Jason woke from a forgotten dream, an empty dream, filled nothing but darkness. Echoes and screams of the fallen alarmed him from his sleep. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the grayish sky, snowing down upon him; the trees, naked and dead, were like claws that wanted to reach out to him.

Jason sat up from the snowy bed, groggy and disoriented. Fire and chaos ran rampant everywhere as the carnage from both side lay on the ground, covering by the relentless snow. He was about as confuse from one person to the next, unknown to the transaction that has happened.

When Jason had the strength to stand on two feet, he examined the bodies that were laid; it didn't take long for him to know which side that belong to. For Jason, he wore the standard military uniform in its blue-grayish hue with two white line striking down on the chest: the colors of the Empire.

On the other side, they wore a more ordain type of wear, consist nothing more than a medium-size iron armor, coated in blood and gold with a mask to affiliate of an avian: the colors of the Scarlet Order.

From the chaos, a red soldier emerged from the snow, sword drawn and bare towards Jason. Eyes that flashed with zealotry and passion, the soldier swung its blade. Jason luckily dodged the lethal blow, escaping death mere inches away from his neck. He didn't hesitate upon his action and aimed towards the soldier with his trusted musket.

At close range, fire and iron burst forth from the end of the barrel, blowing the soldier's brain instantaneous and without effort. As the soldier fell, its head gushing out of blood, the chaos intensified.

Jason wasn't the only person that was still breathing; several of his bluegray comrades had begin to act like he did: eliminating the Scarlet stragglers. The other did the same as well for their ruthless prowess of the blade made short work on unsuspected target.

Even after all that had happen, their sudden transport in this unknowable plane, two sides fought over control of the land, of the snow, not knowing when the other would give in.

Jason saw what it was: a feast of blood and death. Nothing much glorious or honorable in a battle; just unspeakable slaughter until one side wins over the other. There was blood, and lots of it. Men died while they stand; men died at the ground, struggling to live on, and men died in their sleep; never to wake again from the torture that has inflicted upon him.

The slaughter raged on for hours until, finally, a victor rose in the field: the bluegrays were triumphant. Less than a hundred of them remained, they struggled with their ownilk, tending the need of the wounded and the broken. The red soldiers were not as unfortunate for they were put to the sword without clemency.

Jason had served the Empire and the Royalists since the start of the civil war, but in an honest opinion, he despised the slaughter upon the Scarlet Order; especially when there was no reason to kill when one cannot defend themselves. Yet his comrades, the ones that he befriended and shielded them from harm, decided it was for the best, surrendering their morality for madness. He could see in their eyes, their fear and anger towards the Scarlet was absolute; paramount beyond any measure. Would he follow the same to their madness?

"Pissed gite!" Jason turned to the sound of one of the bluegrays, kicking the already dead soldier. He couldn't tell of the blonde hair that was covered in blood and muck. At that instant, he quickly recognize the voice.

"Javin?" Jason asked.

The blonde bluegray was frozen, shock and eyes wide open. He turned around and gaze at Jason. "B-brother? Is t-that you?" He stuttered, almost speechless to none at all. When Jason gave a slight nod, his eyes began to water and charged forth in a brotherly embrace.

Jason remained silent as the grave and wrapped his arms around him. He could hear Javin sobbed away into despair, collapsing down to his knees.

What has the war had done to him?

What did the war do to his own little brother?


From fire and steel, chaos and blood, Aviel woke in a terrible cold, feeling a great pain on his chest. He gasped for breath, trying to understand what has happened only to find himself buried down to his waist by the snow.

Aviel laid behind a dead tree with an open view of the field; his eyes wandered at the great space of ice and snow. He was at the exit of the forest, all alone by himself when he heard a battle from the distant. His head turned to the source, seeing tiny sparks of the enemy's musket ahead.

Musket fire that crackled in the air like fireworks in the night; roaring screams of brave souls where swords and bayonets clashed at one another for dominance. At an impulse, Aviel would likely join at the fray, fighting alongside with his Scarlet brothers against the Royalists and their slave-narrow ilk.

But instead, Aviel decided that enough was enough; his last act of betrayal was absolute as well as his burden. Like many Scarlets before him, disobedience and desertion deserved a terrible fate: any member that broke their sacred oath would find themselves hunted down by their very own. He didn't have the chance before, but this time, this time there was no stopping him.

