The future faded and Tom was stood on the Dolenlinn Road looking into Regent’s expectant face. The man looked so fragile Tom wished he could lie. “It gets worse,” he said. Regent closed his eyes but the corners of his mouth sagged. Despite himself, though it acted against his own interests, he stepped closer and laid a hand on Regent’s boot. “Turn around,” he said. “Leave Idris in the Marches. Heal your duchy.”

James T Kelly tells you the stories no-one else will. Novels such as the Realm Rift Saga that blend Faerie folklore with epic fantasy. Explorations of the life and work of Branwell Brontë. Digging up the history and interview the people who made your favourite games.

James has worked in pubs, insurance, call centres and medical regulators. When he’s not writing books, he’s working as a freelance copywriter, playing games, or adding to his Warhammer collection. He lives in Norwich with his wife, two daughters, and his pet peeves.

James T Kelly conjures a tale that instantly immerses readers in a compellingly conceived alternative realm created with a powerful sense of place and inhabited by memorable characters whose quests and perils become our own.”

— BRIAN SIBLEY

Calling The Makers

Discover the untold stories behind the games of Dune

From video games to board games, CCGs to RPGs, find out how your favourite Dune game came to be.

Through painstaking research and exclusive interviews with designers and creatives, this book tells you the untold stories behind the Dune games you love.

odds of winning the fight. But there was a downside: all of the troops committed were lost. Battles became a thing of balance. Commit too few troops and you would lose the battle and the territory. Commit too many and you would win, but you would be exposed and vulnerable to the next attack.
There was also the risk that the opposing layer would engage in a tactical withdrawal: that is, commit zero troops. They would lose the territory, but no troops. The attacking player lost the troops they had committed and find themselves exposed to an opponent at full strength.

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He stared up at the tapestries, supposedly from the time of King Emyr. They were frayed and tattered, though the images they depicted were energetic and vibrant. “Time decides how old we are.”

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Chapter 1

The eastern elfs were arriving that night but Thomas Rymour didn’t care.
The castle had been abuzz, with everyone from maids to cooks to visiting dignitaries gossiping about the reason for the visit. The Privy Council had been no different. Tom had sat through countless hours while rich men extolled their theory and used it to push their own agenda. And when Duke Regent had heard them all, he would ask Tom what he thought.
It was moments like that when Tom wished he could tell lies.