Cities Washed With Blood

"Put!" The sound of a fist hitting flesh sounded out in the old cottage, outside of the village.

"You little bastard! I told you to get me more ale! Are you incapable of even doing that?" The sound of a ruff, and hoarse old mans voiced sounded from inside. "Father! Please stop hitting me! I even asked Auntie Anne, down at the brewery but they where all sold out, please believe me!" A young boy with black hair was curled into a ball in the corner of the wooden cottage, his black eyes shining with the reflection of his tears. Bruises could be seen on his exposed pant leg, that had clearly been ripped to shreds by some type of animal.

"You think I don't know how your leg got ripped you damn bastard! You went to Cylia's again, you cretin! You think your a playboy eh? I was too before you killed my wife!" The old man roared, as he took his dark boot and kicked the child in the stomach. "Ugh..." The boy let out a groan as he tried to crawl to his feet, "Shink" The sound of a blade being pulled from it's sheath echoed out through the log cabin.

The boy looked around to see his father there holding a dagger to his back right above his heart. "Father! Please don't do it, I didn't mean to upset you!" The boy said as he spat up globs of blood, the old mans hands where shaking above the boys back, as if he was deciding whether to kill him or to kill himself. After minutes of ice cold silence and a dagger just above his heart, George made one last plead for mercy "Father, your son will go and find some for you, please Father, please!"

Those words made the man lay down his dagger, as he pushed it back into his sleeve, with a "put" he kicked the boy one last time, and said "You better if you can't find me any ale don't even think of coming back here you hear me? You damn bastard!" "Get OUT! NOW!" The old man said as he forcibly picked the boy up and tossed him out the door. "Slam... Creak" The sound of the wooden door being slammed behind the boy, almost sounded like the wails of pity of a thousand ghouls.

With one last struggle he got to his feet, and started to walk on the dirt road to the village.

The boy lived just outside of the village called "Star Gate" it was called that because it was on the border of "The Kingdom of Stars" albeit no ever actually came to the village it still gave the villagers pride.

"Trud, Trud" The sound of the boys little feet on the coarse dirt sounded for what seemed like forever till he finally got to the gates of the village. The gates that seemed like a mountain compared to the young boy towered over him.

To the right of the wooden gate in a dark old rocking chair, sat a man covered in cheap chainmail that looked like someone tied it together with rope. "Excuse me sir!" George shouted out at the guard in a hushed voice.

"Huh! Who goes there!" The soldier said as he lept up from his napping chair with his hand on the hilt of his sword. The soldier looked around before finally settling on the boy before him who wore shaggy green clothes tied together with a rope as a belt.

As he looked at the boy a deep feeling of contempt, and disgust radiated out of his eyes that where covered by half of his helm. "Oh it's you bastard boy. Tsk. Open the gate!" The man shouted.

"Rghhhhh." The sceeching of the wood sounded out, as the gate slowly opened, and the boy walked in. Star Gate was a very small village with not even a hundred people living there.

As George walked down the street he saw people looking at him through their windows, when he looked at them they would quickly shut their shutters with a "bang." George was considered bad luck, ever sense his mother died while giving birth to him everyone viewed him as a demon, but what had he done wrong? All that had happened was he was born? Why was the world so cruel to him? Only fate knows.

"Georgey! Georgey!" As George slowly trudged down the road toward the only market in town he heard a young girl call for him. He quickly turned around to see Cylia running towards him, holding a hand woven basket in her hand. George slowed down and allowed her to catch up to him.

"Hey Georgey, why are you back so soon?" The soft velvety sound of the young girl's voice entered his ears as his looked down at the ground. He only murmered in response. "Georgey? Did something happen? Did your Father beat you again?" Her tone suddenly shifted into a angry, almost hateful pitch as she talked about his father.

"It's fine" George said as he still stared at his feet. "Look at me!" Cylia said as she used her soft snow like hands to forcibly pull George's face up to look at her emerald green eyes, and curly blonde hair. Looking back at cylia was a black eye, and a motuh with blooding dripping out of it.

Cylia's gaze turned very caring, "George let me fix that for you." She said as she took her other hand and held it out infront of his face.

A green glow came out from the palm of her hand, when the warm glow touched George's face he felt refreshed, and ready for anything. At the same time the wounds on his face started to heal, after a few minutes all that was left was dried blood, and dirt.

"Cylia your magic always amazes me... Too bad you will be going to the Royal Capital to attend the school of magic." George said as his smile turned into a frown.

The girl's caring look turned into a sharp gaze that looked at him, her white skirt fluttered in the poower of her mana "Georgey! I told you to stop putting yourself down! When I graduate I will come, and find you! Don't worry! Even if you can't use magic, I won't curse you. Just because your mother died does not make you a devil!" Cylia's soft voice entered George's ears, and went to his heart with a "badump" a tear rolled down his cheeck. "Thank you Cylia."