As the rumbling gray clouds engulfs the noonday sun, the melodies of Pipes and strings soared to new heights in Greenland. The vibrant interplay of the instruments filled the air with a sense of wonder and awe. Derek Owems kept staring about, strolling along the rowdy street of Greenland, bewilderment beaming on his clear face. He was a cheerful, gorgeous lad in the twelfth year of his life, an age were excitement, mysteries and changes begins in a boy.

Greenland is the largest trading center in the Southern and Western lands. Vegetables and fruits of different varieties and sizes were present, well kept and arranged on fine wooden crates, large and small fishes hanging from hooks, not excluding the fine linen and tunics folded in presentable forms on stands as well as polished hides from animals.

Greenland takes over half of Olives, a small town partly surrounded by the sea, settled within the Western boarders of the Kingdom of Azma.

It was Derek's third time in Greenland and the time of the year when merchants and traders flock in from the Southern and Western lands, which happens only four times a year. The event never seized to amaze him - the sweet fruity smell, the large crowd, people of different colours, especially the pale once - unlike his fair skin theirs always had sunburns which always cracked him up. Not excluding the many dresses with enticing designs and flowering fragrance as well as their leather boots and shoes, which could hardly be seen at Olives, everyone always wore laced leather ankle-sandals or normal sandals.

Another thing that caught his attention was the perfectly aligned stall tents on each side of the street, white colour with stripes of blue, red or green; spreading out so wide and long he could barely see the end or the beginning, although his height had already deprived him of that.

"Hurry up Derek." A wide-tall man up front smiled at him.

Derek had always wished to be like his father, Jacob Owems, big - tall - strong. Not his short and skinny nature, the only nice thing he thought about himself was his thick-curly, cinnamon colored hair, a nice match up with his warm honey eyes.

You are still a growing boy, but you'll grow to become taller than everyone. His mother always told him, but that wasn't the case amongst his peers back home, he was the smallest and as such they would always make fun of him - shoving him to the dirt the slightest chance they got. Like always he would snap and fight back not minding their numbers, raging like a honey badger protecting itself, still he'll end up beaten.

So he decided to stay home and help his mother, doing chores or following his father for short strolls or hunting.

Hunting, he had grown to hate the sight of spilled blood and guts, after witnessing a gruesome sight of a gutted man on a normal hunting day in the forest. He never hesitated throwing up on the slightest sight of gushing blood and guts.

Derek hurried up to his fathers side, moving from tent to tent, searching for the right ingredients needed for a splendid porridge.

In the midst of the rowdy chaos at Greenland everyone began cheering, looking up at the sudden light-up of the dark cloud. Derek joined in on the excitement, tiny cloves of fire ascending in numbers into the sky from the harbour not too far from them, but the black smoke from a distance caught his attention, which also seems to be coming from the harbour.

Derek could feel it as the cheering began dying out, an uneasy - tensed aura swallowed the atmosphere. The cloves of fire they thought to be an amazing sight began descending towards them, silent murmuring and chattering began.

The strange feeling got to Derek's gut, he knows it all too well, the same feeling that comes to him when ever his father snapped at him for fighting.

His father did not wait to find out what they were. He picked Derek up throwing him on his shoulder - moving swiftly as he took excuses, finding his way through the crowd.

Derek knew it was trouble, he could feel his father trembling all over, his breathe almost short, it was the first time he had seen him so scared, not even a park of wolfs scared him this much.

There was a sudden uproar of loud deafening screams, Greenland was as bright as noon again, Derek's eyes stood still in despair, the beautiful cloves turned out to be flaming arrows.

Disorder flared up as the masses fled - fighting for cover, some tumbling over tables in the stalls, others not strong enough were knocked down and trampled on. Flaming arrows pelted upon Greenland striking down numerous unlucky once, even burning up tents. Jacob had an advantage because of his size, he forced his way through the finite crowd.

An unforeseen explosion launched Derek and his father away, including those around them, an arrow had hit a tent with barrels of black oil.

Derek's warm honey eyes snapped open as he took in a deep breath. Laying on his belly he shook his head gently unable to hear clearly, the throbbing of his heart and head gave assurance he was not deaf.

Gazing to his side he coughed, the first sight in view were those closer to the explosion, creeping on the dirt - screeching out in agony - bright red flames overwhelming them.

He helped himself up on his knees as his hearing became clearer, what a horrible sight to behold. Men and women screaming at their own decapitated bodies and spilled guts, children and adults mourning their own, unable to contain the sight he threw up, there goes the cheese and honey he had for breakfast.

"Derek." A familiar voice stuttered from behind.

Derek turned around quickly knowing it was his father, his eyes shook with terror to the sight he beheld, Jacob was seated by a corner impaled into a large stake.

