1 Prologue & Chapter 1

This story is not one of flying swords or chosen ones it's the story of a normal person someone who is not born exceptional and instead is a story of how this ordinary guy did the extraordinary; and how his story inspired those exceptional people to take action.

This story starts how all others do with a legend that usually begins with "The hero", but that is how the story itself went wrong.

This guy was not a hero he was a man who gave his all for what he held important and what others coverted...his home.

It starts in the land of Albion a country with scenery unlike any before it, with babbling Brooks and rolling green hills; discreetly tucked behind one of those hills is a small town called Avon. The town our story begins and will hopefully end.

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Today like any other I was awoke to the sound of everyday life, people shuffling around and the open fire bringing life to the usually dark and cold hovel I call home.

Looking around you could barely tell that this was a home lived in by a person, it looks like it would barely be adequate for the pigs walking down the mud path just outside the ramshackle door.

I woke up and made my way out of the pile of old hay and fur to a basin of water I got from the well yesterday and threw it over myself looking back at my reflection to find a my reflection showing a weathered face despite being only 24 years of age, working whilst exposed to the elements has taken its toll, my once blond hair mottled black and my body hunched after years of tending the fields.

After my brief wash and eating the stale bread I found somewhere on the floor, I donned my shirt and pants and proceeded to do what I do everyday pick up my hoe and get to making sure the fields are turnt and ready for planting, when a hurried gallop can be heard crossing the village with what seems to be a rider bearing the sigil of the local lord Baron Treslet...a lord who has been good to us we are not that prosperous a territory but he never taxes us more than we can survive on as he has the wits to acknowledge that if his people die off the tax income of the fief will decrease more than he will lose if we have to pay what we can afford.

The rider was going straight for the centre of the village and approached the sign post before attaching a sheet of paper and mounting his horse before continuing on to the next village down the line.

My curiosity took the better of me and carried me towards the sign post to see the news which arrived with our ever so fleeting guest. As soon as I approached the paper the first words captured my eyes.

"Recruiting any man of fighting age...", I instantly turned my back anyone who accepts this call to arms is a fool...Ohhh how naive I was to think that this would have just been the end but was instead the beginning of a path that will change my life forever.