A Tale of Blood and Ice.

Chapter 1: High prez

Aidan stood in the main atrium of the Kingshaw Palace. The squeaking from his boots echoed throughout the halls as he nervously moved about, his mind lost elsewhere. Every so often he would stop, mumble to himself, shake his head, and go back to his pacing.

Aidan was a 24 year old human, he looked fairly average for his age. He sported a commoner’s garment which consisted of a cotton fleece, interwoven with sheep wool for extra warmth, a pair of crude wool trousers, and large leather boots.

His face was riddled with scars, many of which came from working in the mines for years while working off his city debt. The most prominent scar started from the tip of his nose, curving left to meet the corner of his mouth, the torn flesh healed badly due to the inadequate health care this far from the empire.

While his face carried many reminders of his early years, that scar in particular was strangely sentimental. He gained it while on night duty as an outer wall guard. He looked out over the middle of the city, where the palace and noble districts are located. Behind him; in-between the inner and outer walls were where the middle class and servants were housed and even further; outside the wall, were where the peasant houses were located.

Aidan was patrolling the outer wall as usual, the night was cold and made his skin bristle, frozen leaves snapped underfoot and wolves howled. He was finishing up his last walk around the city, counting twenty nine laps when he heard suspicious noises coming from a nearby alley.

Unsheathing his sword; he slowly crept down the steps, being careful not to slip on the icy surface. He approached the alley, balling his feet to muffle his footsteps and braced up against the wall. Excruciatingly slowly, he inched his head around the corner, squinting to see anything in the dark.

Just as he was giving up hope, the clouds cleared; lighting up the sky and subsequently the alleyway. He saw two men cornering a small girl; no more than eight or nine years old, she was laying on the floor, curled up and whimpering into a blood covered rag.

The larger of the two men grunted, “Look at the bitch cry. This’ll teach you not to talk back to Count Alfred.” He motioned to the other assailant, “Tie her up, I’ll make sure the coast is clear so we can move her.”

The second assailant nodded and proceeded to reach into his bag. Pulling out a long length of rope, he closed in on the girl; tying her arms and then her legs. Aidan could see he was taking his time, savouring the girl in front of him.

The first and larger man stepped back, turned and started lumbering towards the entrance of the alleyway. Aidan stepped back and readied his weapon in front of him. The guard turned the corner. Taken back from the seemingly sudden appearance of a guard, he gasped and pulled a blade out of a sheath hidden behind his back.

“Alright guard, I’ll give you one chance to drop your weapon before I make you.” The giant of a man said before taking one step toward Aidan. Back in the alley, Aidan couldn’t estimate the size of the guy, but up close he was starting to have second thoughts about this.

“N-no, I won’t sit by and let you hurt her, I’m arresting you.” Aidan replied, gritting his teeth as he watched his enemy’s features like a hawk for any slip up.

He chuckled, making Aidan wince; it felt like his laugh was reverberating throughout his helmet. “You guards are always the same,” He started talking sarcastically, “I’ll uphold the law and help the-”

Aidan had enough; he charged forwards, sword just to the side. He aimed for the guy’s hand; Aidan needed to disarm him before he could take him anywhere. It seemed like this guy was the brains of the two and taking him out would mean he could easily dispatch the other.

Aidan’s enemy swung down, hoping to strike Aidan on the head, but missed, resulting instead with his blade slicing Aidan in the mouth. Aidan staggered but took the opportunity nonetheless and slashed his sword into his foe, leaving a bloody gash across the front of his stomach, spilling his guts over the floor.

The man cried out in pain, his wails surely waking anyone up from slumber and alerting his partner in crime. As expected, the other man rushed out of the alleyway, pulling his pants up and tightening them before pulling a dagger out of his pocket.

He charged Aidan, missing him by millimetres. He swung time after time, but Aidan was too quick, ducking and weaving back and forth, dodging the swings. Finally, he became too fatigued to continue, dropping to the floor and passing out. Aidan pulled him over to a nearby railing and tied him to it, using his handcuffs.

Aidan turned around, eyeing the corpse on the floor. Trying to find remorse for him, but failing, Aidan walked over to the alleyway and towards the little girl. Crouching down, he skillfully undid the knots tying the girl’s hand and feet.