Derek hesitated. "Fa…Father?" He straightens up - his legs trembling.

"Don't worry Derek." He gasped, blood dripping from his mouth. "I'm right here."

Derek tried walking to his father, but his trembling legs would not let him.

"Father," he brittled, his weighty eyes refusing to shed a tear.

"I will be alright Derek," he spoke with a smile, "listen, mother needs you, I want you to deliver a message to her."

"You are hurt." He faltered, his eyes still wide with terror from the blood all over his father's belly.

"Yes, only mother can help me, go tell mother I love her, she will know what to do."

His words stirred up a slight relief in Derek, bringing back a little confidence, Derek glanced at his father, eyes glad with hope.

"Mother will help."

"Yes Derek." 

Derek gave a quick nod then hurried from his father, reminding himself if he could get to his mother all will be fine.

Derek ran as fast as he could, trying as much as possible to ignore the corpses and those wailing out - stricken with fear. He continued through a dirt pathway slithering up a short grass meadow, until he got to a position to view the town below not too far from him, it was no different from Greenland.

The smell of burning wood clung to the smoky atmosphere, the street in view had the corpse of guards lying in the pool of their blood - their swords lying close by to prove they fought to the end, most houses were engulfed in flames and screams of agony rose up like incense.

This didn't stop Derek, he continued down the path then into the town before taking a curve through an alley then came to another turn, after it was an avenue, he ran towards the first house in view.

"Mother!" Derek screamed out, about to cross over.

An unknown fellow grabbed him into a corner, holding his mouth. "Keep it down boy." The slender fellow spoke, trying to hold Derek who kept struggling.

Derek suddenly calmed down on hearing light steps.

He took a peek as did the fellow holding him, two men strolled out from the cottage wearing a blissful smile on their faces. They wore black cloth armor striped red once on the chest region, and a red scarf covering their necks; he recognized them instantly, Raiders.

He always heard adults talk about them, a group of savage bandits roaming the Southern Seas, causing havoc on small towns.

"That was the best I've tasted in months." One of the raiders said, strapping the baldric on his waist which held his sword.

"It was fantastic," the second raider crowed, "I'll like to have some more."

Derek waited patiently until the two raiders were far away, he bit the hand of the fellow holding him, who screamed out - letting go off him.

Derek hurried to the cottage making a quick halt at the entrance, all hope was now lost, he dropped to his knees - his body quivering - wide-eyes beholding the stripped, bruised corpse of his mother laying in the pool of her blood.

"Too bad runt." The slender fellow apologized before smashing a plank on his head.

 ∆∆∆

It was mid-day, a time to be busy with various activities, yet almost the whole city of Vinum were gathered, lined up on each side of the silver marbled floor of the main street trailing from the city entrance, they were all cheering and singing praises.

Alexander, a pale - slender - sharp boy in his early teenage years stood at the fore front of the crowd by the left, looking out for the approaching Knights of Azma mounted on their majestic, partly armored warhorses. The Knights were clad in purple scale-mail and steel normar helm, the armor of an Azma Knight.

Vinum is one of the most productive City in Azma, headed by the Aquilae Family, one of the seven Royal Families of Azma. It stands in the Middle-East region of Azma - cradled by majestic mountains to the east and north, while a serene forest of Oak trees taking on burnished hues of gold and rust blankets the landscape to the west and south.

Vinum is shielded by a large stone wall, divide into four distinct district the Royal family compound is isolated at the middle of the city; making each district look like a town of it's own. Some houses are crafted from a blend of timber and stone with thatched roofs, and others with sturdy stone walls rising to support timber-framed upper floor, none more than one floor high.

"I don't see father." Alexander gazed at his side to the fair spotless lady standing by him, her deep blue eyes staring back at him, her hair long and silver resting on a diamond shaped face, she was dressed in red kirtle laced by the sides.

"Don't worry, you'll see him soon." She spoke with a bright-soothing voice.

Alexander gazed back at the Knights, a sudden smile overwhelmed him, his expecting hazel eyes caught glimpse of his father, there he was, following behind the sixth column of Cavalry.

Captain Thomas Majes, Captain of the tenth Azma Unit - an average bodied man with charming pale-skin, and a bright-friendly gaze. The dream man for every lady.

Alexander smiled proudly knowing this was his father's sixth victory against the lawless scum called Regilans, roaming the Eastern boarders of Azma.

Mounted on his stallion he waved cheerfully at the crowd of people, clad in his purple scale-mail with a black cloak attached to it, which singled him as Captain. Behind him another column of Cavalry still came trotting through the wide open gates.

Alexander could see his father was searching the crowd, he ran towards him. As soon as Thomas caught glimpse of him he dismounted immediately, starting towards Alexander who jumped on him with an embrace.

"Halt!" A voice ordered, putting the Cavalry to a halt.

