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The Legend of Lascar

Written By: Steven Sterup Jr.

Copyright 2017 Steven Sterup Jr.

Legal Disclaimer - This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Special thanks to all the people that helped with this book

My son Nicholas for editing

My grandson Kade for posing as young Lascar.

My sister-in-law Cindy A. for the cover art.

My wife Tammy for her help with pretty much every step of making this book.

Table of Contents

Introduction from Dhrel

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Introduction from Dhrel

Written by Dhrel Tyrillias

323 ALD

Lascar Tyrillias, there are very few names in our history that can evoke such emotions as his. Whether it be fear, anger or disbelief there is no name that is more widely recognized. He is the basis of several religions, countless books and even how we mark the passing of years. ALD, for those who don’t already know, means After Lascar’s Defeat. Yet, despite all this, very little is truly known about his life before becoming the evil king of Lascaria nor why he killed countless thousands during his reign. These are the reasons why I write this story.

Although everyone can agree that he was evil, even the religions based upon him, the reason he was so evil is highly debated. Many think he was a victim of circumstance, being the son of an evil king, they believe he had no other choice. Others believe that his evil ways were forced upon him. Still others believe he was born evil. I can tell you now that I believe none of these to be the case.

My father, Lastian, was raised by Lascar. He had a similar, if not more horrendous, upbringing. The same evil was forced down his throat since childhood but unlike his father, Lastian chose the path of good. As many of you know, my father was long believed to have helped Lascar terrorize our country. However, my father was vindicated after proof was found that he thwarted his father’s efforts at every turn and kept many innocents from Lascar’s wrath. People came forward with stories from all over the country after they realized that Lascar had been defeated and praised my father for saving them and their families. Lastian chose to be good.

A man or woman, is given choices throughout their life and some of these choices are between right and wrong, good or evil. The choice of doing the evil thing is always cleverly disguised in self-satisfaction and often the easier choice. The good choice is most times more difficult or you will need to use more effort to accomplish this option.

You come on a farmer who is beating his cow to get it back home. This frustrates you that a man would beat a defenseless creature so you confront him. After chastising him you have a choice, the easy choice would be to beat him, as he did the animal, or kill him and take the cow. Obviously you know how to treat the cow better than he. This man doesn’t deserve it. The good choice would require you to explain to the man why it was bad and then also possibly require you to check on the man in the future and council him more. This is obviously an oversimplified example but hopefully you see my point. Yes, I realize there are more options you could choose in varying degrees of right or wrong. My point is that I believe Lascar had many choices to be good or evil and he invariably chose evil at every turn. Lascar wasn’t born evil nor was he forced to be evil, he liked being evil.

I can’t take full credit for this story because I stand on the shoulders of great men and women to bring this to you. I wrote it based on the hard work and sacrifices of others. Kriista Tyrillias, my sister, deserves credit for helping me find Lascar’s journal of his early life before he became king and for her tireless efforts tracking down corroborating stories. Stelan Goller, my great grandfather, worked diligently with my father to separate the fact from the fiction of countless books written about Lascar. Draylen Goller, Stelan’s grandson, pieced together stories written in ancient Xeltheen, clarifying Lascar’s early years. Gromthule, the man who was present for many of Lascar’s early years helped me put finer detail on the years Lascar spent at the Tyrillian Academy. Finally and most importantly, the man who made this his life’s work, my father, Lastian Tyrillias. Without my father, this book and everyone else’s work would not have been possible. These people provided me with all the information that I might finally present the true story of the events of Lascar’s life before he was king.

I leave it to you, the reader, to make the final decision. Was Lascar born evil, was he forced to be evil, or did he choose evil?

For those of you who don’t believe Lascar was real and probably think I’m using a clever pen name to capitalize on the fame associated with it. I truly hope you get to keep believing that this is all fiction until the day you die. Because if my grandfather ever comes back, your shattered belief system will be the least of our worries.

Chapter 1

Lascar Tyrillias woke when he heard a strange sound. The eight year old boy sat up in his bed trying to figure out where the woman’s voice was coming from and what she was saying. Lascar brushed his pure white hair out of his eyes. His father, Lucian, the king of Tyrillia would scold him for letting his hair cover his eyes. Lucian was a stern king and father. He was also prideful. He would never allow his son to look like a commoner with unkempt hair.

