CHAPTER ONE
Cloaked Shadows
Burning buildings illuminate a small village in Aardocia at night. Screams echoed through the nearby forest as a large group of ruthless bandits attacked, spreading dread and despair. The bandits dragged villagers into the streets and threw them at the feet of figures in black cloaks and hooded faces.
"The fires of chaos consume all in harmony, bringing us this beautiful, despairing symphony," the leader of the cloaked figures said as he closed the book he was writing in. A grin on his face, he asked the wounded man, "Do you appreciate poetry?" The man leaned in menacingly.
The injured individual fixed the cloaked man with a glare filled with anger. "What is the purpose of your actions toward us?" he inquired, grasping his throat, which had been slashed by the assailant, before subsequently collapsing.
The man stood up and surveyed the other villagers, who regarded him with fear and apprehension. "I will be the one to ask the questions," he declared as he stepped forward. "We are searching for an elven woman." His expression dropped with disappointment as the villagers exchanged puzzled looks.
One of the hooded men stepped forward and said, "Maybe she isn't here."
The leader glanced at the others. "Perhaps it was the other village in this area." He sighed and turned away. "Alas, how disappointing our endeavors are tonight." He looked at a large bandit with an axe. "You and your men will meet us in the village to the west."
The large bandit glared at the hooded leader with disdain and said, "We are not your lapdogs." Remember that."
The hooded man didn't even glance at the bandit. "The rest of the villagers have fulfilled their roles in this shameful part of our act. We need them no more." He smirked and walked on.
The imposing bandit glanced back at the villagers with a smirk. "Sure," he declared, placing his axe over his shoulder, then he casually strolled toward them. "This will be entertaining."
The hooded figures walked down the street as cries and hacking sounds echoed behind them. Their cloaks billowed ominously in the night wind. They soon disappeared into the smoke and darkness.
The clouds hid the sun the next day in the small farming village. A man in black armor, bearing a military crest on his shoulder protectors, stood sorrowfully over a small boy lying in the mud. He looked into the boy's lifeless eyes before kneeling to close his eyelids gently. Rising to his feet, he looked at the burnt village around him. He ran his hand through his short hair. Though the smoke from the burnt houses was clearing, the stench of charred flesh lingered, making his stomach twist with revulsion. This was not the first time he smelled such a thing. As he turned in response to the footsteps behind him, he saw a young man with dark blue hair approaching. The hair made the man stand out from the others who followed, matching his blue armor.
"Major Rosan, sir. The company has set up a perimeter around the town." The man looked at the child. "It never gets easier, does it?"
"No, it does not." Rosan studied the area while rubbing the hilt of his sword with his thumb in a circular motion. He looked at the young man with a sigh. "Urision, tell one company to get started burying the dead."
"Yes, Major," Urision said, looking at Rosan with consideration. He looked at a nearby soldier and nodded, giving him the order, then turned back to Rosan after the soldier ran to get help for the burial. "Commander Quinn has requested your presence."
"Where is he?"
"He is on the hill over there," Urision said, pointing to a small hill with a house that had not burned down, a short distance from the village.
"Alright, let's make our way there." Rosan walked down the street of burnt homes and bodies lying on the roads. The scene made him recall memories of when he was a young man during the Aardocian Civil War.
"This reminds me of the Civil War." Urision followed Rosan. "Who do you think did this?"
"Bandits. Most likely."
"Damn bastards. People can't live in peace nowadays."
"Calm down. Getting upset won't solve anything. Control yourself."
"This happened in our kingdom. How can you be so calm?"
"Because we have no leads. There is no way to find out which way they went without witnesses. It's out of our control for now. The scouts will find them. Just have patience." Rosan looked ahead with uncertainty. "You act like this is the first time such a thing has happened."
Urision lowered his eyes. "You're right. People can be cruel."
"Yes, that is true." Rosan said. "They deserve death." A dark voice said in Rosan's head. Rosan stopped. He looked at one of the swords he wielded on his belt. He sighed and walked on.
