The night was his cover, his partner-in-crime, a shield against any unfortunate eyes that happened to chance upon him. Ivan Braginsky crouched on the mansard roof of his victim's house, violet eyes trained on the backdoor which had been left ajar. A pistol was held firmly in his gloved hands. He was extremely confident of his aim, often not needing a rifle to complete long-range assassinations. The gun that he held was a rarity model in the kingdom of Durandal, or anywhere else in the world, Ivan guessed. Guns were a new technology, and regular civilians had little chance to own one, or let alone touch them. The miniscule gun he held in his hand was specially made by a man he both respected and feared in order to carry out his trade – assassination.

Three nights ago, his client had made a strange request once again. This client was very specific about how the assassination was to be carried out as he handed Ivan a torn and tattered list of names. To be killed cleanly when they're alone and then twisted into a grotesque piece of "art". Ivan hadn't been particularly keen on this job, especially since it meant he would have to dirty his hands, quite literally, as he carried out the task. As he read through the list of names, he was aware of the fact that many of these victims were all of a particular class. In fact, he even knew some of them himself. The victims were either young adults with extremely promising futures or successful middle aged men with a wealth of money. Yet what was common amongst these were that they all came from mysterious backgrounds, just appearing in town one day without a single penny and then becoming a public figure the next.

Ivan guessed this client either bore a grudge, or was chasing them down from wherever they had come from. Either way, it was not exactly his business to enquire. He had accepted when he heard of the generous payment and supplies given to aid the completion of this job. Shortly after signing a contract, his client had vanished, fading into the night as if he never was there. The only things he left behind that bore evidence of his presence was another note torn out of a notebook, stating that he would be back in two weeks to check up on the progress, as well as a sleek black case filled with several notes and pieces of equipment.

A soft click was heard as the door was pushed open and a middle-aged man stepped out, a wisp of smoke spiralling up towards the sky as he exhaled loudly. A sudden gust of wind blew in Ivan's direction, causing the large man to frown in distaste as he unwillingly inhaled the smoke. Silver hair fluttered in the breeze and well-toned arms shifted slightly, adjusting their aim. Ivan watched the man standing below him, blissfully unaware of his impending death as the man lifted the cigarette to his mouth. Ivan's grip tightened and there was an almost imperceptible 'click' as the trigger was squeezed.

The man staggered forward, mouth agape in a silent scream of surprise. The lit cigarette fell from his lips, extinguishing as it fell in the growing pool of blood that had blossomed under the man's shattered skull. A grey mass was also visible next to the man's bulging eyes. His brain, Ivan assumed. It had been a good shot, going straight through the skull and killing the victim before he had hit the ground. Barely any noise too, Ivan thought as he once again carefully examined the gun. Well, it didn't really matter much, since this particular house was several miles from any other sign of civilization. The lack of sound from the firearm would prove useful in any city assassination though.

Swiftly, Ivan slid the gun into its holster and slid down the roof. He uttered a single grunt of discomfort as his shirt caught on the uneven roof tiles, causing his pale skin to be exposed to the unrelenting temperatures of the night for a short moment. Landing with a soft thud on the grass, Ivan started towards the body. A small crack was heard as he took a step closer to inspect the corpse. Looking down, he realised he had stepped on the man's hand and quickly removed his foot, grimacing as he saw the mess it had left on the bottom of his boots. He slowly surveyed the surroundings before making his way to the base of the tree and picking up a worn branch which he then used to scrape off the small remains that had stuck to the bottom of his boots.

He turned back, about to toss the branch aside when he thought better of it. He had to disfigure the body, didn't he? Ivan allowed himself a small childish smile as he strode towards the corpse that was slowly stiffening.

Anyone who had listened closely that night, beneath the idle hoot of a passing owl and the gentle sounds of branches brushing against each other was a more sinister and suspicious sound of bones snapping, metal creaking and the occasional snap of wood.

