The Fall of Cadoria: Gods and Runes, #1

By Paul Willson

AFTER WAR COMES BETRAYAL

Once more, Prince Tyrran is summoned to defend his land against the menacing Empire of Thargoẑa. With his small army, he must make a stand at Heldwr Fort against the empire and its vain commander Chema of Gravia.

The battle is fierce and savage. The battlefield is ravaged by fire and death as the fate of the battle hangs in the balance. The walls of the fort bear witness to the loss of countless Thargoẑans. Yet for Prince Tyrran, this senseless carnage defies reason. Nothing leading up to the battle made sense, until an act of betryal and treachery brings about the Cadorians' downfall. Chema of Gravia lacked the cunning to orchestrate such the betrayal so who now leads the Thargoẑan army and who has supplanted Chema of Gravia?

As the defeated and bewildered Prince Tyrran comes face to face with the truth of his devastating betrayal, he is confronted with an agonising choice - betray his country or watch it burn.

Struggling to cope with his defeat, the despondent Prince Tyrran must uncover the identity of the traitor and deliver his vengeance.

His honour, as well as that of his country, demands retribution.

"The Fall of Cadoria" is the first book in the "Gods and Runes" series.

Also by the author is the 5* rated "The Demon and The Raven" and the heartbreaking "The Dance of The Blacksmith and The Huntress" trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sean Dalton Erotic
• Release date: Apr 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9781738578467

Paul Willson

Paul Willson is a fantasy writer with five published books. He began writing after being made redundant from his IT job during the Covid pandemic. This was short stories at first then he began attempting longer fantasy novellas. It was then that the fantasy action romance, "The Dance of The Blacksmith and The Huntress," trilogy was born and Ophelia and Doyle began their eternal dance. Not long afterwards, "The Demon and The Raven," come to fruition which has received 5* ratings on Amazon. This year his first full-length fantasy book, and the first book in the "Gods and Runes series", "The Fall of Cadoria" was released.  

Book preview

Chapter 1

The short and plump Eggen was not made for this as he waddled hurriedly, as fast as his fat little legs could carry him. His velvet doublet, although of the latest fashion felt tighter than normal as his oversized stomach swelled with every breath. He stopped briefly to stop himself wheezing, supporting himself with a chubby hand on the wall. Trickles of sweat ran from his brow, his face flushed with an alarming colour of red.

He carried on down the long white stone corridor which was the perpetrator of his labour. He had been sent on a mission of great importance but wished desperately that this mission was not quite so far away or so urgent that he had to run.

He stopped again at a steep and, in his opinion, dangerous flight of stairs that led to the outdoors. Eggen took out a white lace-trimmed handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his face before he gave a high-pitched yelp when he realised his hand had been resting on an old, bloodied handprint on the wall. Stains that stood out clearly on the floor and walls suspiciously looked like blood too. That confirmed to him just how dangerous the stairs were. It did not occur to him that they could have been there for any other reason.

Eggen almost stumbled as he fearfully descended the stairs, trying desperately not to go too fast in fear that he would trip over his own feet. The bottom of the stairs was barred by a thick wooden door and the bright sunlight outside shone mockingly through a gap at the bottom. As he got closer to the door, the angry screams and shouts of men became clearer. He heaved open the door, which laughingly resisted his efforts, with all the might he could muster. The sunlight almost blinded him as he stepped outside. When his eyes became accustomed to the light, he was confronted by the terrifying sight of the men of the Cadorian army in a melee.

To the untrained eye, it was no more than a mass brawl. Men were fighting in close contact, gloved fists and wooden training axes making heavy thudding sounds as they landed on their targets. There was a structure to the melee, however, which wouldn’t have been apparent to the untrained eye of Eggen. The soldiers in front of him were set up in two opposing lines. Each line was three men deep. Several paces behind each line a flag hung limply in the still air and the soldiers of each line were attempting to capture the flag of their opponents. However, each line of soldiers was brutally and aggressively resisting as well as brutally and aggressively trying to fight their way to their opponent’s flag.

