Year 579, New World
It has been exactly a year, since he was born into this world. For most of the year, he was holed up inside the manor and rarely saw what was beyond its walls. Nonetheless, he would peek outside of a window to see the outline of the horizon shine a tranquil pink until the sun became visible, banishing the darkness of twilight.
But today, as he stared into the horizon, the colour turned a menacing crimson.
"Good morning, Sirius" Came a delicate voice of a lady "Did you sleep well?"
A beautiful woman with shining, golden-blonde hair glittering in the morning sunlight said to him. The boy called Sirius turned away from the window and beamed, greeting his mother a good morning. With a smile shining brighter than the sun, she opened the window and carried Sirius to the dining hall, where the rest of his family waited for breakfast.
For the past year, Sirius had learned a handful of words and language conventions used by his family. With this, he listened to his father's complaining of the levy raise on nobles and something about the de Massue family being corrupted.
Sirius had heard about the de Massue family often. They were a rival noble family, which have loathed him and his family for generations since the beginning of the New World. He had also found out that he resided in a country named Blackthorn and a city named Fons. Fons was one of the four grand cities in Blackthorn, with the other three named Autumna, Aesta and Hiems.
"Sirius, " began his father "Today is the one year mark of your birth, which means today, you will be branded with the family crest of Cromwell."
"Mighty God, has it been one year already Fortis?" His mother exclaimed
"Yes it has Bellus. Time flies, doesn't it " replied Fortis.
As the family started their recollection of the events of the past year, the servants brought out dozens of plates of appetising breakfasts, and steaming kettle of the finest black tea in all of Blackthorn. The aroma from the tea blended with the crispness of the autumn leaves, giving a subtle bitterness to the edges of the cold.
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The sun shone brighter, as the soothing breath of the ice cold air blew on the autumn trees. Slowly the branches shed its leaves, hinting at the start of winter. Sirius was carried to the garden by his mother, where his father waited patiently next to a fire on a balcony overlooking a small river running with clear glistening water.
"This is the moment," Fortis said to the boy "For you to be branded with the mark of Cromwell"
Fortis brought forward an iron rod he had been heating up with a stamp at the end of it, displaying a gallant lion. Almost grudgingly, he pressed it against the boy's back and watched the soft white skin turn a blazing red.
The peace of autumn was disturbed by a long wail of agony.