Finding Volaris

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Fantasy Realm

Hi guys! This is the first proper chapter of the story, and Renn begins telling his account of Volaris. I hope you enjoy, and if so, please consider dropping a comment or feedback below! Happy

Chapter 1 (v.1) - The First Domino Falls

Submitted: June 11, 2019

Reads: 31

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Submitted: June 11, 2019



 It all started on a small island as far away from the cities of Cirannor as one could possibly get, in regards to both geography and civilisation. When you think of roads, I don’t doubt paved cobbles or flagstones come to mind, lined with banks, markets, trinket shops and all the other establishments that make a city like this thrive- or at least once made it thrive. This is not a road as the ones I came to know. When you think of churches, you think of great spired cathedrals, not well-groomed cabins with a painted cross. Farms, cages and slaughterhouses, not green, rolling countrysides abundant with crops and livestock. I concede I do not know where you journey from- from your accent I would hazard a guess at somewhere not too far west from here- but you are certainly not one from any island I have ever been too… and I’ve been to most of them.

 Rhodania is my birthplace, an island of the east, sister of the Pendant Islands and the Half Isles, child to the Sea of Many. It is where my life, my journey, and my story, begins.


 You will be familiar with the education system of Midderland, I’m sure, having obviously passed through to an exceptional standard, yourself. On the islands, there is no such hierarchy. There is but one school one attends until strong or bright enough to join his relatives in family profession, and that is taught by those with no further training than that which they received at such places. A very inefficient method of teaching, as only the knowledge they learned and remembered during their education would be available to them to pass on.

 My family profession- and speciality, I might add- was the nurturing of red persimmion. It is famously difficult to grow, not only because of the pedantic conditions it favours, but because it takes four years to fully mature. A lot can happen in four years- draught, storms, plagues- and the plants needed protecting throughout. It was a good business, a successful one, and I have only once hereafter tasted the spice as I had on that island.

 But such was the nature of the profession, even at my young age, I was rarely spared and left to my own devices. And I tell you, on an island as wonderous and beautiful as this one, it pulled at my heartstrings not to be given the freedom to explore it. Of course, occasionally I would be, and it was in these brief sessions that I realised what I was missing.

 Rhodania had forests, forests the likes of which you wouldn’t see around here until you reached the Elondin. And the beaches, with sands white and water so, so sapphire you could not help but throw yourself into the clear twinkling tides. I know it is early in the story, but I ask you to remember how transfixed I was by the ocean, how alluring its waters were. Everything I bother to tell you has bearing on what you seek, the events like dominoes that lead to your answer. You cannot fully appreciate its magnitude if the last of the domino is the only one that topples.

 I have told you that my home was beautiful, but it haunted me that its wonders were being kept from me by the responsibilities that bound me to my family’s fields. I was growing up by now, in my mid-teens, and my menial education had long since ended. My practises led me to become an accomplished agriculturalist, and my time in the fields taught me not only of red persimmion, but gave me a well-rounded view of many of the areas of farming. Of course, as qualified as I was, I was still nowhere near as knowledgeable as my elders. But my father’s mother- the oldest living member of our family- was more than five times my age, and I was sure, and still am sure, that it would not take me a further sixty years to be as qualified as she. The longer I stayed there, I began to realise: the farms would give me a life, but not a livelihood. I would learn everything I could about my profession, but in the grand scheme of things, that was not a lot. I would have no means of furthering myself once I had reached the peak of my practises.

 And so I left. It was not quite as simple as it sounds, but the mechanics and emotional breaking of my decision hold little bearing upon the rest of the story. Suffice to say we left on good terms, and my reasons were acknowledged. To my utmost surprise, I was given my share of the money I had earned- which ordinarily I never saw, as the profit was handled by the family treasurer, and put straight into the welfare of the steading. I had never had money to spend. I didn’t even know if what I had was a lot.

 I knew this island was beautiful, but it was a dead-end for me. I would take the first cart north to the port, and from there I would go wherever recommendations could persuade me. I knew the first thing I needed was a job. The Half Isles would have an abundant of professions- proper professions- that I was sure I could slip into, and after that, even I did not know.

 As I clambered into the cart and set off I watched the rolling greens and yellows rise and fall, admiring their magnificence, but knowing I would not miss them. As glorious as the hills and dales were, they would always remind me of the stale years I had spent there. I looked behind me, and with the tiniest twinge of heartstrings I realised that I could no longer see the fields I had tended since before I could remember. My old life was gone. The first domino had fallen.

© Copyright 2019 Patrick. All rights reserved.


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