The autumn air was unusually hot for Cadoria, and the sky was a dazzling blue which may well have been turned that way by the soldiers as they swore and threw insults creatively as they fought. The parched bare and brown ground contrasted starkly with the white stone walls that surrounded it which reflected the bright sun. A pair of men on the outside dived into the melee and dragged out a bloodied and unconscious soldier onto the sidelines where he joined other soldiers who were either coming to or remained unconscious. What looked like a doctor was treating various wounds.

It did not take much thought to work out that Eggen was not made for a soldier’s life. His stomach pushed out and hung over his trousers and his arms and legs were thick with fat rather than muscle. He was a man of letters and intellect, at least he liked to think so, making him more suitable for a more officious and luxurious life behind a desk. He looked on at the soldiers fighting open-mouthed, aghast at their violence. He instinctively covered his mouth and nose with his lace handkerchief to keep out the dust from the parched autumn ground that covered the melee and the rancid smell of sweat that emanated from it, which made Eggen almost gag in disgust. He squinted over his handkerchief in the glare of the sunlight as he peered into the melee until he found the person he had been ordered to find, Crown-Prince Tyrran of Cadoria who was in the centre of the violence as he led one of the lines.

The crown prince had a gruesome smile on his face as he fought. It was obvious that he was relishing the violence. For Eggen, there was no way he was going to risk entering the melee. There was no way indeed that he was going to make his way through the tight mass of the much larger and stronger soldiers to pass on the request of attendance from His Majesty King Ingres, Prince Tyrran’s father. His loyalty to the king or Cadoria did not go as far as to put himself at such personal risk, so he kept himself safely on the sidelines.

Eggen blanched as a soldier collapsed to the floor as he ran into Prince Tyrran’s fist whose punch was given extra force by the training axe in his hand. The crunch of the sound of the unfortunate soldier’s jaw breaking could be heard from where the Eggen stood.

Erm, Prince Tyrran! he nervously called out with a muffled high-pitched nasal whine through the melee straining his neck trying to get himself heard. He then removed his handkerchief from his mouth and called out once again but more clearly, Prince Tyrran!, waving his hand frantically above his head after he was not heard the first time before returning the handkerchief quickly to his mouth before he could taste the dust and sweat. Eggen flinched with repulsion as sweat was whipped towards him from a soldier’s long hair.

Eggen gave a small squeal as he jumped out of the way as a large and powerful looking soldier was sent tumbling in his direction only to put himself in the immediate path of another equally large and powerful looking soldier who had rushed after the tumbling soldier with a wooden training axe in his hand and a nasty look of intent on his face. The official opened his mouth but before any words could come out, the soldier crashed into him with an audible thud. A wheezing sound emanated from Eggen as the wind was knocked out of him before he landed heavily on the hard ground. The soldier swore loudly as he managed to roll back onto to his feet.

What’s the fucking matter with you!? the soldier screamed at the terrified Eggen angrily as he helped him up from the ground. I could have seriously hurt you! The soldier’s hair was shaved at the sides, but the rest of light brown his hair was pulled back tightly into a ponytail. His face was heavily scarred, and his nose showed the tell-tale signs of being broken more than once. One scar just above his lip gave him an almost permanent sneer which made him look more terrifying than perhaps he was. On seeing the official panicking as tried to recover from having the wind knocked out of him, his tone mellowed, Alright, alright, try to stand up straight and take slow deep breaths and you’ll be fine, he said as sympathetically as he could which didn’t sound sympathetic at all. What are you doing ‘ere? he asked gruffly as the official tried to stand up straight. This area is strictly off-limits to civilians when we’re training.

His Majesty…. requests……. His…… Highness……. Prince Tyrran’s……. immediate……. presence…… in the High…... Council……. Chamber, the official replied slowly between gasps of air and rubbing his chest, grimacing as he did so.

The soldier turned round and squinted to where Prince Tyrran was in the melee and bellowed casually, Yer Highness, His Majesty wants to see yer! Like now! No sooner as he had finished, he swore loudly again as he in turn was knocked off his feet and onto his back by the soldier, he had sent tumbling earlier. The air inside him made an audible sound as it was forcibly released from his body. Eggen stood rigidly still, whimpering quietly, fearful he would be next.