Lascar heard the voice again, this time a little louder. He thought it might be coming from outside his room. The young prince slid out from under his covers and onto the plush carpet floor. Slowly he crept closer to the door but the woman was silent now. He pressed his ear to the door but all he could hear was his pounding heartbeat. Young Lascar was not afraid of the castle guards, nor his nanny. Lascar wasn’t afraid of the dark nor the imaginary monsters that most boys fear. There was only one thing that could scare the young prince, his father.

Two years ago, at the age of six, Lascar had easily comprehended and passed all the tests his tutors gave him. According to every teacher, the boy was ready for scholarly studies, he was a certifiable genius. Being too young to enroll in any of the noble colleges, the young prince was left with little to do, so his father ordered instructors to teach him in the art of war. This, like most things, also came easy to the child and soon his small body, much smaller than other boys his age, was easily defeating seasoned veterans. There was no end to his father’s pride. King Lucian could often be found bragging about his genius, warrior son and Lascar loved every minute of it.

One day Lascar had grown so prideful that he misspoke in his father’s presence. Calling the king mean for forcing him to finish his supper, which by itself would have been looked at as childhood indignance. This night, however, an important noble had been over for dinner so Lucian was embarrassed. He took his son to the kitchen after excusing himself from the table. Lascar was told that he would never make that mistake again. Lascar, of course was full of himself and tried to fight his father as he had the seasoned warriors who trained him. This was a mistake. Lucian was not like any man Lascar had ever faced before. Lascar’s strength and speed were inherited from his father so it was no surprise that several hundred years of experience prevailed easily over a six year old boy. The punishment would never be forgotten by the young prince. Lascar had the ability to heal any wound in minutes and this left a cruel king with many options for punishing his disobedient son. Lascar didn’t return to the table that night and rumors flourished, what had the king done to his son?

Lascar was ripped from his thoughts as the woman’s voice seemed to fill the room. It was much louder this time and now he could make out what she was saying.

“Lascar, find me in the dungeon,” the woman’s voice commanded.

It was then that Lascar realized, the voice wasn’t coming from the hall, it was in his head. It was coming from his mother, Faamyn, who was locked in the castle dungeon. Lascar knew where she was but had never seen her. It was forbidden for anyone but Lucian to go into the dungeon.

Lascar could feel the pull from his mother, he would not be able to resist it and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. In the last year he had often sat at the entrance of the dungeon trying to work up the courage to open the door. In the end, the thought of his father’s punishment for doing so, a much more serious crime than talking back, kept the young prince in check.

Lascar cautiously opened the door to his room and peered out into the hallway. When he was sure there was no one awake he snuck, barefoot, out into the hall. Lascar had another peculiar ability, one which his father did not. The young prince was indifferent to cold and heat. To him cold and heat felt like the difference between leather and cotton. Neither was uncomfortable, just different. So Lascar made his way silently across the freezing cold, stone floor of the hallway. The young prince could see his breath this chilly, winter night but it was nothing more than an amusement to him.

Lascar snuck through the dark, silent castle until he was finally on the bottom floor. He stood at the dungeon entrance and looked at the door with fear. If his father found him it would be a hundred times worse than the night he embarrassed his father. Perhaps his father would kill him this time. Lascar had seen his father’s temper many times but until the night he publicly embarrassed his father, it had never been directed at him. The things Lucian did to those he considered beneath him were never spoken about but Lascar knew. Lascar had seen his father’s cruelty many times. His father tried to keep it from him but Lascar had gotten very good at sneaking around the castle. So good, in fact, that even his father was hard pressed to catch him.