“Miss, the bad men are gone.” Aidan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and cursing himself for getting involved, there would be a lot of paperwork once this is over, “I’m a guard. I’m here to help…” He nudged her with his hand; getting no response, he rolled her over.

Aidan looked into her eyes and saw no spark, no life left in the girl. Shocked at this, he recoiled, emotions rising. His thoughts turned to the man tied up on the railing. Aidan walked out of the alley with his sword held down by his side.

He crouched beside the man and asked, completely calm, “Did she cry?” Aidan moved his sword up and reflected light into his captive’s eyes, “Did she CRY!” Aidan reached up and gripped the man’s hair, pulling his head back, exposing his neck to the blistering cold.

“I should take you to the guard’s tower for processing… But I don’t think they will miss one more thug…” Aidan grinned. Somewhere inside his mind, he was unsure of what he was doing, but that part was squashed by the adrenalin and excitement of holding another’s life in his hands.

He gripped the handle of his sword so hard, the whites of his knuckles were beginning to become whiter than the snow around them. “Nobody’s going to miss you…” Aidan places the edge of the sword on the man’s neck and breathed out. As he took a breath in he pulled away, spraying the railing and ground with blood, warm enough to steam off the tainted snow.

That incident was two weeks ago. Aidan was put through many different psychiatric tests to determine what treatment was best for him, but all came back negative and he had passed with a clean bill of health.

The same couldn’t be said for his service record. As soon as the incident reached the printers, he was discharged from duty and stripped of all his possessions. Since then, he’ had to live off of family members, sleeping at each of their places one night at a time.

Aidan’s mumbling was interrupted as the massive wooden doors leading to the court swung wide, slowing to a crawl as they just barely touched the outside walls and stopped. Standing in the middle of the doorway was the secretary of the Prince, Miss Pura.

Pura was special in more ways than one. First, she was the youngest citizen of High Prez to become a royal advisor in over a century and second, she was the only woman to join the council of elders ever.

She stood in the doorway looking over her papers, sorting this and moving that. Aidan turned around, unsure of what to do; either stand there or go over. He decided to walk over and introduce himself.

“Greetings, I’m here to see the Prince.” Aidan asked, hoping that she was the one to show him to the prince and not just passing through.

The young girl jumped, not noticing that Aidan had moved in front of her, “Huh wha…” She repositioned her glasses on her nose, straightened her skirt and coughed into her hand, “Yes, I am. Are you Aidan Ó Birn?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, follow me.” She turned around and started walking down the hallway.

“I don’t suppose you know what he wants to see me about?” He asked, looking around at the paintings and sculptures that lined the hallway. Many of the paintings portrayed many of the battles that had taken place over the first forty years on the continent.

Humans had only arrived on Alaria in 293 of the celestial year, their home island having sustained irreparable damage from a war ten years prior. The colonists named the new land Alaria, meaning Hope in the old language.

For the first few years, peace reigned, but as humans met with the natives, things started to break down as differences in culture and ideas emerged. A fair number of skirmishes broke out over petty things, but never any full blown war.

Pura stopped walking as she made it to the set of doors that housed the council chambers. Aidan turned his head just in time to stop himself from bumping into her and stepped back at attention. The two doors swung open like before, making a slight swoosh sound as they slowed.

Pura turned her head and looked Aidan in the eyes, “Come on, we better not keep him waiting. The Prince is very busy.” She turned back to the front and made for the room, Aidan trailing just behind.

Prince Ductoris was a relatively new ruler, having only been in power for little more than nine years, the oldest ruler had been around for forty and thirty of them were on the old island.

“Ahh Pura, how good to see you.” The prince rumbled cheerfully, his voice deep and fatherly. The prince wore a blue silk top, cotton trousers with gold stitching, and oddly, plain leather boots. He reached up and undid a clasp that held his robe around his neck and let it fall to the ground as he rushed forwards and embraced Pura in a hug.

Aidan stood there feeling awkward, he’d never been in the presence of royalty before and didn’t know how to act around them. His mother had always told him to act like they always knew best and to do whatever they said.

The two’s embrace ended and they pulled away from each other, the secretaries face a little more reddened. The prince turned and eyed Aidan, it wasn’t often that he sent word to meet with commoners, “You must be Aidan, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Aidan instantly stood at attention and bowed, “My Lord, it is an honor to be summoned.”

