Chapter 1
"Would you like to stand or kneel?" A heavily armored guard asked a pink haired boy with hard eyes full of contempt. The guard wore thick chain-mail armor, with thick sturdy steel. The shine the armor gave off blinded worse than sunlight. The boy was staring ahead but the glare in his eyes was still obscuring his sight.
"I don't think y'heard," another guard threatened. "Stand or kneel boy?" The boy said nothing. It wasn't as if he had a real choice, hands bound and legs tied, he'd end up kneeling anyway. A guard forced him to the ground; he wasn't surprised and made no moves to stop him. He forced the boy down and the boy complied, placing his head on the stone before him. His neck was aligned with the indentation in the stone slab.
The cobble stone he was forced upon was deathly cold. Old blood hung to sharp rocks and filled it's many crevasses, showing lack of sanitation. A sizable crowd had gathered to watch the slaughter. The glimpses he caught of everyone there allowed cold hearted scorn to flame in his eyes and likewise, in his heart. They feared the empire and hid in their homes like cowards.
The empire loved people like them. Mindless shells of people who didn't question authority and handed over hefty taxes. They hated people like him, who rebelled and scorned them for their many irresponsibilities. For their killing in the streets and fatuous fines.
He'd always been an incredulous person. Believing in beliefs that were his own. Nothing was handed down to him and he needed nothing of the like. He knew who he was, and if not he'd search the wild for his meaning and die for that, than get an identity handed to him from the empire.
Those who dared to ask questions lost their heads. That was exactly what was happening. He felt a blade settle across his neck: testing. All the guards were sadistic and needed not time to wait for death or 'divine justice' as the empire labeled it. They claimed to keep the streets safe from scoundrels but that was not the case. The only enemy ever, was the empire.
No criminals or petty thief's were killed until a grand speech was given and the criminal was made an example of for all who disobeyed. However, he was neither stupid nor blind. No matter how many 'examples' the empire sacrificed no messages were ever truly embedded in the minds of any inhabitants. For there was only fear.
Not all feared the empire and that was the disturbance. A country divided amongst itself cannot stand. If it does, not for long.
"Ladies and gentleman! We've gathered here today because of safety concerns for our children and ourselves. Everyday we cannot deny we have criminals among us. Be it a friend, a neighbor, or even our valued family." Glances were cast in the crowd. Glances of suspicion, worry, turmoil, and most of all fear.
"When was it that our own homes stopped being safe? Hmm? It is because people of this kind walk among our streets! Drilling lies into our children since they be our only future. All that remains standing of anything after us." The guard thrust a finger accusingly at the boy. He still didn't move, nor did he speak. "The empire has kept us safe from harm and war and this is how scoundrel like him repay us?"
"The empire is filled with lies and scum," the boy finally spoke. His voice was no louder than a calm speech and little of a whisper. "Lies we've been force fed and denied to spit out due to fear. Our trust has been bought and the politicians waste our money to lavish only themselves while others are oppressed." The guard delivered a swift kick to the boy, resting a foot on him. The edge of a rock bit into his throat and he didn't speak any longer.
"The lies this man speaks will poison our children! The empire assures you we will protect you from this." He removed his foot. "The man sitting before you is a criminal! His misdemeanors and felonies are plentiful! His endless crimes against humanity and constant manslaughter will be justified by his death!"
A man stepped up behind the guard and handed him a scroll. He was dressed in a multitude of fine purple silks and rich reds. "We will now read all the charges," The guard said. He stepped up to a pedestal and the crowd fell silent. A few individuals hushed their children and asked them to return to their homes. Ever more continued to watch.
"Yuma VY2, descendant of noble birth, you are being charged with; multiple accounts of assault, arson, burglary as well as accessory and bribery. Extortion of aristocrats and embezzlement. Murder, forgery and theft on many accounts. Finally, conspiracy and tax evasion." The guard rolled up the scroll and handed it back to the man that had passed it to him. "Your many acts are considered treason against our country and the empire! Only justifiable by death. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"
Yuma said nothing. He wouldn't allow the empire satisfaction of seeing him beg for his life. He wouldn't deny his charges either because he was infact very guilty.
"No last words huh?" The guard chuckled. "Fine then, on with it!" The guard practiced swings several times before he felt prepared for the real one. Lining up everything perfectly, he aimed and took his swing. Yuma sat and waited. He didn't move and didn't attempt to escape.
Everyone and everything in this godforsaken country had to pay a price. Their's was freedom, his was just his life.
But the guards blade broke no skin and heads did not roll. The blood of Yuma VY2 did not spill that day, but the guards did.
In seconds what was to be an execution twisted to turmoil as adults, adolescence and children alike fled in all directions. Screams rang out in the crowd as many citizens were tripped, others trampled.
Everything that had been so organized had easily twisted into chaos. Yuma rose to a kneel and watched everyone run. A wave of disgust and sickness flooded through him. Eyeing those who dared to cast their gaze at him with disdain.
