The sun was setting on the small town of Bereticum, nearing dusk and slowly creeping over the horizon, where it would hide until the next dawn. Even though it had snowed most of the day, the gale had ceased and the moderate breezy evening air was sweeping through Bereticum.

The town wasn’t walled but still maintained a small force of soldiers or rather guards to protect it from the numerous groups of bandits and brigands that roamed the area.

Two of them were stationed at the entrance to Bereticum, conversing with each other and holding both a lantern and a pike, the taller one of them, leaning onto his carelessly.

A sound which seemed like something cracked a twig attracted their attention, their conversation dying down immediately. Just three weeks prior, Bereticum had been attacked by a medium sized group of bandits who were luckily repelled but four guards had died during that assault.

They had been good friends.

They had known each other for life.

Their death came both unexpected as well as swift. At least one saving grace.

Afterwards those men received a proper burial, usually reserved for nobility but they were hailed as heroes. Heroes who protected the city at the sacrifice of their lives.

But the people who knew them grieved nonetheless.

Understandable that ceremonies and honours didn’t suffice to quell the sorrow of a loved one’s death. Thus the broken twig terminated all laughter and jauntiness. The guards were dead-serious.

No intruder would walk past them, no one would enter the city unauthorised. No one would die today. History wouldn’t repeat itself.

“Verus, if I die today, tell my daughters that I love them.”

“You won’t die today, my brother. Besides, tell them yourself if I sacrifice myself for you,” the other guard said without looking at his comrade, his brother in arms.

“Take this matter seriously or we’ll suffer the same fate as the others.”

This was the moment that their eyes darted to a figure emerging out of the darkness, hood pulled over its face, obscuring it fully, its once brown cloak entirely crimsoned from blood, ragged at numerous places and the pommel of a sword and the blade of an axe were protruding from the figure’s back.

Suddenly the mysterious and sinister figure looked up, scaring the two men who retreated some steps. But after a good look they realised what was standing before them.

It was a young boy.

Astraeus looked up and was greeted by a gleaming lantern which blinded him, forcing him to lift a hand to cover his eyes.

“Stop right where you are!” someone in front of him shouted. From the trembling, unsure tone of his voice, Astraeus categorised him as a civilian, a guard at best. A lousy one.

But he didn’t stop.

“Uncover your face for us to see!”

Astraeus didn’t comply.

“Now! Or we’ll be forced to use force on you!”

Astraeus stopped and enthusiastically screamed: “Finally,” he uncovered his face and to the guards’ surprise it was indeed a young human boy.

His head was shaven and a single scar ran beneath his left eye horizontally. Blood was splattered on his head and dribbled down his forehead, until it dripped down from his nose. “Would you permit me entry? Or else, as you’ve said, I have to use violence against you,” the menacing tone and the conscious pause emphasised his threat before continuing: “I consider this a yes.”

Dauntlessly, he walked past the dazzled guards who neither resisted nor stopped him passing by. A small crowd had already gathered and were amassing a short distance away from the guards. The loud conversation had attracted the usual curious bystanders.

Astraeus headed towards them, especially to a little blonde girl who was holding a brown stuffed animal in her arms, hugging it intensely, as if already dreading the boy’s arrival.

Meanwhile the guards had recovered from their shock and shouted at the boy to stop but he was unfazed by them nor the other 3 guards who ran towards the crowd, armed and equipped in somewhat acceptable armour, as Astraeus remarked. He kneeled down in front of her and looked to the ground almost remorsefully.

“I’m sorry if I scare you but-” “Get away from the girl!” shouted the same guard from before at Astraeus, at whom three pikes were aimed, ready to strike if necessary.

“Ignore them. I need to know where the marquis lives. Can you show me where?” The girl lifted her trembling arm and pointed at a large marble manor at the end of the road, past the town square and the well.

“Thank you, I am much obliged,” he reached out with his hand, trying to pat her but stopped midair. The image of a large fire emerged inside his mind, clouding any other thought, sense or feeling. Just the fire … and those goddamn bells.

Oh, how he hated hearing them. How he despised their very existence.

When he snapped back to reality his hand was still at the same place it had been before but he rapidly relented and pulled it back to prevent touching the little girl who was looking at him confused and frightened, slowly recoiling back to her people. “As I’ve said, I’m sorry when I scare people. Don’t remember me. In your life, you’ll meet figures even more monstrous than me.”

