The world seemed to be holding its breath as a sense of impending doom settled over the Tresta County. A massive army, led by the ruthless Duke Esper Volfer, had encircled the county, leaving its people trembling in fear. Despite being vastly outnumbered, the defenders of Tresta refused to back down, fighting with a ferocity that belied their desperate situation.
On a nearby mountain, Count Rodriger Dragonia clashed swords with a dozen opponents, his movements a blur of steel and fury. Six of his foes were nobles, their faces twisted with malice, while the others were unknown quantities, their abilities and motivations shrouded in mystery. Rodriger's aura blazed with intensity as he fought, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision.
Meanwhile, Countess Dragonia engaged a group of seven opponents, her sword flashing in the fading light of day. She was a force to be reckoned with, her movements fluid and calculated, her blade slicing through the air with deadly accuracy. As she fought, she seemed to sense the presence of a particularly formidable foe, and her eyes locked onto a figure leaping towards her with sword raised. With a swift twist of her wrist, she dispatched the attacker, her sword slicing through his neck with ease. A six-tier aura user, no less.
Despite the odds, the Countess fought on, her determination and skill driving her forward. But she knew she couldn't keep this up for much longer. She needed to end this fight quickly, before exhaustion claimed her. With a fierce cry, she launched a devastating attack, her sword slicing through her opponents with deadly precision. When the dust settled, she stood victorious, her chest heaving with exertion.
As she made her way towards her husband, she was met with a scene of carnage. The bodies of their enemies lay strewn about, but at the center of it all, Rodriger sat on a rock, his expression somber. The Countess's heart sank as she approached him, her eyes scanning the area for any signs of enemy.
"How many were there from your family?" Rodriger asked, his voice low and gravelly, as she approached.
"Four," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "All of them are dead now. But you don't look like you're in any shape to confirm that."
Rodriger lips curled into a faint smile, and he nodded slowly. "You go, leave now. Leave Arshan to me. I'd like to see what he'll choose."
The Countess hesitated, her maternal instincts screaming in protest. How could she leave her child behind, vulnerable and alone, in a world that seemed determined to crush him? But she knew she had no choice. She nodded, her heart heavy with sorrow, and turned towards the west, where the massive forest loomed like a dark and foreboding presence. With one last look at her husband and the scene of devastation behind him, she vanished into the trees, leaving her child to face whatever fate had in store for him.
The evening sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting a dark and foreboding shadow over the land. Arshan Dragonia, a young boy of seven winters, trudged wearily alongside his father loyal subordinate, Aric Baldwin. Aric, a formidable two-tier auro user, had been more than just a
guardian to Arshan, he was a mentor, a teacher, and a friend. Together, they had returned from a hunt, their quarry slung over Aric broad shoulders.
As they approached the bridge that spanned the narrow river marking the outer perimeter of the County of Tresta, Arshan heart sank. The town, which belonged to his father, Rodriger Dragonia, was ablaze. Flames
licked at the wooden buildings, casting a hellish glow over the carnage-strewn
streets. The sound of screams and wails filled the air, mingling with the acrid
smell of smoke and blood.
Arshan stood frozen, his eyes wide with horror as he took in the destruction. Aric grip on his hand was like a vice, pulling him away from the inferno. "We have to go, Arshan," he said, his voice low and urgent. "It's not safe here."
As they fled the burning town, the night wore on, the darkness seeming to press in around them. Eventually, they found themselves
beneath the boughs of a ancient tree, its branches creaking softly in the wind. Aric settled down beside Arshan, his eyes fixed on the boy's pale face.
"So, what's your choice?" Aric asked, his voice breaking the silence.
Arshan gaze drifted to Aric's face, his eyes searching for answers. For a long, drawn-out moment, he said nothing, his small chest heaving with each ragged breath. Then, his gaze dropped to the ground, and in a voice
barely above a whisper, he replied, "I want to conquer these lands... not just Trista, but the whole kingdom."
