"Kill the bald one first."
"No... Sir, please... I just wanted to afford my mother's treatment!"
"Sir."
"Kill him."
Splurt.
With just one sweep of his sword, the bald man's head was decapitated. Those men in cloaks, surrounding the lifeless body, did not show any remorse. They elegantly wiped away the filthy blood that splattered on their cloak before picking the dead man up and throwing him to the side.
Their eyes then shifted towards an old lady shivering beside piles of trash. She held her head low, afraid even to pull her gaze up. It was as if she thought staying still and quiet would make her presence unnoticed. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
Splurt.
"Hm?"
Just as they were about to leave, one of them stopped on his path. He gazed to his side, where a pair of eyes had been silently watching them. Drawing his weapon once again, he alerted his other squad members.
"How goes there! Come out and show your face!"
Those men in cloaks were cautious. They stared at the silhouette that managed to bypass their senses. They did not know how long the figure had been standing there and watching them. Seeing the figure did not move, one of the men held a fist close to his chest. He softly muttered an ancient incantation, and light began to burst out from his palm.
Gradually, the owner of those eyes became visible. It was a young boy around the age of eleven. He wore a fancy uniform of blue and white, with a shining badge attached to his chest. In his hands was a pair of white gloves embedded with the royal family crest. Seeing that familiar uniform, those men's hearts began to ease up.
"What, it's just a student from Royal Academy...," the one who cast the light spoke.
"Kid, go and return to the academy. It's dangerous here," chimed the one who struck the bald man.
"What were their sins, great sirs?" The student spoke with a calm voice.
"Those two bastards? Hah, they were responsible for distributing the Dragon's Drug."
"I see. What despicable human beings... I thank you for your service, great sirs."
Listening to the praise of the student, some of them returned it with a warm smile. Sheathing their swords, those men shooed the student away one more time, though their tone was far more gentle this time.
"I will head back now. But, if you don't mind me asking, may I know the date today?"
"12th of the 3rd month. 1203 Dragon Year."
"Thank you."
The student walked away after finding what he truly wanted to know. He gazed at the dark sky above, where smoky clouds rolled to every corner of his vision. Familiar, distant cries and mourns brushed his ears, reminding him of his duty there.
It took him decades of struggle for the sky above the Royal City to finally return to its rightful, bright blue. He thought he could at least bask under the sun's warmth that he had only heard in tales for a little bit longer. What wishful thinking that was.
'I am really back.'
He glanced back at the three men who were scurrying away quietly. On top of their heads were glowing letters in pale green.
[Mariq Brokenshield]
Importance : None
[Killan Guardsand]
Importance : None
[Harith Blackblood]
Importance: Low
'O' Esmeheldi, why must you put this burden on me?'
Standing before the corpse-filled street of the Royal City, witnessed by the sky of ink, falling ashes, and the crumbled city, Hauyne Brokenshards swore to gaze upon the sun once again.