They climbed the gentle slope of the hill, the wooden fence creaking softly in the breeze as it ran alongside the winding road. Upon entering the house, an older man approaching Rosan greeted them. Clad in armor that mirrored their own, he exuded a sense of wisdom and strength. His silver hair and beard sparkled like strands of polished metal in the warm sunlight that filtered through a gap in the old roof, casting a radiant glow around him.
"Commander Quinn. Sir." Rosan spoke.
"Urision, wait outside, please," Quinn requested. "Follow me."
Rosan looked puzzled as he followed Quinn down the hall to the bedroom. On the bed sat a boy around eight years old. He had a deep cut on his cheek and sadness in his eyes.
"A survivor?" Rosan said.
"Yes, we have only found this one. You notice anything about this place?"
Rosan looked around. "This place barely has any damage."
Quinn took a dagger and cut into a corner of the wall, pulling out a piece. The wood appeared unusual. "Demerwin wood. The most fire-resistant wood there is. Hard to find. Someone built this house to withstand an attack."
"But why? Is but a simple farming village?" Rosan rubbed the wall with suspicion. "What was the owner guarding?"
"I don't know. Maybe the boy knows something. Right now, let's concentrate on burying these poor souls." Quinn walked into the living area.
Rosan approached the boy."Are you alright? He said, looking at the boy's sad face. "Can you tell me what happened?" But the boy just stared in silence. Rosan reached out his hand. "Let's get your injuries tended to." "Come this way," the boy slowly took his hand. He led the boy outside to meet a young woman. Her outfit was like a dress, lacked armor, and matched her hair, a deep purple shade. "Elayne, tend to this boy and watch him, please."
"Who is this strapping young lad?" Elayne said with a smile as she knelt. She looked at his cheek. The boy blushed as she turned his head to look at the wound. "That's a nasty cut. It might leave a scar."
"I think scars are the least of his problems right now," Rosan said.
Elayne sneered. "Now, hold still, okay? This won't hurt a bit. I promise." She raised her hand and placed it over the cut on his cheek. A crystal embedded in her hand glowed. When she removed her hand, the cut had healed, leaving behind a noticeable scar. "Let's get you some food."
Rosan walked back into the house where Quinn was reading a journal. "Anything of importance?"
Quinn looked at Rosan with an unconvincing smirk. "No. Not really." He tucked the journal into his armor.
Urision barged in with a long wooden box. "I found this in a shed in the back." Setting it on the table, he went to open it, but Rosan grabbed his hand. "What's wrong?"
Rosan pointed to the engraving on it. "It says this is not to be opened by anyone but Dison."
"Who's Dison?" Urision said.
"Open it," Quinn ordered.
"Are you sure?" Urision asked.
Quinn nodded slowly, his curiosity overwhelming him. An expression of excitement spread across his face.
Urision opened the box and revealed a sword inside. Its shape was unusual, and its blade was dark red. The guard displayed a bright jewel that appeared luminous.
"It's just a sword." Urision reached for the handle, but Rosan grabbed his hand again. "What?"
"Don't touch it!" Rosan looked down at the cursed sword he carried. It trembled fiercely. "There's only one reason this sword would get this excited."
"It's a cursed blade. Seal it back up and keep it away from everyone." Quinn ordered. "Speak of this to no one."
Rosan stepped outside, taking in the familiar sights of the village cloaked in a shroud of gray. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth as the rain pattered against his polished armor, creating a soothing melody that mingled with the distant rumble of thunder. He walked over to an old, weathered bench, its wood splintered and worn from years of exposure, and sank onto it wearily. Rubbing his temples, he felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. "So many questions," he mused, the corners of his mouth turning down in frustration, "and only a child remains to answer them."
