Story Inspired by Tom Valor and Mersea
The line Between Good and Evil is obscure, muddled, hard to decipher. Simple good and simple evil does not exist, only complex good and evil. The line only narrows as a young boy turned man sets of a chain events which lead to repercussions he could've never predicted.
Between Good and Evil
Prologue
"Use it now? But my Lord, it hasn't been tested yet, we aren't aware what the consequences might be." a voice rasped out in the darken room. Magic was always dangerous to use, doubly so when it was experimental. However, he paid no heed to that.
"Does it really matter? The effects cannot be worse than what is desired." He imperatively stated. His will to accomplish whatever he intended was unquestionably strong, his morals, however, could be stated in an opposite manner.
His assistant sputtered out excuses, but could not suitably find a correct one. Resignedly, his assistant nodded his head and assented, "That is true, my Lord."
He grinned maliciously – at last, his objectives neared completion - all that was required was a successful run, and it would be in his grasp.
"Execute it."
Seth Devaros grinned as he breathed in the clean air of the village. As a wizard, he was forced to be cooped up in the smoky airs of city life, and rarely had the chance to breathe deeply. However, for the next few weeks he had been granted leave by the Pronterean Council, and had, wisely in his opinion, opted to return to his home village.
He waved merrily as he passed by an elderly couple who were contentedly walking by. Country life – simple and stress-free. He paused briefly, wishing that his partner-in-magic Sarah had been able to take a vacation along with him, but she had been bogged down with her work and was unable to come.
"Hey, Seth!" a voice called out to him. Seth turned and grinned as a childhood friend of his, Samantha ran up to him. When the Search had gone out for potential Mages, he had been swept up while Samantha had, unfortunately, been left behind. It wasn't that Samantha lacked any magical talent, it was merely that Seth's inborn talent had been extraordinarily high, and the tester's had stopped their search when they had found him.
Slowing down his stride to let her catch up to him and he greeted her with a warm grin and said,
"Hey there Sam, what's up?"
After he had uttered this, Seth noted a drop in Sam's mood, and she responded,
"Actually, it seemed the heat just spiked up, did you notice that?"
Seth had noticed it, but had payed little attention to it, dismissing it as something that he had merely not been used being a city-man. Now that Sam, a village woman, had mentioned it did seemed slightly peculiar. However, his musings were cut short as a young boy ran up to them, waving his hands excitedly. Seth mentally groaned, his patience was often worn thin by young children. Still, he noted the look of delight on the boy's face, and decided to play along.
"Hey Seth! Do you remember me? I'm Devan!"
Indeed Seth did remember him, though Devan had only been four at the time. The past six years had given Devan a foot in height, but not nearly the same proportion in weight. He wondered slightly if they had been feeding him right, but a second glance at the speed he ran up to the pair of Seth and Sam told him that they most definitely had.
Throwing a look at Sam, she deftly caught it, chided him with a look, and then turned to Devan.
"Devan, have you finished getting the water of the well yet?" She inquired, knowing full well that he hadn't. Besides that, the well was a full two miles away from the village, and it would even take Devan at least half hour to get there and back while making sure he didn't spill all the water.
Pouting slightly, he shook his head dejectedly and a much-subdued Devan made his way to village well. Seth shook his head in amazement at the fact that the child had not spouted off protests, and had gone straight (more or less) to his job. He figured it must've been the country upbringing – the children he knew would have never done that.
Samantha giggled slightly at the look of amazement on Seth's face, before turning serious again,
"But yes – this heat. It's quite unnatural and Father thinks it might be the forewarning of a drought, which would be terrible at this time of year." This time of year being the prelude to harvest time – the time when food supplies were lessening and the crops were entering the final stage of their growth: a lack of rainfall could and would make the crops wither and the Village would be on very short rations for the entire next year.
However, all these thoughts were spirited away when a mind-rending moan of pain soared through the air. Seth looked at Sam, who nodded, and they both took off towards the sound, towards the center of the village. Seth noted that he was unusually tired, but kept on sprinting; that scream deserved my attention that his lack of endurance.
Finally reaching the place where the scream had been uttered, Seth quickly moved to the side and vomited. In the center was a man, clearly dead in an painful way. Blood seemed to coat his entire being, and trickled off to the side. Besides that, the very air seemed to be musky with blood, almost as if the blood had boiled inside the man to the extent it had vaporized.
Shrieks suddenly sounded from the spectators, as they collapsed in pain, their moans wounding Seth's brain. Yet, their screams suddenly seemed muted. His vision reddened..