Lascar pushed the door and found that it wasn’t locked. What reason would there be to lock it? No one would dare disobey an order from Lucian. Lascar had heard stories about what Lucian was like before he was born. Lucian had been a kind man, strict but fair. He treated everyone with respect and was rewarded with the respect of his people. Lucian was married to a beautiful woman that he loved dearly but this woman was unable to have children. Lucian and his wife hired a woman to have Lucian’s child and after Lascar’s birth his real mother stayed on to take care of him. She was to be his nanny. This worked out well until the day Lucian’s wife walked in on Faamyn talking about her plans for Lascar to take over Tyrillia and the world. Faamyn killed Lucian’s wife but underestimated Lucian. She was defeated and thrown into the dungeon. Lucian had a special cage built just to hold her after he found out that she was not only a mage but also immortal. After that day Lucian spent a great deal of time in the dungeon, torturing her.

Lascar crept down the cold, stone stairs without making a sound until he reached the bottom. The stench of blood and burned flesh filled the room. He covered his nose and walked over to the cage. A pale woman in rags, that barely covered her body, slumped in the corner. She didn’t have a bed nor blankets, only a bucket. The woman was shivering, unlike Lascar, she could feel the cold, it just couldn’t kill her, another of Lucian’s cruel tortures.

“Mother?” Lascar asked.

“My son,” the woman whimpered and wearily tried to make her way to him.

Lascar could see scars on her body and a fresh wound on her arm. It appeared to be cut to the bone and was scorched in several places. She cradled the arm and tried desperately to avoid using it. About half way across the cell she accidentally put weight on it and cried out in pain. Apparently, she didn’t have the young prince’s ability to heal and he pondered where he had gotten this ability. His father was also unable to heal with the speed he could. Perhaps a combination of his mother’s power mixed with his father’s had produced anomalies in him?

“Why did you call me?” the young prince asked with language and a tone that seemed much older than eight.

“My, you are a smart one. Do you always speak so grown up?” Faamyn asked.

“What do you mean, mother?” the young prince asked. He had spoken this way for years, he was no longer a little boy. He was eight years old and could out think scholars and generals with ease.

“I have little time,” Faamyn wheezed. Her wounds were severe. The constant torture and lack of food and water made it so her body could not heal. Although immortal, she lived in a constant state of pain due to Lucian’s torture. “You are special. I need you to understand how special you are. I’m going to tell your father how to kill me so he will get this over with. I can’t go on any more. I was just holding out long enough to explain things to you.” Faamyn cried out in pain as she accidentally shifted her weight onto her arm again.

“I’m listening,” Lascar said impatiently. He had no love for his mother. He was, however, curious about what she meant by special. He knew his mother was manipulative and had killed his father’s wife. This brought out the cruel king he now called father.

“You have a great power. You have abilities beyond imagining.” Faamyn winced as she waved her hurt arm and caused the table behind Lascar to tip over.

“How did you do that?” Lascar prodded.

“Magic!” Faamyn exclaimed, her excitement overshadowing her agony briefly.

“Can I do magic?” Lascar asked. The curiosity caused him to sound his age, if only for a second. Lascar silently chastised himself. People who act like children are treated like children but mostly he wanted his father to be proud of him again. This one desire was the driving force of almost every decision the eight year old boy made.

“Yes, my son, you will be the greatest mage that ever lived. People will cower before you. Even your father,” Faamyn explained.

“How do you know?” Lascar’s speech returned to the practiced tone that made him sound older.

“When I was pregnant with you I could feel it. You have more power than I’ve ever felt. I have known powerful mages. You eclipse them all. Give it a try.” Faamyn commanded.

“I do not know how,” Lascar argued.

“Concentrate on the table. Picture it moving. Then, when you are ready, push it with your mind,” Faamyn explained.

Lascar turned to face the table and did as Faamyn ordered but nothing happened.

“Try harder! Use your hands if you have to. Give your mind something to focus on.” Faamyn seemed desperate. She needed her son to understand this tonight.

Lascar tried again. This time after focusing he waved his hand and the table flew across the room then crashed into the wall. When Lascar turned to his mother his eyes were glowing the color of blood. He was excited. Not because he wanted his mother’s approval but because it gave him power. Power his father would surely appreciate.

For a moment Faamyn looked afraid. Her son was more powerful than even she realized. He was dangerous, very dangerous. In his first attempt he had destroyed a table. What could an older, more practiced Lascar accomplish?

