Chapter One
Years pass and a boy grows into a man. Ashram panted as he sparred with his teacher, Sir Darthian.
"You're getting better, young Ashram. Your sword skills are almost better than mine." The knight commented, as his squire gracefully avoided getting his side slashed and thrust his own sword into his teacher's defense. Ashram said nothing; his mind was solely on his sword. With a deft flick of his wrist, Ashram sent Darthian's sword flying.
"I believe that the day is mine, Sir Darthian." Ashram said, coolly, as he pressed the tip of his sword to his teacher's throat.
"Yes, I believe so too. Good job, Ashram. I'd say that you are ready to become a knight." Darthian said, getting a satisfied smirk from Ashram. Ashram had turned twenty only a few weeks prior, and he was ready for knighthood.
"I wonder if I will be chosen this year? I wasn't ready last year." Ashram muttered, as he started polishing Darthian's saddle, with a look of distaste on his face.
"I don't see why you shouldn't be chosen, Ashram, since you're more capable than the other squires I have seen. You have the mind of a brilliant general and the physical abilities of Beld in his prime." Darthian said, before something dark caught his eye.
"Ashram!" Darthian shouted, as he whipped his sword out and stood ready. Ashram quickly followed suit. Five dark figures emerged from the shadows, all with wicked looking weapons in their hands.
"This is going to get ugly…………" Darthian muttered, as the five were joined by at least ten more. Ashram nodded in agreement, his attention solely on the strangers.
Beld looked up as messengers came before him. They had just come from the far end of the island, with complaints from the villages there. No sooner did they begin speaking, when a man entered the throne room, looking frantic.
"Sire! There's a young man at the gate! He says he needs to speak to you!" the man shouted. Beld was immediately alert; he knew that the only man who usually did that was Darthian.
"Take me to him!" Beld demanded, as he dashed out of the room, leaving the messengers standing before the throne. After a few moments, Beld arrived at the gate, but, when he looked at the man who stood there, he was almost sickened by what he saw. The man wasn't Darthian, but it was the man that had always accompanied him to the gate. Ashram was covered in blood from various wounds and shuddered as he stood at the gate.
"Ashram……………….what in the god's graces happened to you? And where is Sir Darthian?" Beld asked, as Ashram stood before him, unmoving.
"Darthian's dead milord……………..and soon so will…………." Ashram trailed off, before collapsing at Beld's feet.
"Get him to a healer at once! Now!" Beld shouted, as the guards scrambled to do his bidding. As they all carried Ashram's limp form to the royal healer, the guards wondered why the Emperor of all Marmo cared about someone as insignificant as a young squire. But they did his bidding, regardless; to not do so, would mean death.
