Episode 1: A Journey Begins

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Within the mansion, Abby sat outside her father's office, fuming.

"Get down here, Abigail! Right away, Abigail! Wait right here, Abigail!" she muttered to herself. And, as if her life wasn't going badly enough, her little brother decided to get lost! "Typical!" she exclaimed.

"Typical of what?" asked Chamberlain Urqhart, coming out of Lord Underwood's study, closing the door behind him.

"Nothing!" Abigail snapped.

Urqhart let out a little chuckle. "Now you are getting used to my world, Abigail! Your father is going to be just a moment longer, he's --"

The door burst open, and a sinister dark-haired, bearded man strode out, barely noticing them. He swept up his dark cape from a stand nearby and quickly hurried out the door, an annoyed look on his face.

"Walden," whispered Urqhart in a low, conspiratorial tone, "a servant of the King."

Lord Underwood stood in the doorway, looking angrily after his departing visitor. His face softened slightly when he noticed Abigail sitting there. Abigail noticed how deep the creases around his eyes had gotten lately. When did he get so old? she wondered.

"Come in, Abby, come in." James waved her inside, somewhat impatiently. "Sit down. We have to talk." A pregnant pause. "About your brother."

Abigail noticed the worry in his voice. Was David really in trouble, then?

Her father sighed and sank into his enormous high-backed chaired behind his desk. For a long moment, he said nothing; he looked like he was fighting a decision, until finally, he took a deep breath and spoke: "Your brother has been abducted, Abby."

"Are you sure? Who...? Why...? How...?"

"The who I can guess at, and the why remains to come clear, but the how is to be discovered -- by you."

James recounted his decision to let David go to Port Des Armes.

"But he's just late getting back, I'm sure he's on his way, right now, and --"

"No, Abigail! He has been taken!" He said it with such force that Abigail took in a breath. He reached below his desk, and produced a large, oaken box, lacquered and ancient. Taking a key from a pocket he unlocked it and was about to swing it open when he stopped and look at her. "What I am about to show you is perhaps the greatest secret our family has ever had. Do you understand? You must tell no one about this!"

Abigail nodded numbly. James wrenched open the box to reveal a large, rounded red stone, semi-translucent and glowing slightly, nested on padded silk. It was roughly in the shape of a heart from a deck of cards. From its sides, someone had carved six small, equally-sized chunks.

"This... is the Heartstone," he said, gravely.

* * *

"So, um, what are you?" Isobel asked the fishman, shyly.

Ioan smiled. "I'm an Oannes -- in your tongue, I'm called a merman."

Uther took another swig and mumbled under his breath, "Great, the fish are talkin' to me now. Must be inta the dregs." Belching loudly, he looked up to a sour man with a scowl and a dark cape approaching on horseback.

The man reined in his horse in front of them, and greeted them. "Hullo," said Ioan, "Who are you?"

The man peered down at them intently and paused before answering. "I work for the King. You," he pointed at Ioan, "must be the Oannes teacher, Ioan." He turned to the other two. "But what brings..." he paused, as if remembering something, "a sister of the Guardian and a warrior from Wyndhamere to this place?"

Something about the man irked Uther. He had seen his type before, and they were never up to any good. "Visitin'," he grunted, turning to walk toward the house.

"I see," the man said knowingly. "Well, good day to you!" With that, he spurred his horse and rode off Eastward, quickly.

"What a creepy guy!" said Ioan.

"His name, sir, is Walden. He works for the King," explained Edgar. He leaned a little closer, taking a quieter tone. "Directly for the King, to be precise." He straighted back to his formal poise, and indicated for them to continue.

* * *

"I... am not... going to die... UGH!" The young man could not understand how the fates could have cheated him and his family so far. He turned slighly onto his side, wincing from the pain, and looked over at the troll. It was dead, slain by his minions, who were bending over him with concern.

"Help me, you fools!" he yelled at them, but he knew it was pointless. Even as he said it, he could see their forms dissolving, returning to the nothingness from whence he summoned them.

Was this it then? Had his family's legacy finally killed him? Am I to die here, far South from my homeland?

"I.. will.. not... die... HERE!" He pushed himself up on his elbows, leaned against a tree. His blood seeped slowly into his lungs, his ribs poking painfully through his shirt. One of his legs was bent at a rather unnatural angle.

Blackness crept in over his eyes, and he died.

Drifting, he felt his cares falling away. No longer bound to the quest which had ruined his family, he felt light, and free...

"Hey, get back here!" came a small, cold, female voice. With those words, he was wrenched back to hard, lumpy, sharpened consciousness.

A tiny, furry, brown woman stood on top of him, one foot placed impishly on his chest. A long, bushy tail twitched behind her. She leaned in close and whispered to him: "Rikkard Von Vellumson, you're mine!"

Rikkard felt his blood drain, and the tiny creature fell back over, hooting and chuckling. All went dark, again.

"HEY!" came the small voice, annoyed. "Darn it, you aren't getting away from me!"

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