Aric face remained impassive, but a spark of approval seemed to flicker in his eyes. He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Okay I decided, I will follow you, and become your sword to conquer these
lands," he said, his voice filled with conviction.
Arshan eyes snapped back up to Aric's face, a mix of emotions swirling within him. "But how do we start?" he asked, his voice laced with doubt. "We're only two people, with no money and no resources. Everything I had was captured by Duke Esper Volfer."
Aric gaze held his, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "You don't have to worry about money," he said, a small smile
playing on his lips. "Count Volfer may have taken everything from you, but he didn't count on my foresight. I have a box of 400 gold coins, courtesy of the Count generosity. It'll be enough for us to start."
With that, Aric stood up, his movements fluid and powerful. "We should familiarize ourselves with training," he said, his eyes
glinting with amusement. "Don't tell me you want to rule this kingdom with just your bold words."
As they walked through the night, Arshan's mind reeled with the enormity of their task. They would settle in a secluded spot, where they could train and plan in peace. The world was vast and unforgiving, but with Aric by his side, Arshan felt a sense of determination rising within him.
The night wore on, and Arshan's eyelids began to droop. He dreamed of his mother, her gentle touch and soothing voice. He dreamed of his father, his strong arms and warm smile. And when he woke, Aric's voice was there, urging him to rise and follow.
"Let's go," Aric said, his eyes gleaming with
anticipation. "We'll see what news the day brings. Maybe it'll be good news, or maybe it'll be the start of our search."
The next day sun shone brightly overhead, casting a warm light across the landscape as Aric and Arshan settled down for breakfast. Two rabbits, freshly caught by Aric, sizzled over the open flame. The savory smell filled the air, making Arshan's stomach rumble in anticipation.
After they finished eating, Aric got up and looked around. "No one's around," he said quietly. "We should move on."
Arshan nodded, and they continued their journey. Days passed, and Aric showed he was a skilled hunter, taking down a tiger and three bulls with ease. Arshan watched in awe as Aric fought, moving swiftly and with
precision.
Finally, after three long days of travel, they reached the Town of Freza. The town buzzed with life, the fishing trade clear in the salty scent and the cries of seagulls overhead. Aric and Arshan covered their faces with scarves to stay hidden.
They walked into the local inn, and Aric ordered food for both of them. While they ate, Aric slipped away, disappearing behind a door near the counter. He came out a moment later, having tossed two gold coins to the guard on duty. The guard nodded, and Aric followed him to the third floor.
The room Aric entered was cluttered with documents and scrolls, the air thick with the smell of old paper. An old man sat behind a
desk, scanning the papers. He looked up as Aric entered, confusion turning into shock.
"What are you doing here?" the old man asked urgently. "You shouldn't be here. Duke Esper Volfer men are looking for you, and all the guilds have a bounty on your head. Leave now, and I won't say a word."
Aric chuckled softly. "Don't worry, Uncle," he
said. "I need your help with something."
The old man shook his head, a mix of amusement and worry on his face. "You fool of a nephew," he muttered. "What do you want from this old man?"
Aric fixed his gaze on the old man. "I need a shield, a few swords and spears, some gold coins, and a map of Basera Kingdom. Also, I
need to know why Count Rodriger Dragonia was killed."
The old man face turned serious. After a moment, he nodded. "Alright," he said. "I'll get what you need." Aric stepped out of the room with a determined look. "This town is controlled by Count Justin, who supports the third prince," he told Arshan. "Duke Esper Volfer is in line with the third
prince too. Count Rodriger was killed because he stayed neutral, and the third
prince didn't want anyone who could betray him. The nobles in the North back the third prince, and an internal war is brewing."
Arshan eyes widened in disbelief. "They killed him just for Dad neutral stance?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Aric expression grew serious. "You'll understand when you're older," he said. "Let's leave this town. They are after us,
and many of Justin's knights have seen me before. It's not safe to stay here
any longer."