1 Chapter 1: Dream

"Raise your sword!" An intimidating shout echoed across the training ground. The thunderous voice managed to disorient a little kid in the middle of a fight which resulted in him getting hit, right above his pelvis. The force of the impact sent his body skimming across the dirty ground. When he tried to get up waves of agony rushed through his battered body.

"Get up!" Yelled the same intimidating voice. "No Beyrek runs from pain," it said.

The kid used his wooden sword as a cane to propel his weakened body back on his feet, but after all the rough treatment that he had to endure it provided quite difficult. His small and still undeveloped body started to give in.

The one who was tormenting the kid at the moment was a middle-aged man, with strong facial features, and an even stronger physic. The man waited until the kid got back on his feet, then he raised his wooden sword, ready to send another vicious strike, but his attention was caught by a woman running towards him.

"Stop hitting him!" Screamed the woman at the top of her lungs, but the man paid her no heed.

He struck the boy again, hitting him in the shoulder with such a blow that it would have made even a grown man flinch.

"Aaagh!" Grunted the kid in a childish voice, his fingers clung to the wooden swords like a drowning man clung to a saving branch. Griping the wooden sword so tightly helped him bare with the pain, and it also allowed him to stay on his feet.

When the woman saw what the man had done, she run even faster, and closed the almost one hundred meters in just a few moments.

The woman was visibly distressed when she stepped in between the burly man and the kid.

The man didn't want to hear the woman's nonsense, so he gestured with his hand in such a way that it seemed like he was driving away some flies, and said. "Move woman. It's enough that you spoil him every day, now you want to interfere after what he has done?" Inquired the man in a tight voice.

"Seven!" Said the woman.

"What seven?" Asked the man confused.

"He is just seven years old!" The woman didn't know how to stop this whole ordeal, so she decided to point out the boys age thinking that the man will show some compassion after remembering it. But she could read from his facial expression that he never forgot how old the boy was, so her words fell on deaf ears.

"You were also a kid once," she said. "And sometimes accidents happen. Why can't you be more lenient to your own son?" Her voice sounded more desperate the more she spoke.

Watching his mom interfere made the kids' eyes water. The plethora of mixed emotions that he felt overflowed his young mind, like a river breaking through a dam his tears fell uncontrollably. He had received quite the beating until now, yet he never shed a single tear, nor did he beg for mercy. He knew better than to do that.

Seeing that her son needed her comfort, the woman ignored her husband's piercing gaze, and kneeled down. She observed all of the visible wounds on her child's face, and in an instant her heart tightened, her breath shortened, and her eyes filled with pain and love in a strange fiery union strengthening her resolve. Softly she caressed his cheeks, wiped away his tears, and gave him a tight embrace.

"Accident? , do you take me BAREON THUR BEYREK! For a fool? , he burned the little girl's arm to a crisp," Bareon said with a penetrating voice. "And didn't you see what he did to his own cousin? And for what? A stupid toy, he has thousands of such toys. "His words stirred up memories that his wife tried to ignore or even worse, forget.

"Not once in the almost five hundred years of the history of our House did a Beyerek cower from his actions," Bareon said. "Nor did we ever do cruel stuff for no reason. If he can't control his fiery temper, I will teach him how to do it, if he can't show courage I will encourage him, and if he can't understand that his actions have consequences, then I will beat him until he gets it."

His voice was steady, his eyes as clear as water, his intention virtuous, and his actions understandable.

"If you are going to keep this up I will have you sent back to Kotia, to your father." He said with just the hint of a threat. "Now move".

Bareon knew he was at fault for this situation as much as his wife was, the only difference is that he accepted what happened, and knew something must be done about it, least they wished for their son to become a sadistic cunt.

Having been married for a few years, she knew her husband's fiery temper would get worse if things didn't go his way. Usually when his temper got out of control, she just did whatever he wished in order to appease him, and only argued about the crux of the matter after he calmed down.

Now, however, fearing that he might cross the line of no return in his outburst, she didn't move. Her righteous side knew her husband was right, they're son's behaviour must not be endorsed, and that some sort of punishment must be ensued.

