Metagore, The Battle For

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: House of Ghosts

After returning back to Alberon, Moll'ar tries to dismiss the idea of being involved in a war.

Chapter 13 (v.2) - Not At War

Submitted: November 09, 2015

Reads: 252

Comments: 3

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Submitted: November 09, 2015



Upon returning back to Alberon, Moll'ar continued his days as he had always done---waking up early every morning to go help the farmers with their crops; running from village to village in his foo dog form, to gather a list of supplies that were needed, then later on in the week, he would return to each village to deliver the supplies. His marquess never understood why he would do such chores each day, on top of his duties as grand duke, but he had always felt that helping out the villagers in Alberon grounded him in a way, reminding him where he could have been if not for his status as a grand duke.

One day, while Moll'ar rode on a wagon that was being pulled by a couple of heardbeasts, delivering some manure, a satyr flew down beside him on a pegasus. Duke Pol was slightly shorter than Moll'ar.  His physical appearance lead many to believe that he was a strong fighter, but he despised any conflict that could be avoided. His head was smooth, except for the two spiraling horns coming from it. His elongated muzzle lined with a brown goatee. From the waist down, he was covered in dark brown fur---the color matched his tanned skin.

"Duke Pol, what brings you out here?" Moll'ar asked in Oacari---the native tongue of Alberon---as he stopped the wagon.

"We received a letter from Grand Duke Azreal of Talean," the satyr responded. Leaning in close to Moll'ar, he whispered, "There is mention of a war amongst the people of Metagoré. Why have you not brought this to my attention yet?"

Moll'ar responded in a whisper, trying to keep the nearby villagers from overhearing, "Alberon is not involved in the war."

Another pegasus flew in, this one carrying a minotaur wearing nothing but a thin loincloth---Marquess Terus. He stood a head taller than his lord, and his skin was much darker. His hooves were freshly polished, as they shone brightly in the sun.

The minotaur shouted in an angry voice, "There is a war, and you fail to notify me about it?" His loud statement caused nearby villagers to start an uproar and begin panicking.

"We are not at war!" Moll'ar shouted back, trying to be heard over the cries of the villagers. He looked over at Duke Pol, and spoke, "Take Terus back to the manor. Once I finish my work here, I will meet with you both, and I will read the letter then."

As the two of them flew away on their pegasi, heading back towards the city, Moll'ar tried to comfort the restless villagers---telling them that Alberon was not at war with anyone, and that there was nothing to fear. After getting everyone to settle down, Moll'ar made his way to a village in Fairflank, and delivered the manure.


A few hours had passed, and Moll'ar finally arrived back to his manor. Upon entering the hall, he saw both Pol and Terus sitting at the table, enjoying some cold beverages.

"Let me see that letter," Moll'ar stated as he pulled out a seat at the table, and sat down.

Pol handed him the rolled up sheet of parchment, stamped with the Taleanic seal.

Moll'ar skimmed over it relatively fast, then laid the letter down onto the table. "Write back sayin' we are in agreeance with his wishes."

"I thought you said we were not going to war?" Pol questioned his lord.

"We are not partakin' in the war," Moll'ar stated. "We have all the food, and plenty of resources of our own. So we do not need to go into war with any of the other kingdoms. But if Azreal wants to make an alliance, sayin' that he will not go after us and will help us if we so need it, then it would be foolish to not accept the pledge."

"You trust Azreal and the Taleanics?" Terus barked out, his large black eyes locked onto the face of Moll'ar. "Food is scarce to them, and the only resources they have are jewels." Terus' nose flared up from his anger. "He is going to try and use us for our resources! You should not accept his proposal. Instead we should go and take their resources."

Moll'ar stared back into the minotaur's giant eyes. "I do not want to go to war with any of them. Talean is not a threat to us, nor are they a threat to the others. If they want to have peace between our lands, then peace we shall have."

"Let us look at the big picture," Terus stated, grabbing the letter from the table. He shook the piece of parchment in the air, as he continued, "If you accept Azreal's pledge, then you will have a mark on your head as well as his. The other regions will want to control all of Metagoré; and if they can bring the two of you down at once, they will have control over half of the land-"

"But we are not going into war," Moll'ar cutted him off.

Terus stood up from his seat and leaned over the table, practically yelling at Moll'ar. "You might not want to go to war, but it is not up to you if the other regions want to declare war on us! Yeah---you are correct---Talean is not a threat to us or any of the other armies; but we are! Besides, do you think Darius cares who is in the war or not? No, he will run over whoever he wants, just because he can." Terus stood up straight, and pointed his large finger at Moll'ar. "You should get us prepared for war, because there is no stopping it from coming."

"I do not want to put our land in danger," Moll'ar responded.

"Danger? You will be putting us all in danger if you agree to Azreal's plead and not be prepared for the other regions to attack us."

Moll'ar glanced over at his duke, and asked, "Pol, what do you think?"

"I do not want us to be at war," Pol answered. "But I will have to agree with Terus. If we do not join the war, I am afraid that it would only hurt us."

Moll'ar slightly nodded his head. "Alright. Terus, gather our troops and get them prepared for battle. We advance towards BrightHelm at daybreak."

"BrightHelm?" Pol asked confused.

"If we are going to be at war over the land of Metagoré, we might as well cut the head off as quickly as possible," Moll'ar responded. "Now go and rest, for tomorrow will sweep in as you sleep."

A small smile grew on Terus' face, as he quoted the Alberian motto, "Until the sun sets in the East, we will defend and serve the West."

© Copyright 2018 D. L. Stewart. All rights reserved.


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