Everything was thought to be okay, it should've been fine! No one saw it coming, the day was just like any other. But the calamities were only just the beginning for Pars. The enemy, who was on the other side was shouting preaches and how everyone should be free - no slaves and masters should die.

A kingdom that could not function without slaves could barely function at all. It was thought that peace and harmony could come about but currently, that seemed quite impossible. The kingdom was a havoc, the slaves were killing their masters, the enemy was trying to get in and take over the palace. Yet, they were not having any luck, yet.

Anyone would be alert, peaceful times could not last forever and with the ruckus being heard from so far away, it was no wonder it would cause fear to the other townspeople. Cries could be heard from those being murdered, others who were running from fear and protesters to let them in and join this so-called Yaldabaoth.

Whatever they worshipped, it was a bogus scheme - one to let other's know and have a reason to live, a faith that only knew cruelty...and perhaps just another name for the devil. Worshippers were meant to be of peaceful and also whom preach but do not judge of other's and their own (if they ever believed at all); whatever they like or their gender, judging is not up to anyone but the God they believe.

As such, slamming from the castle door's; wanting to come in, torches ready and even wishing to burn the place - the loud yelling of one man whom preached but was just as evil as the words that he spat. Lies that many Parsian's believed and wanted to join (as if they would), only would fall to deaf and be killed by the very thing they were trying to convert to.

They lost their faith that day, the royals fled without the enemy knowing, and a certain brunette was trying to find the strong-clad warrior; however with no sign of him. Abandonment was the only option; the place she had grew up in would have to be left.

Enemy was in the kingdom, burning anything that was not to their faith, the books and history of Pars that everyone cherished and had. The horrific screams as blood were shed across the land, the bodies lay one by one. Golden hue's widened, some slashed right before her eyes; and the only thing she could do was to stay alive.

She had to shake it off, ignore the screams and yells of the townsfolk who wish to be saved, the piles of bodies, many were just slashed across their body, others tried to fight but head separated from their body, neck slit and some...in shambles.

It didn't take too long, and she figured the enemy were known as the Lusitanians. They were preaching false words and committing to the sins they said were as such.

Stopped in her path, and horrified to see them, head's of soldier's who went out to fight, amongst one was Vahriz. The uncle of Daryun, the one who trained him, Narsus and herself in their much younger days, a kind and gentle man who was also strong and one who taught the sword to the current prince, Arslan.

Her feet kept on moving along rather quickly but would see a man standing and blood dripping down his face, his body covered in scars and whips, obviously, it was shown he was tormented by them. Both hands quickly rose to cover her mouth as tears ran down her face, a bow shot to the forehead where it had remained for quite some time.

What could she say? There were only a few times that she had met and practised with him, a man her father could speak highly of and a man who had such a painful death.
"Shapur..."

Her eyes quickly shut, to cry over this now would be such a waste. She had respected him, even looked up to him once; but times had changed and had to flee Pars. She had to flee, with so many soldiers around, she couldn't take them all. Perhaps, knowing it would be best to come back another time - to find an ally who would take back Pars.

The only one she could think of, was the friend she had and whom could last up to a thousand men, Daryun.
His whereabouts though, quite unsure she was and had a feeling he might be with Prince Arslan, the boy who was meant to step after Andragoras, the King she was not fond of. He was reckless, he was always seeking a battle, to kill and did not care about bloodshed.

He was the one who mislead the fight and got her own father killed. The only family she had left, to live on her own...the best thing the brunette knew was to live and use the skills she learned to use.

As the day got grim and dark, the fire ablaze to the palace, everything was fallen to ruin and she could not look back. Leaving her home was sufferable but to live was courageous. How unsure she was if she were to stick with Daryun than it would mean Arslan as well. How much was he like his father? Something she didn't know but wanted to see for herself.

If he so was anything alike Andragoras, she could not fight for a ruler like that, one who does not think of their soldier's, to banish one who had dreams and wanted slaves to be free; even worse, if he was just as heartless...she would pity Daryun.

From afar, she could see a man who seems to of returned from the burning and ruins of Pars. A man on his horse, surrounded by men - the Lusitanians who were quite eager of themselves and one she could notice; one whom went by the name of Kharlan.

She didn't understand it, a Parsian to stand with the Lusitanians was out of the question, a shock which many probably did not see or yet understand. It was strange, and yet they were riding...perhaps back to where they stay? Another man lay on the horse, being carried and seemed unconscious and badly hurt.

Sam, obvious that he was not going of his own accord but wanted to follow. Not knowing yet, but would see them stop; the man with the mask raised his hand and uttered some words. Unable to read lips, she was unsure what but the Lusitanian's galloped off.

His loud voice clear for her, a glare piercing and could easily spot her. Eyes widened, but could not run away - if he was the leader of the Lusitanians, it would be best take him out and even confront Kharlan too.

However, as she jumped down from the cliff her feet could not stand so much and made her fall to her face. Quickly up again, she had frowned and a slight glare at the traitor Kharlan.
"Just where does the enemy think you can take Sam like that? I am quite ashamed in you Kharlan...to side with the enemy; a man who ruined Pars...the place many called home."

However, he didn't say anything and the man in the mask pointed his sharp blade at her as he was going in for the kill; however, he was always looking for allies from Pars - a mission completely different from what the savages had when they ransack the place.

"Either you side with me, or what you fight for will be meaningless."
When he said such words, she didn't understand. She didn't know what to say as she was confused, why would she side with him? What possible reason was there for her to?

"I simply cannot side with one who does not give me a reason to."
She replies, firmly and demanding a reason. And just like Kharlan, he too, shows her why. His opposite hand reaching up for his mask to take it off; to reveal his face to her. Eyes widened in shock, anyone such as she would remember who he was.

A man that was said to be dead, a man who was said to be killed in a fire after the passing of his father. How could a dead man be alive?
His mask was placed back on, "so do you see why I have asked you."

Inpatient and wanting an answer, and even knowing his real identity...if she declined than she will be struck there where she stood in an instant.

The brunette keeps silent, her face down and thinks to herself. The man her father trained her to fight more, the one whom she was meant to serve...before his passing. Yet still, he is the same man she pledged to when fighting back at the day.

'To find Daryun, I simply cannot side with him and Prince Arslan now. The real heir I swore to serve is back, and that is what I must do...'
Bent down to one knee, her hand closed and gripped to her heart, she did not look at him but every word meant from the bottom of her heart.

"I shall pledge my allegiance to you, until the day I die..."
Seriousness as her head raised to stare at him, not saying a word and placed his sword away.

"From here on out, you will have to call me Silver Mask. Any other name and my real identity are hidden, I do not wish for any to know until I give the word."
Back to her feet, and a nod; none the less - she hops on the horse behind Kharlan and grips him tightly.

She had never told anyone, friends were sharper than she thought. She was afraid to go on a horse, let alone it gallop at fast pace, she was scared she would fall and badly hurt herself - prior to an accident she had the first time she rode a horse.

Horses galloping away back to the residence of where they stay, knowing she too must behave and act like nothing around the bastard's known as Lusitanians. What use were they for? Most importantly, she needed to know why and how he survived death?