Fantasy World Vol 2 - Expedition One: Fantasy World: The Explorers, #2

By J Clair and Julius St. Clair

"It's like the Lord of the Rings meets Star Trek." - Book Reviewer

On one of the largest planets in the universe, called Naropa, in a quiet corner between the Linsen Lakes and the Wind River Mountains, lies a community of three distinct civilizations. Secluded and self-sustaining, the inhabitants are unaware of what lies beyond the Lasting Wall - a fortitude that keeps the rest of the massive world at bay.

Tristan Thames, the son of a nobleman, seeks answers amidst a rising civil war. Aligning himself with a band of misfits, each guided by their own ambitions and agendas, he heads out into the unknown. Woefully unprepared, they soon realize that their collective, Expedition One, is far from alone...

Fantasy World takes place on the planet of Naropa, containing stories written by multiple authors. This is the flagship series - a group of explorers that seek out the mysteries of its world, naive to the fantastic beauty and the crippling terror they will soon face.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fantasy World Books
• Release date: Jan 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224351688

Book preview

VOLUME 2 – EXPEDITION ONE

Chapter 1 – Tristan of Musgrave

The crying coming from behind the freshly painted white door made him uneasy, and before he could stop himself, Tristan Thames began crumpling up the scribbled paper in his hand. His father placed a firm, angry hand on his shoulder and squeezed enough to let him know that he was displeased. Tristan swallowed hard and nervously tapped the sole of his right dress shoe onto the top of his left.

His father stomped on the hardwood floor. Stop it! he whispered sharply. Pull yourself together!

Can—can— Tristan already knew the answer, but he had to ask it. The cries of the little boy in the closed room in front of them had surged into a roar, and Tristan knew what was coming.

He knew that it would be the last time he would ever see or hear of that boy again.

What is it? his father snapped, crouching down to rub the top of his son’s shoes with a handkerchief.

Can we go home?

His father glanced up and down the hallway. They were alone—the last of the line. Tristan couldn’t find his notes before they left home, and it took too long to find them, so they had to wait for three hours to have a chance at addressing the council. His father had promised that if his idea was exemplary, and the council accepted him, then he would forgive the slight and forego the punishment.

You want to leave? his father asked.

Tristan corrected himself quickly. No, he said, bowing his head in feigned shame. I want to stay.

Then why would you ask? his father asked. He raised his head towards the door and glared at the white surface. It sounded as if the ruckus inside had been resolved.

I had a moment of weakness, Tristan said, repeating a popular phrase of his father’s.

You’re just a boy, his father replied. It will happen again. The key is to decrease the frequency with your age. I expect that by the time you reach your teenage years, it will be nonexistent.

Yes, father, Tristan said.

Take a moment and breathe. This is a big day for all of us. Your mother will be proud.

I haven’t addressed the council yet, Tristan said.

You will do fine, his father said, patting his head. You’re my son. You were destined for greatness, no matter what the community says. Musgrave will one day revere the name: Tristan Thames.

Tristan appreciated the confidence, but he wasn’t so sure. He was aware of himself enough to know that he wasn’t particularly bright, or strong, and he didn’t take well to business. The jargon and detailed explanations often went over his head, but he had heart.

At least, he’d like to think so. That counted for something, right?

You will be the first to get chosen, his father said proudly, his eyes alight with visions of grandeur. The bell has not rung from atop the courthouse, so we know that none have made it. You won’t disappoint.

Tristan could already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. His destiny lay before him, and yet he already knew the outcome. He was already psychologically preparing for the disappointments—the name-calling from his father and the sullen face of his mother.

The door slammed open and a child no more than eight years old ran out with his hands planted firmly against his eyes. His cheeks were tear-stained, and he sobbed and hiccupped as his mother walked behind him with her hair purposefully placed in front of her face.

That is what average looks like, Tristan’s father whispered in his ear. Commonality breeds and the world weeps.

But we are not common, Tristan recited monotonously—the phrase he was obligated to repeat whenever his father spoke on the plight of the plebes.

No, we are not. It is why I chose your mother. I understood that our union would increase our chances of superior offspring. It’s unfortunate that your sister didn’t take.

Sister? Tristan frowned as he smoothed out the paper in his hand. He didn’t remember having a sister. What happened to her? he asked. Did she die young?

She’s in Comida, he replied casually, as if they were speaking of an acquaintance he had in grade school. Tristan bowed his head so that his father couldn’t see his shock.

Tristan Thames? an authoritative voice called out from the midst of the room—so dark that Tristan couldn’t see what was inside.

Come now, his father said. We must not delay destiny.

Tristan hesitated before taking his first step. It was a lot like walking for the first time, except he wouldn’t have the luxury of refining himself if he fell. One try was all he was afforded. One try was all anyone was afforded in Musgrave. The weak learned. The strong knew already.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out three silhouettes sitting at a long table that was situated at waist length. The identities of the proctors were purposefully unknown, as to belay bribes from overeager parents. The assessment was to be held to the highest standards and integrity.

I will say nothing from this point on, his father said, patting him on the shoulder. It is your show now.

Tristan Thames, the mysterious man in the middle barked. You will present to us your proposal on how to improve Musgrave and maintain its standing amongst the three communities. You are allowed three questions before you begin. A warning: every question from the moment I cease speaking will count towards your three. You may ask now.

Has anyone passed the assessment? Tristan asked. He already had that question prepared.

Yes, last year, the man on the left said. Ferris Muttly. You may have heard of him.

I have, Tristan said, taking great strides to not form a question with his words. Ferris was constantly praised by his father on his ingenious proposal. What that proposal consisted of was a topic of great debate among the children, as it seemed as if only the adults were privy