Astraeus stood up and walked around the crowd, towards the large manor which should be occupied by the marquis. From the edge of his vision, Astraeus noticed something approaching his body. The guard from earlier was attacking him with his pike, aiming straight at the boy’s right thigh.

Pathetic. Unexperienced. Unworthy.

With a simple motion of his hand, Astraeus sent the guard flying several feet until he landed harshly on the ground.

Astraeus looked at the guards with an emotionless expression and lifted his other hand until it rested on them. He spread his fingers and started to move backwards in the direction of the manor. The still standing guards looked at their sitting comrade for a moment before realising that the boy was heading towards their regent. They ran as fast as they could with all their armour and equipment but didn’t get far since suddenly they hit an invisible barrier.

Taken aback by this sudden obstacle the soldiers punched against it, stabbed at it, shouted at it to go away.

Useless.

All of it.

They were trapped in Astraeus’ magic.

Escape was futile.

His gaze shifted to the point the girl had indicated and truly, asking the girl had been stupid. It looked just like you would imagine a governing building from a noble who lived in luxury and abundance. Large, outstanding from the neighbouring wooden houses, marble-white and covered with fancy golden ornaments.

As he walked towards it, he ignored the scared expressions on the townspeople’s faces who had left their homes due to the commotion. His hand remained fixed on the guards’ position until the moment he entered the manor of the marquis whose large wooden door demanded Astraeus’ full physical ability only to push open.

After entering, he looked at the street for one last time and witnessed the mob of people desperately trying to rescue their fathers, brothers or husbands, maybe even ‘and’.

Astraeus dropped his hand and witnessed the bulk of people falling into the mud since the barrier was gone. To his own displeasure he had to smile at this act of frailty of humans. It was only natural that someone from a renowned, powerful, influential mage family would think like that.

His gaze paned to the side and he saw the blonde girl from before. Only now, she was crying and shaking, which was even visible to Astraeus who was standing on the opposite side of the town square. His smile faded and his expression became grim.

Why am I like this? “WHO ARE YOU?” Someone from above yelled at Astraeus.

He is certainly a soldier, Astraeus instantly assessed. It had become quite a routine to evaluate his enemies.

He turned around and looked at the man, or rather both men since they were two. Both clad in shining armour and fine red cloaks, equipped with well-maintained weapons. Swords, spears and daggers were the most obvious parts of their arsenal. Grim expressions welcomed Astraeus, beaming of determination to prevent anyone from disturbing the great marquis. No doubt, those were professional soldiers, paid and fed for only one task. Killing. Just like Astraeus.

“LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS, INTRUDER!” The same man shouted from the top of the staircase.

“I’m really not in the mood for much conversation. I’m pissed. Now get out of my way!” Astraeus ordered the two men. They didn’t even flinch.

It was truly a sight to behold. Two humans clad in red marvellously manufactured cloaks glaring at the powerful mage clad in ragged clothes and a crimson cloak, soaked with blood, spit and filth. The tension in the air was palpable. Any moment it could escalate. Any moment, blood could be spilled.

Astraeus could prevent it.

He could save those men from pain.

He could if he wanted to.

But he took a step towards the stairs, igniting the guards into rampage, their war cries echoing off the marble walls as they descended the stairs.

Astraeus didn’t even bother to pull out his sword out of its finely decorated scabbard. The rune-engraved and magically enchanted weapon would have to slumber some more.

Rather, he swept his right hand through the air. The guards reached the floor, dashing towards the boy, swords drawn and high in the sky, ready to strike whenever the target was in range.

For a single moment the young boy imagined the battles the men had fought to gain them and survive those hardships.

Too boring for me, he sadly concluded.

When the taller of the guards was in striking distance, he lifted his sword even higher into the sky, ready to sweep it down when he was certain it’d do the most amount of damage.

But his intention wouldn’t be fulfilled since both him and his friend were suddenly in the air. Furthermore, they were moving at an extreme speed. Too fast for normal humans to track.

But Astraeus watched their rapid fall in an alternate time conception. For him, they acted ‘normal’.

Anything but normal was the actual speed with which the guards crashed into the marble, denting and breaking it from the sheer force which they possessed after Astraeus’ attack. The latter looked at their unconscious bodies for a moment, his disappointment and envy clearly showing. Slowly he turned his head around, now staring at the defenceless white stairs.

When he walked up the beautifully decorated and adorned stairs, he involuntarily became nauseous. It reminded him too much of his old dwelling.

