The ground slightly illuminated by the hopeful gold from the rising sun in the distance, slightly cowering behind the waves of the ever so distant coast. The winds were strong—blowing uncontrollably and fiercely to the point you'd imagine you'd fly right off the edge of the cliff.
There was a checkpoint there; comfortably shoved right between the large mountains inland and the sudden drop to the south. Armed guards with black and oddly vibrant lavender armaments stood watch, a mass of people gathered just to the western half as they one by one approached, various objects grasped within their hands.
Each and every one passed a slip to the guards, along with whatever form of money they had in possession. Some may call it a shakedown- or just a legal form of robbery. However, that's what none there saw it as. It was just business.
That being said, only some were let through. Others turned away—few frantically begging on their knees—others were wise, and simply walked away. Those who begged were often killed or money forcefully stolen.
They all stood in a line as if awaiting for their turn for their fate to be decided. One by one, nothing and no one out of order. No one dared to break the system.
Near the front of said line was a young boy—restless brown hair and fascinating blue eyes; far to naïve and childish to fully comprehend his situation. Instead of paying any attention, he simply looked out towards the vast sea below with an odd feeling of wonder. Excitement. He was so excited, he slowly but surely drifted out from the line.
"Bane!" His mother called out to him. "Bane come here! What'll the guards do if they see you out of line!"
With a great deal of force, she tugged the boys arm back into the formation. "I want a better look at the sea!" The boy pleaded, though with no avail.
She gave a quick glance towards a few of the people who somberly walked past from the checkpoint. "You can look once we get past, Bane. I promise."
Bane smiled. "Will we find dad there?"
"Of course, sweetie."
A small grin appeared on his face, though the women that hurled passed with her daughter in hand quickly changed that. "Get back!" A guard shouted out, his spear lanced forward as it pierced the tip of her forehead.
"Please!" The mother begged out. "Please let us through!"
"You've heard the decree! Now get back!"
Bane's mother, seeing this, tightly grasped Bane's shoulder, slightly kneeling down to his ear; "Don't look, Bane. Don't look!" She murmured, eyes dilated as she squeezed his shoulders as tight as she could. "Don't look again! Don't you remember?"
A man, dressed head to toe in a long, dark cloak sat tall and high above his horse—a notable silver crown, ornamented by a blood-red gem right in the center. To his side were knights, both heavily armed by the same purple lined and metallic silver armor.
"People of the northlands!" He shouted, voice deep and smooth, passing over so subtly—which would normally be taken as calm—that he immediately drew everyone's attention away from the guard and women with her child. "I understand the brooding over the current situation, put I insist to you all that it is contained. That being said, no further shall you pass to the south. The borders are closed."
There was an unsettling silence. One that contained every emotion known to man—save for the joyous ones. Fear. Anger. Pain. Sadness. Everything was there, it's just that no one chose to express it. Instead, they had expressions of terror that were never translated into words. Just pure, silent terror.
And yet, Bane tensed his fists. He gritted his teeth as his eyes narrowed, his mother notably trying to calm him down. "Bane, don't look! Don't do it again!" A face of terror stronger than everyone there combined, she continued to plea: "Don't you remember, Bane? You can't! You mustn't!"
Her words weren't enough. He spun on his heels, arm cocked back. With a swift clobber, the guard—who still had his spear pointed towards the women—harshly fell back. Bane gripped his hand, instantly swollen as he groaned and collapsed down onto his knees.
The guard, on the other hand, stood up—only semblance of damage being the sight indent on his silver helm. Bane was horrified, still tightly grasping his fractured hand as his fear stopped him from moving. Without a single word, the guard pulled back his spear and thrusted it forward.
A rock. An untimely event for the guard, but a rock thrown straight at his head caused him to fall back. Bane was spared.
A mass uproar from behind is all that could be heard. Stones and shells flew by overhead, straight towards the king and his men; a single thrown pebble gently striking his chest.
Instantly the knights rushed in whilst a swarm of people, who all blended together in the chaos—at least through Bane's eyes—began running. Some towards the border, while others away. It was a chaotic massacre. Whilst Bane, most similar to his mothers words, didn't want to see this, his mind forced him to. The swords and pikes tearing through the helpless crowd of mothers and fathers; most heart-wrenchingly the children. His neighbors and friends. People whom he never knew, and yet knew them so personally.
The blood masked the ground as all Bane could do was watch. A bloodbath of his own creation and all he could only watch. And watch. And watch until he was at the tail-end of a blade. Non other than the king was at its handle. Bane cried. Than again, there's nothing wrong with that. He's a child. That being said, the king didn't think so. His blade swept to the side, about to swing down. About to kill a child.
And yet before this horrendous act could happen, Bane's mother leaped forward, slightly pushing back her child as she pleaded. "Please don't!" She yelled out, tears streaming down her face, and yet he didn't bat a single eye. "He's just a child- he didn't know what he was doing! Please!"
The king paused. "What- is your name?"
"M- Mary, your highness... It's Mary."
The kings eyes grew light. His expression grew dreary. And yet his sword was still held high to his side. "Well, then, Mary. I know your pain. And yet I can't spare both of you..."
Even without letting him finish, she knew what it had meant. She lowered her head, just before holding out a small necklace to Bane. "Find him. For me."
Before Bane could even respond- hell, before he could even grasp the necklace and his mothers live hand for one last time, the sword—in less than a heartbeat—cleaved her head and arm clean off. The only thing Bane could see was blood. He could only smell the horrific scent of iron. As he looked down, his mothers severed arm was there. Lifeless.
He reached down, unfurling the still clenched fingers and gently taking the necklace, which while its chain snapped straight in two, held it close to his chest. As close as he could. Without much more word, the king simply turned and walked away.
The fighting around had stopped as soon as it began. There were bodies. There were blood. Cries of the injured roared out as people ran for their lives. And yet Bane stayed. He ignored the screaming, and the bodies, and the blood that surrounded him. Not even at his own late mother before him. Instead, his tearful and now foggy eyes looked towards the king. The man who killed his mother.