Ductoris sighed and shook his head, before chuckling, “Please Aidan, stand up straight and talk to me.” The prince switched places with Pura and placed his hand onto Aidans shoulder, “Son, stand.”

Aidan rose and looked Ductoris in the eyes, “Why have I been summoned, sir?” He asked, showing confusion at the strange prince. Of course, Aidan had thoughts that the order was because of the incident, but put them in the back of his mind when the letter didn’t mention anything about it.

Dear Aidan Ó Birn.

Enclosed is a high priority order for your attendance at Kingshaw Palace on the date of: 1st of Granite.

Only the requested person(s) shall be allowed to be in the presence of Prince Ductoris.

Be well, Pura.

Office of administration.

Aidan shook his head and returned to the present, just in time to hear what the Prince had to say, “You have been in service for the last four years, correct?”

“Yes sir, I’ve only recently been dismissed. I’m sure you’ve heard why.” Aidan replied with an edge of remorse, which the Prince instantly picked up on.

“Yes, that did come to my attention... actually that is why you are here.” Aidan tensed up, his hands gripping the fabric of his trousers, “Of course, that was a good thing. In fact, if that didn’t happen, I would have had to choose someone less qualified for what I’m about to ask.”

“And that is?” Aiden asked, releasing the tension in his body, he didn’t know what he would have done, but it wouldn’t have been pretty.

Ductoris turned and walked to the end chair, pulled it out and sat down, “Please, sit.” He motioned to the two seats on either side of the table.
Both Pura and Aidan walked over and sat down, moving about slightly to get comfortable. “Sire, shall I?”

“Yes Pura, give him the documents.” She nodded and placed her papers on the desk, she searched through them for a few minutes and took out what she needed. On the desk next to her stuff laid a green folder.

“This is why you have been called, read it.” She placed both hands on the document as if, at any moment, master thieves could swoop in and steal it. She pushed forward, stopped when the folder was in front of Aidan, and leaned back into her chair.

Aidan placed one hand on the flap of the folder, taking a breath and folding it back to reveal only a few torn and burnt pieces of paper on top of what looked like a reconnaissance report. He picked up the piece that looked to be burnt the least and read what was on it.

From what he could make out, it was some kind of mining operation on the border of the desert straights. A dangerous and nearly untraversable straight of land that passed almost all of the way across Alaria, only a few bridges of the continent actually passed through and made travel possible.

Picking up the reconnaissance report, Aidan looked it over. What he saw showed on his face and the Prince and his secretary leaned forward, awaiting his reaction.

The report was hazy at best, but spoke of the Anasazi. Their king started the war on the homeland, forcing us to flee and make a new home here on Alaria, every coastline ever since has been patrolled to make sure they didn’t return.

Now they had returned. It meant only one thing, Death. Not only for humans, but for the elves and even for other timid races, such as the faeries. The Anasazi won't stop.

“What do you need me to do?” Aidan asked as he rose his head from looking down and looked the Prince in the eyes, determination rising.

Every child in Alaria knows of the great purge, the time in history where, instead of battles against the Anasazi, it was massacres. Rivers of blood flowed into the streams turning them red.

Even humanity's best defences lost to time couldn’t stop the wave of Anasazi warriors. Humanity had skill, warriors quick and agile; able to dodge and attack with grace; but the enemy had numbers. For every one a human killed, ten more replaced it.

It were the cities that fell first, mighty and tall, harnessing the twin suns themselves as a power source. They rose above the clouds, gold spires shining their light upon the towns and villages that sheltered around them, like a beacon of hope.

As they fell, one by one as the battle line became longer; became unmanageable to hold, our military was stretched to the breaking point. A knight came, he lead his own army, one rumored to have been forged in Mt Ardnós itself.

They slaughtered thousands, though he never asked for any rewards; even his army was silent. Even as his comrades fell, he would never ask for anything.

But even great warriors must die, either by the battlefield or by time. Some say he knew his time was over, marching into the middle of the Anasazi horde slaying hundreds by himself, his army taking down thousands in a single day.

After that battle, nothing was heard from him; as if he had just vanished.