Chapter warning: blood, violence

Okay, let's go back.

"It's a boy!"

Wait, no, not that far back.

"Front foot forward Jones!"

Okay, here.

Alfred swings his sword at the training dummy, right foot forward, blade slashing through the air.

Strike... Strike... Strike...

Metal clangs with each hit.

"Watch your foot work! Twist your arm, not the sword!" His instructor shouts directions at him. Always something to improve, Commander Gilbert Beilschmidt is as tough as they get.

"Alright, five minute break, then it's on to maces!"

He sighs as he stumbles back to the benches, pulling his helmet off, he grabs for the water barrel, dunking and draining his cup in one swift movement.

"Jones! Good work out there, your beginning to not suck!" Beilschmidt bellows as he passes. Al's pretty sure the man isn't capable of communicating in anything less than ear splitting. But the praise is rare, so he'll take what he can get.

Fourteen and a solider in the kings guard, just like his father and his father before him. He's of high born blood, and his family's sworn loyalty to the throne is absolute. First borns will serve, no exceptions. As the eldest twin, that means him. But he can't even imagine his brother serving, he's to smart to waste on the battle field, or so the joke goes. His brother's smart, a true born tactician, but him? He's a fighter, through and through.

"Alright, you lazy lugs, back to work!" Beilschmidt shouts at them from across the barracks, their all quick to do as he says. No one want's to run his punishment course for disobedience.

"Alfred Feral Jones the third, kneel."

Clad in his family's ceremonial armour, he kneels before the King. Left knee to the ground, right one bent, foot flat. Right arm straight across his leg, left held to his side, head bowed, just like he's practiced. His armour clanks and the sound resonates throughout the hall as he moves, his cloak, baring his family's crest, flows out behind him.

This is it, the high point of his seventeen years of life.

"By the powers of the old and the new, I, King Momarîs Oudin the sixth, do knight you."

The old King carefully brings his ceremonial sword down on each of his shoulders, knighting him.

On the outside, Al remains perfectly still, but inside, he's squealing like a girl and jumping around the room. Finally, after seven years of constant training, he's now a knight, at true member of the King's Guard. This is the highest honour that can be bestowed upon any single living soul.

He can hear the smile in the old King's voice as he says, "Arise, Sir Alfred, Knight of Talmeré!"

He raises his head and smiles up at the King, then stands. The cheers and applause of court fill the hall, his fellow knights nod to him as he turns to the gathering, beaming. A worn hand falls on his shoulder, he looks over to see his King.

"Your father would have been proud."

Al's smile turns bittersweet as he nods.

"Yeah, he would."

The loud clanging of metal pulls Alfred from his peaceful slumber.

"Urgh..."

Sitting up he looks about, head pounding as he tries to remember where he is.

"Oh."

Now he remembers. The barracks. After the ceremony, the Knights took him out drinking to celebrate. Though, how he ended up face down under one of the benches out in the training field is a mystery to him.

"Jones!"

Ah, his head pounds painfully at the booming voice, Gil never changes.

"Eh, that's Sir Jones to you now." He says playfully.

"Well, will the Sir be joining the patrol, or does he need a little nap to get over his drinking from last night?" Beilschmidt laughs at Al's pained expression from the volume of his voice. Clearly enjoying his suffering, as always.

"Patrol?"

"Yeah, sleeping beauty! While you've been having your little nap, orders come down from above. Patrol the Western front, kill anything that moves, unless they're a civilian of course." He adds the last bit seemingly as an after thought.

"Hell, I'm down for that!"

A chance to finally show what he's made of, there's no way he'd pass that up! After all these years of training, he's finally being allowed out into the Western front. That's where hero's are made!

"Great, be ready and join us by the Western gate in ten or we leave you behind!" Gilbert calls as he head off.

The Western gate... It's the largest of most strongly fortified of the city's four gates. He's only been out it once before with is father, now, it's his time to defend their home.

Armour clad, sword sheathed on his back, he's ready, and just in time too.

As he arrives, the gate is already being opened. Gilbert, for all his threats of leaving him behind, does have a horse ready and waiting for him. He mounts up and quickly follows the group of five others, and Gilbert.

Patrol, he learns, is actually really boring. So far the most exciting thing they've come across was a river mole. Harmless, though they do make for a tasty meal.