As he reached the door, his rage had accumulated. For a week already, he had been wandering around, murdering and destroying. It seemed that bad luck and misfortune were always nagging at him, nourishing from his misery.

Rapidly pushing the door open had its intended effect. The already awoken marquis was sitting on his bed, buttoning up his tunic and sleeving into his cloak.

The marquis, mouth wide-open, half naked, simply stared at the young boy’s arrival while the two naked women who Astraeus deduced to either be the marquis’ mistresses or the illegal version, his two wives, were still sleeping soundly, muttering incomprehensible words in their strange dreams. The only syllable overheard by Astraeus was something with Fy- but he didn’t know since he concentrated on the marquis.

A scrawny man, unusual for someone his status since most dukes were fat and lazy but seeing as Bereticum was located on the outskirts of the ‘Prosperous Kingdom,’ as the church called its largest territory, Astraeus concluded that raids were quite frequent.

His hair had already begun to bolden and the last strains of it didn’t exactly look luscious in volume nor colour.

Despite being a relatively poor town compared to the eastern and western metropolises, Bereticum’s marquis seemed to live in luxury. Proof for that thesis would be the golden glasses he hurriedly put on to witness the whole figure of the intruder or the expensive furs which kept him and his ‘companions’ warm at night.

“What-wh-what is your business here, stranger?” The young boy didn’t answer immediately since he recognized the awakening figures of the women who he didn’t want to drag into his quest for a challenge, an adversary, a rival. Something to beat wouldn’t help him much but at least it’d give his life a purpose. Something that he direly needed and desired for the past decade but had never found.

“What’s up baby?” the blonde woman asked the marquis who was still getting properly dressed. However he didn’t reply.

She punched her companion on the other side of the bed, but she was too drunk to wake up which forced the blonde to once again hit her friend, simply more forcefully.

“WHAT!” furiously asked the brunette or maybe dark haired woman. I don’t know, I’m pretty miserable at those things.

“Jujujo doesn’t answer me,” she exclaimed sorrowfully, raising her hands in the sky and afterwards to her eyes, pretending to cry.

The marquis whose gaze never left Astraeus, replied: “Ladies, could you please leave my chamber. There are important things to discuss.” He leaned in to whisper something in the blonde’s ear. “I HAVE TO RAISE THE ALARM? It is just morning.”

The disappointed expression of a father, no, he wasn’t theirs, crossed his face, cursing the drunken ladies. “Thank you Huniava, but currently it really doesn’t matter whether it is morning or evening.”

Dazzled by this reply, the blonde woman who had sat up right during the order of her marquis, slumped back down on the bed, murmuring about how unfair life was and how she couldn’t know since she had drunk the whole time.

Finally Astraeus spoke: “There is no need nor possibility to call in reinforcements.”

Understanding the intent of the message, the marquis remained silent. The same couldn’t be said for his acquaintances who began to laugh wholeheartedly. “Man, you sound just like a boy. Like a little, little, puny boy, pffft” the brunette couldn’t speak anymore due to her laughter but the blonde supported her friend: “Exactly! Do you think you can just barge in here and threaten us? Are you threatening us?”

A brief moment of reconsideration of the next words: “Because if so, then be prepared to face the full consequences. Jujujo is a master mage who has been trained by the great Valerius Domitor himself!”

Hearing this name flipped a switch in Astraeus who opened his magic aura which flooded the room, pressing down the lowly humans who were unworthy of being a mage.

Who would have thought that Jujujo was indeed no mage but just an impostor who liked to brag.

“Get out,” Astraeus commanded in a grim and menacing voice.

Fearing for their lives, the young women jumped off the bed, still butt-naked, evaded Astraeus and ran through the opened door, screaming for help. Astraeus waited until the noise died down before he continued but it didn’t.

It only increased once the women found the injured soldiers splattered against the wall, blood covering the once white marble surface. Astraeus sighed. He was annoyed. Unlike most other children, stupid things like an intimidated man, crushed soldiers, scared women or naked people didn’t interest him at all. It just seemed so … trivial. At least if you compare it with the rest of his meaningless existence and the infinite expectations his teachers, his friends, and his own father put on him, mortal and worldly joys couldn’t even dare to exhilarate him.

Once the noise faded, Astraeus began to speak, uncovering his face by lifting his crimson hood: “Marquis, tell me. Are there any unusual monsters in this area?”

No reply.

