TWO MONTHS AGO
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[right][h3]Truong Huy San - Kingdom of Beival[/h3][/right]
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Truong Huy San was the tenth in a long line of fishermen who made his living harvesting the rich bounty teeming in the oceans off of Beival's Eastern coast. The day had begun like any other as he dragged his small fishing boat down to the tideline and out past the first few breakers of the early morning hours. His nets were already in place, a crab trap or two near the stern, and he clambered aboard to raise the single lateen sail. It caught the offshore breeze and he felt the little vessel surge beneath him and he took a hand to the tiller, guiding his the sturdy craft through the reef beyond the shingle beach and out into the ocean beyond.

The same wind that drove him eastward was pushing the mist that usually cloaked the coastline at this hour out to sea. It was a promising start to a day when he anticipated a generous catch. If he caught enough, he could rest tomorrow and repair some of his other nets, maybe take his son to the play in the nearby village. It was all the motivation he would need to put in a long day on the water.

He gradually became aware of a strange hum coming from the fog. He craned his neck, trying to peer into the white bank that was slowly retreating ahead of him; he unable to see a thing. The noise grew in volume the further he went and he began to feel afraid. He was a grown man who had been fishing these seas for nearly forty years without incident, but nothing would break him of his superstition that monsters lurked beneath the waves.  

A heavy gust from the mainland heeled his boat over even as it served to shred the fog bank to pieces. What appeared before him caused his heart to go cold. The morning sunlight, just kissing the horizon, revealed ships, more than he could have ever imagined, spread out as far as he could see, blanketing the horizon. Their mass of white sails appeared like an unearthly cloud bank that moved slowly northward. He didn't need any formal education to know who the vessels belonged to. There was an Elven colony a few miles from where he lived and he saw their ships often enough. But this was something else. 

Without a moments hesitation, he swung the boat around and began to tack upwind toward his village. As the fog bank continued to clear he could see that ships were already arriving at the Elven colony. Others were anchoring along the reef line and disgorging small boatloads of soldiers toward the white sand beaches that had seemed so serene and peaceful only an hour before. 

It took him the better part of two hours to return to the beach and already smoke was thickening in the northern sky as elven troops rode inland and began to savage the countryside. He could see cavalry moving among the infantry as they poured up the beach. More ships were arriving and the few boats rowing ashore turned into dozens, then hundreds. The scattered groups of elven forces became a river, and then a tidal wave of dark shapes that hid the beach from view. 

The sand and shingle crunched beneath the bow and he sprang into the water, abandoning the boat as he ran for the village. He could see small groups of peasants clustered together as they stared at the smoke that smeared the blue sky, his family among them. He looked north again and felt the cold hand on his gut once again. Elven soldiers were beginning to appear at the edge of the village rice paddies. Water exploded beneath their feet as they rushed toward the terrified villagers.

"RUN!" His scream seemed to break the spell of disbelief holding his family rooted in place. As one, like a flock of birds, they turned and fled south. He almost sobbed in relief as he hurried after them, his legs burning with the effort of running through the fine sand. He could hear the shouts of the elven soldiers, their whoops and cheers as they caught sight of the fleeing villagers. Fear flooded through him. 

Screams ahead of him now and he reached his family even as they began to recoil. More soldiers from the south. It took him a moment to recognize the spiked helms and gold trimmed armour but in that instant he understood that he was looking at soldiers of Beival.

"They are ours. Run to them!" He pushed his family forcefully, his energy giving them the strength to continue running. They splashed into the rice paddies, the water instantly soaking them to the knee. His legs screamed in protest. He was a fisherman, not a soldier, running was not in his daily routine.

The column of soldiers hurrying northward paid them little attention, though a mounted officer turned aside to shout at them. "It is not safe to the south. You must go inland. Make for Phuong!"

Truong waved his thanks to the officer and continued to usher his family into the bamboo forest that crowded up against the rice paddies. He wanted to turn and watch the coming battle but in his heart of hearts he knew it was already over. The elves on the beach had been to many, and the arriving Beivalian soldiers to few. 

Behind him he heard a cheer as the two forces charged home and then he pushed into the bamboo after his family. They would run, they had to, their lives depended on it. 

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