The air hung thick with humidity from the pouring rain that night, wrapping the village in a damp embrace. Rosan perched alone on a worn wooden bench in the middle of the village, the flickering fire casting a warm glow on his face. As he gazed into the dancing flames, he became lost in thoughts of his parents. The thought of his father filled Rosan with bitterness. He remembered how passionately his father had urged him to be strong, pushing him through intense training as a child that was both challenging and painful. He recalled his father's words: "We don't need another child; we need a weapon."
He heard footsteps approaching on the cobblestone path. Turning his head, he saw Quinn walking toward him, the soft glow of the fire illuminating the curious expression on his face. "Shouldn't you be in bed, old man?"
"You think I get sleep? I haven't slept a whole night in decades. Things like this keep me up."
"Which thing?"
"All of it. A destroyed village, a lone surviving kid, cursed swords. What's not abnormal about today? It's also a little exciting. Also depressing. What secrets did that little house on the hill hide, and who wanted them?" Quinn contemplated. "But these questions are not mine to figure out. It has been getting to me for a while now."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean all of it, the fighting and watching people die… Friends die. It may be time to hang it all up."
"Don't joke like that. You make me think you want me to take over. That's a scary thought."
"You think I'm joking, Rosan? I think you'd be an outstanding leader. I'm getting too old for this shit." Quinn took a sip from a flask and then handed it to Rosan. "That kid's whole life is gone. Taken in one day."
Rosan took a sip and passed the flask back to Quinn. "Has he spoken yet?"
"No. He's still too frightened."
"We need something to go on."
"Don't change the subject. It's your turn, Rosan. When we return to the capital, I'm going to resign. I've seen enough death for one lifetime." I'm recommending you as my replacement."
"You know how to throw me down a flight of stairs. I'll tell you." Rosan looked at the ground in disbelief.
"I've thrown you down many. And what did it teach you?" Quinn grinned.
"Lessons hurt."
"Aye, some do."
"What will you do?"
I'll go back to my hometown, Danestria. My father had an old shop there. I will reopen it and make it a tremendous success, as my father did."
"Danestria, the little town to the southwest of the capital. A peaceful little village in the middle of nowhere. Sounds dreamy." Rosan took a sip.
"I think I'll adopt the boy. He needs a new life far from here to recover. We both do. He can help with the shop. There's something about him I can't put my finger on, but I just know there's something special about him."
"Never pictured you as a father," Rosan said. "The kid will probably be better off in an orphanage."
"I'm not a monster."
"That's questionable." Rosan laughed. "It won't be the same without you, old man."
"Nothing stays the same. Age takes its toll on all of us humans." Quinn stood and yawned. "We're not as lucky as the elves. Damn bastards. I do kind of envy them sometimes."
"Yeah, goodnight, old man." Rosan watched Quinn stroll toward the campsite. He looked at the house on the hill and reflected on the journal Quinn kept from him. "What did you find in that journal, old man?" He contemplated deeply, his mind racing with thoughts and reflections.
The next day, Rosan walked to the medical carriage, his breath visible in the chilly air as fog swirled around him. Each step felt heavy in the ghostly mist. Reaching a small hill, he spotted the boy, a faint shape outside the carriage. Rosan sat beside him on the damp grass. He noticed the boy rubbing a necklace with his fingers. A silver amulet with a blue jewel in the center. The silence was thick with unspoken emotions, a blend of grief and resilience in the cool morning fog. "Hey, kid," he said, noticing the tears in the boy's eyes he sighed. "Did you have breakfast?"
"I'm not hungry," the boy said.
Rosan sighed. "I never caught your name."
The boy glanced at Rosan. "Dison."
"I should've known that," he said as he thought about the box.
Dison observed the swords at Rosan's side. Textured cloth wrapped one handle, and intricate, ethereally glowing inscriptions adorned it, hinting at the weapon's powerful magic. "Why do you have two swords?"
"One's just my regular sword for combat. The other, well, let's say I hope I never have to use that one."
"Then why carry it?"
"That's a good question. It's a sword passed down through the family for a last-resort thing. For a terrible battle that I hope will never come."
"What battle is that?"