“Good work,” the witch forced herself to say. She needed Lascar on her side. She had no intention of telling Lucian how to kill her. It was all a rouse to get Lascar to help her. “Now try that on these bars. See if you’re strong enough to bend them.”

Lascar looked uneasy. His father wouldn’t like it if he let her go. Then Lascar realized that his mother was using him. Most eight year olds would not have the mental capacity to think that far ahead but Lascar was not a normal child. In some respects he still acted childish but he tried desperately to rid himself of those things. He needed to be a grown up to earn his father’s respect. He didn’t want to be afraid of his father, he wanted the adulation and praise to return.

“I do not think so, mother,” Lascar replied.

“What?! Why not?!” Faamyn balked.

“You are trying to trick me into letting you go. Father would punish me if I did that. I am not stupid, mother.” Lascar’s eyes still lit up the room. His rising anger, caused by his mother’s deception, caused them to glow brighter. “Maybe I should get rid of you for father!”

“No, I apologize…” Faamyn begged, fearing for her life. Where Lucian had failed, her son might succeed. She had no idea how powerful her son really was and had no intention of putting his powers to the test. This little boy was so full of power that he might very well be able to kill her.

“What are you doing down here?!” King Lucian rushed down the steps yelling. “I told you that you were never allowed down here!”

King Lucian Tyrillias was a large man. He stood almost half a head taller than most and was very brawny. King Lucian kept his dirty blonde hair and beard cut very short. To him a clean cut hairstyle was synonymous with nobility. He rarely wore his crown but even at night he wore a well-tailored shirt and pants underneath his gold trimmed, royal robes. In Lucian’s mind there was never an occasion to ‘dress down’ like a commoner. Every occasion from horse riding to martial practice required a noble to look like a noble.

Lucian grabbed Lascar by the arm and forced him to the steps then noticed his son’s glowing eyes.

“You’re one of them!” the king shouted angrily. Lascar’s hopes of approval came crashing in on him.

“I could not help it, father. She pulled me down here, I could not stop,” the young prince protested. “She made me use magic.”

“I don’t believe you. No one can make you do anything you don’t want to, not even me.” If only Lucian had realized how wrong he was. Although Lascar had lied about Faamyn forcing him to use magic, the king could have convinced his son to do anything he wanted simply by asking.

“He will learn to hate you, Lucian,” Faamyn hissed from her cell. “He knows what he is now. He will be the death of you.”

Lucian slapped Lascar and the glow faded from his son’s eyes.

“You are never to use magic ever again. Do you understand me? I will not have a mage in this castle. If I even think you’ve used magic I will ship you off to the middle of nowhere and forget you exist,” Lucian said angrily.

“Yes, father, never again. I will not use magic. I promise.” Lascar didn’t cry. The slap had gotten his attention but even Lucian had to put considerable effort into hurting the boy.

“Go to your room. Your mother needs to learn that threatening me is a very bad idea,” Lucian growled as he pointed up the stairs.

“Yes, father,” Lascar replied as he started up the stairs. Once at the top of the stairs Lascar crouched down and listened.

“Going to try to kill me again?” Faamyn laughed. The laugh turned into a coughing fit before she was finished.

“No, I realize what must be done, now,” Lucian said absentmindedly while he thought to himself.

“Going to let me go then? It’s your only choice. I will make Lascar hate you if you don’t. You can’t keep me here. Let me go and I’ll never bother you again,” Faamyn negotiated.

“No, I have a better idea.” Lucian’s voice sounded devious. The king rubbed his chin and walked toward the stairs.

“Let me go! I’ll kill you some day if you don’t! Let me go!” Faamyn screamed with the last of her strength.

Lascar quickly headed back up to his room before his father reached the top of the steps. He hated his mother now. Before it had been indifference, now it was pure hatred. She tried to use him. Why did his father keep her around? She needed to be dealt with. She had messed up everything. He was just winning back his father’s trust then she tricked him into using magic. Why had he listened to her? Despite his self-loathing the magic had felt good, very good, but it was wrong. His father had said so. Suddenly Lascar felt very tired. As he got back into his bed he was overwhelmed by fatigue he had never experienced before. Using magic had made him weak.

