Luark made his way along the streets, carrying a pile of fresh bread in his arms. He ate as he walked, making his way towards the city gates. However unfortunate it was, he still had a job to do.

'Ah... this taste really does give me the right motivation' Luark thought. He savoured each mouthful with closed eyes and delightfully smiled, being careful not to drop a crumb.

Before he had finished two pieces, he arrived at the city gates.

'Now, what's going on here, huh?' Lurak thought as he took a particularly savage bite.

He glanced around, and noticed drops of blood on the floor beneath the archway, and pieces of rough, torn cloth drifting about slightly in the hot wind.

The guard captain sat near a desk, applying a herbal medicinal dressing to his shoulder.

Luark took another bite.

It took a while before Alex and the few guards present noticed Luark, but, when they did, they stood up straight, and saluted the old armored man.

"Sir Luark, what brings you here today?" Alex said, his voice coming hoarsely and with great difficulty. He was in the midst of cleaning his wound with a salve but stood up anyway to salute the old warrior. He grimaced in pain as he did so, however.

Luark took another bite, finishing the piece of bread.

"Don't mind me, take your time getting treated first. I just want to take a seat" Luark said as he sat down by the desk in the open air, careful not to let his food fall to the ground. He placed all of his pieces of bread in a neat pile upon the desk and then leisurely grabbed one.

"Ah, of course, Sir" Alex said as he stiffly sat back down and continued to gently apply the medicinal mixture.

All the guards were now a lot tenser, and more thoroughly examined every entrant with a suspicion befitting an Inquisitor.

By the time he had two pieces of bread left to consume, Luark looked up at the sky from the cool shade under the archway; shades of blue and red coloured the sky, and it would get darker soon.

He sighed, finishing another piece, and made to grab the final piece of bread from the desk.

Alex tremored as he thought about the reason for Luark's presence, 'was he here for what happened earlier with the High Seat's servant? Was the High Seat upset with him for some reason?'

As these thoughts turned in his mind, he applied the dressing with too much force, causing him to wince in pain and reflexively kick the leg of his desk, causing it to break.

The bread fell to the floor.

As soon as it touched the ground, Luark's blade flew out of his scabbard - a slight flash of red light, and sliced off Alex's leg. The outstretched limb trailed pools of blood as it fell to the ground with a dull, heavy sound.

"Huh?" Alex looked at his leg, confused. He hadn't felt a thing until he saw a tremendous amount of red spilling from his thigh.

As he began to register what happened, Alex's vision turned upside-down. He felt like he was rapidly losing height and he attempted to regain balance, but his arms did not respond to his command.

His head fell to the ground, and the last sound he heard was Luark's old voice, tinged with deep regret, which then faded into dullness "I can't get another till tomorrow, you know? Eevie's bread is..."

The guards, still diligent in their duties hadn't noticed their guard captain had left the world, but some entrants to the gate had. They didn't make a sound and simply hurried along their way, so as not to catch that old warrior's attention.

It wasn't until someone screamed that everyone became aware of what was happening and the guards instantly reacted, ready to draw their spears.

The commotion accrued rapidly now, and Luark simply walked through those fear-tinted sounds with nonchalance following his every step.

"Sir Luark, Sir, what is the meaning...?" One of the guards asked, trembling. He saw his captain's headless body now slump to the ground, and then Luark's large elderly figure, armour glistening with glorious red light, making his way toward them. Dark droplets seeped through the gaps in the lower half of the guard's armour, and a heavy smell accompanied them.

"Ah. I had to wake up for this" Luark said simply, piercing the guard's chest as he did so.

Some of the guards drew their spears now, and two pleaded with Luark with heads bowed, and the last one ran away in the direction of the outer city toward the markets.

Those who drew their spears had the hefts of them cleaved along with their chests, and the runaway hadn't made it three strides before his head fell to the dirt.

"Please Sir, why are you doing this? We've been so diligent, the High Seat..." One of the two guards pleading for his life continued to ramble on, glancing around toward any potential opportunities for escape.

"I dunno. Maybe his son doesn't like you? I can see the old bastard doing that actually" Luark said as he scratched his ear.

'Son?' the two guards who were pleading with Luark looked at each other and both saw realisation dawn in each other's eyes.

'That kid? He...' Before their thoughts could reach any further, their heads fell to the ground.

As Luark sheathed his blade, he looked around at all the stunned faces who had witnessed the massacre.

"Ehh... If you wanna go through, go through. Ain't my duty" He said to them.

He was about to leave when he heard the furious striking of metal and stone from somewhere nearby, and looked at the door to the guard's room. He sighed. He picked up the bread that, through sheer skill or luck, was unstained by any drop of blood, and took a bite out of it as he made his way to the door. His task was to kill all of the guards, and he would be annoyed if he had to come back here because he hadn't been thorough.

He passed through the door and coughed. Dust particles densely floated in the stale air; there were no windows, and the heavy smell of sweat and iron assaulted his senses. Faded stains of red shades, some darker than others, gave a certain character to the stone floor.

Wafting away the air with his arm, he saw a naked boy chained to a corner of this chamber and no one else. The boy seemed, to him, on the verge of death. Dried blood streaked his temple, one of his arms was scalded, and his body was marred by many large, fresh bruises. On the boy's left shoulder, obscured by passionate stabs and scratches, a dark brand was marked. It had a single sharp vertical edge that cut through the shape of an eye.

Luark made out the brand in the dim light which made it through the door behind him.

He recognised it and sighed.

He was too old for this shit.