Dragaland

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. When they came the Alatusian people were almost lost to history, to be nothing more than the faceless victims of tragedy, their existence whittled down to a lesson for a new generation. They were spared that reduced fate by their Council of Elders, who held on to threads of magic, dwindling in their population under the scorch of paranoia, that simmered in the wake of a season of failed crops. A group of the town’s best weavers and builders were spared the fiery end of their brethren, saved by the elders, ushered through their burning village under the protection of long unused enchantments, and wailing screams. They hid themselves on the edge of the Calamadian forest, bereaved and destitute. While the brave elders suffered greatly from the exertions of their heroism, they agreed to a final sacrifice, they would collect their remaining strength for one last act of precious magic, and give the last of their power to a child so small she had not yet left the safety of her mother’s womb. Little Alta was born with the remnants of the elder’s magic in her veins, and in this little girl the hope of her people grew with her.

The small group of survivors lived dismally in the dark forest, too scared to venture further into the denser regions, too hunted to venture out. They foraged what they could, and fought what dark creatures slithered from the murky Calamadian shadows, all the while avidly watching Alta grow. From infancy her powers were promising, and as such she was given all that the impoverished group could give to her. While the few other children looked like wraiths, dull and colourless, her cheeks glowed a reassuring peach, her sea-blue eyes were sharp and intelligent, and she was spared the endless hours of dangerous forest foraging, lest she fall victim to the terrors that stalked her play-fellows.

As Alta matured, more of her people’s plight was told to her, and by the time Alta was fifteen she saw her future not as a choice, but an inevitability, her fate inexorably tied to the exhausted people who had sacrificed their nourishment for her strength. Under her vibrant disposition simmered a deep anger, for the shame she suffered when she felt her own strength, while looking at the waste of her people. Her vow to beat the dragons that had ravaged her homeland was not just an act of bravery, but a desperately craved chance to pay back those who dwindled by her side, while she was not yet powerful enough to save them. Her magic bought them better foraging, safer passage through the forest, but she was not stronger than the ancient darkness around her, and by the time she was sixteen, the original group of surviving Alatusians had been more than halved.

At sixteen Alta emerged from the forest, sent forth into a world of fire by those without her blood, as no family member of Alta’s survived to see her battle the scaly giants, to patch her wounds and step out of the shadows into the bright wake of her glory, only twenty three Alatusians did. The nearby township of Glatonions heard of this fantastical peoples victory, and ventured dangerous paths over the mountains to beg protection and charity from Alta and her people, the dragon invasion had not only hurt her native lands. Acceptance was freely given, consequently the population of Alatusia swelled to five hundred and forty six, injecting new life into the valley. The new combined peoples renamed their valley Dragaland and the people became known as Dragainians as the world outside crept over the mountains to meet the famed Alta, and see her wonderous magic for themselves. The wonderous weaving and carpentry abilities of the old Alatusians had not been lost, and the industry of gem fashioning that the Glatonians had brought to the valley with them naturally developed Dragaland into a market town, that became prosperous, fed by the inquisitive visitors that marvelled at Queen Alta, who was crowned on a throne covered with shining dragon hide.

On her deathbed, over two hundred years after the defeat of the dragons, Alta called forth four exceptional pregnant women to her chambers, and in their wombs she left her remaining strength. The Dragainians mourned their queen of many generations, erecting a colossal stone statue for her honour in the busy market square. However while they mourned they also rejoiced when four new sages were born, healthy and pink, over the course of the season. Three girls and one boy, who grew to even greater strength than their revered predecessor. Not only were these sages powerful themselves, but over time magic began to reappear in the general population, and so Dragaland was enriched with the power of magic, as well as wealth.

Every generation of ruling sages chose four pregnant mothers in which to give over their mighty powers. Dragons never again risked invading the valley, but a new kind of monster was growing in the very heart of Dragaland. It’s people forgot to be grateful to have each other, it forgot to wonder at the fertile possibilities of their magic, and with such powerful things being forgotten they began to dismantle each other. Dragaland began to eat itself, great sages were falsely accused of misconduct to enhance another’s influence in their stead, wealth was hoarded and defended in dark and disturbing ways, and in these times of suspicion mischief turned to mayhem. A ruling class of the wealthy and magically talented was created to control and curb this degradation, but they themselves were not immune to greed and tyranny.

A thousand years after the great Queen Alta passed her power to the first four sages, the long held practise of choosing deserving mothers was abolished. A king or queen of Dragaland now gave their pregnant kinswomen their powers upon their expiry, whether proven to be worthy or not, and future generations lost sight of what it even meant to prove themselves. While the market place still thrived, enriching the prevailing industries of Dragaland, groups of people starved, their crops devoid of their own people’s famed magic. In such desperate circumstances a rebellion formed, a group arose to fight the corruption of the new order, and in shadowy corners they dubbed themselves The Rebellion of the Dragons, their vow was to bring back the virtue of Queen Alta, and cleanse the land of it’s sin with the purifying fury of fire.