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Erzhangen: The Ungodly Sonata: Erzhangen Stories
Erzhangen: The Ungodly Sonata: Erzhangen Stories
Erzhangen: The Ungodly Sonata: Erzhangen Stories
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Erzhangen: The Ungodly Sonata: Erzhangen Stories

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A living legend of the holy army. Sipheas D'Latroy harnesses the power of creation to burn blasphemes in inferno.

 

But a shadow lurks. Suspicions of betrayal. After a tragic defeat.

 

Can Sipheas clear his name and assure his assent to power? Or will enemies closer to home destroy him?

 

A political and military high fantasy. Erzhangen conjures a magical adventure with scheming politicians. In a world true to holy service, ambition and plots still reign.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 16, 2017
ISBN9781386694649
Erzhangen: The Ungodly Sonata: Erzhangen Stories
Author

Michael R.E. Adams

MICHAEL R.E. ADAMS pens myths both natural and speculative. He invokes the lyricism of poetry and the suspense of genre fiction to create verse and prose in literary and SFF worlds. Portraying underrepresented groups, he seeks to expand the world’s imagination of who we can all be. He tells tales that all people can relate to, stories about the desire and fear of connecting to others and exploring our own hearts. (www.MichaelREAdams.com)

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    Book preview

    Erzhangen - Michael R.E. Adams

    Erzhangen

    ERZHANGEN

    AN UNGODLY SONATA

    MICHAEL R.E. ADAMS

    ENCHANTED CIPHER

    An Ungodly Sonata

    AN ERZHANGEN STORY

    Copyright © 2017 Michael Adams

    Visit the contact page at www.EnchantedCipher.com to inquire about rights.

    View respective book pages for production credits.

    All rights reserved.

    This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

    This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

    This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

    AN UNGODLY SONATA

    Sipheas D’Latroy assumed the gold and burgundy striped tent of the recently deceased John Bonneville, Premier Erzhangen. As the highest representative of Holiness in the Benarm’s Red Dove Company, Bonneville had disgraced himself and the forces. His familiarities with underlings–clinking beer bottles, laughing at crude jokes, forgiving failure as an inevitable of war as if the rites of battle outweighed the Law of Righteousness on Father’s scale–were, when taken cumulatively with many other grievances, an unforgivable trespass into sacrilege. His injuries were just, his resulting demise a signature of his weakness. Sipheas counted the days until Bonneville could, with etiquette, be considered the former Premier Erzhangen. He had allotted six days for courtesy, fewer if Heaven destined a crisis that hastened his transition from interim commander into full investiture.

    For now, Erzhangen D’Latroy stood in his pajamas at the theater board, its gilded perimeter encrusted with rubies and diamonds, and deliberated over the Kyrkareg’s pawns stationed along the nation’s west border. As a pattern in the platoons’ positions triggered a suspicion, a foot soldier entered, announced that Erzhangen Nither Raynott requested a meeting, and, after a dismissive wave from Sipheas, departed. The superior's gaze had never left the red pawn that signified his platoon, positioned behind the rest of his company that lined the border. He could not recapture the observation of this stage that elicited his concern. Dismissing the matter, he dressed.

    The three keepers had erected the theater on its ornate legs at the center of his domain. Five chocolate, winged back chairs with gold-buttoned cushions were positioned in a cluster of two and two with one isolated at the head. With his flannel pants tucked into his boots, he treaded on the compacted dirt and yellowing grass to his desk, which stood on braided mahogany legs and had the crest of the Benarm carved into its surface, an eye on the cross, et dedica pidel engraved beneath.

    Bonneville had marveled at the symbol on his first day. A bald and barrel-chested man with a black and gray beard, he teared with awe and jovially called for toasts. Sipheas had watched as the dirty glass mug dripped beads

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