Cold… cold was the water splashed onto my face trying to scrub those long dead eyes. As cold as the corpses I killed in my naivety to save them. Why must they still haunt me?
I pulled a cloth from the stack next to the sink and wiped away such… coldness.
Sighing, I gazed into the hung mirror.
What gazed back was a blue left eye that seemed to glow in the darkness unlike the bright crimson right eyes that consumed the darkness.
I traced the thin scar running down the middle of my right eye from temple to cheek.
I couldn't remember whether it came from the blade of another slave wanting to survive the blood festival or from those who owned me as punishment.
Those three years of hell marked me both physically and mentally.
My eyes slowly traced every scar dug into my skin like some sick tapestry.
The nine tailed cat laid its string of blades so deep into my body that portions of flesh never healed.
Fingers slowly reached for my right shoulder where the number twenty-one was branded.
Number: 21 "The Immortal" Jakul was the name given to me because no matter what happened to me… my WILL to survive prevailed.
One couldn't help but admire how my medium build, forged in battle, displayed each scar perfectly.
Such a sight helped distract onlookers from the points of my ears playing hide n seek inside a curtain of shoulder lengthed black hair with natural red highlights.
A tell-tell sign of my elven heritage though not of the same kind as Nyxis.
The blood of a Dökkálfar – Dark Elf in layman terms – ran through my veins.
I also had the blood of a human running through me as well from my father.
I was considered a Halfling when it came to my place in the world. My ashen grey skin was a form of birth deficiency resulting from the two forms of blood. I will say that SHE got the better of our genes.
The resemblance to my father gazed from the reflection captured in the large copper sided mirror.
Memories of practicing the art of the sword in the gardens and the days spent learning the arts of survival.
It was a joy to see him in my reflection especially on days where my mind wandered.
Suddenly, the bottom of the mirror was engulfed in flames that quickly consumed his figure.
A charring corpse smiled at me with piercing eyes.
The image soon faded back to its usual appearance that showed how bad I was quivering.
Sighing, I replaced the towel before heading back to the bed.
My gaze fell on Orian who slept in his cat form on the pillow next to mine.
His little body tossed and turned as frightened meows escaped his lips.
I was somewhat glad that I wasn't the only one of us to have a nightmare.
His body became calm when I kissed his head and began to pet him gently until a constant purr was heard. "I'm right here old friend. Dream a sweet dream for the both of us."
My room was one of the larger rooms that resided above the tavern itself and was insulated with a barrier to keep the downstairs racket from seeping in.
A soft velvet rug covered the entirety of the wooden floor.
Two chairs, a couch, and a table were positioned neatly at the end of a large bed nestled against the central wall allowing space to walk on either side.
A small desk cluttered with overdue studies sat nicely in the corner.
I ran my finger along the bookcase full of varying volumes heading to sit in the chair facing the door.
Trembling arms furiously shook on stiffened legs trying to make them stop.
I had another nightmare from past ghosts slaughtered by my hand.
Each of their faces flowed like an endless river in my mind's eye.
Screams of bloodlust ringing in my ear without end.
Corpses of those long starved resting in my hands.
The mere idea of freedom made me chuckle when the past binds most people in cold steel.
How many did I watch starve to death while HE fed me plenty out of spite? How many could I have spared from such a fate if only I had the courage to end them in the arena? Would they survive long enough until THAT day?
Such thoughts were interrupted by the familiar click of the door handle being turned and the soft creek coming from the hinges as mechanisms fell into place.
Using the very shadows of the room, I blended into the darkness.
The hilt of a blade nestled my fingertips awaiting for the moment to strike.
I watched a cloak figure quickly step into the room and hastily look back to see if anyone noticed their ascent.
The figure silently twisted the knob and closed the door without making much noise.
The figure made its way to the bedside where it looked over the mass of shadow tucked under the blankets."It's nice to see you've gotten better at hiding yourself, Einor."
The figure slowly pulled down the hood of its cloak to reveal a woman of breathtaking beauty.
