Hadrian I “The Great”

The noblest of any rulers of the world, Hadrian was a warrior like a raving berserker, a poet of silver tongue, a statesman with the golden touch, and above all, the founder of the Nacian Empire.

Born the youngest bastard of the Erastrian king Adémar III, Hadrian was never destined for greatness. His father was a terrible ruler, and the last of his line. Adémar sunk his treasury into grand building projects left half complete and wild parties which lasted weeks on end. After his assassination, the very same noblility who killed him were entrusted with his harem of lovers and children. All were slain, save Hadrian and his mother Dulia, a revered figure in Nacian history. Bribing her way through the kingdom with jewelry given by her dead king, she ensured her son’s survival and exceptional education.

By his sixteenth birthday, the young man had amassed a sizable host of mercenaries and courtiers, all while the Erastrian Kingdom collapsed to ash. Hadrian was a bearded man, though he never had the sizable frame of his father. Of average height and size, Hadrian was no less fierce or brave in battle. Hadrian arrived on the southwest of Yennen, where he conquered the small village of Nacia, and declared himself imperator. Hadrian granted new land rights to noble and commoner alike, securing key support for further conquest of the region. A just man, Hadrian also established a codified law which rivaled the bureaucratic level of his ancestors the Erastrians. He completed great works of architecture in his capital, such as a new aqueduct and a new library some thousands of books full. By his death in the year 66 2E, Hadrian was 75 and left a great number of sons to continue his dynasty, which to this day enjoys the title of king in the new Nacian Kingdom.

This is the first in the series describing each of the Nacian Imperators, let me know what you guys think below in the comments and be sure to subscribe!

The Official Poster of the Book!

Check out the new poster for The Sword to Unite. Set in the city of Wulfstan, the capital of Lorine. Seen on the docks are Cedric and Olaf, the captain of the city guard. In the background, Adalgott’s Palace. The stone jutting out of the castle is the rock on which Adalgott prescribed the first codified set of laws in the north. To the sea, the ancient lighthouse of Stormwatch Keep, which has guarded the city against coastal threats for thousands of years.

As an author, it is such an incredible experience to witness a scene I wrote transmuted onto art. During my first posts on WordPress, I never would have imagined I would be able to release my book onto Amazon, it has been such an incredible experience which I’m so glad to have shared with my subscribers! For me, art has always played such an important role in my writing, it’s a bit of an odd confession, but I’ve always had a soft spot for the classic although somewhat cheesy animated style of the original animated version of The Lord of The Rings. Knowing a piece of art, such as film or painting, comes from a passion one has for the literature it originates from has such a huge impact on me.

This has been such an incredible life experience, one which I think has shifted my focus on writing for life, if for the sake of passion. Again, thanks to everyone whose supported the blog, wouldn’t be here without you.

-Peter

 

 

The Lion Of Nacia

Disgraced, exiled, and beaten, the Nacian Empire stands on a final leg. Forced to flee from their homeland of Nacia, the Imperators have ruled an island off the coast of Yennen, a pale substitute for the vast tracks of land they once held dominion over. Barbarian tribes in service to Nacia overthrew their benefactors, who had grown weak and reliant upon foreign arms. The tribes became civilized and proclaimed themselves the Duxdoms, an insult to the heritage and name of the lion.

Though the benefits of empire have faded from the grip of Nacia, the problems cling like a foul disease. The nobility proves ineffective, growing fat in their countryside villas. The people are broken in spirit, and the army lays in disarray. The fleet of Nacia has deserted, meaning no reclamation of the homeland can even be thought of.

The current king, as the title imperator has been lost to time, is a young man named Lucan, second in line to be king, without an empathetic trait or simple charm in his character. His people dub him, Lucan the Unloving, and for good reason.

The Lusani Elves, Dwellers of the Forest

Between Lorine and the rest of the north, the Lusatine forest cuts across the landscape like a knife. The roots of the forest are deep and filled with a rich history of heroes and songs. None dwell there save the Lusani Elves, born and buried in the vast network of vines and branches. Few have seen such folk and even fewer live to tell the tale. A xenophobic people, they protect the forest from those who would harm it.

The Kingdom of Lorine’s powerful merchant guilds once tried to cut a swath through the land, in order to secure timber and a new trade route to the north. The expedition was never to be seen again. For centuries the Lusani have not cared for the politics of the world, but now, as evil once more awakens from slumber, the elves of the forest cannot leave their fate to chance. The drums in the woods begin anew, and the rangers and bowman take up their arms once more. Led by Queen Joanne, a girl rumored to be no older than fourteen yet fierce in her authority, the elves shall stand against the coming tide.