He hadn't done anything, neither had he wished to be saved. Yet, he had been. For what purpose had he been spared? The questioned puzzled him and yet also eluded him like a bird. Fleeing the more he tried to contact the thought. The sky had darkened considerably: an entire sea of red fire streaking across the sky. He could view it clearly from the plaza he was in without the cities stone and stucco buildings obscuring his view.
He got to his feet and the rope around his ankles broke with ease. He was surprised when his hands were no longer bound just like his feet. A presence loomed behind him and he whipped around on his heels with a stance ready for an incoming attack.
Two hooded figures stood before him and said nothing. They were garbed in a deep red, the hems and edges of their cloaks a bloody black. Their faces were covered and revealed nothing, silence bleed off them like the suns light. He sensed no hostility but held his guard.
"Yuma?" One hooded figure spoke. Their voice was gravely like dirt and yet managed a prideful tone. He heard the voice thick inside his head. Their blasted hoods kept him from knowing if they'd spoken with their lips or not. There was no crest on their breasts so he did not know whom they worked for.
"Who are you?" Yuma asked skeptically. He loathed at that moment he had already been stripped of his weapons long ago. He would've preferred to have a dagger or two if this proceeding went awry.
"You already know who we are and what we've come for in another frame of your mind." The second hooded figure spoke. Yuma felt as if his questioned hadn't exactly been answered but he refused to protest about it.
"I pledge allegiance to no one so I ask again, whom is it you work for!" Yuma screamed, wishing he could strike down these pursuers.
"The father of the sanguine has chosen you,"
"And if I wish not to be chosen?"
"You have been chosen. One would not be so foolish as to deny Sanguine."
Yuma stood rightfully where he was. A burning anger swelled inside him but he stood his ground. Whoever these people were, he knew defeating them would be a mundane task to him, and yet chose to stay where he was. He knew not whom Sanguine was or why he was chosen. He'd been chosen before by the Order to serve as rightful protector.
The very same people who had chosen him in the Order had betrayed him to this fate. He'd never trust again, not in this lifetime or the next. Being saved without his consent by some Lord he didn't know didn't mean he owned these hooded people anything. No one had the right to demand anything from him and he hated all whom thought they could. Especially those who forced his hand. His hatred for the Order burned hot and passionate as an affair. But it was the orders affairs he wished not to be caught up in, though he didn't know this Sanguine, he might as well listen to whatever offer was being given while the guards were at bay.
"Then I shall listen to your proposal, make it quick." Yuma snorted. He rubbed at his wrists and was entertained by the thought of walking away.
"Our father of the darkest night has but only given us a message. There are no proposals or instructions. What you choose to do with the gift he's bestowing upon you is yours alone." The hooded figure cautioned him.
"So he saved me to waste my time?" Yuma asked kicking at the stone beneath his foot. "Tell your Lord I don't want his gift," he spat, the venomous tone in his voice stung even him.
From the hooded figures gloved hand a single sword was produced. A fine ebony blade with a crystal handle. The blade itself was of the purest blue and shimmered brilliantly in the blurred light. The sky above him ran red and flames seemed to combust out of nowhere. The screaming in the distance seemed to have increased. "At least take your sword."
Yuma stretched his hand out and ripped his sword from the hand of the hooded figure. He did not ask why or how they'd gotten his sword out of the castle holds. Mostly because he didn't care. His hate for the empire was only rivaled by the Order that had not so long ago framed him and traded him away.
The pain of betrayal was one not healed so lightly.
"I have no intention of thanking you for anything that's taken place here," Yuma declared firmly. It was slight but the hooded figure nodded.
"There is no need for thanks child, only actions."
Yuma was stopped momentarily in bitter surprise. He glanced around quickly thinking of taking his leave. Bolting into the orange and red light of a failing city capital was a very tempting and persuasive idea. Fires seemed to have been lit everywhere and not a single guard was doing a thing about it. The attack of the messengers of Sanguine was unrivaled by anything he'd ever seen. The entire city seemed to glow red and crimson lined the streets in wet pools. Despite the chaos everyone seemed to be frozen. He'd already known something to happen in the capital and the thought of physically being there to witness such a happening was appealing to him.
He had never been one to entirely fancy fables and tales of such events in books and scrolls. If given the chance he loved to be in the center of the actions. He had a certain zeal for being the main reason such commotions were caused. For it was another reason for the all mighty Order to hate him, another way for them to wish they'd taken the original risk and killed him instead. As much trouble as he could cause those old sacs of sagging, drying skin the better.
Deeming that the castle was where the most turmoil would be, Yuma swiftly decided on heading in that direction. After all it wouldn't be too hard to scale the walls and with a glance down at the articles he was clothed in he wouldn't be all too bad if he managed to nab something a little more...fitting for himself.
The air rushed past Yuma as he sprinted towards the castle. He dodged and slipped into several alleys to avoid confused guards who would without a doubt strike him on sight. He'd be at the palace in no time at this rate and once he was, there would be no stopping the hell he would raise.