"...I'm gonna go," said Afron, the third prince.
The clanking of cutlery paused at the vast dining hall table.
One full of empty and annoyingly extravagant meshed wood chairs.
At the figurehead of the table, a wizened man, with just a goutte of crumpled white hair turned to the third prince.
"Go…where?"
The monotonous question was brought forth by the current Duke of the dukedom, Bultine Asrenthua.
In response to this, the pale face of the third prince simply moved to directly face his father.
"I am not certain, but I don't wish to stay here," Curtly replied Afron.
In response, his father and his other two older brothers, both birthed of different origins than his own. Took the effort to all stare in inquiry at the third prince.
But it did not last long, as the two older brothers, just of a few years. Trained their eyes back to their father, as if the decision wasn't up to Afron in the first place.
Which to be fair, as in most cases, all decisions will always be decided by the head of house.
No matter how small.
"No." The Duke scowled his gray eyes as he started, "you have to stay until your time comes Afron. We both know that the allies will not take you if you were to be…damaged, it would make mockery of me."
Ah, there it was.
The only time the Duke called Afron by his name was when he wanted something from him.
As if it were there to tempt him into feeling like he was special, and that whatever he was doing was for himself and his father.
Almost like a duty to fulfill. A duty that Afron despised with all his ten year old heart could.
His heart was filled with spite from the day he came to the world.
As no love ever made it past his eyes, and torment was paired with mockery at every occasion.
Of course, Afron neither rejects or denies his place.
But he is certain that he is not where he should be; the main reason he accepts the mockery.
This is because it's all true.
Perhaps if it were the Era before his birth, before the noble and brave took swords and vanquished evil.
And before the Duke placed restrictions on his children, and perhaps of the many he will make in the future.
To keep the unworthy from welding steel, from keeping and keeping, and keeping.
Things kept from Afron that he didn't even know were taken in the first place.
Yet, since Afron was born there was only one thing he wished for…That was to go.
Who knows when the thought first appeared in the little one's mind.
But it was not fancy clothes that brought joy to him. Not the pen or pages either.
There was no happiness in the gilded walls of mighty structures already built and left to stand.
There was no excitement in paved roads and gardens made symmetrical for man's eyes.
Afron was young, younger in body than mind.
He was gifted and cursed, for he forever felt lost.
Lost of his being and sense of purpose, laying beyond what he couldn't have.
What Afron would try to collect in order of his mind, would regret such order and collide within itself.
As if his mind were never allowed to slow in the first place.
As if his body was never meant to stay in place, nor his mind focused on anything at once for too long.
It was tantalizing.
The thoughts of leaving, the thoughts of never coming back.
Of no orders or people to go tell you what to do and what not to.
Afron wished with such might, that it was on this random day that his mind's conspiracies wrenched into his mouth.
He couldn't seem to conjure any reason to stay.
Not after over three thousand days of reliving the same sort of days over and over.
His small 'family' seemed to take no grasp in his mind.
If anything, they were a prime influence for the sudden need to go.
Afron's brothers were nothing sweet, their appearances charming of bright silver hair and teal eyes would make one assume otherwise.
Yet their minds were nothing but foul for their youth.
At least, for Afron it seemed such, as 'bratty' characteristics could not begin to define such ugly and grotesque things that lived inside their heads.
Afron hated those thoughts, for they seemed unreasonable and never truly his own.
Yet…the occurrence stayed quite positive in his mind. Never through his years of living with them did he ever enjoy their company.
The same goes for their father, his butler, his maids, his advisors.
He felt them ugly and somehow fake.
"Afron?" Afron turned his thoughts outward once more, his light blue eyes, one akin to the defined color of eternal youth focused.
His gaze landed onto his father, the Duke, once more.
Ah…And the reason his spite perhaps grew three times larger.
His fathers 'deal'.
Afron was the third child of the Dukes family.
And as beautiful as the Duke's bloodline was to the physical eyes.
Afron's body seemed to be sculpted to something past man's standard. Always pale and pearly, no blemish to ever allow itself present on his skin.
Eyes that seemed to make anyone enraptured in their unique shallow waters.
And hair of a contrasted golden red; each of their strands felt of the lightest silk threads, and sat like fluffy clouds onto Afron's head.
And it was with these traits that Afron must keep.
As he was to be sold.
Sold at eleven to whatever ally the Duke wished to gain favor of.
He was meant to live and die like some piece of porcelain.
Used and thrown, with no purpose beyond its given task and looks.
And so Afron, the ten year old of perfect beauty unfit for man, with a mind structured in an almost animalistic way.
