[Orevian's Point of View]
The Weslands are the cold and damp tundras of the north. Built through war and blood, our region stands the strongest out of the four... thanks to our family, House Ballister.
Mountains, forests, and marshlands are the borders that defend us. While the eastern folk mock our lands saying it is nothing but a waste filled with snow, all we need is to send thirty thousand men to march along the Red River, and those lords fall back into line.
My father, King Orastor, sits on the throne glorious and feared. Renowned for his great mercy, he pardoned criminals, freed prisoners, and granted amnesty to traitors. I remember what my grandfather used to say about such things... "Mercy is the death of ruthlessness... and ruthlessness is what kept us safe."
Throughout the lands, he was known as The Good King, and it was often that lords would silently mock his name, but the hand of the king, Lord Aerystor of House Leoan, took his job seriously, and once more, those lords would cower in the sight of northern might.
Our house was founded by Ororer Ballister, who was one of the first men to arrive on the northern island. According to legend, he landed on the shores with five hundred ships, each filled with men, women, and children. It was said by our elders that Ororer was inherently, a prince himself, and was destined to be the king.
Myths and theories scatter across the lands on where they came from. Others say they came from the North... the true north, where giants and large hounds were rumored to be found on. Others say he came from the west, from the great mystical continent of Nymthor. Unfortunately, all those ambitious sailors who journeyed west were never seen... again.
King Ororer the First was the one who built Ororer's Keep, hence the name. They say it began as a small keep, but eventually grew in the reign of his son, Oreis Ballister, who was known as The Golden King. Not only was House Ballister known for its great leadership, but also for their occasional ruthlessness.
In the twenty-fifth year after his arrival... House Strix, with Lord Fostain as their head of house, rebelled against House Ballister with a third of the kingdom's population under Ororer's last few years of rule. Fostain crowned himself king and challenged him to a duel in front of his very keep, and the person who would win, would be the Lord of the Keep, King of the North, and Protector of the Realm. The person that lost, however... would have his family go east as east can be in exile.
And so it was, the two kings fought in armor, with Ororer wielding his sword, Maradieth, and Fostain his spear. It was reported that Ororer was pierced through the shoulder and the leg, but a single strike form Maradieth crippled Fostain.
When he was about to die in the hands of our ancestor, Lady Puria Gryphith, the wife of King Ororer, halted the execution and urged the king to show mercy... and much to the dismay of others, he did.
Lord Fostain and his family were sent east with a hundred men who served them. They would be gone for quite a long time.
After King Ororer ushered in the Golden Age of the Kingdom. King Oreis would take the throne and be given the title of "The Merciful," for he was forgiving, kind, and in the words of lords at the time... naive. He was a great ruler, establishing a stable economy while keeping the common folk satisfied.
He died shortly after his coronation in the fiftieth year after Ororer's Arrival. After his death came King Orevon Ballister. He was known at the time as the greatest king who ever lived, strengthening the norhtern armies and marching south, east, and west to conquer all that he could.
In his campaign, he fought, with forty thousand men, the growing eastern lords led by none other than House Strix, who would surrender after King Orevon would burn a quarter of the Spire, the seat of the Strixes. It was said that was the only time the Spire was ever captured, with its base being set on a cliff high above the Goldhead Strait.
He would die in this conquest in the seventy fifth year after Ororer's Arrival fighting the free folk of The Free Lands south of The Highland Mountains. It was said that he was pierced through the head with a spear by a soldier from the town of Cain, the easternmost one of the other free cities- Abel, Tudora, and Melinia.
His rule would pass down to Oreon Ballister, the Mad King. From a young, tender age of seventeen, the crown passed down to him. His mother, Purice Gryphith, spoiled him and manipulated him thoughts. Lady Purice was said to have had ambitions far greater than her husband. It was even rumored that she was the one who whispered in the late king's ear to travel deep south.
Nonetheless, Oreon was a terrible ruler. He bankrupted the family by spending their wealth on lavish feasts and tournaments. He would often go hunting, inviting the lords of many castles to his grand events. It was not a surprise when many lords in the South Cradle, the region in the south below the Nortenhein, rebelled.
To further add to the spendings, King Oreon would host shows where the lords of the south burned in pikes. It was said that he would laugh and throw rotten food at the men who burned. He would grow in size as he ate so many, and with the death of his mother in a hundred and fifteen years after Ororer's arrival, he died a year later on one of his most lavish feasts.
Some claim that the king was poisoned, but by whom... many argued. House Ravenhan in the south, who are now great friends with our family admit it was their ancestor who poisoned the king, Lord Nostan.
After his death came his son, King Orelius... the Exiled King. Many feared another reign filled with catastrophe and chaos, and the lords of the north, east, and south planned a grand rebellion against the king. They were Lord Meros of House Abbister, who was the commander of the northern armies, Lord Nostan of House Ravenhan, who was the same person that allegedly poisoned the Mad King, and poetically, Lord Fonrei of none other that House Strix.
On the night of the first half moon on the one hundred and eighteenth year after Ororer's Arrival, an army of more than two hundred thousand men, common folk and soldiers alike, stormed Ororer's Keep. The farmers held torches and pitchforks, the knights held swords, spears, and shields, and even the lords such as Lord Nostan and Fonrei, participated in what was to be known as The Great Rampage.