In the morning Lascar felt like his normal self again. The fatigue of using magic had corrected itself while he slept. He snuck downstairs where his father was having a meeting. There were two people, a man and a woman that looked like druids. He had heard of druids but had never seen one before. These two fit the description perfectly. The man was huge, with red hair and a bushy red beard. He looked kind and Lascar loathed him immediately. The woman looked more worldly and calloused, Lascar thought she was quite pretty. She was much smaller than the man, with long, straight black hair and interesting brown eyes. Her eyes had flecks of gold in them that caught the light every time she shifted position. Their clothes seemed homemade, crafted from animal furs but despite this they smelled clean. Lascar expected them to smell like animals or perhaps like commoners, covered in filth. This was not quite what he was expecting and a pleasant surprise.

As Lascar listened, two more people came into the room. These two men looked ominous and sure of themselves, a sharp contrast to the druids who were bowing to his father and asking for forgiveness every time they misspoke.

The two men wore drab gray robes with a slit down the middle which revealed an under robe that was a slightly darker gray. Their jewelry intrigued Lascar and he was almost discovered as he tried to take a closer look. It looked like their jewelry was made of bone. This, coupled with their air of superiority led the young prince to believe they were necromancers.

Lascar thought it was strange for his father to call two druids and two necromancers for a meeting. His father hated mages yet he was meeting with, what appeared to be, the leaders of two of the most magical cultures in the world. What was his father up to? Perhaps the king was giving them an ultimatum? Give up magic or else! Lascar needed to get closer, he never missed the chance to hear his father tell people what to do. His father was so powerful. Someday Lascar would command this level of respect, no that wasn’t the right word, the word was fear. People would tremble at the mention of his name, just like they did with his father. His word would be law to everyone in Tyrillia. No, he would be better than his father, he would rule the world. His father would be proud of him again someday.

Lascar snuck closer, careful not to alert anyone to his presence. The large druid man looked around the room. It was almost like the druid could sense him. Lascar pushed himself farther under the table then he felt it. He had been so preoccupied with sneaking that he hadn’t realized the feeling in the room. He could feel the magic coming from the four people speaking with his father. The magic had a smell and a taste that was unique to the person it was coming from. The two necromancers had a dirty, rotten taste but not identical. One was stronger than the other and the magic from the strong one had a sour taste to it. This man had killed people. No, not just killed people, he had tortured people to death and liked it. Then Lascar realized that he wasn’t really smelling nor tasting the magic. His mind was just processing the feeling into something he could identify.

The two druids were completely different from the necromancers as well as completely different from each other. The pretty woman had a kindness to hers, a sweet taste almost like sugar and vanilla. However, the man was much more powerful than anyone in the room. His power eclipsed the others by so much that Lascar wondered if he was as strong as the king. The druid man’s power tasted like wood and rock, strong and sturdy. Then it happened again, the druid man glanced at the table Lascar had hidden under. Did he know Lascar was there? Despite this the druid man said nothing.

Lucian was instructing the four mages about how to handle Faamyn. They were apparently being instructed to take Faamyn to a location that was written on a sealed note. After handing it to the large druid man Lucian ordered them not to open it until they were far away from the city. That way they could figure out if anyone was following them before heading out to their final destination. The four mages all agreed to the terms and headed toward the dungeon to bind and transport Faamyn.

After the four mages left the castle the head of Lucian’s personal guard entered the room. He had been waiting for the mages to leave before receiving his instructions. He was told to head straight to the final tomb that would hold Faamyn and given his own set of directions on how to get there. He, and the guards with him, were instructed to let none of the four mages leave the tomb. All four were to be sealed in with Faamyn. This way not only could Lucian get rid of Faamyn, an obvious threat, but also rid the world of four of the most powerful mages.

Lascar giggled from under the table and quickly put his hands over his mouth. Only one of them had been truly powerful. The other three had been mere shadows of the large druid man. If these were the world’s most powerful mages he had nothing to fear. Even the druid man felt like nothing compared to when he had used his magic to throw the table. Now that had been real power! Lascar had felt just a taste of it but he understood that there was much more he could tap into if he really wanted to.

