The Prologue

Milschter, Canada,  December 1977

The morning sun cast golden rays of light on the hill, projecting long shadows on the already foreboding landscape. If one looked across the horizon, they could see that some of it was ablaze. A pale man gazed at his soldiers; his black matted hair half-covering his face. He looked behind himself at the weary multitude of soldiers at his command. They gazed at him with looks of fear, anger, and misery. Some had blood and filth spattered on their intricate armor, while others, the cowards, were still somewhat clean.

                He then turned back around to face his enemies. At their head, a scarred man with platinum blonde hair gazed at him, hatred burning in his eyes. Beside the man, a woman with a large mop of curly red hair had turned her back to the opposing army, encouraging and shouting orders at her men. They had been fighting for weeks, and only recently had both armies retreated to take care of their wounded, and regroup. That day, the fighting had resumed, coming to a halt when Augustus had called for negotiations.

“Your old age is showing, Augustus!” the dark-haired man hissed.

“You are older than me, *Edward.* You should think your insults through before saying them. At least *I* am fighting, and not giving my men an excellent show of cowardice.” Augustus replied.

“Oh really?” The cloaked man, Edward Carlisle, said. On his face, a long, knotted scar ran its length from his forehead to his neck, partially obstructed by an eyepatch. “you’re weary, and your skin shows wrinkles not even a hag would bear. You are not fit to hold the crown any longer,” he paused, “if you ever were.”

“And you are? Pardon me, but last time I checked, you were a deranged madman who *consistently* suffered from delusions of grandeur,” Augustus began, “-old friend--please do not make me do this any longer. If you have any respect for anyone, even yourself, call off this folly. I won’t allow my kingdom to be ruled by someone who ought to be committed to an asylum.”

“I’m not the one suffering from delusions, Augustus, since when are we friends? If you have entertained the idea that we were *anything* more than acquaintances, *you’re* the one who ought to be considered insane!” Edward shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.

The comment had a visible effect on Augustus. He cleared his throat. “You’re half blind! How do you expect to rule if you can’t even see your own subjects?”

“No thanks to you.” Edward replied, ignoring the question. He grabbed a lance from a neighboring soldier, his arms-bearer. “*I* didn’t poke your eye out with a sword.”

“You presume to fight me?”

“I wouldn’t call it a fight, so long as you’re involved.”

“Yes, with all those *spirits* working in your favor, it’d hardly be a fair fight. Besides, you’d be no more than a commoner without them.” Augustus said. He looked at the red-haired woman, who nodded.

“I swear, Augustus Aldritch, don’t mock me. It may be your end.”

“Swear on what? You do not believe in any gods. Don’t believe in any moral codes either, that much is evident.”

“I’ll kill you.” Edward said, his lip quivering in anger.

“You’ve tried. Every time you say that, I prevail.”

“Fine,” he set down the lance. It landed with a heavy thud, “I call off the spirits, and the soldiers, and we fight like men.”

Augustus gazed at him, unblinking. “I’d wish for nothing more.”

He turned to the woman with the mane of red hair, and whispered something to her. She nodded, and raised her hands in the air, shouting to the soldiers to put down their arms.

“Thank you,” He nodded towards her. She replied with a hopeful smile and a sideways nod.

“Let us begin, old man.” Edward cast a glance towards his arms-bearer, who handed him a sword.

“No magic.” Augustus yelled. He doubted the full extent of his strength, and wanted to stand at least an inkling of a chance against his former friend.

“So it shall be.” Edward said. He wiped sweat and mud from his brow.

Augustus sent up a silent prayer. Slowly walking to his enemy, he tried his best to remember what this was for.

His son and his wife. His brothers. More importantly, this was for the fate of his kingdom and his people.