Anyone checking on Mr Victim the next morning would also have seen the grisly remains of a once-healthy man twisted, turned and contorted into a mass of entangled, broken limbs, hung on a metal pole that was bent into a perfect hanger shape, adorned with a wooden crown which pierced the already shattered skull as it sat on the body's, if it could be called a body at all, head. They would also probably notice the pair of crows perched on two shoulders, or possibly arms or legs, each holding a red orb in its beak. Peering closer, they would also realise that those two red orbs would indeed be the poor soul's eyeballs, pecked straight out of his skull. Instead of his eyes, one empty hole was filled with a grey smooth stone. Upon even closer inspection, the small stone would bear a childish drawing of a smiley face, splattered in dry blood as it grinned innocently at the sky.

oOoOoOoOo

When one wakes up, they have certain things they don't exactly want to wake to. For example, the weight of a body pressing against one's flesh. Cold, dead flesh. A man's eyes, devoid of any life, staring at his own. Ivan swallowed an urge to throw up, instead scrambling away clumsily, his hands fumbling around blindly behind him as he scrabbled for purchase on the wet floor. He inhaled sharply as his hand came into contact with something dry and hard. Turning slowly, he didn't register what he was holding until a few moments later. His hand clutched a human femur. If that wasn't the most frightening, it wasn't just a mere piece of bone he held. It was a portion of the femur that he has grasped. The other end of the femur was still covered in flesh, flesh that still oozed black, foul-smelling blood, flesh that was still alive. Barely, though.

A wet, shuddering breath was heard and Ivan whipped his head around to face the owner of the femur. It was a lady, her head covered in a fine coat of dried blood. One eye spinned restlessly in its socket, the whites stained a sickly yellow while the woman frothed at the mouth. A sickly, green foam gathered at the corners of the woman's cracked and broken lips as she attempted to mouth a few words to Ivan. Her one remaining good eye was fixed on Ivan's own violet ones.

"Run, child."

The woman's eyes widened momentarily as she uttered those words, before heaving a cough that wracked through her body. Ivan was frozen, before something kicked in and he stood up quickly, making himself dizzy in the process. His legs were unsteady as he looked around. As far as he looked, the place was a graveyard. Gone was the cheerful place he had known.

"Hey, there's one more here!"

Ivan remembered turning at those words, eyes suddenly flickering with a faint glimpse of hope as he saw another being, one that wasn't dead or dying yet. Yet that hope was crushed as he registered the man's dark brown uniform stained with blood, the hardened expression and the barrel of the gun that pointed at him. A loud 'bang' resounded through the desolate village and all Ivan remembered was the fear, the heavy impact, the pain and then, the welcoming darkness.

Ivan awoke abruptly, bolting upright in bed and throwing back the heavy covers. Drenched in cold sweat, he leapt upright and threw open the small windows, inhaling deeply as he tried to clear his head of the cloying smell of death. The morning air was crisp and cold, cold to the extent of hurting his nose as he breathed. He was used to this, though. This cold. He hadn't felt warm in a while. Almost as if in a daze, Ivan swept his hand over the flattened area on the bed where he had succumbed to sleep. There wasn't a trace of warmth on those sheets, he found. He exhaled slowly, admiring the light mist that formed in front of his face.

A knock sounded on the wooden door. "Mister? Breakfast period is ending soon if you're interested," the kindly voice of an elderly man broke through the momentary feeling of absolute nothingness.

Ivan nodded, before realising that the man wasn't able to see him. Instead, he shouted that he would be down shortly, quite softly actually for Ivan wasn't one to shout in the morning. Standing now, Ivan wrapped a pale scarf snugly around his neck and donned a tan coat. Satisfied that he now looked like a normal civilian and not at all like a sinister assassin, Ivan made his way downstairs, welcoming the aroma of cooked food as he finally realised he hadn't eaten since the previous day.

oOoOoOoOo

So the story of brutal deaths wasn't a mere fable, it seemed. Alfred stood in the backyard of the unfortunate man, staring at the corpse with hooded eyes. The sight was appalling, and those damned crows weren't helping. They cawed raucously at him as he approached the corpse. He knew it was dead, but he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that clouded his mind. His hands instinctively reached for his sword as yet another crow swooped in to join the gang.

