To Prologue or Not To Prologue?

I am in the midst of a dilemma. The action in my fantasy novel is motivated by something that happened in the past, specifically, a civil war. Now, if I were to refer to the American Civil War, readers would instantly have a frame of reference. But because this takes place in a different world, they have no idea who fought whom or why, or who won.

I wrote the first chapter so that it jumps right into the story and I love the way it flows, but my test readers are begging to know more information about what happened before, and about the world and its people, so that they can put the current action into context.

So, the other day I inserted some expository material, but think it interrupts that lovely flow I used to have. So now I'm considering a brief prologue - or forward - or whatever you call it. Maybe just two paragraphs, like those words that scroll at the beginning of Star Wars.

But I’m also thinking, “Well, hey, maybe it’s a good thing that they want to know more. Maybe that will keep them reading.” As the book is now, the history from the past is explained mostly in some dialogue in Chapter Two, and also in other dribs and drabs throughout the story.

So, today I am putting up the opening, with and without the exposition, for my readers to comment on. Do you think the book needs some kind of prologue or introduction? Do you think it needs more exposition within Chapter One? Or should I just keep the opening as it is and make my readers continue to... well... read?

(Postscript: after doing a little quick research, I realized that what I am really considering is an Introduction, not a Prologue.)

(P.P.S. After all of the excellent comments, I posted yet another version here:

The Revised Revised Opening)
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The Golden Gryphon, Chapter One (Original Version)


In the cold crack of winter, the lions came down from the mountains. Nightstalkers, the farmers called them: huge, sleek, black prowlers that hunted at night. They carried off sheep, goats, chickens and, very occasionally, children. Before the War they had been a rare nuisance, a useful source of tales to keep youngsters in their beds at night and frighten them into good behavior. But the King’s brother Synedd, in his ceaseless grasping for the throne, had seen their potential in warfare and had trained them to hunt in packs. The females mainly hunted for food; this had always been the case. But Synedd bred males for his own use, created blood-lust in them and taught them to hunt for sport. He had used them to supplement his army of traitors, making up in beasts what he lacked in soldiers.

After Synedd’s defeat, the nightstalkers were scattered. Most had been killed in battle but a few survived, returning to their lone ways in the mountains. The Rangers and the unicorns hunted these. Unicorns were especially adept at lion-skewering; their horns were long and deadly. But unicorns were unpredictable, coming and going as shadows. In recent years they had became more scarce, returning to the deeper forests as the Hanorja rebuilt their farms and prospered in the post-war peace. The Rangers, however, diligently studied the lions’ habits; in the years following the War they became renowned for their prowess at tracking and killing the lions.

So it was Faldur Relazen’s task, as captain of the Ranger pack assigned to the Silverbark Vallen, to hunt down the nightstalker that had been plaguing the farms in the wardlands around Glenhym Castle. Lord Tarnbel, the King-appointed Lord Defender, or Delfenward, of Glenhym, had sent a message to the post at Burnwood which had reached Faldur on patrol. Lord Tarnbel had fought with Faldur’s father in the War; the Captain and his men were always sure of a warm welcome at Glenhym. So Faldur would have helped him out of friendship as well as duty, in any case.

It was not a duty he cherished, however, especially on Midwinter’s Eve. It was a hard thing to pass up the all-night celebration and go out into the snow in search of a wretched monster that would just as soon eat him as whatever livestock it was stalking. But, the sooner it was done the sooner he could join the dancing in the great hall. He only hoped it didn’t take all night...

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The Golden Gryphon, Chapter One (Revised Version)

In the cold crack of winter, the lions came down from the mountains. Night-stalkers, the farmers called them: huge, sleek, black prowlers that hunted at night. They carried off sheep, goats, chickens and, very occasionally, children. Before the War they had been a rare nuisance, a useful source of tales to keep youngsters in their beds at night and frighten them into good behavior. But the King’s brother Synedd, in his ceaseless grasping for the throne, had seen their potential in warfare and had trained them to hunt in packs. The females mainly hunted for food; this had always been the case. But Synedd bred males for his own use, created blood-lust in them and taught them to hunt for sport. He had used them to supplement his army of traitors, making up in beasts what he lacked in soldiers.

[Despite this lack, he had been successful in turning a third of the Delfenwards, or lord defenders, against the King. This was not the first time in Hanorjan history that one of the royal family had used his powers against his own people, but it was the first in many hundreds of years. The Hanorja were an unusual people: small of stature, keenly intelligent, and slow to make war - but deadly when their wrath was finally roused. They excelled at pottery, weaving, poetry and music. The long winters in Belhanor gave them time to hone these crafts, and their houses were brightly decorated both inside and out.

The common people possessed a small, practical kind of magic, which they used in small, practical ways. The line of the kings, however, possessed much greater powers which they used for the benefit of the kingdom. Some said that the Hanorja were distant relatives of men, some said of the elves, and others neither. They themselves only knew that they were Hanorja, and that their ancestors had come over the mountains in ages past.

When Synedd turned against his brother Elmeth and killed him, Elmeth’s sons, led by Elmoran, the eldest, drove Synedd and his followers into the mountains. Elmoran himself fought Synedd on the peak of Mount Cairfelen from which he fell, though his body was never recovered. Elmoran was then crowned King, and ordered all the traitors beheaded and their wardlands divided among those who had been loyal to him, in accordance with their service. The war was over; the kingdom restored. The Hanorja repaired their homes, replanted their fields and made songs to commemorate the dead, especially their beloved King.]

Most of the nightstakers were killed in battle, but a few survived, returning to their lone ways in the mountains. The Rangers diligently studied the lions’ habits; in the score of years following the War they became renowned for their prowess at tracking and killing the lions.

So it was Faldur Relaszen’s task, as captain of the Ranger pack assigned to the Silverbark Vallen, to hunt down the nightstalker that had been plaguing the farms in the wardlands around Glenhym Castle. Lord Tarnbel, the Delfenward of Glenhym, had sent a message to the post at Burnwood which reached Faldur on patrol. Lord Tarnbel had fought with Faldur’s father in the War; the Captain and his men were always sure of a warm welcome at Glenhym. So Faldur would have helped him out of friendship as well as duty, in any case.

It was not a duty he cherished, however, especially on Midwinter’s Eve. It was a hard thing to pass up the all-night celebration and go out into the snow in search of a wretched monster that would just as soon eat him as whatever livestock it was stalking. But, the sooner it was done the sooner he could join the dancing in the Great Hall. He only hoped it didn’t take all night...