Skies of France, 2018 ATB

Adarakh stood under the pouring water of his shower, the blood splattered suit he'd worn resting on the floor. 'I hate this... What cruel punishment father has given me for supposedly being weak.' The scenes replayed in his head as the water beat upon his skin.

Brittania, 2011 ATB

The Emperor sat in a room with his favorite son, Schneizel. They often sat together recently, playing chess and discussing the future plans of the empire. A young man, only ten years old, burst into the room with a scowl on his face. "Father, what idiocy is this? You plan to conquer the EU as you did Japan? We already control almost all of the worlds sakuradite, what possible reason could you have for this slaughter?" Too serious for his age, the young face was already lined at the eyes. Despite his insolence of bursting unannounced into the room, and insinuation of the Emperor being an idiot, he was ignored. Almost as if he didn't exist in the eyes of the leader and his son. The young Adarakh strode forward angrily, slamming his hand down on the chessboard. "Stop this pointless warfa-" He was cut off by a swift backhand from his father, who stood to give the full weight of his angry gaze to his son.

"Shut your mouth, you ungrateful worm. Too long you have forgotten your place here. Your very existance is an affront to my good name and I will not allow it anymore. Pack your things, you will be sent away until I deem your return necessary." He towered over the child, made even more intimidating by the look of absolute disgust he focused on his son. "Consider this your disinheritance. Now get out of my sight, weakling."

Unknown military base, 2014 ATB

It had been three years since the day he burst into the study of his father, to the very hour, and the anniversary went unnoticed by Adarakh. A man twenty years his senior swept his leg up and out, catching the still young man in the chest and throwing him backwards. "God damnit Adarakh! How long have you been training and you still can't fight worth a damn?"

Adarakh slowly stood, a deep cut in his forhead dipping blood that mixed with the tears falling unchecked down his cheeks. One arm hung useless, dislocated at the shoulder. "With all due respect sir, I'm starting to think my 'training' is more an excuse for you to beat the shit out of me every d-Hurk!" He was silenced as he doubled over in pain, his teacher having driven his fist into the young man's midsection.

"Maybe. And one of these days you might learn to either fight or keep that mouth of yours shut." He spat at the curled up body of the emperor's child in disgust before looking over his shoulder at the nearby guards. "Drag this worm to the infirmary. I want him patched up in time for his lessons tomorrow." Adarakh let out a shuddering breath, his combat training had started a month ago. However instead of learning technique, he was put into a room that smelled of sweat and blood and left to his own devices to defend against his teacher. He let out another gagging sound as one of the guards kicked him roughly in the side to roll him onto his back. As each guard grabbed a leg and started to very literally go forward with the order to "drag" him to the infirmary, his vision slowly blurred until he fainted.

Unknown military base, 2016 ATB

He was woken up as usual, a pair of guards throwing him off the bed and telling him that he had twenty seconds to get dressed. Adarakh did as ordered, quickly dressing in a blood stained T-shirt and a pair of fatigues, no shoes. Shoes aren't allowed for CQC training, not for the one getting his ass kicked anyway. The guards barged in just as he finished, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him into the hallway. Every opportunity was taken for the guards to roughly hit him in the back with their guns, they were as merciless as his teacher. For six years he'd been forced to put up with the rough treatment from everyone. Even the infirmary staff seemed to be on orders to "toughen him up." Though in their defense, it was working. No longer was there simply the angry child that he'd been, now there was something more. Something feral. He chuckled to himself as he thought the cliched term, but it was the best thing he could come up with. The chuckle earned him a shove against a door, splitting his lip with the impact, it seemed they were here. The door slid open to show his teacher, the man who he'd never learned the name of who seemed to take immense pleasure at causing his pain. "Adarakh, the Emperor contacted me last night. He said that you've wasted too much of our time and money. As such, this will be your last day of training." The older man started to wind gauze around his hands and wrists as he spoke, staring intently at Adarakh. "Today you will fight me. If you refuse to fight like you have for the last two years, then tomorrow you'll be killed. It would be a shame, because in all your other training you've done exceptionally well. Do you have anything to say before we start?"