"Geez, I thought there'd be more action than this..." He quietly complains, he knows how much Beilschmidt hates whiners.

"Hahaha, hate to break it to you kid, but this is what most patrols are like." Aldus, one off the older knights laughs.

"Yeah but there's gotta be at least something interesting out there."

"Don't know why your complaining, a quiet patrol is a good patrol. Means we're doing our job right and protecting the city and it's people." Galiene, reasons from his side. Al nod's in agreement with her.

"I know what your problem is." Emeny joins in, smirking at him, "Your a hero worshiper." She says knowingly.

"I, uh, I mean... um..." He stutters out while the group smile knowingly at him.

"Haha, boy, a knight hero worshiper! Oooh, that's rich, hahaha!" Randull laughs.

"Well, I mean, come on... You mean you guy's aren't?" He looks between each of them but they all just shake their heads and laugh.

"Al, that would be the same as us worshiping ourselves, of course we're not." Odger explains.

"Oh... yeah guess that makes sense." Honestly he had hoped to keep his hero worshiping a secret, but it seems nothing gets past these guys.

"Hold up." Gilbert raises his hand for them to halt, voice the quietest Al's even heard him.

"What is it?"

Alfred watches fascinated as Gilbert's red eyes glow, scanning the horizon. He's never seen him use his magic before, but now he can't look away.

"Pack of Uphairx, big ones. About twenty of them." His eyes stop glowing as he turns to the group, "Dismount and assume defensive positions." He orders as he jumps down from his horse.

Alfred quickly follows, leading his horse to one of the few trees and tying her there before moving back to join the others.

"Jones, don't just stand there! Get on rear defence with Randull!" Beilschmidt hisses at him.

"Oh, right."

He stands to the young mans side, sword drawn, ready to fight. They all now stand in a circle, facing outward, ready to do battle.

Every thing seems quite and calm, but just as Al is beginning to doubt Gilbert's warning, he can hear the low growls of the beasts as they approach. Uphairx, or the Stone Dog Bird as they are more commonly called. They move in large packs, never alone. For all they have wings, they can't fly well, their bodies are simply too heavy for long periods of flight. But they are deadly, with a taste for human blood and are notoriously hard to kill. Cut off the head and a Fire Blade to the heart is the only way. He looks to his own sword, a Sky Blade, he may not be able to kill them, but he can still do some serious damage. He can at least cut off the heads and allow one of the others to deliver the final blow. Except...

"Kesesese!" Behind him he can hear Gil's laugh and the sounds of metal on stone as the others fight. The thing is the Uphairx are only coming from one way... so, stuck in his rear defence position, he's missing all the action!

"Aldus, look out!" He hears Galiene call.

Enough is enough! Al turns from his position and joins the fray. Sword slicing through the air, he easily cuts off the head of one of the beasts. However, he's just made the biggest mistake of his life...

"Aaaaaa!"

"Randull!"

He turns and sees one of the beasts has the man in it's jaws, stone teeth sinking into his shoulders.

"Hold on!" He cries as he runs back over, but the damage is done. As he runs another beast joins it and bites down on the mans leg, the pair pull from opposite sides and Al stares in horror as both arm and leg are ripped apart from his body.

"Arrrghhh!" Al screams as he cuts them down.

"Randull!" Galiene runs past him, gathering the unconscious man in her arms, she cries over him, angrily staring up at Alfred.

"This is your fault! Why did you leave your position!"

Emeny quickly runs past him, laying her hands on Randull and casting her healing magic. He can only stare, unable to say anything. Dully, he notices Gilbert stock past him, heartlessly stabbing the beasts through the heart with his Fire Blade, not looking at him. The death cries of the creatures do nothing to sooth them..

He paces in the waiting chamber as his fate is decided. Randull, thankfully, survived the attack. But he'll never be the same again... He can no longer be a knight, not with his injuries.

He continues pacing... The King and high court have been deliberating on his fate for some time now. Gilbert's in there too, as key witness.

He walks the length of the chamber again and again...

They're going to kill him, he's sure... Disobedience is bad enough, but he almost got Randull killed! That's a death sentence for sure. So the only question now is... How are they going to do it?