King Orelius and his wife, a noble woman named Maria, rumored to be a common harlot from the deep south, were quickly dragged out and beaten, but kept alive for more torture. Their family was exiled to an island far away from the kingdom, where they were kept secure, with a twenty ships surrounding the shore and a hundred men to keep them company... and the make sure they didn't escape.
Unbeknownst to House Strix, who now ruled the four regions under King Fonrei, who moved the capital to the Spire and offered the north to House Leoan, who were still loyal to our family, two Ballister children were smuggled out of the keep that night through tunnels that led outside the keep, built by King Oreon's mother out of paranoia.
The children were Orevion and Oranus, who were taken care of by a noble named Actus Bravenhan, who disguised himself as a merchant.
In the one hundred and thirtieth year, the boys grew to men, and the rumors of their survival spread throughout the kingdom, with Ballister loyalists, mainly from the west, searching everywhere to find the last two that were free.
When they were of age, Lord Actus provided them an army of fifty thousand, and they would gather even more men where the army reached a hundred thousand. Soon, the new wardens of the north pledged their fealty to our ancestors once more.
It was said that after the north changed their allegiance back to House Ballister, King Fonrei died on the very throne out of terror. His son, Forlan Strix, "The Giant," was a beast in human form. It was said that he was a bull, or perhaps, as the legends say, a descendant of a giant.
King Orevion along with his brother, Oranus, would march to the Nortenhein Mountains to face the armies of the king, led by himself at the front.
According to the tales of old, the armies turned each other to nothing but flesh and bones, leaving the three kings to fight atop a mountain above the skies. It was said in myth that the Three Men, the King, the Soldier, and the Scribe, joined them themselves in the duel. Again, it was nothing more than superstition.
Orevion, with a mighty blow, would behead the Strix king, solidifying his rule among the four regions. He was crowned king, and his family were brought back to power. After him, came more than thirteen centuries' worth of peace. He would pardon House Strix, but would not call them lords, but mere governors. This would all change when my father became king, granting them the title of lords.
Ever since, no houses have ever been more loyal to House Ballister than those of the Weslands. Our words... Standing strong, is a reminder that even when the world is against us... we always prevail... stronger, better, and always on top.
"You look focused... on what?" my father interrupted. I soon realized I was practically gazing at the distance all this time.
"Just remembering the stories... those told to me if I were to sleep." I replied with curiosity hanging in my tone.
"Is this about the legends mother tells you?" he asks.
"What else?" I asked. "Our family is rich with history... with great kings such as Orevion and Orevon... I have always been intrested-"
"about their tale?" my father asked with a smirk now painted on his face.
I pause for a moment, and then reply. "Will I become like them, father?" I ask.
"You have the very blood of kings and warriors running through your veins... what makes you think you're not worthy of titles like they have?"
"Nothing..." I reply, "...All I fear is that I may become like the Mad King someday-"
"-You think you'll be like him- why? You are no less than the heir to the throne... remember who you are- you are my son and the future wielder of Maradieth- the sword of our family..." he replied. He straightened his back, and looked me in the eyes with an intimidating glare. "Your life is like a crossroad... choose your path and you may bring shame or glory- it depends... but know that each one leads to a different you... Do you understand me?"
"I do." I reply.
With a light chuckle, he speaks once more. "You never know who you will become... perhaps like Orevion, yes?"
Our conversation is interrupted by the carriage halting to a stop. The left-hand side door opens as a royal guard stands in front of it. "Your grace..." he says as he bows to my father, "...and my prince..." he says as he bows to me, "...we have arrived at the tunnels, the entrance that leads past the mountains of Nortenhein and into the lands of Northrest, where we will arrive."
"Wonderful!" my father exclaims, "Follow me, son. I believe you'd want to see this since you never go beyond the Weslands." he says and goes outside the carriage.
I slowly follow suit, going down from the carriage, tripping down the last step and almost falling on my face. I look at the large gates in front of us. The surroundings are nothing but snow, with the occasional village here and there. The weather is fierce, but not like a blizzard. The sun's rays are not to be seen, as the clouds covered the sun all year. The mountains were larger than expected, and like in the myths, they did, in fact, reach higher than the clouds.
The gates were tall and large, around five hundred meters at height, and two hundred meters at width. The gate had a rim of stone, carved with sculptures depicting myths and legends. I spot one particular piece of stone art at the right side, showing two men fending off a giant with a crown on its head. "The legend of Orevion and Oranus... carved into stone..." I said to my father.
"You are right... well spotted." he remarks, patting me on the back. The large gate that towers over me feels intimidating, like any moment it could crumble down and fall on me, like the responsibilities I would soon face... My chest becomes heavier as I think about it more, so I change the topic. "It's all really... impressive. Who knew man could make such a large structure with centuries of history carved into its very walls..." I say with a laugh and a smile.
"Of course they are... these gates were built by our ancestors from the west, with Westhold as their seat... House Gryphith- surely you know them." he remarked witha warm smile.
Impressive, how our ancestors were able to construct such a work of intellect. Now the pressure on me is stronger. As prince and heir to my father, how could I single-handedly keep our kingdom alive? I am not like my father, nor Orevion. Unlike them, who rule the kingdom with ease, I alone struggle with the simple struggles of life, even getting off a carriage almost led to me having a crooked nose.
I remember all of my mistakes vividly, like that time I almost got myself killed by a wild wolf because I wanted to pet it. I was always the somewhat weakling in the family. I can't imagine it, a family of warriors and kings, strong they were, would lead to a weakling.
What has House Ballister become but a young scrawny lad struggling to keep himself together?