Astraeus waited since he childishly thought that the man was simply processing his words and thinking of a solution. But still.

No reply.

“I asked you a question, student of Valerius,” added Astraeus, his magic aura now suffocating the strangled marquis, steadily increasing in power and volume. Astraeus pulled out his sword, enflaming it in a bright inferno of fire and symbolically cut through the air.

Jujujo looked around but it seemed that the young delusional boy had simply torn through the air, through nothing. But suddenly he noticed that his weight shifted. He was moving. Why was he moving? The bed … it had been cut in two. And he was sliding down towards the ground.

When he hit the ground with a quiet thump, he gasped once, realising the severity of his predicament. The intimidated marquis yelled at the intruder: “WHO are you? And what do you want from me?” The fright in the man’s expression amused the boy who quickly remembered his beloved mother’s wishes and thus ceased to smile and changed his expression to a stern one.

“I’ve already said what I want. If you’re too drunk or drugged to answer it, your head will have to suffice for my hunt.”

Even though Astraeus continued to talk, the audible gulp did not pass unnoticed.

“Concerning your first question … My name is Astraeus Domitor, heir to the Domitor family and designated leader of it. According to my privileges, I demand hospitality and respect. Pay it!”

The man’s eyes widened from terror. The problem child of the Domitors had arrived at his court. Why did the Angels curse him so much? Nonetheless he bowed down, his forehead touching the dirty, alcohol-soaked ground, his dignity plummeting even below that.

Although he had no clue nor chance to know whether the boy was telling the truth, the fear of what would happen if he refused a command from the leader of the Domitors was overwhelming.

Why is he the leader of the Domitors? What happened with Valerius? … Don’t tell me …

Yes, his thoughts were right. Valerius was dead but it seemed that Astraeus travelled faster than the news. The boy didn’t even know whether the news was public at all. He had left right after his father’s burial.

“Now that you know your inferiority and my authority, tell me. What challenges exist in these hills?” The marquis looked up from the ground, avoiding eye contact with the reckless prince and replied: “There is a large cave at the shores of Lake Incontinentia. The legends claim the existence of a beast in this cave. Maybe it’s a dragon. However we have never seen nor noticed it. We’ve even ventured into the cave but found nothing except the usual monsters and challenges which would of course be trivial to you, my Lord.” His head touched the ground once again.

A dragon. Finally a dragon. This will be my first prey. Await your doom dragon, for I, the humbler of worlds, Astraeus Domitor have arrived, he yelled inside his mind.

Without saying anything else, Astraeus left the marquis’ chamber and entered the grand entrance hall. The marble was still covered in blood which Astraeus remarked: “How magnificent.” When a movement in the corner of the hall gained his attention, he added: “This however isn’t.”

The guards from before had fled Astraeus’ prison and arrived at the scene. Well, not all of them as it seemed.

It was one. The same who bravely stood up against Astraeus’ intrusion, the one who desperately tried to follow him. The truest and most honourable of the soldiers.

As he saw Astraeus, he dropped the wounded soldier’s head onto the tunic who he tended to and stood up.

Broad-chested, proud and ready for his revenge, the man sprinted towards the staircase, grabbing his sword and steadying himself for battle. Upon arrival he jumped up the first four steps.

Impressive, conceded Astraeus. But this impression didn’t last long since after the sixth step, the man froze.

He didn’t know why nor how but his body didn’t listen to any of his commands. No matter the effort, no matter the strain he put it through, no matter how much his mind screamed at his legs to move, nothing happened.

Without uttering a word, the young unhooded boy walked past his opponent.

No … opponent wouldn’t be fitting.

Not even ‘obstacle’ was fitting.

For Astraeus the man was simply nothing.

Nothing to be worried about.

Nothing to be noticed.

Nothing to be seen.

Boring one may even say. But could you really blame Astraeus? For someone who’s seen everything, who’s experienced everything, who’s lost everything, was there really something exciting. The only thing which seemed to excite him was the thrill of battle. The sole moment where you stand between life and death. Does something more beautiful than that exist? Because he, as someone forsaken by thousands, found truth and clarity in battle.

The strange silence before imminent death.

This was what intrigued him the most.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

People differ. You cannot judge all humans as equal. Deem your opponents whether they are worthy of you. But more importantly, evaluate whether your friends deserve you, for they can hurt you more than a blade ever could. For the dagger of betrayal pierces deeper than the spear of war.