Chatterbox: Inkwell

Hello!

Right now I am working on a fantasy, middle ages themed book. I'm going to post it here, and you guys can comment on changes, things you like, things you don't like (be honest) and more. One more thing: I don't have a title for this yet. You can comment on what you think the title should be. I will choose my top favorites and see which one I think fits my story best. 

Enjoy!

Without further ado.....

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Prologue

A lone rider on a pure white
stallion galloped down the old dirt path in the heavily forested countryside of
Castle Telmarth. He was tall, strong, and heavily armed. The rider was an
emissary from King Ghvog, seeking an alliance with King Faroth, who ruled
Castle Telmarth. Castle Telmarth was huge. The outer walls were one hundred
feet tall, and they surrounded a keep, with walls one hundred fifty feet tall.
Inside the keep was the palace, and it towered two hundred feet tall, and then
had a twenty-foot spire with the standard of King Faroth. As the rider closed
the gap between himself and the castle, the huge oak doors of the castle began
to open. The doors of Castle Telmarth were not ordinary doors. These doors were
three feet thick, and towered twenty feet high. As the oaken doors came to a
stop, wide open, the iron portcullis behind the doors began to raise with a
high pitched CREEEEAAAK! By the time the portcullis was completely open, the
rider was fifty feet away from the castle. The stallion slowed as it entered
the castle. Immediately after the rider had entered, the portcullis slammed
shut with a smash. Soon afterwards, the oak doors thudded into their frames.

The rider was now trapped between
two gates, in a courtyard-like room with no escape. If the King felt threatened
by the rider’s presence, then the sentinels on the wall would shoot him with
their crossbows. He would not have time to lift a finger. However, the King did
not feel particularly frightened by this rider’s presence. The doors and
portcullis in front of the rider opened, and were replaced by 20 guards, each
pointing a spear at him. The rider was then escorted to the stables, where his
stallion was led into the foul smelling stalls. Now on foot, the rider was led
to the throne room, where King Faroth saw his guests. The moment the rider
stepped in the throne room, trumpets blared and a richly robed figure strode to
the ornate throne and sat down with a flourish of his cloak. The throne room
was decorated richly, with stain glass windows and plenty of gold and jewels.
The windows gave the room a deep blue tint.

“Prince Aros. I did not expect to
see you so soon,” the King said. His voice was deep, but pleasant.

“King Faroth,” Prince Aros bowed.
“My father, King Ghvog, seeks an alliance with you, King Faroth, against the accursed
Barbarians of the North.”

At the word “barbarians”, King
Faroth’s face became grave.

“Your skill in battle is widely
renowned. If you and your army were to fight alongside us, you would give us
the strength to defeat the barbarians, and your magicians would strengthen our
forces even more! Sometime you will have to go to war with them, you know that!
Why not do it now with us, rather than by yourselves, when all of us are
rotting in our graves?”

The king was silent for a moment,
then “You know I do not want to go to war.”

“Yes, but- “

“Why should I risk the lives of all
of my men and myself? What good will it do the world? The barbarians have never
bothered us.”

“Do you think that the barbarians
would leave you and your people alone after they destroy us? They won’t. They
won’t stop fighting until all of Ellevernien is under their control!”

The king was silent.

“Will you stay here and watch our
people die? Or will you help us?”

The king remained silent.

“I will not risk the lives of my
people.”

“But- “

“That is my final answer. Leave now
or I will set my guards upon you to throw you off the city walls!”

Prince Aros stormed out of the
throne room and ran to the stables, where he got his pure white stallion, whose
name was Arnaien, and galloped into the countryside. All that remained of the
prince was a plume of dust to the North.