Back in the melee, Prince Tyrran blocked a swing of an axe and kept a hold of the arm that swung it and then blocked a punch that immediately followed it with the other arm before he headbutted the soldier who owned both arms sending the soldier onto his back with blood pouring out of his nose as it shattered. Prince Tyrran then kicked another attacker back before he looked around on hearing his name called, recognising Eggen as one of his father’s, the king's, secretaries. Eggen began to dust and dirt from his expensive clothes after he had regained control of his breathing, fearful that it would be ground in.

An annoyed and disappointed look crossed the prince’s face, and he swore quietly to himself. He fought his way out of the melee hitting anyone in his way with his wooden training axe as he took out his irritation at having to leave his training on his comrades be they friend or foe,

Watch your back! he shouted at one soldier who he struck. What was that!? You’re supposed to be an elite soldier! he screamed at another.

Prince Tyrran looked down upon Eggen with an annoyed look as he reached the edge of the melee. Tyrran then got bumped forward as a soldier lost his footing and when Tyrran looked back, a loose training axe hit him square in the face. Eggen gasped with concern, but Tyrran just growled irritably when he felt his eye begin to swell. Prince Tyrran took the pain. He had fought in many battles and a swollen eye was nothing to him. He had much more painful injuries in the past. As Tyrran passed Eggen he grunted at him,

What does the old man want now?

Eggen didn’t reply. Instead, he gave a quick bow before he scurried off and did not look back. His duty was fulfilled, and he now had no further reason to be where he was. Tyrran watched Eggen head back inside and shook his head in disbelief. His father must be in one of his mischievous moods to have sent such an inappropriate person to find him. There would have been a guard nearby who could have fetched him instead of someone who looked like he often jumped at his own shadow.

Prince Tyrran regularly trained, as did all Cadorian men of fighting age as was required by an ancient Cadorian law. All Cadorian men between the ages of eighteen and fifty years old were required to take part in military training one day a week, every week and had to spend one month a year as full-time soldiers. Military training began at fifteen years old. This normally involved former soldiers travelling around towns and villages teaching the boys how to fight and be soldiers so when they were eighteen, they were ready for war. Fathers also augmented their sons' training themselves as well. There were of course career professional soldiers who were the elite of the Cadorian army, but the number of professional and part-time soldiers meant that added together ten thousand fully trained and battle-ready men could be mobilised at short notice. A greater number could be mobilised within a week. The Cadorian army was famed for its discipline and ferocity but also its ability to mobilise quickly. It was said that if you went to war with Cadoria you did not fight just an army but a whole country.

There was good reason for this militarised culture and that was because Cadoria had to always be on its guard against its larger and more powerful and aggressive neighbour, the Empire of Thargoẑa. For decades Cadoria had resisted Thargoẑa’s advances, however, long had gone the days when Cadoria could put one hundred thousand men into the field. Despite this, recent victories had given Cadoria confidence that it would break Thargoẑa’s will to conquer it.

Tyrran had been enjoying training with the army. He was training with the elite professional Cadorian soldiers, and Prince Tyrran was countered as one of them. They had a nickname of The Wolves of Cadoria and were known to be the most ferocious and merciless soldiers of a ferocious and merciless army. They fought as a tight unit and that ferocity would often overwhelm and break their enemy. Even their standard could strike fear into even the most seasoned Thargoẑan soldier.

Tyrran made his way off the training grounds and through the door that led into the palace and began to climb the stairs and make his way towards the High Council chamber where his father waited for him. He wiped the sweat from his face with his hand and winced as he touched his quickly swelling eye, noticing that his vision was becoming impaired. The cool temperature of the palace contrasted sharply with the heat of the outdoors. He shivered as his damp and sweaty body felt a chill before a familiar voice called out after him.

Chapter 2

Prince Tyrran, you are required to bathe and change your clothes before you present yourself before the king! Princess Braganẑa, his wife, firmly told him as she stood with her arms folded and raised eyebrows giving her a look that said that she expected to be obeyed. Her strong Thargoẑan accent, which she never lost even though she had lived in Cadoria since a young girl, gave her expectations an extra sense of authority.

