PROLOGUE

December 24, 1816, Ambrosia, Trinitia

I could still remember the time I first witnessed someone being killed. It was on the 24th of December in 1898, the time my uncle tried to kill me. 

Two men clad in the colors of the secret service intruded our house when I, my father, and mother, were having a feast for dinner. They cornered my father by threatening him that they'll place a bullet on his head. My father stood trembling, my mother too was swayed with fear, frantically screaming for me to hide. 

 But I couldn't command my limbs to move, I was paralyzed on my seat, witnessing two armed men wrestling my father to the ground and pulling the trigger on his head, ricocheting through his skull and drenching the wooden floor with his blood. They targeted my mother next, who hugged me and shielded me with her body from their bullets. 

"Run my lord," she whispered as blood trailed down her lips. She pulled my golden locket that she gave me so dearly, her eyes bidding farewell. "Go to the shop I brought you before and show it to the man there, he will know."

"Don't let the prince get away!" 

My mother slumped down head first on the floor next to my father. I couldn't understand why but my body told me to run out of the house, and I anxiously did. I could still remember how my chest was pounding and my ears buzzing as I made my way through the kitchen door and to the thickening snow. The cold grasped me so tight that my skin trembled from the cold. 

Not from afar, when I looked back from our house while I hastened in the snow, I could see one of the men rummaging through our cabinets in the living room while the other one was trailing behind me in the snow. I hid on a nearby pine tree as the man was catching his breath, I could hear him stop a distance away from where I was. 

"That fucking bastard," he cursed under his breath. "Wait till I get my hands on you. I'm going to cut off that head of yours, I don't care if they want you alive."

My hands trembled as I heard him say those words, from that moment I figured I am alone, and left to deal with these people who are after my life.

 "Think Damian, think. What did mother say about the locket?" I whispered to myself. "The man in the shop? Show it to him? But how do I deal with this man first?"

The sound of his treading footsteps made my heart churn. I stole a glance of him behind the pine tree's huge trunk, and I noticed that he's nearer than before. 

'He seemed to have some sort of a sword on the side of waist, but he's holding a rifle,'I thought to myself. 'Should you attack him? Or should you not?'

As the man leaned his arm against the pine tree's trunk, I clenched my fists and punched the man to the ground. He let out a whimpering howl as I snatched his rifle from his grasp and threw it with all my strength as far as I could. He was still crippling when I tried to pull out his sword from his waist, but he noticed what I was about to do. 

"Don't you even dare," he threatened, clenching on the sword's hilt. "I shall not die from my own sword's blade."

"Don't you have mercy, killing a child in this cold?" I retorted angrily. "After killing my parents and everything."

"You are no child," he snapped. "You are a threat to the fatherland, and those who are a threat to it, I will kill them all with my own hands. Even if that threat is in the form of a child."

"You are a soldier aren't you?" I said, successfully taking away the sword from him. The man set his eyes with a cold-blooded gaze. "You are wearing the uniform of the secret service."

"Yes I am of the highest ranked soldiers," he replied, sitting on the ground. "But I will do anything my king bids-"

Blood trailed down his forehead as a bullet raced through his skull. It was the other man, he was approaching me while carrying the sinful weapon. The man he killed was now flat to the ground as the snow surrounding him slowly turned crimson red. 

"I apologize that you have to see that my highness," he said. "Unlike him, I am on your side." 

He took off his fur coat and placed it around me, he wasn't swayed by the sword I was pointing at him. 

"Why didn't you kill me?" I asked while gripping firmly on the sword pointed at him. "And why are you addressing me as 'your highness'?"

"It seemed that Charles and Helen never told you," he said, gradually approaching me with his arms raised. "I am on your side just like them. I apologize if I couldn't save them, they knew the risks well when they took you in."

"How can I trust your words?"

"You can have my gun," he replied, throwing his rifle on the ground. I took it and swung the sling to my shoulder and dropped the sword, he took it and pointed it at his fellow soldier.