Molten red shoulder length hair cascaded around a soft oval face.
The right half of her hair was in tight braids that allowed a pointed ear to be seen while the left flowed freely over the other ear.
Like most Dökkálfar, the woman had a smokey violet completion.
I was drawn to the mismatched colored eyes – a crimson left eye and a blue right eye – gazing at me.
She wore a white padded shirt, black pants, and a pair of leather boots trimmed by intricate designs.
The entirety of her waist was surrounded by a thin leather sash.
Her left arm was covered in a scaled leather pauldron that ran the length of the shoulder to just above her elbow.
I noticed that a black fingerless glove covered her right hand.
The very image of the woman screamed the word 'warrior'.
My eyes fell on the all too familiar hilt of the sword worn on her left hip.
Gemmed eyes of purple set deep in the face of a falcon gazed back.
The bone hilt even seemed to glow in the darkness from being well kept over the years.
Glistening gold trailed in an elegant pattern through the ocean of white covering the sword's scabbard.
Such a blade was given the name Lovic meaning Dream Whisperer in Dökkálfar tongue and once belonged to my mother before being passed down to its current wielder.
I allowed the blade to disappear back into the shadows alongside the decoy. "I go by Jakul these days but I'm sure you knew that."
The woman was my twin sister Veronica Anierva Von Knight and was half of the reason for sending me to that hell. I really can't believe she found me nor can I believe how much she resembles mother.
Veronica slowly made her way to the chair before me and sat. "I'm sure you have something you wish to discuss, Veronica. Why else would you take time to visit the one you had a hand in condemning to the life of a slave?"
Veronica didn't answer for several moments leading to a peculiar awkward feeling in the air.
I watched her carefully with full intent to strike her down the moment she tried anything.
Her eyes darted over my bare chest as if taking in all the scars acquired over the years.
I felt her gaze slowly drift to the scar over my eye and fall on the patches of disheveled flesh.
Surprisingly, tears seeped down her face the longer her close examination continued.
She's the Knight Commander yet seeing a few scars makes her weep!!
Sighing, I grabbed a handkerchief sitting beside a journal I've been working on and handed it to her, "The past is done and gone. Isn't that a lesson our mother taught us?"
Veronica seemed to give a relieved smile as she took hold of it and dried her tears before locking gazes with me. She let out a distraught sigh, "It-it's good to see you brother. I'm glad you are taking care of yourself or for the most part."
She went silent for a moment, noticing my impartial carefree reaction. "I wish our reunion could be on better terms."
Curious, "How did you find me? I kept far away from Ironclad, and moved from place to place so that no one from the past could find me."
"To tell you the truth," she sat forward, placing her arms on her legs. "Uncle and I just so happened to be following a rumor of some phantom matching father's description roaming this area."
I noticed that she dug her nails deep into her palms until the faint scent of blood could be smelt. "You must believe me Einor, Uncle didn't know that Alabasta was involved in the slaving industry, or he wouldn't have placed you in his care."
People tended to show signs when they lie through their teeth yet Veronica did not appear to show any such indications. "He and his associates took care of me as you can see," I scowled, "but it was I who had the final laugh."
I leaned forward placing a hand on my chin, "If we're being honest, it was quite surprising that Momma took in someone like me."
The hug we shared made even a person with a cold heart such as myself cry when she stood for me against the elders and offered a place to stay. "Anyway," I grew tired of this conversation, "what really brought you here? I know that you've sent scouts here to make sure those rumors were true before you came."
I knew my guess was correct when her eyes slightly widened in surprise. Sighing, Veronica pulled out a rolled parchment stamped with the royal seal, "The reason I'm here is because our Uncle has requested your presence at once and sent me here to deliver you by force if needed."
Shaking her head, "I really don't want to fight my own brother so please come with us w—"
I interrupted with a hint of anger. "If you or any of your men try to do anything, I won't hesitate to cut you down."
The crackling crimson of my aura lightened the dark room. "Now leave…."