Princess Braganẑa, I’m going to be late! Prince Tyrran said with exasperation and a hint of a whine, as he felt himself descend helplessly into a dangerous place between his wife and father with no hope of escape. His Majesty has summoned me! He is going to be angry with me if I’m late again for another High Council meeting. You know how angry he got last time. When they were in public, they always spoke formally to each other but often their tone and body language was anything but.

Princess Braganẑa suppressed a smile at the memory, knowing she was the cause, I know he has summoned you, she said disapprovingly. His Majesty’s secretary came to our chambers first, but you were not there for lunch. You forgot what the time was again, didn’t you! It wasn’t unusual for Tyrran to miss lunch when practising with his comrades but this time there would be a chance that he would get into more trouble than normal for it. I obviously need to remind you, as always, that you will be king one day so you must start to look and behave like a king, not like you've been dragged around the palace by a horse! Princess Braganẑa told him harshly starting to get irritated by her husband’s hesitancy. Your bath is ready. It is warm now, but it will get cold if you take too long. It is up to you whether you get in it when the water is warm or not, but His Majesty is waiting so I suggest that you hurry. I’ll treat your eye when you return.

There was more than an element of truth in Braganẑa’s words, Prince Tyrran would admit to this too if you pushed him, but only after several denials which were denials to admit this to himself rather than any attempt at lying. Lying was not in his nature, It is dishonourable, he would often say, and his honour was the one thing that was non-negotiable to him like most Cadorians. However, he held on to his honour to the point of stubbornness which often frustrated those close to him.

Tyrran’s shoulders dropped knowing there was no point arguing. He attempted to kiss his wife as he passed her in the palace corridor on his way to their chambers, but Braganẑa pulled away,

Urgh, don’t touch me until you have bathed and are wearing clean clothes. You smell horrible, she told him with a certain amount of justification.

I always let you kiss me after you have been on one of your rides, Tyrran protested, irked somewhat that he had been rejected for no good reason, as he saw it.

That is because ladies don’t sweat, they glow, now go and bathe! Braganẑa replied pushing him away with her fingertips with a disgusted look on her face, turning away as she did so.

Tyrran arrived in his chambers and petulantly undressed and got into the bath. By this time, any remaining vision in his eye had been blocked by the swelling and instead of an eye, he had a large black, pus-filled mound instead. When it came to appearances Tyrran rarely won and on this topic, their conversations were often like mother to son rather than wife to husband. Braganẑa always wanted to make sure he looked like a king in waiting and not look and smell like he had just walked off the practice grounds like he normally did. Tyrran was a man who liked to dress for comfort, and he especially did not like dressing up in finery. He disliked official state functions because of this. Braganẑa always dressed correctly for the occasion and was able to look regal whatever she wore even in the most casual of settings. At state functions, she could be so stunning that it felt like even time would stop to admire her.

If Tyrran could, he would have quite happily worn the old clothes which he often wore under his armour. If there was one thing that his wife always wanted to change about him, it was how he dressed, and it was often the root cause of most of their arguments which Braganẑa habitually won.

Once he had bathed Tyrran made his way into the Cadorian High Council chambers with a grimace on his face as he finally responded to the summons from his father, King Ingres. The cause of his grimace was not because of the summons but because of his clothes, picked out for him by Braganẑa. They consisted of an uncomfortable tunic which fastened tightly over his throat and Tyrran felt like he could barely raise his arms in it, over a linen shirt, cotton trousers and shiny leather boots. He constantly tugged at them in a futile attempt to make them more comfortable. They were like himself were clean and his short brown hair now looked tidy. Any dirt, sweat and smell had been banished into his bath water.

Tyrran was a plain-looking man, that is not to say he was ugly, but it is to say the various scars he won in the many battles he had fought in helped him with his desirability with women which came with age and experience. His tall, muscular, powerful physique added to that. Despite his looks, he was hugely successful on the battlefield and was loved by his soldiers, politicians and civilian Cadorians alike. He was in his mid-thirties and married to the love of his life, despite their marriage being arranged as expected of people of their standing, and they had three children together.  Unusually for people of their standing, their family was very close.

