The prince of the Kingdom of Theriol has grow tired of the crown before he has even taken it. Brogan the Eighth, or simply Brogan Eight, has had a difficult time coming to grips with the idea that 1) his father, the great and benevolent king of men, founder of the kingdom of Theriol is nearing death at the old age of 125 and 2) that he is not as kind and wise as his father. Brogan Eight is now 20 years old and has spent the last three years a thousand miles north of the Copper Castle at the Front of Tiamanthian – battling the dragon-kind, “Keeping the Dragon in its cage” as is the plight of all the kingdom’s able young people. In his youth, Brgoan Eight was a keen and insightful young man, but the scars of war have changed his soul – now brooding, often irritable and quick to temper, the court murmurs of how the kingdom will survive after the soon death of the beloved king.
Brogan Eight’s disposition is not aided by the fact that the warrior queen Chlarain, his love and soon to be wife, remains at the Northern Front fulfilling a tour of duty that will last another year. Brogan Eight spends most of his days in the Crystal Library, deep in the Copper Castle of Theriol, deliberating over the seer stones, moving troops and supplies to key logistical points, remotely aiding the war effort from across continent. In war strategy, Brogan Eight has proven himself most shroud. Most nights, he can be found at the Whiskey and Crow, he favorite drinking establishment with his best friend Iados Thauriel, the elven lord.
Iados Thauriel has had a terrible year. The high commander of the Leaf Cloaks has recently learned that the entire Second Brigade had been summarily wiped out by an attack by the dragon lords of the Burning fist on the Northern Front. Most of his immediate family, including his two brothers and his young niece were serving in the Second Brigade. Now Io, as Brogan Eight, his best friend calls him, has taken up living at the cathedral of the Raven Queen and become the lover to Iratha, one of the matron priestesses there. His new affinity to Shadow Fay magic has turned his heart dark as he has been unable to cope with his own mourning. Ferrus the True, the ageless warforged sword master comes to the cathedral often to help coax Thauriel from his melancholy as he sees the elf lord as a son to him.
The monastery of Belen, the White Tower is ruled over by Ferrus. Knights from around the kingdom learn the art of swordsmanship here and the tower itself is the gate to a huge underground cemetery where the nation’s fallen are laid to rest. Ferrus is a very busy monk – it is a good thing he does not require sleep, food or even air. Not only does he administrate the White Tower, and act as a prayer-leader, presiding over every funeral there, he is also military-council for his dear friends the Prince, Brogan eight and his sour elf friend, Iados Thauriel – he is also the chief surgeon at the hospital of the Gleening Stone where war victims are teleported to from the Northern Front a thousand miles away.
The strange council of Ylthamas the ancient death knight is always welcomed at the Copper Court – as unnerving as he might be. For being nearly a thousand years old, Ylthamas – slow to speak, quick to act – is a kind and patient soul. He says he forgets how time moves and often talks about the future like it is the past…”I train with the young men and women everyday for the defense of the kingdom for the pending invasion that has already happened.”
Anathian, the auger of war and weather, spends most of his days in the grand Chamber of the Phoenix on the top of the Copper Castle. Brogan Eight, Iados the elf lord, Ferrus the true, and Ylthamas the Deathless are all obliged to visit with Anathian every morning for a series of divination rituals that traditionally insure the sustainability of the realm. These five lords are the kings’ most trusted and powerful agents and have come to know each other very well over the years…
