2, The Gateria's Outpost
Quandoren’s POV –
I stand here unaffected by the biting cold. All the rebellion stood stretched before me. Thousands of tents all huddled together in a vast field. Their hope is for nothing. Despite their immense size they would all fall in a matter of hours in an battle against the King or maybe even the Necromancer Prophyx Stormblade.
A shout breaks me from my miserable musings. I walk slowly to the scene of the commotion and smile as I witness a twenty year old man being beaten by a group of nine year old girls. He tries to get up, pathetically, and ends up getting knocked down again. As amusing as this is, I know that the torture that Cerebron is going through needs to be stopped. Just before I can interfere, a dazzling woman of around twenty with light brown hair, skin the same colour and hazel-brown eyes with a reddish tinge, appears and instantly scares the girls away.
I stop one and ask her why they were assaulting Cerebron. She replies and tells me ” He was teasing us for being mentally weaker than him and men in particular, which is not true, so we decided to show him who was physically stronger .” I let the child go and turn my attention back to the adults just as the man stands up only for the woman to punch him across the jaw without hesitation causing him to fall flat onto the ground, no doubt knocked unconscious by the force of the blow .
” He’ll be down for at least half a day, you know?” I comment. “Isn’t that a good thing?” Valkyrie asks me, her worry that I potentially care about Cerebron visible on her face. “Yes. Cerebron is a ******* and deserved what he got.” I say to dispel her belief that I could care about such an arrogant imbecile like Cerebron. Thinking of him causes me to glance his way as he is being carried back to his tent and all the people gathered look on in amusement as he is carried past them, some even go so far as throwing things at him, unfortunately he was unconscious so that this blow to his ego did not effect him.
“Where is your brother? ” I enquire to the foresighted twin. She replies with “Off on some assassination mission.” Why do they send Desorath when there are actual assassins to kill Barons for us? I ask myself. His talents should not be wasted for such petty things when our allies, The Guild of Assassins, are all trained murderers. he shouldn’t be on that mission at all. My mind is made up. I stroll over to the pavilion where the two descendants of King Beorm the Seventeenth, King before Azrazel the Oathbreaker, plan. As I enter many people stand aside, and I strike my staff onto the ground to gain the brothers’ attention and to tell everyone else to leave.
“Have you found a Praimbleda yet?” I ask them. “No. We are still looking for one of the golden blood. We have heard rumours of a baron’s new born son who is one and we sent Desorath to retrieve him.” Storme replies. ” Unless you have already found one, Quandoren?” Calme chimes in. ” I have heard rumours of one close to here.” I answer. And I had. There was one apparently in the Guild of Assassins.
“Also be so kind as to inform me why Desorath is on an assassination mission?” I enquire. “Well it is not an assassination mission but now a rescue one. Desorath was captured.” Calme states. “I will remedy that. I’ll go and get the Praimbleda and make him rescue Desorath.” I plan. Both Storme and Calme do not question my authority. And I wish to remind them why I hold that same authority.
“Also, a boy named Sameth is here for you, says he is sent by The Scholar.” Storme informs me, very calmly, which contradicts the temper that earned him his Name of Self. “Send him to my tent and ensure he is treated well.” I reply, not wanting to anger someone as powerful as the Scholar.
I meet the boy myself after the soldier sent to find him returned without success. I easily find the boy in the villages library, engrossed in a book.” This place does not compare with your masters, I know, but it is open to you.” I say. The boys head whips around and his brown eyes meet mine. I take him to my tent and ask him why he was sent. “My master, The Scholar, sent me to take an account of this revolt and the few years after its end.” I leave the boy with my rudimentary library of magic books. Determined to make up time after the delay, I turn and I leave the camp and teleport the one village distance between the two camps.
Entering the camp of my former organisation, I walk to the training arena to view the golden blooded apprentice. As I enter, I spot him. He has blonde hair, like his mother, and green eyes like me. The drops of blood on his scarce wounds confirm that it is the one I seek and I wait until he has both his opponents held by one of his knives, a sure sign of victory. I ponder over his preference for knives, like his father and with the ease he defeated both seasoned fighters, it is clear he is an excellent fighter, again like his father.
I thank Life and Chaos both for the child’s survival throughout all these harsh years and think of how long it has been since I last saw him, around twenty years. To confirm my doubts over his identity and skill, I call him over and challenge the twenty year old boy to a duel. Calling on the mana stored within my staff, I prepare for a challenging fight, something I have not had in years. I observe his technique as he gets into a beginning stance, raises his knives expertly and he begins our duel by reaching out and striking the first blow…