Kingdom of Nerriad

Within my realm of hidden wonder, there are worlds beyond the touch of human hands. Where the last of the ancient beings dwell amongst the coral reefs and sunken vessels, forgotten in the minds of generations of people yet remembered in their folklore. It is here that I, King of Nerriad, God of the Trepidatious lands and uphold our secrecy.

Our Safety.

I stare out at the vast lands of sea grass and sandy ruins of our ancient capital - long destroyed by the contraption humans call "sea mine". Even now as I survey the wrecked remains of our once great city, I cannot help but admire those land dwellers. Never before has one human reached the depths of my realm yet they possess a power to destroy even without touch.

So we are not completely beyond the grasp of these beings. A grim smile creeps on my face at the thought.

In my carriage, I manoeuvre the gliders so that they fold out to ride a gentle current which has just flowed through the region and move closer to the lost city. Broken pillars of chalky grey stone still stand in testimony to the attack, while mounds of rubble and dust lie at the base in bitter defeat. This was once the heart of a bygone age; the power which flowed along these mosaic-tiled streets of shells and gems was infinite and undying. Now the veins have been severed and the surrounding lands have been bled dry. It is these lands which I inherited from the former King; a legacy of destitution and anguish.

But that will all change on this day. Our people will triumph over the terror and reclaim that which was stolen from us many moon-tides ago. Former glory will restore to the Sunken Lands and light will shimmer in these streets once more. My heart soars at the prospect of a flourishing kingdom under my rule, but falls back down like a heavy stone at what must be done to achieve this. Nevertheless it must be done to secure our future.

Our freedom.

Within the ruins of the city is the old Temple of the Fated where beings such as myself - beings of the ancient order who speak the language of the submerged worlds - used to converge and discuss the balance of power in the lands. When the city fell, most of the Fated went down with it. Like all things however, a small number survived and now I make my way towards them. I disembark from my carriage and enter through a standing archway, connected by a narrow column of pillars leading to the central amphitheatre. There clustered in the middle of the room gathers the remaining rulers such as myself. A solemn hush settles as I enter; even the empty rows seem to reflect a silent crowd awaiting my address in anticipation.

"Ruler of Nerriad, your presence here can only mean that you agree with the council's intention in commencing an attack on the surface-dwellers," announces one of the Fated; an elderly creature with scales of faded colours running along his body and a haggard face.

"I have made my decision Ruler of Moross,`" I respond. "At my command a legion will be ready for dispatch at immediate notice. But know this: it is not a decision I take lightly. Our lands have been threatened by the possibility of war from the surface for too long. It is only out of the greater good for our survival that I make such declarations."

"As do we all. For too long have we hidden from attackers for fear that a revelation of our species will deliver a coup from above. But today is a glorious one. Today we reclaim the power that once flowed through these very walls."

At this statement the room erupted in a series of accordance with the promise. That today the desolate lands which I surveyed earlier will be testimony to the success of our future. After several minutes the shouts dissipate long enough for the Ruler of Moross to make a final address.

"Earlier this moon-tide I posted some scouts in the Drial Region. In recent times it has seen continuous activity by vessels owning to the surface-dwellers. Here I propose we commence the first attack; prepare your soldiers we begin on the change of the current." Moments later I leave the amphitheatre and mount my carriage, desperation flowing through my veins like ice.

-------------------

In the misty haze of the Drial Region my legions lay posted, ready at my command for attack. Through the dimness of the water I search for movement or a revealing sound which might suggest a human presence. Fortunately my wait is not long. In the distance I see a pinprick of blackness emerging from the mist. With the salute of my hand I signal for my soldiers to be ready. I tip my sword in the direction my fellow ancient rulers posted around the land in the traditional custom of battle readiness. The time for power is nigh.

As the black object moves closer to our position, I see that not only is size the issue but also numbers. Flowing behind this object is several more of similar proportions. At seeing this doubt begins to seep into my mind as to whether this is the correct decision for our people. However one look at my legion poised for attack I know there is no turning back. The black objects move close enough to be revealed as the "submarine" machines I have been told from so many of my own scouts. Once it reveals the symbols scattered on the surface, I raise my sword in hand to begin the attack.

Within moments our people's soldiers advance on these machines and two are destroyed. Our weapons are infinitesimal in comparison to these massive giants of destruction. If we did not take a stand now what size would these contraptions grow to? To what end would our people live in peace?

I join the advance on the submarine moving forward but something pulls me back just in time to be removed from the path of a flying weapon which emerges from the left side of the machine. The humans are fighting back. This has been anticipated, but not at the level at which I see before me. Hundreds of soldiers from every legion of the Fated are falling at the hands of the humans. Anger and disbelief blinds my judgement, and I rush forward drowned in emotion to fight for what I am loosing. I plunge my sword into the surface of a submarine, opening the layers to allow our precious life force of water to flow in, pulling the machine to the ground.

I triumph in my lone efforts but this proves to be fatal as this provokes a vigorous attack from the other side. This decimates the already dwindling number of soldiers moving forward in attack. I move my eyes once more over the scene before turning to take another machine down to the seafloor. No longer do I have a fellow soldier to pull me away and a projectile weapon from the submarine tears through my chest. I scream in pain and immediately fall downwards. The remaining battle rages on but I know it is futile to triumph. In an attempt to save our future, we the Fated have condemned it. Our lands are lost and the Kingdom finally falls.

I, King of Nerriad, once was God of the Trepidatious lands and I now take our secrets with me to the Flowering Lands of the Fallen Kings.