Adarakh looked thoughtful for a moment before he slowly tugged off his shirt, revealing the myriad of bruises and lacerations on his chest and shoulders. "Only one thing. Watch the face. That's the paycheck." The teacher looked almost stunned at the simple words, before barking out a harsh laugh. It was a shame their time would end today, over the last five years he'd seen the soft spoken child grow into a hardened young man. Though still soft spoken, and still with shoulder length brown hair, that is where the similarities ended. Where baby fat had clung desperately to the boy when he'd been inducted, now his body had been toned by physical training and, let's be honest, getting the living hell beaten out of him every day. His nose had held the pointed up look of nobility, now it had been broken and reset so many times that only the best surgeons had managed to keep it looking normal. He'd felt sorry for the child at the start, almost disgusted that his job had become nothing more than a glorified thug. Being forced to beat a child into submission each day, verbally abuse him, and then send him off to other areas where he was taught how to shoot, different wartime strategies, and a hundred other things to tailor him into a soldier. True, he had done almost perfectly in the other classes, but when it came to close combat he seemed to be refusing to learn, to make one little moral concession that would allow all the pain to end. It was honorable, in a way. Insanely stupid, but honorable. Adarakh had no idea those thoughts were behind the eyes of his teacher. And he never saw the look of sadness flash in those eyes as the first punch was being thrown.

An hour later Adarakh was still standing, albeit shakily. He glared at his teacher, spitting blood out onto the floor absently. "Done already? Usually you keep going until you've broken at least one bone."

The blood covered bandages peeled off his teacher's arms while he shook his head. "I don't need to continue, you've already shown you don't plan to fight back. You're going to die tomorrow because you're too stupid to throw a punch. The director wants to meet you in your room, get the hell out of my sights."

Adarakh arched his brow and walked to the door, the guards shaking their heads as they opened it. "You know the way, kid." He couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on. Why would the director want to meet with him? Why did he get off so easy with combat training today? Questions plagued him on the way to his quarters, until he opened the door. All the questions were then replaced by one. Namely, 'What the fuck is this child doing in my room?'

"Ahh, Adarakh, come in. We have much to talk about, my young nephew." A child with long blonde hair sat on the edge of the bed, a creepy look in his eyes. He stood and walked over a nearby table, climbing into one of the chairs and laying a folder down. "This is your file for the last five years. You've scored almost perfectly on every test in both strategy and accuracy with all types of firearms. However it seems you simply refuse to act in your close quarters combat training. And don't bother telling me that you simply haven't learned anything, both of us are smarter than that. Even under threat of death, you still did nothing. Why is that?"

"I hate pointless violence, I won't fight simply to give you a show, there has to be a real reason if you want me to act."

"And what would you say if I said I could give you a power that meant you could escape this place with your life intact? You'd never have to have meaningless fights again. Would you accept that power, Ada?"

Surprise was evident in both features and voice as he answered. "I would. If it meant I wouldn't have to waste my time in worthless contests, I'd do anything for that power." The nickname he hadn't heard in five years went unnoticed, so great was his shock. The long haired child stood from the chair and walked over, grasping Adarakh tightly around the wrist. The larger man's eyes went wide as he dropped to his knees, seeing visions he couldn't comprehend as they flitted across his eyeline. After a few moments more, the visions stopped, and a birdshaped sigil flashed in his right eye before disappearing.

"There, it's done. At twenty-one hundred hours you're to make your escape. If you make it to the front door, you'll be free of this place. Free to live."

"And if I don't make it outside?"

"Then you'll die." With those simple words, the child walked out of his room.

Skies of France, 2018 ATB

A knock came at the door at the moment Adarakh stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. "What is it?"

"Sir, your transport is ready. I also have a file for y-" The voice halted when the door slid open. A long haired young woman, one of Schneizel's aides, came into view. She blushed darkly when she came face to face with Adarakh using the towel to dry his hair, having pulled on a pair of jeans first.

"What's the file, miss?" He waited and arched a brow. "Miss?"

"Huh? Oh! My apologies, Sir. The file is stating that you'll be starting at Ashford Private Academy tomorrow after you land. The name you'll be using is Adarakh Quaralon, so as to keep you from being mobbed with questions and the like."

After a few more moments, Adarakh tossed the towel to the floor, grabbing a shirt from nearby and pulling it on. "Great. Do I need to speak with Lord Schneizel before I leave?"

"No, Sir. He told me to bid you farewell in his stead. And to tell you good luck at school, he knew how much you've been wanting to return and finish your last few years." Adarakh nodded, taking the file as they reached the hangar. "You should get some rest on your flight, Sir."

"I'll try. Thank you, Candice." He disappeared into the ship, leaving the young aide to blush again at his knowing of her name before she started back to the command room.