"The kind you don't come back from. It's to protect the nation and those I care about the most. It's a cursed sword. I am still determining what it's capable of. My father gave it to me. Just like his father gave it to him."
"You have never wielded it, why?"
"My father told me to become strong enough never to have to. Suppose I had to use it. It would be against the greatest foes I would ever face."
"The ones who attacked us wore hoods and black cloaks. I couldn't see their faces. I remember the emblem on their cloaks, though. It looked like a dragon." Dison gazed at the village with a sense of grievance. "They took my mother. I want to hurt them. Is that normal?"
Rosan nodded slowly. "It is. But it won't bring back a single soul lost here. I hope you know that. Vengeance is just a hole that never gets filled within you. Believe me, I know all too well. My mother was taken from me as well."
"Who took her?"
Rosan stared at the cursed sword, envisioning his mother wielding it, approaching him with glowing red eyes and a sinister smile. He looked back to Dison. "My father."
Dison looked at the ground baffled. "Will you pursue the ones who did this?"
"I will, but not for revenge."
"Then why would you?"
"To stop them from hurting anyone else."
Quinn approached them. "A knight's sworn duty is to protect. It's not vengeance or for our own justice. It's for the people and the kingdom."
"I couldn't do anything." Dison teared up.
"You felt powerless." Quinn stated.
"Yes." Dison lowered his head.
"Then come with me. I'll make you strong so you never feel powerless again." Quinn placed his hand on Dison's' shoulder. Dison looked at him and then at Rosan.
"He's the best teacher you could have, kid, taught me everything I know," Rosan said.
"Come. I'll help you get what you need from your house," Quinn said.
Rosan watched them walk toward the house. The wind blew through the grass in the field, casting a calm feeling over him. Elayne stepped out of the carriage and made her way over to Rosan.
She gazed into his eyes gently. "I feel that you're not telling me something. Is there something on your mind?"
"Quinn's taught us all so much. You know what he told me last night?" Rosan looked at her with a look of uncertainty.
"He's like a father to us." Elayne sighed. "If it's his time to leave us, I'm glad he's doing it on his terms. He is one of the few that gets to spend his last years in peace."
"He wants me to be his successor. I know I can do it, but." Rosan hesitated.
"You're worried you won't measure up to him."
"He's a great man to follow, but hard to be behind. He cast an enormous shadow. His accomplishments during the civil wars. He's a hero."
Elayne smiled and rested her head on Rosan's shoulder. "You'll be your type of leader. Just as great as him. The soldiers here look up to you."
Rosan contemplated the future and what it might hold as he gazed at the village's fields and ruins. Doubt faded from his mind, replaced by a sense of calm as he looked at Elayne, her hair brushing against his face. He closed his eyes, wishing to prolong this moment a little longer. Urision approached on horseback, breaking the tranquility and causing Rosan to stand urgently.
"Major, the bandits that destroyed the village! We might have found them." Urision declared.
"Where?!" Rosan asked.
"To the east. Scouts reported a village under attack there." Urision stated.
"That's Delgard Village. Bring my horse! Let's get these bastards." Rosan ordered.
Urision nodded with sincerity. "YES, SIR!" He rode into the camp.
Rosan turned to Elayne. "Stay here with the boy. Tell Quinn we're going to Delgard, that they're under attack. It's probably the same ones that did this." Rosan hurried down the hillside, his heart racing with anticipation as he spotted Urision waiting beside his horse. With a swift motion, he mounted the sturdy steed. As they set off, he followed a long line of soldiers riding along the dusty road, their armor glinting in the sunlight. Hoof beats echoed around them, blending with metal clinking as they left behind the encampment. A sense of urgency filled the air, and the weight of the appending battle ahead pressed on Rosan.
Rosan and his men rode as fast as they could. The sight of smoke rising from down the road and the screams of villagers confirmed they were nearing the town. When they arrived, they saw bandits attacking the townspeople and setting houses on fire. Rosan and his men drew their swords as he shouted a command and pointed his sword. "Protect the people!" he shouted furiously as they rushed in to confront the bandits.