 

Don’t forget to like and subscribe for more content. Coming soon: a fully detailed map of the world of Yennen.

The Golden Court of Evrand

A light, defiant to the shadow around it. The lake city of Evrand has stood as a beacon for the elvish kin since the Age of Glory. Built by the great king Rohiel, it was the vanguard in the war against the demons. Crassus Baal, the deceiver, had clouded the human and elven kingdoms in shadow, and the land fell into civil war. Rohiel cried out to the god Duwel, lord of cloud and sky, and begged for the salvation of his people. Duwel answered, and commanded the Elf King to erect a massive lighthouse at the center isle of Lake Evrand. Rohiel did so, and when he had laid the last stone, Duwel descended in a cloud of flame, and kindled the lighthouse, driving back the darkness that plagued the land.

Since this time, the Golden Court has been a safe haven for the elves, one of the last three kingdoms of the Hlútrian, the proper name of the elves. Duwel’s people are few and far, often selling their wise words or sharp steel, reduced greatly in status from the days of yore. The Golden Court intends to reclaim what was stolen, to once more, be the beacon of light and hope in a dark and hopeless world.

The Black Elk, Zelphie

The ancient enemy to Atruitas, the fallen son of Erastrius, and the worshipper of the Black Elk, The Kingdom of Zelphie is a force to be reckoned with. The second of the kingdoms born from the Great Collapse, Zelphie lived in unity with Atruitas, often fighting alongside one another to repel foreign invaders, but no more. King Rogbert, now nearly ten generations ago, renounced his holy vows to Matuar, God of the Sea, and proclaimed loyalty to the Black Elk, a powerful and ancient being of the Zelphine Forest.

Upon hearing this, neighboring Tanaria took up arms against Zelphie at the behest of Atruitas, to purge the lands of this new cult. Rogbert ordered his men replace the image of Matuar’s trident with the Black Elk’s eyes upon their shields, proclaiming that the forest would soak up the sea. Rogbert met the Tanarians on the field, and won a stunning victory, sending the faithful running.

With this victory, Rogbert purged the land of Matuar’s priests, and tore down their holy sites, erecting new lodges with black antlers upon their altars. Since this time, Zelpie and Atruitas have been locked in a holy war, the Elk against Matuar.

Atruitas, the Silver Son of Erastrius

To the southern realms, where fields of green blow gently in long summer’s wind, Atruitas shines as a beacon of civilization on the shores of the Ecestial sea. A nation which splintered from the Erastrian motherland during the Great Collapse, Atruitas has managed to retain the laws and learning of their now long dead forebearers. Their capital, Estphallia is a hub of culture and trade, one of the few left on the eastern coast of Yennen. To the north, the barbaric tribes of Clan Silverscale reave across the countryside, and to the south, the Zelphine, the fallen sons of Erastrius, who desecrated and abandoned their god Matuar, wage a bloody war against Atruitas.

The Silver Crown of Princes must be protected at all costs, for no others can claim the Erastrian legacy than they of Atruitas. War calls and the proud sons of Matuar are no stranger to the sound. Their navy and marines are feared for good reason, bathed in stiff leather and steel like armored monsters of the sea. Their winged helmets beckon their knights to glory. Now is the time for the Silver Son to takes his place on the lost throne of Erastrius, and reclaim that ancient empire!

A Toast to Domovoi, God of Hearth and Home

A toast to the guard of the hearth!

A toast to the one that makes his mark

On the fields so ripe

And press so full

A toast to the god of wine!

The little man

So clever and so drunk

With unkempt beard

And locks of gold

Let’s raise our glass to him

So that our glass might always brim!

Hearth Keep

The castle of Hearth Keep, the largest castle in the Kingdom of Lorine, built with a burning hearth that stretches the distance of the main hall.

Hewn of stone and brick

Placed along the mountainside

Hearth Keep makes it watch

Over the green rolling hills of Lorine

The red towers

Scaling tall through the sky

The yellow hearth

Burning bright through the hall

The Green Mountains

The Green Mountains, composed by Forrin, King of the Dweor, as his folk caught sight of the Green Mountains on their long march to the south, fleeing from the upheaval of Usham.

Hark my Brothers!

For what is that upon the light of the horizon?

A land filled with milk and honey

A land to carve halls and brew beer

Where the furthest peak is ornate with green growing grass

Here we make our fortune once more

Safe from the chilling sorrow of Usham

Here upon the Green Mountains

Shall the Dweor be sung of again