Prince Tyrran there you are! You’re late! King Ingres chastised his son when he saw him. King Ingres was as honourable as his son but did not have his stubbornness about it. There was a limit to his honour like with most people. However, he took his responsibilities as king very seriously and like Princess Braganẑa, he often lamented his son’s often shoddy appearance, and he welcomed her influence on him. For the love of Cador, what happened to your eye!? he asked his son incredulously, seeing how swollen it was. Don’t worry, I’m not interested, he said before Tyrran could answer, waving a hand dismissively at his son. I’m just grateful that Princess Braganẑa has finally got you dressed like a prince for a change, he added in a tone heavy with parental criticism. You are a lucky man to be married to that woman otherwise I probably would have had to disown you because of your smell. Remind me again who arranged your marriage to Her Highness?

You did, Tyrran replied wearily. Their conversations often began this way with King Ingres reminding his son how clever he was to marry his son to Princess Braganẑa whom King Ingres often treated like a daughter which made Tyrran feel that his father favoured his wife more than him.

King Ingres was wearing the royal Cadorian crown, atop his brown hair, which was sprinkled liberally with grey flecks, like he always did when he attended to important matters of state. The crown was not large, but its ornate design gave it a majestic aura. Like most crowns it was circular but instead of being solid it had bands of gold woven together and at the front was a large sapphire which represented Cador, the god that founded the Cadorian nation and whom Cadoria was named after.

King Ingres looked very much like his son, including his plainness but lacked his son’s physique. This was because he never fought in a battle or, unusually for royalty, even trained for war. After all, he became king when he was a child when he succeeded his grandfather. However, he did have a natural charm which led him to be an effective king. Ingres was also unusually enlightened for a king. He had put in place an effective government where people were promoted into positions due to their ability and not rank. If that position required them to have a title, he gave them one which led him to ennoble the most people in Cadorian history. It was said that there were two types of people in Cadoria, those with titles and those who were about to get one.

The Kingdom of Cadoria was a large temperate and wealthy country sitting north-west of a smallish continent. It was rich in agriculture, timber, and ore which it exported to other continents. This wealth meant it was able to afford and maintain a large army to ward off the advances of its powerful neighbour the Empire of Thargoẑa, who over the past few centuries had conquered three of the other four kingdoms of the continent of the five kingdoms on which they both resided. However, Thargoẑa’s attention had now turned to Cadoria over the past decades and because of this, it meant Cadoria was no longer rich in what it needed most, sons, at least not those of fighting age.

The room where the Cadorian High Council met was not as large or as grand as you may have thought, more functional than impressive. In the centre of the room was a large, plain white oak table, hewn from the Cadorian white oak tree, commonly found in Cadoria, which sat on a grey granite stone floor. The walls were of plain white stone like most of the capital city Cadora was constructed from on which imagery depicting the history of Cadoria was painted directly onto it. Surrounding the table were the members of the high council whose job was to advise the king. They were pouring over maps and reports scattered all over the table. All of them had concerned and serious looks on their faces. Small statues on the maps marked where various military units, Cadorian and the enemy’s, were located according to the reports. Your Excellency, Bartolo Lis, please give the Crown Prince an overview of the situation. King Ingres ordered.

Bartolo Lis was the minister of the Cadorian Mercantil Society. The Cadorian Mercantil Society, despite its roots being in trade and liaising with merchants from other countries and continents, was Cadoria’s intelligence service. It paid merchants and sailors from other countries, especially Thargoẑans, for information. Under Bartolo Lis, the Cadorian Mercantil Society’s network grew exponentially and became a well-informed and financed spy network. Its focus was two-fold, discovering the intentions of the Empire of Thargoẑa and trade opportunities around the world. There was very little it did not know on the continent that Cadoria resided or even other continents.

Bartolo Lis was a shrewd and wily man. A small pair of round spectacles hung on the end of his nose. He was the only one in the room not given a noble title much to Bartolo’s frustration, but King Ingres never gave a reason for this. He was in his early fifties and had white hair. This was not because of his age but because he was descended from Celebi refugees, a people from the far north of the continent. Over a century ago an enormous volcanic eruption rocked this