He could run... But he's not a coward, and he's willing to pay the price for what he's done...

Besides, where would he go? He'd be a criminal, a wanted man. The southern kingdoms would eat him alive for that, be it for a bounty or simply hatred. West is basically suicide and he doesn't think he could handle the months at sea to reach the eastern continent. And north is... well the less said about there the better. Not to mention his only remaining family is here. So no, no running...

More pacing... then...

"Jones." An attendant says as they swing open the doors.

Silently, he follows them up to the throne room, where his fate is waiting.

Glares and looks of disappointment follow him as he makes his way across the room to stand before his King.

"Alfred..." The old man says tiredly, voice not hiding his disappointment in him.

"My lord." Still, he bows his head and kneels. Even if he's going to die, he still has his senses about him. The King sighs heavily.

"What you have done, it can never be undone. But, perhaps it can be forgiven." He snaps his head up at that.

"Sir Randull has given his view on the matter and, with Gilbert's account of the event, we have come to a decision."

This is it...

"For your crimes of disobedience, and endangering a fellow Knight, you shall be stripped of your knighthood. But, for your actions of protecting your fellow man, and by the good graces of your bloodline, you shall not be executed on this day."

He gets to live...

"However, a punishment must be given, and so, it has been decided. You, Alfred Feral Jones the third, will henceforth, be tasked with the sole duty of guarding the Solace Fort, in the Ivory Expanse. And you will remain there, until your days end, or until you discover your true calling."

"Uh..." He's not sure how to respond to this. He gets to live but... He's basically been exiled...

"You have until sundown tomorrow to prepare, then, you will ride out to the fort. From there, you'll be in the hands of fate." With that, he's dismissed and his world crumbles around him...

Two years he's been guarding this damned fort, and he hates it. There's nothing but ice and snow in this crappy perpetual winter. Not to mention that when he first got here, the place was falling apart. So he's been stuck doing a one man repair job while he sits here in the cold, draughty ruin that is his new home for the rest of his life. He's definitely going to die young out here. At least he's managed to repair most of the outside, so less of the cold gets in now. The first few months were a living hell, but now it's at least bearable. To think, he finally managed to become a knight —something he'd been working towards his whole life— one of the Kings guard! And he lost it all in a single day.

Now instead of being in a bustling city, he's all alone. The nearest form of civilisation is a village three days ride from here, and the nearest town of any use is five days. Here, he has to hunt for his food or travel to town to barter if he needs something in particular.

Standing out on the battlements, he looks across the endless expanse of white. Trees dot the horizon, the edge of the Frost Forest and beyond them, the Quivering Mountains. He sighs as he leans upon the cold stone. He misses home, his brother... The days when he was sure he'd become a hero, a true hero of the people... Even the armour he once had has been bartered away, now, he wears a much older suit, worn and rusty in places when he first got it. Though, he was quite surprised to find it holds a reinforcement spell bound into the metal itself. The blue strips of cloth at his sides, tied to his belt, are now the only think he has left from his home. Though they do not bear the crest, they are at least the colour of his family's sigil.

Well, enough moping, it's time for him to go check his traps, see if he's caught anything, maybe if he's lucky he'll find a good meal.

And that's how he ended up here. Mindlessly wandering through the forest checking his traps, the smell of his recent success, an Emerald Antelope, must have drawn the wolf's attention. What ever the reason, the result is still the same. The beast made to attack him, caught off guard, he had desperately swung his sword back, striking the wolf in the side. But that was were his luck ended. The beast crying out in pain and pulled back. Angered by the injury, it planted it's feet and raised its head up, letting out an ethereal howl. He realises now it's a snow wolf, and not just anyone, but the giant, magic wielding kind. Alfred stupidly stared rather than running as wind wiped up around the wolf, spiralling outwards, in an instant, Alfred found himself caught in a blizzard, a total white out.

So, survival instincts finally kicking in, he ran. And ran and ran and ran. Until, he ran right off a drop, falling several feet into the snow bank below. Groaning he rolled over, only for a massive bolder to drop down on top of him, pushed over the edge by the wolf and pinning him.

And so here he is, about to die at the hands of a very smug wolf.

Authors notes: Backstory time! So basically Al you fucked up... big time...

R & R people.

Until next time, stay awesome!