2

Chapter 2

Baxter Swiller POV.

"This isn't right... This isn't fair..." Baxter thought miserably as he watched the scene unfold before him.

In the middle of the street stood an old man holding a sign that read 'We Must Fight', alongside a young girl dressed in black.

Both were clearly trying to rally support, both were trying to convince passersby that fighting against the army was a righteous cause, they were doing everything they could to raise the morale of the crowds surrounding them. However, neither of them seemed to realize that their cause was doomed to fail since the soldiers in front of them refused to listen. In fact, it wasn't until the man was hit repeatedly in the face with one of the swords of one of the warriors that he gave up and stopped fighting. As soon as he did, the crowd cheered. Baxter sighed. Why were the military always such douchebags?

Baxter had seen many battles, fought many foes. The Brotherhood was the best mercenary group in Trost, known for their speed and stealth tactics. Even their enemies, the Empire's armies of the west, were often unable to stop Baxter's troops from advancing. They never lasted long either. So, why was the Imperial Army still able to hold onto land and resources in the west, while the Brotherhood was losing theirs every day?

Baxter was well trained in battle tactics, he excelled at the art of fighting. He had seen countless of battles, heard hundreds of stories, studied thousands of books, and yet it never ceased to impress upon him just how unfair life could be sometimes. For instance, a man could fight for ten years without receiving any recognition and gain nothing in return except death, poverty, and suffering. And that same man could die in a few months and have nothing to show for it.

But he still held out hope, no matter how slim, that somewhere, somehow things might improve and that someday things would change. After all, that's what his dad said, that the universe worked in mysterious ways, that there were forces beyond human perception. He didn't believe in god or anything like that but sometimes it helped to believe in something outside of yourself. He believed his life was destined for greatness in spite of all the struggles ahead of him. He hoped someday he'd earn the respect of his peers in battle. Because he wanted to protect his friends, he also wanted to protect the weak, the powerless and the innocent. That's what his father told him to do. To protect.

'Protect! Protect! Protect!' Baxter chanted inside his head. 'Keep the peace, protect innocent lives. Protect all living beings. Protect all things, especially the future. Protect. Protector. Protect. Protect. Protect. Protect!' With each word, Baxter repeated the mantra over and over again to try and calm himself, although it didn't seem to be working all that well.

Suddenly a huge blast occurred from a distance, causing Baxter to drop the wooden sword he held, which shattered into pieces as it fell. He turned around to see who had been shot, but he saw nobody. He looked around in panic, wondering where the attacker had gone. Suddenly a familiar silhouette appeared in the sky. It was an eagle flying toward them.

"Whoa…that is really a cool bird…who is that?" Baxter said quietly under his breath. 'Wait…that means the eagle is attacking…but it shouldn't be able to get here already….Unless that guy's powers are really that powerful…but how? Unless…'

'Oh no…no…please no, please no…' The last person he ever wanted to see was his own murderer standing right in front of him.

"Oh God! No no no no no! What are you doing?" Baxter cried as he ducked underneath the tree he was under. 'Don't do it! Stop!'