The world was brimmed with tension. Leaders watching, drool hanging from their cackles as they waited for their chance to pounce.
Peace was abundant, that much was true. Even so, war loomed on the horizon.
Eujal's father had warned him about the state of the world many times. Often going on lengthy rants about how the good men had gone mad and how the powerful sought to expand their influence. In the boy's eyes, his old man was just a paranoid wimp, a man who seemed to take pleasure in living under fear. His words never failed to lower Eujal's spirits, constantly dragging him down to the sorrowful level of existence that he had grown to hate.
Eujal dreamed of becoming one of the city guards, protecting the people and being a shield that they could rely on. But that old man cursed him for his dream. It was too risky for his feeble tastes.
He couldn't stand the old man.
Whenever he returned from his training, his father would rebuke him. His mother made no effort to stop his father because she agreed with his words.
He hated them both.
Once he was sixteen, an opportunity presented itself. An opportunity to free him from the bondage that threatened to ruin him.
Khardouth, the city-state that he lived in, sat on the northern edge of the Agoran peninsula, bordering the Nuzian sea. As a result, fishing became a popular trade, with many of the city's people knowing how to fish as if they were born with the skills necessary to do so.
His father was a fisherman.
He would drag Eujal to his worn-down boat, barely large enough to fit three men, and sail far from shore. They would sit there for hours until their catch filled the boat's storages. During these hours, his father would drain the boy of all the life that burned within him, turning him into a demoralized walking corpse upon sundown.
However, while they were fishing one day, he saw a ship on the horizon. His father didn't notice, continuing to ramble as he repeatedly cast his net.
The ship came closer and with pace. Before he knew it, they were upon them. A large frigate lined with cannons. His father, noticing too late, froze in fear as men descended from ropes. They took Eujal, acknowledging his youth while disregarding the old man, and climbed back on board.
Eujal did not resist. He knew who this ship belonged to. That flag, red with two opposing black crescent moons separated by a skull, could only belong to the Zhardokhan group. They were notorious for their large collection of mercenaries, numbers surpassing most armies.
While he never dreamed of becoming a mercenary, anything was better than the gloom of fishing that his father wanted to enforce upon him. Even if he was taken by force.
The ship moved around, attempting to scoop up more potential recruits. They turned back after their efforts were noticed by the city guard, who rallied to intercept them.
As they departed the harbor, Eujal caught a glimpse of his father's face. He seemed defeated, shoulders hanging low, with his eyes slowly tracking Eujal's distant face. He didn't say goodbye. Perhaps, he was too afraid to do so.