Has had enough of this bull.
He may never recount exactly what his days of past were.
But he could not find reason to care, nor does he think he may ever give thought to it.
As his life so far seemed fake.
Dead on the inside and stuck in place.
But now, Afron has decided to move again, and monologue his first ten years of life another day.
He was ready to leave the nest.
At the prime age of 10.
Although, age never seems to be a concern with the people of this world, it seems.
"Father…" Afron started once more, his small and pearly left hand gripping his left utensils with an iron grip.
"I do wish to leave, for I-" Afron was suddenly cut off.
"Remember…my son…you are to call me Duke, never father in public." Inputted the Duke from his gilded chair just a few feet down.
Afrons mouth twisted into a frown, as his body acted before his mind.
He found himself scooting himself from his chair, and turning to the giant mahogany doors at the end of the lunching hall.
"And where do you think you are going Afron?" Inquired the Duke with a demanding undertone, his pale eyes boring into the back of Afron's skull.
Yet…Afron never replied, nor did he return from his place to face the Duke.
As his mind was now set, and his body was already moving him through the giant doors in front of him.
Ignoring the spiteful remarks his own father spoke of behind his physical back.
Afron never waited for the doors to be opened by the two knights who awaited by its handles.
As he paused to it for but a moment, before placing his own palms to its frame, and pushing himself through to the other side.
A sort of moment of self action.
The first sign of his control.
And God did he love the feeling…As small as it was.
Then Afron kept going, past his once room, past the busy servants who would take a bow to him in passing.
He kept his features blank, a canvas of perfect porcelain.
And in no hesitation nor breaks in-between.
Afron found himself to the doors of the Duke's mighty castle.
It had already been an overwhelming two hours of consistent shuffling in shoes made for only looks, not to be used for purposes beyond it.
Kinda like how Afron once claimed to be.
Things Afron did indeed contemplate on his way to the end of the fortress walls.
And in that contemplation was the decision to disconnect himself from those shoes. Leaving them behind on a path about an hour back.
No, Afron had not a clue where he was, nor where he was going.
He just wished to go.
Go away from man and all of their problems.
So it was therefore, perhaps fate that he ended up in the overgrowth of the wilderness.
Wilderness that entrenched the lands farther than any eyes could see.
Lands Afron placed an uncovered foot into.
Lands that Afron felt intoxicated his mind, as the set dangers of being helpless and in a place unknown where cries for help were only met with more danger and perhaps cruelty.
It was perfect.
Afrons heart beated inside his head, throbbing with anxiety.
Afrons perfect mask of porcelain broke into a pale tight smile.
As the sun gleamed down to highlight and essentiate those tiny features.
He had finally dusted himself off the shelf, and now…now Afron walked.
Now that his mind felt used for the first time ever, now that he felt alive for the first time.
Now that his entire being shuddered in explicit fear.
But really, people do say that fear and excitement go hand in hand.
Don't they?
It had been seven years since Afron first strolled out into the wilds of Earth.
The little third prince has grown up into a teen of seventeen years.
Their 'beauty' is much the same, only altered due to the life that they thrive in.
With white toned arms that seem to compact in on themselves, his body is mostly consistent with such themes throughout his body.
Covering the still beautiful pearl skin, are lines of scars that Afron pecurned in countless events of the seven years past.
Only most are older and well healed, as new ones seem to come less frequently each year.
Afron could tell you with certainty about each bruise and bump located on him, for he would feel alive just thinking about how he accomplished such a thing.
And oh boy did Afron have stories to tell.
Not that many hear of his stories, it is more his presence that speaks to them for him.
It is very rare that Afron goes out to a populated city or town, as Afron tends to avoid places that have anything to do with 'man's' influence.
But in his grasp of personal freedom, his mind has kindly allowed the structure of man to be put into a positive light inside his head.
He no longer despises man, only finding discomfort in the ugly things they do.
Afron mostly accepts all things.
As Afron has learned, nature may be just as cruel as man. If not more wicked and subtle.
Yet Afron has learned to…like. Like things of stone, grass, trees, mountains, grand and small.
Although his favorite likes come from the deepest thrills.
Cliff walking on the edge of an endless cut canyon, where not a single edge is seen to help save you.
Climbing a fruitless mountain full of nothing but rocks and biting ice for days on end.
Taking a raft to the deepest seas, and surviving storms and waves that seem higher than any kingdom walls.
Or simply fighting for his life after fighting whatever animal decides to attack him.
And that happened a lot.
Afron has found his favorite animals to be snakes.
They remind him somewhat of himself…and they were always the closest to ending his life.