Who could have done such a thing? Alfred was puzzled. Of course, in the vast kingdom of Durandal every man had his enemies. But to go to such an extent? Alfred once again fought the urge to throw up, reaching up to cover his nose as he caught the scent of rotting flesh. As a battle-hardened warrior, Alfred had obviously seen his share of blood and gore, but this was just… Alfred shook his head in disgust and turned away. He waved a hand towards the young soldier that stood a few paces behind.

"It's enough, let's leave," Alfred quickened his pace, brushing past him. "I want to get out of this place as soon as possible."

Toris turned quietly and strode after Alfred. The only sound that was heard was the clank of metal amour shifting as the two men picked their way amongst deep ruts in the dirt ground, moving slowly towards their horses, who were groundtied beneath a tree. As Alfred approached his horse, he swore he saw a faint green glitter behind the grazing equines and squinted, wondering if he saw anything. He darted to the left, startling Blackjack, his horse, as he did so. Satisfied when he realised there was indeed nothing, Alfred quickly swung his leg over Blackjack's back before checking that his companion was ready. The young man quickly took up his customary position, riding slightly behind Alfred to keep an eye out for any danger, before moving off at a brisk trot.

For the long period of the long ride back to the city, there was absolutely nothing eventful. Really, a peaceful two hours with an unbearably hot sun and a young horse that decided that every blade of grass moving was a predator waiting to strike. Naturally, Alfred had to do something to ease the boredom. He shifted restlessly in the saddle before turning back. He opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut as something caught his eye.

Wordlessly, Alfred turned Blackjack away from the well-worn dirt path that they were currently utilizing and cut through the long grass, leaving it parted and waving wildly in his wake. With a heavy sigh, Toris turned to follow, weaving through the parted blades as he gave chase. More than once a random blade of grass would whack him in the face, leaving him blinded and galloping blindly through the field as he struggled to locate Alfred. It was a fortune that Durandal had superbly trained warhorses. Toris' own grey mount managed to locate the coal black rump of Blackjack and made a bee-line for him, taking his master's safety into his own hands. Or hooves, for that matter.

Meanwhile, Alfred had approached the object that had caught his eye. Not really an object, though. What Alfred had spotted a particularly large cloth training dummy, studded with throwing knives and bearing many scars across areas that would prove fatal on a human body. He rode closer, stretching his hand out to brush against the worn fabric, internally flinching as he traced the one of the many holes on the dummy.

"Alfred! Please don't stray too far next time!" Toris had caught up by now and was glaring at Alfred sternly while brushing some stray strands out of his face.

The little ponytail that he had tied when they set out for the journey was now undone and his hair stuck to the sides of his face. All in all, Toris gave the impression of a flustered young man dying of heat after a long run. Essentially, Toris was exactly that. Alfred couldn't help but laugh heartily at his friend's appearance.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Alfred gave Toris a reassuring grin. "I'm quite sure you would've spotted anything dangerous from afar anyway!"

Toris tried to maintain a stern expression but failed miserably. He settled for a small smile as he maneuvered past the training dummy and back into position. At once, Blackjack started forward, ears pricked as he trotted towards the city, heeding the training that was instilled into his mind as a colt. Alfred sat back comfortably in the saddle, tilting his head up to gaze leisurely at the slowly darkening sky. Grey clouds rolled in from the south, pushing the fluffy white cotton balls out of his sight. A clap of thunder sounded, causing both rider and horse to cringe at the booming sound. Almost instinctively, the pace picked up and soon enough both Alfred and Toris were safely within the stone walls of Durandal.