Devan skipped towards the outlying well in the village. Though it was fairly far away, the quality of water was superb. Still, besides that, Seth was finally here! Seth had become legendary in the quaint village for being the sole Search recipient, and Devan had long longed to meet him. Of course, most of the young boys in the village wanted to meet Seth, who in the village didn't? Finally reaching the well, he dunked the extra large pails he had into the water, and withdrew the water and headed back towards the village.
After twenty pain-staking minutes of lugging heavy pails of water, he entered the village and heard silence. Calling out, he heard only the slight echo of his own voice responding to him. His young mind slightly frightened by the lack of sound, he dropped the buckets and started calling out for his parents as he ran into the village. Nothing. Reaching the center of the village he stopped. And screamed. And screamed.
Nobody heard him.
"My Lord, our scouts report that it was a complete success."
A chuckled sounded out in the dark room. Good, good. Fear is the primary motivator for action, and fear was now under his control. Giving off a self-satisfied smirk, he said,
"Excellent work."
This plan would work out after all.
Fifteen years later
He slammed his fist down on the newspaper, disgusted on what was reported.
Damn those Rebels, stirring up civil unrest. Sure, the government wasn't that great, but it wasn't terrible. Sighing slightly, Aaric trudged down the dusty streets of Morsa. Glancing around himself, he smiled slightly. True, Morsa wasn't the greatest town in the world, little dusty, little dirty, but it was home. However, these Rebels might change that soon with their war-hawkish attitude.
Waving nonchalantly at the locals, he pondered on the state of the Rebels. Though they claimed they were fighting for the innocent people of this world, their actions completely belied it. Already they had razed two small villages in the attempt to gain some lands for their 'war.' Why the Pronterean government just send in the Knights he had no idea, but then, he supposed it wasn't the place for a lowly Acolyte to ask.
Grimacing slightly as two swordsmen ran up to him, asking for the typical Holy Blessings, he blessed them and sent them on their way. Why he had become an Acolyte he now wondered, but he supposed he derived some satisfaction by doing others good, much more than he could've then going out in the wild and slaying monsters. Laughing somewhat coldly, he glanced upon his thin, weak frame. Yes, it was much better to stay in here.
Aaric slowed as he reached the edge of town. What was he doing so far out? Taking one more glance at the horizon, he turned to walk back to his house, but suddenly stopped. Turning back around, he squinted out into the distance, he could almost make out many many people, as if in an army.
He never saw the arrow that killed him.
Devan turned and faced his 'army' before fully entering the village. That Acolyte he had ordered taken out was an unfortunate casualty, as was this village. But he was fighting so that no one would ever face the agony that he did when he saw the blood of his neighbors. These people would receive and quick and merciful death, no longer having to slave away at the feet of the corrupt Government.
The years had not been kind to Devan. Once an innocent wide-eyed boy, he was now a man, hard-eyed and focused on a cause. His hands had become calloused with the use of the lance, his preferred weapon atop his Pecopeco. Indeed, he had earned the nickname Heavenly Knight among his troops.
Motioning his hands for silence, he said,
"We come across the village of Morsa – it is important for us to have this town. With it, we can extend our supply route for an additional ten miles, ten miles closer to that .. thing." He refused to call the government by its name. "Be swift, silent, and brave."
With that, Devan did about face, and led the charge.
Total war, type of combat in which both civilians and military targets were struck for maximum impact. Generally frowned upon, it is nevertheless very efficient and effective. It demoralizes the enemy, diminishes their supplies, and destroys their troops. Efficiency was Devan's middle name.
Screams pierced through the night's chilled air as the slaughter began. Bright metal flashed as it brought about doom across the village. Red crimson stained the ground as horses thundered in the village, hunting out each villager. Devan, the Heavenly Knight, rode far ahead of his army, impervious to the weak counters of the unaware village guards.
Letting his lance drive through the guards as he reached them, he grinned somewhat sadistically at the crunch of bone and the sound of pierced flesh as the first guard collapsed beneath his lance. Tearing off his helmet, he threw it at one of the guards, and turned to face them.
They immediately backed away in fear, one of them muttering,
"The Fallen Knight.." before attempting to run away.
Flee? The fools, none of them would survive after that insult. Crushing the distance between him and the guards, he let his lance spear the first one, before coming to and bashing the second and final one. Grinning slightly as he reached down and scooped his his helmet, he surveyed the battle scence – chaos, blood, and triumph. His first lieutenant rode up to him, smartly saluted him, and reported,
"Sir, the troops have wiped on the village. It is ours."
Giving him an acknowledging nod, he grinned and said,
"And thus begins the war.."
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