C H A P T E R 1
The last dregs of sunlight spilled over the quaint little village nestled between the mountains. It bled on the horizon, spreading and narrowing as it ducked under the waves of the blue water. It gazed upon the town with warmth as men and women came home from work to spend the evening together or with their families. The sun left the area slowly, letting darkness spread its cloak over the homes, and hide the presence of a skulking knight.
The knight's armour was warmed as he snuck into the shadows of an alley. His bright orange cape flowed behind him as the sounds of his footsteps echoed off the dark stone walls. The clink of his chainmail sounded loud to his ears as he kept his pace slow and his steps as quiet as possible. Helmet tucked under his arm, the knight lightly stroked the orange plume, pausing as darkness came upon him. Staring up at the sky, the knight saw as a star slowly blinked to life. Taking this as a sign, the knight waited, thinking, it's best to let the night cover my aura. He did not want the village to be alerted of his presence.
The mission he was on had no great importance to his superior, who had long ago given up on the hope of this mission being successful, but it held a great importance to the orange-caped knight. He was searching for his heart. Little did the knight know, an evil shadow was stalking his footsteps, hoping to be led to his treasure.
Across the desert a red-haired noble paced in his chambers. Here the sun was slowly rising, its beams shining through the windows to wrap around the body of the dignitary in an attempted to calm him. But he just stepped back into the shadows, not wanting the comfort of the golden sunrise. Normally he would have gone to the rooftops to welcome it with open arms, celebrating another night he had survived, but today he wasn't in the mood. Instead, he paced his carpeted sitting room, his current trouble swirling through his mind relentlessly.
Many people were beginning to question his command, and his state of mind. There were whispers that the leader of the greatest city in the entire desert had gone mad. Though he knew this to be untrue, many of the people in Suna were beginning to fall to the rumours about their great chief. His second-in-command wasn't making matters any easier. The man was a saint, and his brother, but he was a dolt as well. Whenever he tried to make things better, he seemed to only make them worse. He loved the man dearly, but sometimes when they were out giving speeches to try to reassure their citizens, he just wanted to lean over and shut his brother up.
Pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, the noble squeezed his shadowed eyes closed in an attempt to concentrate a little. He jolted slightly when a loud knock sounded at his door.
"My lord, the meeting is about to begin." Hearing the trusted voice of his sister, the noble's shoulders visibly relaxed.
"I shall depart presently. Tell the lords I will be there shortly." Satisfied at the sound of his sibling's retiring footsteps, the noble went to a sidewall and slipped on his only protection and weapon. A large sand gourd that stood almost as tall as he was placed onto his back and tied securely before exiting the room to deal with one of his many problems.
Gaara of the Sand's problems had only begun.