Rosan leaped off his horse to rescue a village woman from an attack, swiftly cutting down the bandit. He glanced up at a nearby hill and noticed figures dressed in black cloaks, recalling what the boy had mentioned earlier. "Is this some kind of spectacle to them?" Determined, he ran toward them, slicing through any enemy who stood in his path.
The large bandit approached him with an axe. "A little army pet coming to avenge the people." The bandit laughed. "I am Falwing, leader of the Snake Scourge bandits." He looked at Rosan, who was gazing past him. "Are you ignoring me, fool?" He shouted with anger as he charged in and swinging his axe.
Rosan dodged the blow by jumping to the side. "I don't have time for you." Rosan's sword glowed as the crystals in his hands pulsed with energy. The sword's blade became engulfed in flames. He swung the sword, sending a wave of fire toward the bandit, burning him alive as Falwing screamed in agony before falling to the ground. Rosan then turned to face the hooded figures, with flames raging in the background behind him.
One of the hooded men sitting on a log clapped slowly. "Very impressive for a human."
Rosan watched as the man stood and removed his hood. His hair was a striking shade of gray, contrasting with the youthful features that adorned his face, which still held the smoothness and vitality of a young man. Rosan readied his sword. "On behalf of the Kingdom of Aardocia. I, Major Rosan Aldaric, sentence you and all of your followers to death!"
The man laughed and grinned. "I like you! I think you'll be my next tale! You'll have the honor of dying by my hand! It'll be fun, and poetic like a tale from ancient times!"
"Then come on then! We'll see which of us falls!" Rosan said.
Urision rode up and jumped off his horse. "ROSAN!"
"Not today, I'm afraid! Your death here would not be poetic. Rosan was it? We shall meet again. The day of our glorious performance will be spectacular! Become stronger!" The man said.
"That's enough, Delcres. You've said enough." A big man in the hood stepped forward. "Seems our bandits are being defeated."
"Kaltros, you worry too much. But alas, it's time for our grand exit!" Delcres exclaimed dramatically. "Until we meet again, Rosan Aldaric! The show will soon begin! Veltress, if you would be so kind."
The woman raised her hands, and a magical aura formed around them. A purple magic ring appeared behind her and moved toward them.
"What is this?" Urision asked.
"You're not going anywhere!" Rosan ran toward them, but the ring swallowed them and disappeared in a blinding glow. Rosan ran to the top of the hill and looked around in all directions.
Urision ran up behind him. "What's going on? Where did they go?" He said in confusion.
"I don't know." Rosan sheathed his sword and walked down the hill. "But they're gone."
"People can't just vanish, Major!"
"Well, they found a way." Rosan walked into the village as his troops threw a surviving bandit at his feet.
"We've captured a few of them. Should we execute them?" The troop asked as he looked down on the bandit.
"No. We need information." Rosan knelt at the bandit. "Who were the ones on the hill? The ones in the hoods. Were they your leaders?"
The bandit laughed and grinned, revealing his rotten teeth. "They're death—creatures from legend. They want their world back. There's no stopping them." he laughed hysterically.
Rosan stared at the bandit intensely. Hearing horses ride behind him, he turned to see the rest of the unit with Quinn in the lead.
Quinn dismounted his horse. "Good, I was hoping for a few survivors. Has he told you anything?"
"Nothing important." Rosan walked past Quinn in frustration. He contemplated what the bandit said. He looked at where the hooded people had vanished.
"They'll talk. I guarantee it." Quinn stated.
Rosan walked back to where the hooded people had vanished and gazed at the distant mountains from the hilltop. He stood in silence, mulling over the chaotic events of the last two days. Shadows loomed in his mind, shaped like the hooded figures that had mysteriously appeared. What were these ominous figures truly after, and when would they re-emerge from the darkness? The uncertainty gnawed at him as he tried to piece together their purpose and the threat they posed.