But the mother in her, opposed to this with all her might. She knew that her child's tight embrace was a silent plea for help. She wished to tell him. "Everything's gonna be fine, Mom will love you and protect you no matter what". But the words wouldn't listen to her, for they were being constrained by the brutal images of what he has done.

"Father, I'm..."

....

"My Lord! , My Lord! Are you awake?" Yelled a high pitched voice. The annoying voice seeped through a young man's dream bringing him back to reality.

The young man's green eyes greeted the daylight with his brows slightly furrowed, and his gaze still unfocused. It seemed as if he was lost in thought trying to remember something, but to no avail. The dream he had was slowly slipping away with the night.

The young man didn't let his thoughts linger on useless stuff, especially on things he can't control, he pushed away the bed sheets, and said "come in!".

A soldier entered the big tent, and the first thing he saw was a young man in his early twenties sitting at the edge of the bed with his bare torso, and disheveled long, brown, hair. When the soldier saw that light brown hair, he had the feeling that somebody dipped a jar of honey on the young Lord's head, envisioning such an act amused him greatly, but he didn't let his thoughts show on his face, only in his eyes you could tell that something was going on.

The soldier made his way towards a small table, and placed all the food that he had brought with him. "Is it morning already?" Asked a hoarse voice.

"Yes my lord" respectfully said the soldier. The young man was a little bit surprised by how hoarse his voice was at the moment, but after a long night of singing and drinking it was only natural for it to occur.

"Ahm, lord Arkin, if you wish to see the fourth prince, he should be down hill, in the grass field." Said the soldier before excusing himself.

Arkin stood up from his bed, feeling a bad itch on his back, as though he had been clad in raw wool for weeks, he tried to scratch his back, but his well defined muscles wouldn't allow him that pleasure. He wasn't big, only average, but looking at him people could tell that if he hit you it would hurt no less than if some Orc did it. He ignored his back, and diverted his attention to the fresh food that lay on the table.

Nothing on it, pleased his eye, still he had to eat, so he picked a random piece of chicken, and wolfed it down, after that he exited the tent with his bare torso wearing only a pair of leather boots, and some fancy pants made from cotton.

When Arkin stepped outside, the beautiful sunrise blinded him, the birds chirping deafened him, and the wondrous scenery knocked the wind out of him, for a few moments he felt as if a new magnificent world had opened its doors to him. He felt alive, like never before.

Arkin inhaled softly, trying to keep that new found feeling, and the sweet cold air diffused through his lungs, like wildfire through dry grass. "One fine day this is," he said, he took another deep breath, and went to search for the prince.

He arrived at the edge of a the hill, where he saw another young man walking through the verdant grassland, he recognized that young man. It was Verid, the fourth prince of Agnis.

Without much thought Arkin went down as well, his descent was straightforward until he noticed two peculiar things, the first one was the grass, it was so abnormally tall that it reached Verid's upper tight, and the other peculiar thing is that Verid was washing his face with the dew, that formed on the grass.

"Verid, how come I catch you first thing in the morning washing yourself with dew," Arkin asked in a sarcastic manner, "don't tell me you started believing in the old saying?." He didn't wait for an answer. He threw himself in the tall grass, and rolled in it, like a log thrown down hill, aiming to get as wet as possible.

Hearing his friend's remark Verid passed his fingers across his hair trying to comb it to the side, but the task proved to be a difficult one because of the wind that blew across his face, he seemed to be the same age as Arkin, but, with an oval face shape, and eye catching dark hair, in fact, his hair was so dark that even the morning light couldn't escape that darkness, pair that with his mesmerizing blue eyes and you get the perfect example of how a handsome young man should look like.

"You know, I don't believe that nonsense," Verid said in a calm voice. "But I'm willing to give it a try," he added.

He noticed that Arkin was looking at some soldiers in the distance doing the same thing as they were. "Yesterday, after you got drunk, and went to sleep," Verid made a brief pause, to see if Arkin was paying attention and then continued. "I spoke with some of our soldiers, and they reminded me why people enjoy the summer feast, and since we are going to Kotia I might as well give it a try and do all of the rites".

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