"Vlad you traitorous son of a-" the bleeding man uttered, but he was stopped when Vlad pinned down his back with the sword. He left the sword standing still just like King Arthur's untouched sword. 

"Now do you trust me?" Vlad , expecting me to put down the gun, but rather I clutched onto it, pointing its muzzle to the ground. 

"I still don't," I flatly replied. 

"You are to go to the shop Helen said, yes?"

"How do you-"

"As I said, your highness I am at your side, and at your disposal as of now," Vlad retorted while placing his shoulder around me, walking through the snow with me. "Though I may be from a different circle as Charles and Helen are, I still am at your side, just, let's say a different organization, your highness."

"Again why are you addressing me like that?"

"Because you are one," Vlad smiled while looking down at me. "You are bleeding, do you want me to carry you?"

I looked down at my feet and noticed one of them was bleeding. The pain hit me just then. I could smell my fresh blood trickling down my skin. As I was about to wipe the blood, Vlad reached down to his knees and wrapped it with a white handkerchief. He grabbed me and carried me.

"I'm sorry it had to happen on the day before your birthday, your highness," he said. "I think Charles and Helen never told you about your lineage thinking it's for your own good, but I think it's the right time. See that golden locket you have, your highness?"

"Yes, mother told me I should always keep it with me," I replied. 

"Yes, and you always should," Vlad replied as he struggled with the rifle swinging on his shoulder. "That locket holds a royal seal, an evidence of your birthright, your highness. Let me guess, they never told you your real name have you? How old would you be tomorrow?"

"No," I glumly replied. "I am going to be eight tomorrow."

"Your father's name is Alphonse Elric Trisanti Stein Von Heilzen, such a long name it is isn't it? A name fit for a ruler. Your father was the late crown prince of Trinitia. And you, Damian Xoferier Stein Von Heilzen is his successor," I could see the genuinity from Vlad's smile. "And I am one of the people who will make sure you will get what's rightfully yours, your highness. And I hope you will take it from that damned uncle of yours. Is this the shop your highness?"

Vlad gently placed me down, fixing his oversized fur coat on my shoulder by clasping the first buttons on its top. Vlad held my hand as we walked inside the shop. We were first greeted by the smell of gunpowder. It was a gunsmith's shop, a place my father and mother frequented, and now I know why they went there a lot. 

"Good day, how could I help you-"

"Bring us in, his highness is injured and your people are dead. I am from Black Santia, an organization that is loyal to the late Prince Alphonse," Vlad said without skipping a beat. He pulled out his leather glove and showed him a golden ring with a black stone. The shop owner trembled in fear as he saw it, he brought us inside a room that seemed like a living room. He prepared warm milk for me, and hot black coffee for Vlad. 

"Explain why you and his highness are here at The Crest," the shop owner said as he sat down on the couch, popping a flask open and chugging it down. "A Black Santian on top of that."

"They want him killed," Vlad replied, settling down on the couch opposite the shop owner. "We had no choice but to interfere. So will you take him in?"

"Yes, but I want no rumors spreading that a Black Santian just walked out of my shop. Do you realize that your mere presence in my shop could get the other mercenaries to target me? Especially now that the bounties on the Black Santians are heftier."

"Of course," Vlad replied, taking a sip of his coffee and returning it to the coffee table. "But you were to teach his highness how to protect himself. With guns, knowing you were a great sniper back in your days, Simon Crest. Oh and here's his highness' funds. Try spending a coin from it and I'll feed your head to the hounds."

Vlad placed a leather bag filled with golden bars on top of the coffee table. The bag was bursting from the gorged golden bars in it that its mouth came undone. Simon choked on his drink from the sight of it. 

"Who was this from? Black Santia?" Simon said.

"No, it was from my lord," Vlad smiled. "Keep in mind that my lord has eyes everywhere, mine included. We'll be watching over you and his highness."

Vlad left the shop as swift as a breeze. I was left alone with Simon, who still seemed to be taking a grasp on the events. 

"You can call me Uncle Simon," he said, breaking the silence. "From now on, I will be your uncle, and legal guardian as that man said."

"What do you do Uncle Simon?"