Not that there aren't crueler things in the world, but snakes may be found almost in any depth or biome.
It's like an old friend, waking up with a bite on the leg with necrosis spreading in painful agony.
But Afron has mostly learned that moving and pressuring the area to the extreme, or just cutting through it if it's a new bite.
Seems to go over just fine in the long run.
Anyways, what Afron's "hobbies" are has gained the lad a bit of fame.
People eventually figured out who it was who had walked their streets in a confident stride and would make some have palpitations of the heart in fear.
He looked more than just any small-time hooligan, no matter how much or little clothing he wore.
His striking features tell another story, with pale light blue eyes, skin white as snow, and hair as velvety gold and red that glisten in any form of light.
And yet it was very consistent to see little twelve year old Afron in just shorts and a weapon or two made of wood.
But thankfully as he grew, so did his skills of survival and trivial needs.
Threads became cloth, wood to various metals.
And Afron was a delightful cook.
But besides speaking of some of his talents as an independent seventeen year old.
There are also various stories of his fame, where an uninvited Afron would take down slavery rings or take jobs for money wherever he went and visited.
He was kind, yet scary. As he would save a kid in a heartbeat no matter who it was against him.
Taking on black bears without a single drop of sweat from his brow.
And somehow, someone figured that Afron was the aloof missing third prince of the Asrenthua Dukedom.
Afron was surprised when he visited the East, where the Dukedom is more well known, the same goes with the central kingdom, although he hasn't visited either in a while.
As many took their hands and whispered about his status.
Status that was later confirmed when someone of common birth came up to Afron in what seemed of full confidence.
People crowded as the man asked him directly who he was…In response, Afron nodded his head in agreement, and walked away.
And so the third prince was found.
Well…sorta.
He kept moving so it was really hard to find him.
And the Duke didn't seem to be looking for him in the first place, so the stories of Afron became somewhat skewed, passed his title once more, and it became mostly of his own achievements.
The various inhumane feats that spread across the land like plague.
It didn't help that his features were as striking and unique as they were.
Speaking of, Afron looks to the east as a purple hue fills the sky.
Their eyes reflect the rising sun, almost like a distorted circle of an array of light.
'What's today…the day or month? God Afron I don't think it matters just stop staring at the sun.'
Afron's inner thoughts play out in his mind, as his body gives no mention to it, keeping perfectly straight faced.
Afron turns to the rock he slept on just a few minutes before, away from the sun and into the vast plains that surround him.
Afron takes a long breath and exhales shortly after, taking in the peaceful moment for all its worth.
'I wish there was an animal around or something…I'm quite famished,' thought Afron with the tilt of his head. A part of his large red curls falls its way to the front of his face, which he blows away with a simple exhale.
Afron's eyes roamed the plains, searching for any kind of life beyond his own.
His brown leather tunic and dyed black pants stretched along with his body, making Afron look down at himself and wonder if it was time to readjust the seams on his clothing.
Afron was not fond of shoes, so his pearl feet felt every crevice of the rock he stood on.
His toes wiggled a bit as he readjusted the two belts that lay along his chest and pelvis.
One was for a worn out sword, long but thin. Although on Afron, the sword seemed almost short compared to the length of his legs and body.
And on the belt of his lower chest was an attached pouch or two, with material possessions and trinkets stored in them.
Afron's thoughts were brought out of his musings, as a sudden chill and a change in the breeze seemed to subtly scream at Afron that something was coming.
Afron has heard nature plenty of times.
He has experienced things that seemed supernatural in order, leading Afron to pray for guidance in only the Earth and soil beneath his feet.
A sort of personal matter, but Afron takes no side of the gods.
Why would he? When the true thing he has always felt was the Earth he exists on.
Yet Afron has never heard the Earth 'speak' this clearly, nor with the winds speak in such violent urgency.
Afron isn't an idiot, he didn't stand there like many of mankind would on this day. Maybe everyone paused for but a moment, but Afron would be proud to say he never did. His life was too grueling to ever give in to a moment's rest.
So when the wind screams, so does he act.
With a hand to his blade faster than anything humans could muster the strength to do.
A cold and violent focus reached his eyes, in such a way that they looked to bury themselves into the space around him.
The wind passed by, and for a moment the screams of it followed.
But after came the sounds of silence.
Silence of deadly still plains.
Of nothing for but a moment of peace.
One that gave Afron slight chills as his body tensed.
And so it happened.
Just as it did an Era ago, although this time, it came with a sort of final message to it.
There would be no stopping this, as instead of the previous Era of madness and invasion.
This was no invasion…More of a sudden assimilation.