This is my first Mount&Blade story. To all those readers out there: please contribute constructive criticism. I only want my stories to be better. Enjoy!

A dusty street in a dusty city. All the houses in it except one were shackles of falling down ruin. They gave all they had to the weary look of a life-tired city.

The last house, however, was different. It was not dusty, it was not falling down, and it was not, certainly not, in ruin. It seemed to have been built up recently, by someone with strong hands. It you look closely, a stepladder and some tools can be seen outside the front door. A banner flies high over the roof, showing a black raven and a blue axe on a white background. It the sign of one of the two lords of the town.

Night falls as a fully grown man trudges out of the door and down the street. He is Lord Ferret from Rivacheg. His family has been rich since he can remember. He is slightly old, and walks with a small limp. In the clean house behind him he leaves a son, 18, just at the threshold of manhood. At the moment he is off to see the local merchant about a horse for the son. Money is not a problem: he will pay whatever the price is but he wants a good charger.

Just as the man rounds the end of the street, he is ambush by a group of hideous cuthroats. He is quickly bound and carried away.

The next morning...

A boy steps out of the house, calling for his father. He is young, and looks as if not ready for manhood. But however much he calls, his father does not come. He turns, and with a sad face, walks back inside.

He knows of the news that has been circulating around. The news that a gang of looters have been sneaking round the city. They are looking for unguarded nobles, rich men, bishops. The boy had told his father about the rumour, but his father had dismissed it as a lie.

The boy walks to the end of the street. He looks at the ground. The dust is kicked up, a there are traces of blood. There are stones lying in disturbed positions along the path.

Cursing his father's captors, and planning his revenge on them, he packs his bags and leaves the house the next hour. He holds a war axe which he lifts to the sky and shouts to the gods. He also carries his fathers bow, which he plans on using during his long an treacherous journey.

The young boy, Aidan, sets off.