"I think there's no point in lying to you," he replied. "I am a hitman. And The Crest is a guised shop where I arrange hitmen with clients. Charles and Helen were hitmen tasked to look after you. Don't worry, most of us are on your side. What do you want me to call you?"

"Just Damian, the mister earlier said I have a longer name, but I just prefer it if you call me Damian."

"Damian Stein, how does that sound?" Uncle Simon replied, placing the empty flask on the coffee table. "It had a nice ring to it, didn't it?"

"Yes, Damian Stein is much better," I agreed, finishing the cup of milk I was given. 

From that day on I lived with that name. Never had I thought that its regality would be tainted in blood. 

July 1833, The Crest, City of Veruca, Trinitia

"You're back earlier than I'd expect," Uncle Simon said while polishing his revolver on the counter as I walked in The Crest. His gun shone proudly as he continued wiping it. "I have something for you. Someone wants to meet you."

"Who was it?" I asked while I sank down on the leather armchair in front of the counter. My bones wanted to melt, but if it did happen, that excuse won't be enough for "Uncle" Simon here to send me off to another killing spree."Can't you give it to the other boys? I'm quite beat, Uncle Simon."

"I could tell that just from the state you're in," he replied while placing down the revolver and looking at me from head to toe. He's not surprised anymore when I always walk in covered in blood. He should do some of my work, most of the time he's just polishing his revolver, holding it close to him as if it were a fragile infant. "It's the man who's been asking you to kill nobles, the one who specifically asks us to have you do it."

My head shot right up when I heard him. That murder-fueled saint who had been graciously slapping us with gold showed up? The unknown man that had been tasking The Crest to kill nobles is asking to see me personally? THAT man, 'Lord I'll make The Crest Drown In Gold'? That client never came in person to our shop, instead, he always hired someone to come on his behalf to get the job done for us. In the last three years, seven different men came in on his behalf. Each and one of them would give us a black card with a name engraved in red. And each and one of those men brought bars of gold in a leather bag. But one thing would remain a mystery, or not, that the fact that all the men that client asked to be killed were nobles that supported the current king and worshippers of Kasis. And that they shared the same hatred for the late first prince, my father. 

"What did he say, Uncle Simon? That man," I reached out for the bottle of whiskey and poured myself one. "You reckon it's another cleaning job he wants?"

"Go see him," Uncle Simon replied. "But don't go unarmed."

"Why?" I replied, gulping down the whiskey. 

"He might be asking for you to keep your lips tight. He might be one of those folks that cleans all his traces."

"Of course. Where did he ask you to meet me?" I replied, taking out the revolver on display at the top of the coffee table and loading it with ammunition. "Hopefully not another town or city away from Veruca."

"Oh no he's an odd one, I say," Uncle Simon sighed. 

"Where is it?" I asked, placing the gun on one of my hidden pockets at the upper chest of my coat. 

"He asked to meet you at a temple," Uncle Simon retorted, with a hint of surprise from his own words. "At the temple of Ranos."

"That's something you don't hear everyday, a non-worshipper of Kasis, in a country where most of its people worship the god of order and destruction, and that deity alone. I'm sorry but where is this temple again? I haven't heard of any other sacred places for other deities since our beloved king was set on having just Kasis as our deity."

"It's in La Greza, you'll have to take a train right now if you want to arrive there at night, as he stated," Uncle Simon replied, grinning at me while polishing the revolver. 

"La Greza? Perhaps I heard you wrong. You aren't telling me to go to another country right now just to meet that client right?"

"Oh no, I thought it was a prank too, but his man already paid me. In gold bars as usual," Uncle Simon replied, averting his eyes towards me and giving me a grin. "Now off you go before you miss the last train."

"In Rovelia? Just to meet a client?" I scowled. "I don't even have travel documents how do I-"

"It's already here," Uncle Simon replied, holding up a piece of paper with what seemed to be a gold stamp engraved on it from afar. "That man was prepared. And you better prepare yourself too, for better or for worse, Damian. Let's just hope he's as good as that man who sent you here to me."