JS_Min23

GOZ of Yateph, King of the third Northern District has a decision to make. When he is faced with the long wars for dominion, he must prove, beyond other Kings that he is worthy of the seat of universal power. His Kingdom, being the least of the four Northern Divisions, suffers backlashes from the continued timeline of wars and a previous seige. Yateph proves to be unfit for recognition. What must he do?

GARATH, deputy commander-in-chief of Yateph journeys to find a Spiritist who summons the great Sorceress, ZAGRA. GARATH leads GOZ to her and in turn, she leads him right into the court of her master, the devil.

GOZ cuts a deal with the devil, a covenant of his own offspring, he must give his first child to the devil. He takes up the vial of desolation. Thus began the journey of chaos, as all is not what it seems. The King is indeed appraised with months of wars and flawless victory, Yateph becomes the District of Universal power headed by King GOZ.

But, years passed, and when his first son, Eshaph emerges, a young, strong and determined Prince, GOZ becomes drawn to the boy. The King must hide the truth behind his birth and many other secrets of the throne and hence, the boundless whirls of betrayal, distrust and hatred ensues as truth becomes that which must be sought at the emergence of Eshaph, the Prince of war.

King GOZ and The War Prince of Yateph

    Dusk  descended on Yateph, the stars emerged like a sword drawn from its sheath and the darkness, like a slate, covering North and South, East and West. In the fifth Street, near Alath, which housed the great brothel, shadows moved like wind. Prostitutes dressed scantily in silk and light cotton attended the merchants that patrolled the darkness. Several horses held by their halters stood with their owners in the shadow, a portrayal of wealth, fit for competition.


    One thing marked the street tonight. The figure of a Prince's carriage, parked in front of the brothel with two horses standing by, waiting for their master's command. Inside the carriage, Dorblan sat, filling himself with wine and reverie. He peaked out the carriage once occasionally, drank his wine and satisfied the fantasy of the women who accosted him with seduction. 


    They came in all figures. One would dare to put a slender hand in the carriage and rub the leather, another would tease him with a smile- Dorblan pretended to be amused.


    When he looked again, he could see her coming, her thin figure approaching like a pirouette in the darkness, with a veil over her head. She slid into the carriage and her strong scent immediately filled Dorblan's nostrils.


She turned to him, examined him and grimaced firmly.


Dorblan tensed, a thin smile went from his lips, the wine had began to take it's effect and he knew it. He turned, snatched her by the chin and sent his gaze down her neck, then to her breasts. He let her feel his breath and by chance, his passion. She smiled knowingly, sent her tongue rapt into his palms and touched his thighs.


As if she had quickly repulsed him, he threw her back into the seat. "Call me Lord," he said.


She laughed, then spoke lowly. "You have been drinking," she said, stroking the back of his head. "Come inside."


Dorblan reached for her hand and put it away.


    "I must leave now," he said. He reached for the wrapped silver shekels by his side and delivered it into her laps.


She stared at him, hesitated for a moment then touched his arm. "Come," she whispered.


Dorblan held the wine to his mouth and gulped the remainder.


She tore her eyes from him, took the silver and wrapped herself in the veil. "I'll be waiting, Lord."


PROLOGUE