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Lords of the Fallen: Lords and Ladies

Chapter 1: York

"Greetings, good sir. Have you heard of the Fallen God?"

"Beat it old man. Do I look like a knight to you?"

York laughed. No, the unenlightened did not look like a knight to him. Clad in furs, wielding a rickety spear and wearing a dented nasal helm, he looked like what he was – a guard standing outside the doors to d'Bala Manor.

"No, you do not look like a knight," York said, extending his arms out wide to embrace the unenlightened. "But all are equal in the eyes of the Fallen God! All are worthy of His benevolence."

"I said beat it."

"Dost thou intend to bar my way? Woulds't thou deny me passage?"

"Yes, I would," the guard said. "This is a ball event for people above you or me. Now beat it."

"Very well," York said. "I shall indeed…beat it."

And he drew out a copy of The Hand of Creation. Not that he could read the thing – such a privilege was reserved only for the priests of the Order of the Fallen, not lowly prophets such as himself. But it mattered not. He knew the words of the book. And more importantly, knew their meaning as well. He saw the guard grip his spear tighter, but he knew the rules. He knew that his order had secured freedom of speech on common land, and until he passed the doors that led to the manor's entrance, he had that privilege. And the Fallen God was with him. He would be strong. He would 'beat the book' as the saying went.

"In the beginning, there was God…"

"Oh, son of a-"

York ignored the unenlightened and kept reading. Just as he ignored the wind and snow around him, his feeble robes providing no defence against the winter chill. He gripped the five-fingered amulet of his order to steel himself.

"And God, in his infinite wisdom, looked out over Creation and beheld Void. And thus he declared, 'this cannot stand.' Where there is darkness, there must be light. Where there is death, there must be life.' And thus, the Lord brought both into the Void."

"How'd he do that?"

York continued, ignoring such a silly question. "The Almighty created the stars, the sun, the moon, and the earth. And on this earth, he brought life to stand in their light. He brought forward plants. He brought forward animals, who would rely on them. And finally, he brought forward Man. His greatest creation. The pinnacle of the world."

"Tell that to my frozen arse," the guard murmured. "Did your god have to make the world so cold?"

"But while there is light, there must still be darkness. Just as there is warmth, there must still be cold."

"Oh. That explains it."

York touched his amulet even harder. Why did the unenlightened have to ask so many questions? Could they not see the truth of their existence?

"And while the Almighty gave His children love, they did not reciprocate it. Love turned to distrust. Distrust turned to hatred. Hatred led to destruction. Destruction led to death."

"Love the rhyme thing you've got going there."

"And thus God fell, but not before ravaging the world in his last breath. A Fallen God. The Creator and Destroyer of Worlds. Lying in the cold of the lands of Prayer, so named as it became the abode of those still faithful to Him." He made the five fingered sign of his order, to symbolize the hand of the Creator, used in Creation itself. "And not until faith in His children is restored shall He rise again. To fix what he mended."

It was an abridged version of the tale. But he could see by the look of the guard's face that he wasn't interested. He was content to dwell in ignorance, and pay the eternal price in the next life. Perhaps one day, he might see the error of his ways. But if such a day were to come, it was not now.

And so, York took his book close. He let out a sigh, his breath appearing in the air in front of him. He-

Crash!

Stepped back as two men came flying out the window from the structure above. Both the priest and the man-at-arms jumped back as they came tumbling to the snowy ground. One reeked of alcohol. The other didn't. And it was he that York decided to focus on.

"Are you alright, good sir?" he asked as the guard looked on.

The man looked up at him in a daze. A beard, chiselled features, he looked like a man who had seen much. And might be willing to see and understand more.

"It is good timing if I do say so myself," York said. "I was giving a sermon of the Fallen God. Are you here for it?"

"Sermon my arse," the guard muttered. York ignored him, still focussed on the man below him. The man who let out a sigh.

"That's right," he groaned. "That's exactly what I'm here for."

For a moment, York wondered what had happened. How and why the two men had come tumbling out the window. Whether it was chance or providence that had delivered them to him.

As the drunken lord belched, he supposed it didn't matter.

A/N

This was based on a challenge in a 'how-to-write'-type book, to write the same scene from the POV of two different characters, and show how their perceptions differ. This is actually the start chapter, a way of getting the overall story to three chapters and doesn't use one of the excerpts given. Still part of the overall plot though.