Gregor ran to the edge of the field, anger and resentment rolling off him in waves. The ground shuddered under his feet ever so slightly from his innate magic that connected all Taloreans to the land of Genivan.
Why would father not believe him? He had heard those Archdukes with a Consul discussing this! This was wrong and he knew it! Taloreans consorting with Naga was an abomination and everyone knew it. Maybe that is why his father refused to believe it, it was so ludicrous of a conspiracy.
What did Eons call Naga? Ah yes, Gregor remembered, wet tails. Seemed a better name for the nasty creatures. He had never seen a Naga before, the only Naga Brood near the land of Ivangar lived in Lake Khol, a gigantic lake that basically separated Talorean land from the northern icy wastes where the Sordeans land was.
His father had a connection, an old friend he had once saved the life of, a Guild Exarch named Ivanfal. He could tell Ivanfal, Taloreans may hate the other races but this was too far to consort with Naga! Gregor had heard the Archdukes and Consul mention huge sums paid to them by an Azurian Prime.
Sighing, Gregor knew why his father refused to believe him and even if he did believe, he would never say anything. They were more than just Dusters, the lowest class in Talorean society, they were marked, by a Bane.
Looking down at his hand where he bore the hated mark. A mark passed down for four generations and for four generations his family had been spit on by even the lowest class, Dusters who worked the land, too poor to buy entry into a trade guild. He knew the story, his great grandfather had been cursed with a rare magic as a boy. Instead of dying from the curse, out of nowhere a Zarythian Bane, a Jondorian Bane Gregor corrected himself, showed up and sacrificed his life for his great grandfather Barry.
Every child born to his great grandfather would bare the mark. Gregor and his sister Ivalia both were marked and outcast. The violet eyed Zarythians were said to live in a land of fire and volcanoes, brutal and blood thirsty… yet what was passed onto him was not blood thirsty at all… it was the epitome of compassion and humility.
Gregor stared out at the land, he knew there was something happening, he could not say exactly what it was but with Taloreans consorting with Naga to undermine Eons, Azurians paying them money to do so… they had also not seen a trade caravan from the Sordeans. Were Taloreans and Azurians undermining them too? Both of their races loathed Sordeans and Zarythians, Gideans were tolerated and treated as if they were one step above Dusters, Eons they wished exterminated and what would happen if all this came to pass?
It was a dire thought and what kept him awake at night, was he to be a pawn or a player? Did this mark mean anything? In past legends, one marked always had a heroic story. Not Gregor and not his family. Maybe, after all these years Genivan was unraveling. It saddened Gregor to even think of such a thing, he knew Genivan could offer them all so much more if they would just put aside their petty rivals and work together.
Petty childhood dreams, Gregor wanted to believe it but he was also a grown man living as an exile, banished because he and his sister were marked. They still walked into town but they were as ghosts and under a constant threat to have their throats slit one night. Gregor wished for unity, but reality was truth and that truth was bitter and harsh.
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