Karnavia

Prince Darius swung the wooden sword downwards swiftly, countering the horizontal slash thrown by the dark blue Tah’jzik warrior in front of him. This warrior was shirtless, but wore light iron greaves of a gray color on his legs. His head bore eight small horns no more than an inch tall, all pointing behind him. Darius was shirtless as well, showing his muscular and scaly body, particularly his dark tan chest.
The prince, who was right handed with the sword, put his left hand to his opponent’s chest, and pushed him backwards. He stumbled back a few steps, but quickly regained his balance, and swung his wooden blade at the prince once more, in a diagonal manner, coming from the upper left. Darius slashed back and the two swords clashed together, making a loud thump sound as the oak collided. Darius pulled back, and went for his rival’s left knee, smacking into it with only medium force. The blue skinned Tah’jzik stopped where he was standing, with a frustrated look on his face.
The several dozen shirtless warriors gathered around them applauded at the prince’s skill. The training arena was a large and finely built place, one of an open ceiling and with gray marble walls build in a circular shape. The ground was of soft, brown dirt. The arena itself was several dozen yards long, large enough for a staged fight between a hundred men to take place.
A wolf howled in the distance, echoing in the quiet night. The two full moons were larger than ever, lighting up the dark sky like massive, gleaming pearls. Ten torches down in the arena had been lit around the crowd of warriors, so that they may see.
The beaten warrior bowed to his prince, in respect. Darius, looking at him, spoke out.
“No, my friend,” he said in a slightly tired voice, “do not bow to me. I am a prince outside of the arena, but in the arena, I am only another warrior.”
The fighter straightened up, looking surprised that the prince didn’t want him to bow as most rulers would.
“My lord-”
“You fought well,” Darius interrupted, putting his left hand on the Tah’jzik’s right shoulder.
“Thank you, my lord,” he uttered back.
Two of the surrounding warriors were whispering to each other of the training session.
“We’ve been going at this for over four hours now,” one murmured, “how many fights has the prince won?”
“Twelve, I believe,” the other said back, his arms crossed.
He leaned over to the other Tah’jzik and whispered into his ear.
“The wager was ten,” he said, smiling.
Darius stabbed his wooden sword into the dirt, and sighed victoriously.
“Well, it’s good to know I’m the best fighter out of the entire Tah’jzik army,” he boasted loudly.
The others faced him and grunted and moaned loudly, challenging him.
“I could’ve bested you, had my sword arm not been sore from all the logging I do,” one of them claimed.
“I was suffering from a stomachache during our match,” another asserted.
They all broke into masculine laughter from all the friendly teasing.
Suddenly, a rider mounted upon a light tan mare rode in through one of the large doorways, and dismounted next to Darius.
“My prince,” he said urgently, “we’ve received a message from King Reikor!”
He held out a small, folded piece of parchment the size of his palm. Darius, now with a serious face, took it, and opened it up. Curious, his fellow warriors gathered around him, eager to see the message. Darius read it silently to himself, then summarized it to the men.
“It says if we wish to keep our land, we would submit to his rule and give him aid whenever he calls!”
The men booed and roared at the message.
“The Tah’jzik will never submit to a foreign ruler!”
“He’s mad!”
“I’ll taste his blood for such a demand!”
Darius turned around to the men, and held one hand up, signaling them to quiet down, then he spoke up.
“We all know that King Reikor is the most bloodthirsty tyrant in Karnavia, and is the last of the Black Elves. We all know that he commands a powerful army, ten thousand strong, with warriors encased in steel. However, he doesn’t have the heart or the courage of a Tah’jzik. This great king,” he bellowed, throwing the message to the dirt and stomping it, “can take his demands to his grave!”
The men cheered and yelled out in approval, waving their scaly arms towards the heavens with clenched fists.

The white city of Ver’jal was now a mere speck on the distant mountain behind the mounted band of Tah’jzik and Elf soldiers. The party was in a three columned, straight lined formation, with the two kings riding at the front.
Lernus, being a Tah’jzik, could smell the whiskey of the Elves behind him with his enhanced senses exclusive to his race. He turned around and glanced at them, in their green and white breastplates and white stallions, then faced forward again.
“The men shouldn’t be drinking,” he said to Kamran, “it weakens the senses.”
“Ease yourself, Lernus,” Kamran replied calmly, “I don’t think we have to worry about an ambush out here.”
“A true warrior is always prepared for battle,” Lernus responded sharply. Kamran looked at him as if he was a madman, then looked forward again.
“Indeed,” he simply said, “so, do you have a queen back home?”
“No,” Lernus said, “Esha passed away a year ago from illness.”
“Ah, yes, yes, I remember now. What of your son, Darian?”
“His name is Darius, and he was married to a fine woman two years ago. She’s a nurse for our army, and a very intelligent woman. They have two childr-”
“Yes, of course. My son is ruling in my stead back home in Highwood, and doing a famous job. He has three wives, more than sufficient for now I would say.”
Lernus looked at Kamran, offended. He thought it was best not to voice this offense too obviously, for he didn’t wish to seem prejudiced against Elven ways.
“Three? Forgive me, but why is that?”
“Well, it’s better to be safe than sorry, Lernus. The more wives, the more little princes he will have to survive him, assuming his children are males. If they’re female, then it’s an acceptable disappointment.”
“You marry only to have children?”
Kamran laughed arrogantly, as if his way were standard for all Karnavia.
“You must understand, wives are for breeding, and royal wives are for the making of princes, nothing more. Women’s voices are not welcome in our halls, and their hands are not required in our military, unlike your own.”
“Are you saying the ways of the Tah’jzik offend you?”
“Well, it does seem a bit odd that your people would live outside rather than in safe and warm homes.”
“Our people need not worry about petty crime, and are more than hardy enough to survive the winter, unlike the other, more spoiled races.”
Kamran chuckled again.
“What you would call spoiling, I would call civilizing. I would hope your son or perhaps his son adopts these ideas so that your race is more credible.”
Lernus was silent. He no longer wished to exchange words with Kamran, and instead looked forward at the stone pathway, lit by the two moons.