It was a cold, windy day, middle of the winter. A heavy rain poured over the small human figures daring to cross the lake in such weather. The larger figures, clad in iron, were quiet and stoic, enduring the harsh weather. They guarded a child curled into himself, in the bottom of the boat. The Templars ignored the boy, chatting between themselves in low, tired voices. They were exhausted and annoyed, wishing for a solid roof and a warm fire.
He was brought into a small room without windows, thrown in roughly, only a candle left as the door closed behind his captors. Big brown eyes went wet with tears, low whimpers of fear and despair he held inside that small, hurt body broke the silence. He brought his bruised knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Shaking, the boy couldn't stop keening. He was helpless as never before, terrified, no longer hoping for a soft hand upon his cheek or someone coming to rescue him. So alone.
"I have heard the Templars brought a new boy in the morning." Jowan whispered to an elven boy next to him.
Alim Surana nodded and rubbed his pointy ear. "Yes, although he was sent right to the Punishment Room. The rumour is that he put up some resistance."
Jowan's eyes grew wide with concern "Poor boy, it sounds so cruel."
"I hope he will be okay," Alim sighed, summing up the conversation.
He was released a few days later, an agonizing eternity for his confused mind. Quiet, obedient, almost broken, the child tottered out. They gave him new clothes and a new name. Anders, they called him, deleting the last ties to his past.