The Scarlet Order were at the brink of extinction; their numbers, scattered and broken into disarray. The Grand Meisters all but exterminated, leaving stragglers behind of Red footmen and a handful of Burgundian Knights.

Aviel was part of the Black Crimson, one of the few survivors, to his belief, left in the Order; their job was simple: 'end quick, end in silence'. He have been through every corner in the Empire, killing countless people from either an upstart loyal noble to a discreet merchant of coin. When killing was not enough, he would employ other means of success: espionage, rebellion, an informant; he was all of such things and more.

When an acolyte began the role as Crimsonier, they were first taught that discipline breeds loyalty; loyalty breeds faith; faith brings retribution that no man would dare challenge their resolve. Aviel was loyal to the end, and will always loved his brothers, but for the first time without the guidance from his Meisters, he had a choice, his choice alone, at the palm of his hand.

There was no one that would question his motivation or his opposition. Aviel was free; free to do whatever he want and more. If he had the choice to abandon his brothers to their fate in exchange for a slice of life then what stopped him from doing so.

Although Aviel was oblivious to this strange and new world, he knew that he could have a fresh start; a new chapter of Aviel Deumon, last of the Crimsonier.

Aviel stood from the snow, uncertain of the future that awaited him. As much as he was worried there was a sense of excitement in his life; that he wanted something like this to happen. He took one step in the open field of snow and walk toward aimlessly into the horizon, ignoring the horrible sound that was behind him...no matter how much he closed his ears.

Oraas continued to follow the mistress through the brutal carnage that followed. He gazed at what's left of the bluegrays, mending their wounds against the remaining Scarlet. There was a bleak chance that they would not survive as some of the Scarlet were Burgundian Knights.

The mistress took a moment pause. "How many did we lose?" She asked.

"A hundred," Oraas replied. "And a hundred more that followed in the aftermath."

The mistress gave a slight nod. "A terrible toll, but a necessary price. Are the Partishans accountable, Oraas?"

"A couple, only seventeen of us are all that is left. The rest have moved on."

The mistress again, nodded and continued to walk towards the exit of the forest. As the two reach to the end, she pondered at the cold wilderness. "This world...where are we?"

Unfortunately, Oraas felt the same reaction when the mistress gazed the white field. "I cannot say, Milady. Whatever the Scarlet did they have certainly accomplish this beyond normal capabilities. The very air itself reeks of magic. We are no longer in the Empire, Milady, and I'm positive that they do not know either since they got tagged along for the ride."

The mistress remained silent for a moment, contemplating on what to do next. She took several steps to a dead stump and sat upon it, exhausted from the whole ordeal.

"If I may continue, Milady." Oraas said in which the mistress obliged. "We have enough provision to last for two, maybe three days at least and a bulwark of less than a hundred. I've received reports from one of my scouts that they've sighted a village at the far south from here."

"Has the scouts made contact with villagers yet?"

"No, I told them to avoid the place until we know what was going. We do not know if the villagers remain friendly or a threat and with so few numbers, I'll not risk anyone for a mere curiosity."

"Hmm, it is for the best. Sooner that we get there, the better."

Oraas could tell that the toll that was weighing heavily upon the mistress's shoulder. It was supposed to be her retirement after the final siege of the Scarlet Order. Yet she remained as calm and strong like the commanders that he served before her.

"Are the forces ready to move out?" The mistress asked, sitting up from her seat. Her sapphire eyes glared at the horizon.

"With what we've gathered, we could, but with so many of us wounded, it will take some time for them recuperate. Not to mention that they might be more of our men still buried in the-"

"We move by the hour when there is still light with us. Have your Partishan round up whatever men you can find. Take any supplies from the dead. Spare nothing."

Oraas didn't object to her plan and slightly bowed. "As you wish, Milady. I'll order my men to start right away." As the mistress faded back to the camp, the old Partish silently sighed, worried for the mistress and his remaining force.

Oraas could do nothing, nothing but to obey his mistress, like he had since the start of their war against the Scarlet. What awaited them in this strange, new world? What would he and his men find along the way?

Do they face against a force that is beyond to comprehend or is it like any other war, filled with all the glory and all the horror that could have transpire? Or maybe both...