Creative Writing: Empire Island

“King Henry! King Henry!” shouted Grism, breathing heavily, running up the steps to where his King was anxiously waiting.
“What? Gris, what is it?” Henry asked his good friend Lord Grism who had now reached him.
Grism panted, hands on his knees and hunched over as he spat out the words. “They’ve declared war! Atius, Atius has declared war!”
“Where do they stand?” King Henry wasted no time. They had waited months for a reply from the mysterious Lord Atius. No one had ever seen him, and if they did, no one had lived to tell the tale. It was rumored that Atius was recruiting and reawakening the Brutum. If this was true, they had much to worry about and prepare for.
Grism hesitated. Henry gritted his teeth and prepared for the worst.

We don’t know much about the giants and King Breskley, but you know how the they are. A little money here or there and…”
Henry rubbed his chin. “Yes, yes I know. What of the Brutum?”
“No word, not one. They are silent.” Grism said. He wiped the sweat from his brow and struggled not to yawn. He was exhausted from running around everywhere and getting news and messages from Aronia’s spies. His exhaustion was not above the notice of the King.
“You are tired. Come, rest and eat. We will talk of this tonight,” Henry said kindly.
Grism bowed and excused himself gratefully. Henry was left alone with his so far silent general, Sir Robert. “Tell me what you think, Robert.”
“Your Majestys, we’re outnumbered. If the Brutum join… I don’t know if we will make it,” Robert said softly. “But we have the Vessel, and that should more than make up for

He glanced up at the messenger Atius had sent to him. He couldn’t see his face, it was shrouded with darkness like storm clouds by a black cloak. But he could picture the person’s face easily. All Atius’s followers had white, white eyes. Completely and utterly white and cloudy, as if the once vibrant color in them had been painted over. The messenger’s cloak bore a strange insignia which he recognized: two white orbs with a red sword running diagonally in between them. Breskley’s eyes dropped back down to the paper. His eyes glimmered with greed. He made his decision. Standing from his throne (and towering over the messenger) the giant king snarled, “We have a