At the time Lascar had no interest in where they were taking his mother. He was glad that she was going to be out of his life. With her gone he could resume his attempts to win back his father’s affections. He would show his father he could follow instructions. He would never use magic again, even if the feeling was very appealing.

From that day forward all magic was illegal in Tyrillia. People were hunted down and killed for using magic or being involved with someone who had used it. Tyrillia invaded Norzen, the home of the draelic. The draelic that were not killed were enslaved and Norzen became a slave state dominated by Tyrillia. Families were destroyed, druids, necromancers and even lesser mages fled in search of hiding places. It is estimated that well over a thousand people were put to death that year alone. At that time in history there were maybe five thousand people on the continent now known as Lascaria. So this means Lucian was responsible for killing twenty percent of the population. By means of percentages, this was one of the largest exterminations of humanoid life to this very day.

Chapter 2

Over the next few years Lascar came to realize that there was something worse than his father punishing him. To Lascar the indifference of his father was far worse than yelling and screaming, even worse than the beating he had suffered. How he wished his father would pay enough attention to give him another beating. Even when Lascar publicly defied Lucian, the king would simply turn away, whisper to one of his servants, then look very disappointed as he ridiculed his son for being so immature. Often Lascar would storm off to his room, his eyes glowing red, only to chastise himself for his lack of control. Anger made his magic surface and he could not afford to let anyone see it. Eventually Lascar gave up trying to gain his father’s attention and took up reading. He was not allowed to use magic but he could read about it. Although books on magic were forbidden, the young prince had hidden away many books on the subject.

On Lascar’s sixteenth birthday his father called him to the throne room. Lascar thought he had finally suffered enough, proven his worth to his father. His father wanted to talk to him. Upon entering the throne room Lascar’s hopes were smashed. His father, without looking at him, gave a speech to the nobles who were in the room. It was about him, not to him.

“My son has reached the age where he must choose a wife. All you fine people here have strived diligently in your efforts to root out mages in your lands and I commend you. For that reason my son will travel to each of your homes and meet with your daughters. When he returns to the castle he will choose his wife and everyone will bear witness to the grandest wedding Tyrillia has seen since my own.” Lucian returned to his throne and started whispering to one of his servants. Lascar recognized the man as his father’s top aid. This man, although a servant, was responsible for everything that went on in the castle. There was no one that Lucian trusted more, at least not since Lascar disappointed him so many years ago.

Lascar flew into a rage. He was not going to pick a wife. He had no intention of settling down with some boring old hag and helping her pop out children so Lucian could have a more suitable heir. The young prince stormed up to the throne, he had finally had enough.

“How dare you tell me that I am to marry! IF I choose a wife it will be when I decide I want one and not before!” Lascar screamed at his father.

Lucian stood up calmly and laughed to the crowd of nobles in an effort to conceal his anger.

“If I say you are going to find a wife. You are going to find a wife.” Lucian said quietly then he started to whisper. “If you think you can disobey me you will find a new home in your mother’s old cell. Don’t think I don’t know about all the books you keep hidden in your room. You can’t die but there are many people I can get to torture you until you will wish you were dead.” Then Lucian smiled to the crowd and sat back down.

“Fine, I will go. I am not guaranteeing I will find a wife. If none of these inbred, simplistic little girls interests me I will have fulfilled my part of the bargain. Do we understand each other?” Lascar paused a minute then added before his father could reply. “Before you answer let me remind you that, yes, you are right I cannot die. So, some day, after all the torture, I will finally grow tired of you and you will never see it coming. You, can die.” Lascar whispered back.

Lucian looked uncomfortable and Lascar saw fear on his father’s face. For the first time in many years Lascar felt good again. He couldn’t have his father’s respect but he could make his father fear him and perhaps that was better.

“Fine,” Lucian forced himself to say. “As long as you go and meet every woman on the list you will have fulfilled our agreement and I will not bother you with it again.”

Lascar turned and walked away with a devious grin on his face. Finally, after all these years, he had bested his father. He didn’t intend to kill his father, he just wanted to win an argument for once. That was the day Lascar stopped trying to please his father. He was done playing the lost little boy, he really was a man now and he needed to start acting like one. If his father couldn’t love him he could fear him!

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