"Good to see you warrior." Thomas spoke softly, stroking Alexander's shoulder length silver hair.

"You too Captain father. I know the barbarians stood no chance." he positions himself to have a good look at his father, same eyes as his.

"Like always, I was victorious," he puts Alexander down, "Your father dealt with them."

"When can I handle a sword so I can join you?"

"Soon warrior, soon." Before Thomas could raise his gaze to the approaching figure, he received a welcoming embrace - a warm kiss followed suit, pressed softly on his lips.

"I'm glad to see you happy and well my love." The silver-haired lady assured.

"I'm grateful to see my fair star shining as always," he kisses her fore head. "I'll be home soon, allow me celebrate with my Knights a little."

"Don't keep us waiting too long."

Thomas kissed her hands then approaches Alexander. "Keep my queen safe warrior."

"Aye Captain father." Alexander stood at ease, hands folded behind his back.

Thomas ruffled his hair, wearing a broad smile before returning to his stallion.

"You should stay with your wife Captain Thomas." A pale skin Knight having a white cloak attached to his armor requested. He was young and sharp looking, having a raging gaze.

Thomas saddles his Stallion, "You should know me by now Commander Maxwell."

"Always the good captain." Maxwell smiled.

∆∆∆

Ty tavern - the largest pub in the Eastern region, located at the fourth district, the district at the left end of Vinum. Despite being the largest tavern in the region, every inch of the Tavern was flooded with Azma Knights, some brawling, others having a good drink while singing and the rest enjoying the company of the ladies in short red baladi dress, passionately rolling their hips.

"Permit me to deliver the good news to King Marcel Zion." Maxwell pleaded.

Himself and Thomas were the only once reclined at their table, seated opposite each other.

"I have to be there in person Maxwell, but you can accompany me there."

"You'll choose duty over lovely Victoria?" He scoffs then drinks the milky liquid in his mug.

"You worry about my family too much Maxwell," Thomas teased, "drink up," he tossed his hand around, "let's head over to my home for the final celebration."

"Not this time Captain."

Suddenly, the lively atmosphere died out as soon as five Royal Knights clad in black leather armor stepped into the tavern. Crested on the armor was the peak of a snow mountain - the emblem of the Aquilae Family.

"I asked myself," the middle man amongst the Royal Knights leered, a white cape attached to his armor.

"What was causing all the racket, never intended to stumble upon shit."

His words aroused the Azma Knights, spurring them to glance at Thomas, waiting for his command.

"Stand down lads." Thomas spoke calmly.

"There you are Captain." The handsome, blonde Commander quipped.

"What brings you here Commander Argus?" Thomas asked with a straight face.

Commander Argus had always hated Thomas, his hate ran deeper than that of the Aquilae Family for Thomas - right from when he came to Vinum stealing the love of the people to when he was betrothed to Victoria, whom he loved so dearly but was rejected. Even more now that his name had gone far as reaching King Marcel Zion - King of Azma.

"Why else would I come to a shit hole if not to congratulate you."

"Well that makes you a scummy shite."

The Azma Knights cracked up in laughter, banging the tables with their mugs and hands.

"Real charmer." Argus spoke with a lucid smile. "Lord Ramsey Aquilae sends his regards."

"Wish him well for me." 

Argus tsked stepping out of the tavern with his Knights.

"Thank you all for your support." Thomas spoke at the top of his voice influencing silence, "I'll be leaving you all for now."

"Aye Captain." They chorused then continued with the celebration.

"See you soon Maxwell." Thomas straighten up.

"Sure, don't you dare leave Victoria's side till three days have passed."

Thomas chuckled, "I'll make sure to tell her that."

∆∆∆

The night was a chilling one in Vinum, yet the first district - at the left flank just after the gates, which has a brothel in the third avenue was oddly silent; the streets were empty, only the gentle breeze whispered through hallow spaces and narrow gaps between the buildings as well as rustling leaves of willowy trees.

Alexander slowly opened his eyes on hearing a short creaking sound, he glanced at the window by the side of the bed he laid on. All he could see was the shadow of the tree rustling to the breeze, he looked over to the other side - the flame on the candle lamp flickered smoothly.

Again the short creaking sounded, he straightened up and gazed forward at his room door which was partly opened, he smiled knowing his father was either sneaking out or in like always. He took the fur sheet off then tip toed towards the door.

He knew if he caught his father he'll get another promise to stay quiet, Victoria never liked him going out to drink this late. Alexander pushed the door a little stepping into the passage, which was lighted up by two wall candle lamps on each side.

Before he could take another step a shadow loomed over him from behind, it definitely wasn't his father, this one seemed taller. The figure didn't let him make a move, it grabbed him - covering his mouth then dragged him back into his room as he struggled.

