Prologue

Rumors said he came from the south, a young boy, no older than sixteen, with raven black hair and streak of gray. He walked into the local tavern, dimly lit, with only a few candles casting flickering shadows on the wooden walls. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of stale ale. The patrons were rowdy and boisterous, their laughter and jeers echoing off the rafters. As soon as the boy entered , he could feel the eyes of the patrons on him. Their expressions were hostile, and he knew he was not welcome. Nevertheless, he strode confidently to the bar, his black coat emblazoned with the emblem of a Black Crow. "One beer please" said the kid, as he sat near the counter.

"Arent you too young for this?" asked the server, as he tried to look at the face of the boy in the dark, trying to judge his age.

"Young enough to pay for the drink" the boy scratched his pockets to take out some copper crowns.

Suddenly, a burly man with a bushy beard stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"What are you doing here, boy?" he growled. "Don't you know we don't like your kind around here?"

The boy didn't flinch. "I'm just looking for a drink," he replied calmly as he put the coins on the counter.

The server grumbled, feigning ignorance, pocketing the coins and filled a mug with frothy beer.

The man sneered while eyeing the boy's on his black coat. "Well, we dont really want your kind here. Get out before we throw you out."

"Sure let me finish my drink"

"We will help you" replied the grunt

Before the boy could react, the man's companions surged forward, fists raised. He ducked and weaved, trying to avoid their blows but someone's boot hit his shin, putting him off balance . He got surrounded, and there was no escape. Suddenly the boy jumped and stood up, and drew his sword, it hissed as it slid from its sheath. The room fell silent, as his blade shined a silver glow in the dim light. The first man lunged at him, but the boy sidestepped and drove his sword through his chest. The man fell to the ground, his eyes wide with shock. The second man swung a heavy iron mug at the boy's head, but he ducked and thrust his sword into the man's gut. Blood gushed from the wound, and the man screamed in agony. The third man came at him with a knife, but the boy knocked it out of his hand with a swift blow from his sword. He then spun around and sliced the man's throat, his blade biting deep into the flesh. The boy was a blur of steel, his sword flashing in the dim light. He moved with an otherworldly grace, as if he was dancing rather than fighting. He parried and pirouetted, his movements fluid and precise. His speed was unmatched, and he killed his opponents with ease. One by one, the patrons fell before him. Some tried to run, but the boy was faster. Others fought back, but they were no match for his skill and ferocity. When the last man lay dead at his feet, the boy lowered his sword, his breathing heavy. He looked around at the carnage he had wrought, the blood and the bodies littering the floor. "Stop right there!" a voice came out from the tavern door. A guard, cladened in red tinted armor barged in, following him a few man with same adorned suit of mail.

"You there! Drop your sword." cried the Guard, who was seemingly the one in charge of the patrol.

"I dont want any trouble, I will come willingly"

"Fuck you will, you have a dozen and a half men here lying dead. Mutilated!" the guards drew their sword and slowly surrounded the boy.

"I will go willingly, there is no need for any problems" The boy raised his arm.

"Oh but there is" snarled a guard as he raised his morningstar and flinged it towards the boy. Despite boasting supreme speed, the boy didnt dodge.

His head spun as he was dragged out of the tavern and into the night air. The guard had struck him with a fierce blow to the head, and he could feel blood trickling down his forehead.

The men dragged him through the darkened streets and they arrived at the town's small jailhouse, a grim, stone building that loomed over the street like a specter.

The guard shoved the boy inside, his hand on the hilt of his own sword and the guards closed the jail door with a loud thud.