Somewhat of Ickrail Part 1

The thick heat of the grasslands struck the kingdom forcefully in the morning, before the birds were in flight. The land birds stayed in the prairies, and the flyers remained in the trees; the shade was enough to cool them. A looming figure stood over the peaceful image of a rural town. Although it didn’t look like it could possibly be a kingdom with formidable stature… it had other assets. There were secrets, rumors, and gossip that made up the fibers of the kingdoms safety. That was how it had always been. However, most secrets turned out to be true in some way or another.
There were parts in the castle where the heat poked through and scorched the stone walls, and sometimes, even the insides.Unfortunately for the boy under the sheets, his room was subject to the sultry sun. A single strand of heat tore across his cover, and within moments, he was out of his bed. This occurence was the only thing keeping him from being the latest riser in the castle. Besides... it wasn't fit for a prince to sleep in, no matter how tired he was.
He was lucky though. Magic lessons were very early in the morning, and because he had started them so recently, he often forgot. Magic was almost foreign to the people of Ickrail, they liked to keep to themselves. No one ever really got out much. Even the ambassadors spent most of the time within the town walls. The most powerful of them all, however, spent much of his time abroad. He was the one pulling all of the strings. He still had yet to learn of how his father the king met this man, and managed to bring him to his castle. He had once been one of the most famous Shiners in the world. Now, he was a teacher, prominently of magic of course, but of other things as well.
Shiners were very knowledgable of course, especially of history, and although they knew it well, they never wanted to release their knowledge of anything dark. There were other magic wielders for that sort of thing. The prince, Michael, had spent the past month in his classroom alone, wondering when he would see something exciting, but history was all he received most of the time. He sighed as he entered the classroom, not even dressed, as he approached the man he knew as Salbel. He looked ridiculously young for a man of his age. He had been slaying foul beasts far before Michael had been born, he must have been at least eighty, for the king knew him as a boy. His ruffled black hair was uncharacteristic of a person so cool and collected. It's length was also strange. It spiked into the air an inch above his head.
"Michael, why aren't you dressed?" Salbel said. He didn't look up from his book, but Michael could still see the frown he let split all over the room.
"It's bloody hot outside, and you want me to get dressed?" Michael said as he took his regular seat. It wasn't like it mattered where he sat.
"You know I don't appreciate slang, Michael," Salbel said as he closed his book and rose from his desk. He was holding another book, one that Michael knew well.
"Well, it's the truth, and you know it."
"Whether or not I know it, slang is still slang," he said as he set the book upon Michael's desk. "I want you too...-"
"No, please Salbel. It's been a month. All we've done so far is studied History. Don't I deserve something else besides reports?"

It was true. Since the first day Michael had begun his schooling with Salbel, they had done nothing but History, and reports about history. The strange thing was, they had yet to do anything concerning his own kingdom, but that had yet to ring odd with Michael.

"Alright Michael..." Salbel said cautiously, "This month, and every month following, I will give you one glimpse into the sacred art of shining, or, more generically known as magic across the world. You can't tell your younger siblings about this, do you understand?"

It had been a long while since Salbel had mentioned anything about shining in a long while. He had become excited once more. He read a lot about the ancient art in the books lining the walls of his study. It was really the only thing that captivated him in school, other than art. Salbel knew this.

"How's your brush hand, Michael?" He asked as he pulled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows.

"It's better than ever... I actually painted a few...-" He was cut off.

"Good that's good." There was a flash of white light in front of Salbel's hands. A thin black paint brush with very fine black bristles appeared on the desk.

"What's this?" Michael said as he examined the object.

"I'll show you."


[This is just a very short intro to the first chapter of my first story. I need to do some revising before I get into this whole convo thing, but I wanted to show a little bit of the main character...]