She pleaded once more, "Einor please listen to me. There have been threats—"
"Leave," anger began to burn in my chest.
She began to plead again, "Ein—"
I stood up and yelled, "I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE AND NEVER COME BACK!!!!"
I felt Orian groggily awaken from his slumber and quietly stretched out his muscles. "Father, what's wrong? Your voice woke me up from quite the hunt."
He stopped mid lick of his paw when gazing upon Veronica.
I listened to the familiar sound of bones cracking and repositioning for a much larger form.
A massive direwolf silently prowled its way to stand beside me.
Black fur of steel stood up in the presence of the intruder.
Destructive jaws filled with jagged teeth snapped in between growls.
I was about to sic Orian on Veronica when Momma Joan busted through the door with sword in one hand and a ball of flame in the other. "Is everything ok, Jakul?!"
Her eyes quickly shifted from me to Veronica who silently turned. "V.. Ver.. VERONICA!?"
Veronica happily chimed, "Hi Momma, it's… it's good to see you after so so long."
I watched her give Momma Joan a gentle hug and stop in the doorway. "We will be leaving at noon tomorrow…"
She half turned and stared deep into my eyes, "If you wish to get at least some of the answers WE rightfully deserve, then you'll meet us at the gates at noon."
Veronica pulled her hood up over her head and disappeared into the rumbling drunken shouts, leaving Momma and I alone once more. "What's going on? Was that truly Veronica?"
I sat back down and replayed the entire latter conversation over in my mind. 'If you wish to get at least some of the answers…' Does that mean THEY found something? Even further, how long have they been searching?!
Momma Joan's concern was easily sensed yet all I wanted was to be alone until my mind was made up. "We'll talk in the morning Momma. Right now, I… I wish to be alone in my thoughts."
After a few moments of silence, I felt her kiss my forehead like she used to when I was little.
Her palm gently caressed my cheek and her footfalls on the floor echoed.
The feeling of cold iron shackles ravaged my wrists.
My body trembled uncontrollably to the point that I thought the thought of control was long gone.
Vomit rushed from the deep pits of my stomach and threatened to splatter on the velvet carpet.
No…. Calm yourself, Jakul!!!
Sighing, I stood up after a few breaths and went over to the window.
The sight of Siegfried brimming with life slowly warmed the coldness.
Children danced around in a play as their parents watched on fondly.
Patrons stumbling through the doors and into the streets in blissful stupors.
Lastly, the endless swaying of the flags clinging to the five storey building towering above most of Siegfried to the far west.
No… the building was more of a fortress made from brick and mortar housing an assortment of businesses.
Its design was like that of the many ruined castles I've seen in my travels except this one overflowed with life.
Each corner was a magician's tower where guards kept watch over all who visited.
Flags representing the top parties fluttered in a methodic dance on the calming cool breeze.
The building was the Adventurers' Guildhall where those of such titles came and went, living the lives that their title bestows – utter freedom.
"Father…" Orian spoke with a more robust older tone from behind me.
The importance of adventurers is to handle monster subjugations while the kingdom knights busy themselves with the protection of civilians and pompous nobility.
Like the knight and mage corps, there is a ranking system in the Adventurers' Guild – the Common, Abnormal, Terror, Destructive, National, and Divinity "C.A.T.D.N.D." system.
Monsters are ranked in such a manner allowing adventurers of the same rank to take on posted quests given by the Guild.
For example, a Destructive-rank quest involving a monster known as a Draegor, Orian, can only be taken up by Destructive or high ranked adventurers.
The Guild offers adventurers the ability to rise in rank which brings with it fame and better rewards.
If my memory serves me correctly, I was a Destructive-rank. Wonder what ranks my old party are now.
I placed my free hand in front of me so it looked like the moon was in my palm as the branded twenty-one on my right shoulder burned. "Oh, I'm fine Orian. We now have a lead to those responsible for the fall of my family!!"
"Whatever it takes," I closed my hand metaphorically, crushing the moon in my grasp, "I still have a score to settle with those truly responsible for their deaths,"