EPISODE I- Life of a Prince


The young man laid his head on his desk, sleeping. The teacher, with rule- stick in hand, strode up to his desk and whacked his knuckles with a swift blow from the wooden wake-up call. He held his sleep-heavy head up from his desk, rubbing his rule-stick induced aching hand. The teacher looked down on him, and smiled. "You may be royalty, Mr. Orriss, but in this classroom you're under my dictatorship." With that, the teacher walked back to the front of the class, and continued the day's lesson.

His name was Prince Trav Oriss II. The apocalyptic judgement day fifty years ago sent mankind back to the medieval ages. Peoples, places, and half the technology were lost in the cataclysmic nuclear war half a century ago, leaving only thin scraps of remaining knowledge of the world before and only a meager fraction of its population. Thirteen years after the dust settled, what used to be Canada was divided, and his half was Kanadiam. His father, King Troid I, took control of Kanadiam, and soon proclaimed himself King.

The year now is 3050 A.D.

Trav was sixteen years old and stood five-foot-six. His dull tan accented his light build perfectly, as did his strong jaw match perfectly with his chin. His bright blue eyes and blonde hair went fashionably well with his bleached eyebrows, something which he took care of himself for once. Two locks of his thick blonde hair matted each side of his head on which it was parted, with the right side was gelled up slightly, giving his hair a bit of an uneven slope. Although bearing royal blood, Trav was a usual young lad; optimistic, energetic to boot, and still could not resist thinking of certain females in his school.

Trav was greeted outside the school, just after the final bell had rung, by his usual ride; a black pinto, which was a very popular car at the time for those who could afford a car. Trav opened the back door and got in. Within seconds, the pinto drove off, with every bit of it's four-horsepower engine. The ride to the castle usually took about an hour, forty-five minutes if the dirt roads had been overturned, packed down and raked recently.

The castle was not a heap of stone like old 16th century castles. Instead it was made of triple-plated titanium, a near impenetrable sanctuary. Trav entered the castle, and rounded a few winding corridors and staircases, up to his chambers. The usual servant or three greeted him, and sometimes even the army general, Tike Mallar, welcomed him as he passed.

Finally, Trav reached the gigantic doors that enclosed his chambers. He was greeted with an unusual surprise in his chambers when he opened the titan- sized doors. There beside his gigantic bed, stood a tall servant-girl. She was fluffing up Trav's trashcan sized pillows, all six of them. The door squeaked when Trav pushed it open, a fact the servant-girl noticed as she turned her head.

Towering well above Trav by at least five inches, Trav found it hard not to notice her in a crowd, easily picking out her dark brown hair. "Prince Trav," she said in a soft, soothing voice, "You're back already?"

"Yeah," Trav said, hardly even glancing at her as he waked by her towards his wooden desk, where he set down his heavy backpack, full of homework. The servant-girl set down the last pillow, walked towards the doors, and turned to Trav, who was unpacking his heavy load of homework. "I assume you wan to be left alone in your studies, prince?" She asked. Trav nodded, and she quietly left the room. Trav opened his gigantic textbook, pulled out and opened his binder. Trav dipped his pigeon feather quill in the covered inkpot on his desk, and began his homework.


Trav was in his third hour of studying, reading over modern combat techniques. Ever since that horrific war, what remained of mankind fought bitterly. Even with the war's cause lost in time, there were still uneasy goings and rivalries between countries, some of which had joined together, others had split apart. Most countries were at fierce war with each other, fighting over who should get what land, who should control who, and other petty quarrels. Even though the nuclear war had wiped out most 30th century technology, there were still a few remnants of advanced weaponry, namely the Exoskeletal Armor, or EXO's as they were commonly called.

The EXO's were a heap of Steetanium, a Steel-Titanium alloy, which were implanted in a soldier's body. Merely by pressing a heat-sensitive panel on their key weapon, a soldier could activate his or her Implant, and their body would be covered in a mass of steetanium in the form of an incredubly durable body armor.

The first generation of EXOs were the ones used in the Nuclear War. They wore dull-colored steetanium and had a metal facemask. Although this provided much protection, its tiny eye slot left it limited for visibility. The second and current generation had shinier looking steetanium. Instead of a hot, sweaty facemask, this generation used a samurai-like helmet, with a black visor over the eyes. Also, unlike the first Generation, this type could fire anything from proton beams to fireballs from a mechanism on the front of their helmets, just above their visor, varying from EXO to EXO.

Trav sighed, and stared out his window. Every day after school it was the same routine. Get picked up by the same ride, get driven back to the castle. He thought about the good times his friends would be having now. He, being royalty, wasn't allowed outside palace walls in fear of assassination. His friends would be doing the usual, Trav thought. They would be wandering around the city, getting drunk and drugged, picking up the usual whores along the way. Royalty. It was a pampered, yet damning life.


Outskirts of Kanadiam, 100 miles from Ranadiam borders.

The soldiers had been walking for a few hours now. Strapped in hot, sweaty EXO's, painted black that attracted all the sunlight to them, they all knew this march was no pleasure cruise. But, if what Ryle had told them was right, by this time tomorrow it would all be worth it...