"Pipe down boy." The sharp voice whispered, placing a knife at his throat.

Alexander stood still, his eyes shivering as his heart thuds faster by the passing moment, none of the self defence moves taught to him by his father flashed his mind, his mind was numb with fear - even though any was to come flooding back his shaking legs won't let him.

Thomas rushed into the room, dressed in white knee length garment, holding his long sword with both hands.

"Drop it." The figure commanded, pressing the blade harder on Alexander's throat.

"Alexander." Thomas' voice deepened as he peered into Alexander's hazel eyes.

Just then Alexander became calm, staring back at his father - he understood clearly what to do now, with his father there was a turn out of event.

"Do it Captain." The figure urged.

Alexander threw his elbow backwards, slamming it hard on the figures' crotches. He didn't wait to find out who it was, he dived to the side immediately, giving Thomas a clear view.

Thomas charged in, plunging his sword through the figures chest, with a twist he pulled it out then slashed his shoulder. Alexander recognized the armor of the figure, he was a Royal Knight.

"Father." Alexander hurried to Thomas with an embrace.

"You did well warrior." Thomas greeted - patting his head.

Victoria rushed in holding a Knife, only to see the Knights' corpse. "What's going on?" She gazed at Thomas, her deep blue eyes wide-open with fear.

"I don't know my queen, but I'm not waiting around to find out."

"What should we do?" She spoke slightly.

"Use the hidden passage leading out of the city." Thomas began.

"Thomas," she raised her tone a little.

"I'll send Commander Maxwell your way."

"Thomas," she rasped - silencing Thomas. "I'm not going anywhere without you." Her eyes were almost welling up with tears.

Thomas smiled, he approached her holding Alexander. "Who said anything about leaving without me." He held her hands then placed it on that of Alexander. "I just want to get Maxwell and my Knights, that's all." He stated clearly.

Victoria embraced him then looked into his eyes. "You better come back."

"Won't think of abandoning you and Alex." He gave her a soft kiss on her lips, one assuring her all will be well.

"Come Alex." Victoria held his hand, stepping out of the room.

∆∆∆

Thomas now dressed in his armor stood in awe, glaring at the burning tavern, the flames crackling with intensity into the night, yet not even one person was out. Even the neighbours whose houses were close didn't bother coming out - not minding if the fire would spread to theirs.

What's this, Thomas asked himself, still stunned by what he beheld.

He looked around thinking of options then glared back at the flames, why is no one fighting the fire?, he asked himself.

"Thomas." A breathless voice called from behind.

Thomas turned to see who it was, there stood Maxwell - panting, wielding his blood stained sword.

"Tell me my Knights are not in there." Thomas asked pointing at the tavern, a feint smile followed.

"It happened so fast Thomas, I went to take a piss and I heard screams, I hurried back but there was nothing I could do."

"What are you saying? Where is everyone?" He spoke rather calmly.

"No one came out, so I went for you knowing something was wrong."

A silent chorus of bows draws tight, with a resounding release multiple arrows whistle through the air as Thomas quickly turns around. With sickening thuds the projectiles hisses into Thomas - impaling his armor and forcing him to stagger back. He grits his teeth, groaning slightly as blood flows from his mouth. A good distance from him stood Commander Argus along side a squad of Royal Knights, nocking another arrow at him.

"I once told you, shit can't replace Royalty." Argus smirked, "Loose." He gestured two fingers at Thomas.

The Knights released their arrows at Thomas with out hesitation, the arrows sliced through the air with vengeance, each impact carrying a searing pain - bringing him to his knees.

"Victoria and Alexander are in safe hands." Maxwell whispered into Thomas' ear before slitting his throat.

At that moment, a cold encroaching darkness consumed Thomas, all he felt was a deep betrayal and the fate of his family. He fell to the side, bleeding out as flashes of Victoria and Alexander smiling at him went by.

"Where is his family?" Argus asked.

"Not sure right now, but as we bargained I'll be taking care of them."

"On whose words?" Argus drawled, counting his fingers with his thumb.

Maxwell stood dumbfounded, glaring at Argus.

"What made you think a traitor will be left alive."

"You coward." Maxwell screamed out, ready to make a move.

One of the Knight quickly nocked an arrow, loosing it at Maxwell's kneel, which sent him crashing to the floor with a loud cry.

Alexander and Victoria remained hidden and motionless on a branch amongst the canopy leaves at the top of an Oak tree, they watched the Royal Knights search the area with torches. A good thing Thomas taught them how to hide in tress. Glancing at his mother, her attention was riveted towards the city, Alexander could tell she was worried - more than usual, but he couldn't fathom what the big deal was, his father was a Captain, flawless with his long sword, commanding hundreds of Knights; there was no defecting him. 

ARC ONE

THE PATH OF FATE…