By Adam Marks




Chapter One

Deep within the small Dondel swamplands of Chiron, Aidden Adaii continued his struggle with a pile of large rocks lying in front of him. With the blisters on his hands growing ever-larger, he clenched his pick-ax at another part of the handle and brought it down once again upon his target.

There was a reason the 23 year old man was having such trouble with his task, and it began with the fact that he spent most of his life solely as a wood craftsman. Stationed comfortably within the mills to the north, younger men were normally bringing him fine cuts of oak, walnut or spruce to fashion into the leg of an ornate chair, or menacing sword hilt. As such, his Dondel masters had given him the large red vest that he grew up wearing each day, including this day, identifying his specialty in wood carving. Lately however, everyone was pounding stone for the Dondels’ new castles, which they were putting up to the far north in the mountains, as quickly as they possibly could. Workers from around the swamp were being pulled off their specialties to pound rock for castles, and Aidden was among the latest group of casualties.


“Come on now boy, you’ve gotten your head in the clouds again – I’ve no wish to be here all night you know!” The man shoveling smaller rocks, the result of Aidden’s work, nudged him. His name was Gurdor, and they had grown up in the worker camps as the best of friends. No larger than a normal man, Gurdor was nonetheless the strongest Aidden had met, his frame covered by a thick and well-toned layer of muscle.

“I’m no stone-lovin’ Nical like you old man.” Aidden jabbed, ignoring the pain in his hands and once again bringing down the pick ax against his boulder. His older friend grunted and smacked the back of Aidden’s leg with the flat of his shovel, throwing the younger man a bit off balance. Aidden chuckled but didn’t take time to retaliate. The truth was that Gurdor was correct; their Dondel owners had lately been pushing all slaves twice as hard as usual, and this was especially true with the rock-pounders. Part of it had to do with the push to lay claim to more of the open land to the north, where Aidden heard the rumors of a vast mountain range full of valuable mineral resources.

Consequently, another factor to their hard labor was most likely the visit by that mountainous regions’ expected Dondel ruler, an appointed king, rumored to be taking place both to encourage the local Lord Hayden and at the same time inspect his operation. As a result, Nical workers all around Chiron, and especially here in the stone quarries were re-learning the true meaning of slavery.



Aidden sighed and brought his tool once again down on the boulder nearby, scattering smaller shards of stone all around the two men. A drop of sweat worked its way down his nose and fell to the handle he gripped. Despite their location deep within the humid and smothering swampland jungle, the sun had managed to break through the canopy of trees. It found a place upon the backs of Aidden and the others, and the Nical slaves toiled miserably throughout the day.



It was as the sun finally began its descent from the horizon that the Dondel supervisors rang their bells, signaling to the workers to wrap up their tools and begin packing for Fort Kilgore, and then home. Aidden spat and let his ax fall to the ground, looking closely at his now blistered and bleeding palms.


“It’s a good thing for you to know what a real day’s work feels like my boy!” teased Gurdor, patting the younger man on the back with his own calloused paw. “The day may come when you leave your silly games with wood pieces for the honest work of a stone cutter!”


Aidden spat again, picking up the ax and tossing onto a nearby tool cart being pulled by. “As soon as that mountain castle is thrown up, I’ll be begging for the familiar tools of a woodsman, my friend, and you’d be smart to do the same! After all, you won’t be able to do this type of work forever!” Gurdor let loose a healthy laugh as they all fell into line, waiting to be chained together for the march back to the Fort and eventually, their camp.


“Sure I will my boy – it’s why we have young pups like you doing the hard labor and more seasoned men like me checking your progress!” The chains soon came around the two men and again the bells rang out, this time signaling the beginning march back home. A few moments later, the group began it’s slow, weary way.




All images contained within this page and website, including images linked to from this page, are copyrighted 2005 by and property of Adam Marks. Likewise, all castles and their likenesses, if not sets with building instructions designed by LEGO, are also property of and copyrighted by Adam Marks. All characters herein are purely fictional, any resemblance to persons, either living or otherwise, is purely coincidental. Any reproduction or copying of any of the material on this page is strictly prohibited except with expressed written authorization.