches then. I can bring a basket of the best royal foods straight out of the keep's kitchens, and a bottle of that wine you love. Though I can tell you love it, since your cup is already halfway empty.” Lyra chuckled, looking down at her glass. “Well, are you asking because you actually like me, or because you just want to prove your cousin wrong?” “No, it has absolutely nothing to do with Lucan,” Kaelen said automatically, his voice completely earnest. “I’m asking purely because I’ve had a massive crush on you since the day we met when we were nine years old.” Lyra’s playful smirk melted into something incredibly soft. “Well... since you’re asking just because you like me, and since we’ve known each other since we were kids... I have absolutely no reason to say no. Yes, Kaelen. I will meet you there tomorrow. I have no reason not to.” “Yes!” Kaelen celebrated, a massive weight lifting off his chest. “No reason not to do what?” Before he could finish the syllable, Lyra leaned across the counter and pressed a soft kiss right against his cheek. “Goodnight, Kaelen,” she whispered, her eyes dancing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Kaelen walked backward all the way back to the booth, completely stunned, his hand resting against his cheek as he watches Lyra head out the back door. She threw one last, massive smile over her shoulder before disappearing into the evening light. “So, looks like that went remarkably well,” Lucan laughed, slamming his empty mug down. “Finish up your ale so we can head out. Anything to say about it, lover boy? Other than the cheek kiss, of course.” Kaelen sat down, finally breaking his trance. “I knew you were going to bring up the kiss. Let’s head out in a second, let me just finish this last sip.” He glared at his cousin playfully. “Wait a minute... how did you know that the tallest tree was such a perfect spot for a date? Unless... No way.” Lucan’s grin turned entirely guilty. “You didn’t!” Kaelen gasped. “Who did you take there?” “Okay, fine,” Lucan held up his hands laughing. “I may have asked a girl out using the exact same lines, and yes, we went to the exact same tree. That’s how I knew it worked so well.” Laughing and shoving each other's shoulders, the two cousins pushed through the tavern doors and stepped out into the cool evening air of the alleyway. But their laughter died instantly. Standing at the end of the alley, his face grim and shadowed by the twilight, was Commander Garrick. His iron gauntlet was resting heavily on the hilt of his broadsword. “Boys,” Garrick said, his deep voice carrying an urgent, chilling weight that they had never heard before. “We have urgent business. Follow me to the throne room. Now.”

The walk back up the winding stone paths of the keep was entirely silent. The playful banter that had filled the alleyway evaporated under the hard, rhythmic clicking of Garrick’s armored boots against the cobblestones. Lucan and Kaelen exchanged anxious glances, their chests tightening as they crossed the threshold into the grand gallery. The cheerful, golden ambiance of the lower city was completely absent up here; the massive oak doors of the throne room stood wide open, guarded by sentries with drawn halberds. Inside, the heavy air smelled of burnt tallow and cold sweat. King Auden stood by the map table alongside Admiral Valen, Queen Elena, Lady Maeve, and Lady Rosalind. The presence of their mothers signaled to both boys that this was no ordinary military briefing.

King Auden looked up as they entered, his expression shifting from deep worry to a forced, resolute calm. "Step forward, boys," the King commanded gently. He looked at Lucan, noting the fresh knightly spurs resting on his boots, and then at Kaelen, whose tunic was still smudged with the training courtyard's white mud. "Before the heavy tides of this world pull us away, we must honor our blood. Valen, step forward with your son." Admiral Valen moved to the center of the room, drawing a beautifully polished steel broadsword from his hip. Lucan, realizing what was happening, instantly dropped to one knee on the cold marble floor, his head bowed. Valen tapped the flat of the blade against Lucan's left shoulder, then his right. "By the grace of House Thorne and the walls of Sonth, I declare you Sir Lucan Thorne, a true knight of the realm. Stand, my son."

Lucan stood, his heart swelling with pride as his mother, Lady Maeve, rushed forward to embrace him, tears glistening in her eyes. The room felt warm for a fleeting second, a fragile pocket of joy. Kaelen clapped loudly, beaming for his cousin. "And what of you, young squire?" Queen Elena asked with a warm smile, turning her gaze to Kaelen. "Your father tells me you were practically running down to the lower gates today." Kaelen rubbed the back of his neck, his face flushing red as he looked at his mother, Lady Rosalind, who gave him an encouraging nod. "I... well, I asked Lyra to meet me under the Great Sentinel tree tomorrow at midday, Your Majesty. She said yes. I am going to pack a lunch from the kitchens." The women offered a collective, soft laugh, and Garrick even managed a slight, proud twitch of his mustache. "A beautiful spot for a first love," Rosalind murmured softly, stepping up to touch her son's face. "Enjoy that sun tomorrow, Kaelen."

"He will have to enjoy it quickly," Auden interrupted, his voice dropping like an anvil into the center of the room, shattering the short-lived celebration. The King looked toward Garrick, nodding grimly. Garrick stepped up to the massive slate map table, slamming his iron gauntlet down onto the northern border lines. The sudden crack made Kaelen jump. "Two hours ago, a border scout stumbled into this keep covered in our own people's blood," Garrick growled, his eyes locking onto his son and nephew. "The Mountain Kingdom has broken the twenty-year treaty. They ambushed our eastern ridge patrol on neutral trading territory. They didn't just capture them—a mountain longbowman shot Jaron straight through the head. He was dead before he hit the dirt. They are advancing on our supply lanes toward Market City as we speak."

The color completely drained from Kaelen's face. The tavern keeper’s rumors weren't just gossip; they were a death sentence for his upcoming escort mission. He gripped the hilt of his practice dagger tightly, his mind flashing to Lyra’s big smile and the kiss on his cheek. If I die out there, I'll never get the chance to marry her. Lucan stood tall, his hand instinctively falling to his newly knighted blade, his face setting into a hard, stony mask. The golden peace they had known their entire lives was officially gone. The reality of war had arrived.

Edit: Just Chapter 1 for this post. Will post the 5 chapters over the next few days/weeks