-Prologue-
The sunlight found itself shining down upon the hunched figure with glorifying radiance, giving the crippled figure a edge of intimidation. Perhaps the figure - who had shaped history many times over - deserved it, or perhaps, because of his deeds, didn't need any of it. Give it up, his conscience whispered. You're too old. You can't do it any more. You've lost you're power. You lost everything.
The man pondered at his age, then realized it didn't matter. He could drink out of the fountain at the base of Mercury, and still his spinal injuries and arched back would not heal. Always the appearance of an old man, although he was not far old past twenty. He had suffered so much in his youth. In his life. For what?
The power to mold history once again, the youth told himself. He had suffered too much to let his genius slip away to something useless such as traveling lands and healing something. No, he was all into politics. He made the leaders think - perhaps not the purest thoughts, but the thoughts turned the leaders around. Most importantly, made them see the truth.
The young man looked up towards the sky, and found he had been thinking into the noon hour. He had a schedule to keep, after all. He grabbed tighter to his walking stick he used as a crutch, a friend, and started heading towards the town of Lunpa.
Vengeance would be sweet.
The sunlight found itself shining down upon the hunched figure with glorifying radiance, giving the crippled figure a edge of intimidation. Perhaps the figure - who had shaped history many times over - deserved it, or perhaps, because of his deeds, didn't need any of it. Give it up, his conscience whispered. You're too old. You can't do it any more. You've lost you're power. You lost everything.
The man pondered at his age, then realized it didn't matter. He could drink out of the fountain at the base of Mercury, and still his spinal injuries and arched back would not heal. Always the appearance of an old man, although he was not far old past twenty. He had suffered so much in his youth. In his life. For what?
The power to mold history once again, the youth told himself. He had suffered too much to let his genius slip away to something useless such as traveling lands and healing something. No, he was all into politics. He made the leaders think - perhaps not the purest thoughts, but the thoughts turned the leaders around. Most importantly, made them see the truth.
The young man looked up towards the sky, and found he had been thinking into the noon hour. He had a schedule to keep, after all. He grabbed tighter to his walking stick he used as a crutch, a friend, and started heading towards the town of Lunpa.
Vengeance would be sweet.