Hooves clattered on a cobblestone floor as Alfred and Toris navigated through streets filled masses of bustling people going on with their daily lives. Ahead rose the silhouette of a tall stone building as they drew closer. It was none other than the royal castle. Or, in other words, home.

oOoOoOoOo

Back in his room, Alfred sprawled over his bed, basking in the wonderful softness of the smooth cloth. After a day of walking, riding, walking and then more riding, this change was more than welcome. He sat up, kicking off heavy boots and letting out a groan as he felt his legs free from the heavy weight. He let himself fall backwards, back into the embrace of his bed. Resting his eyes seemed like a good idea at that time and so he did. Golden lashes slowly lowered as the young prince gradually drifted off into sleep.

"Alfred?" Toris knocked on the wooden door, one hand already resting on the handle.

When he received no reply, he leant gently on the handle, wondering if Alfred had once again left the door unlocked. The door swung open easily, only stopping abruptly with a small thud when it connected with something heavy. Toris stepped in, carefully avoiding a pile of sweaty clothes and peered around the door to inspect the object that had obstructed the door. Upon discovering a pair of heavy boots thrown haphazardly near the door, Toris pulled a face. When would Alfred ever learn to keep his room tidy? Yet beneath the easy-going, relaxed personality that the young prince exhibited, Alfred could turn rather serious when necessary. He wasn't one of the best in the kingdom without reason, Toris reflected.

At first glance, the words "one of the best" didn't exactly strike one when looking at Alfred though. Especially not now. Flopped out on the bed, spread-eagled and face-down. He wasn't even lying in the right direction. Bright blond hair covered twitching eyelids as the young man in question dreamed of bright, lush lands, an azure sea and sky that stretched on forever, connected by the fine horizon, punctuated by a rising sun that shone upon the blessed land. A new world, one that no one would experience in this lifetime. Probably. This young man would probably be reincarnated to experience that new world though.

If one looked closer, the carefree blond would actually start to look like "one of the best". Beneath loosely fitting clothes was a body hardened with hard work, training and fights. Scarred with scratches, cuts, slices obtained from daily brawls and scuffles. In addition to these, Alfred bore several more severe wounds, all of which had healed, forming a strange, disconnected pattern of pink scar tissue across his body. These scars, he wore as trophies after leaving the sandy ring. When asked, he could always proudly recount who he had defeated to obtain these marks, yet in the depths of those clear eyes was a prick of guilt and anger.

He had asked once, though. Toris had been new at the castle and assigned to Alfred. When he innocently asked, Alfred had proceeded to list out names. Perhaps Alfred had let his guard down that day, for the prince had let a spark of anger ignite his eyes while his voice droned on, as if that list of names was merely one he had written down and memorized for the sake of it. Maybe it was, or maybe it wasn't. Either way, Toris had asked, concerned.

"What is it that angers you?"

In response to those six words, Alfred's head had snapped up, eyes fixing onto Toris' own as he revealed his thoughts. A low voice shaking with anger, eyes light as he paced about the room, ranting about the wastage of lives, a barbarian's game and a lottery in which the prize was your very life. Or at least, a freedom. Many a times Alfred had seen men, crippled after fights, hobbling around streets, glaring out at the world with dead eyes. For with that limb they lost, they lost a certain privilege in their lives. Viewed on as the losers, scorned or picked on by those lucky folks who had walked away unscathed.

Alfred had been pretty riled up about that. Yet now, he had appeared to achieve a state of calm, and for that Toris was immensely glad.

oOoOoOoOo

A/N:

And that's it for the first chapter~ It's about 1k short of my target, but I assure you chapters will get longer when there are more interesting things to write about. So far, no real action has happened yet. Leave a review if you have anything so say ^^ I won't bite~

Edit: Added "oOoOoOoOo" to seperate timeskips, POVs and etc. I don't have time to go back and change much for this chapter, so please bear with it I'll change it ASAP though!