Nameless

I awoke refreshed and energetic.

I sat up and surveyed my surroundings, a dirty alleyway and a large crate hiding my location from the adjacent street. From the amount of light filtering in from between the rooftops, I could tell that it was just past dawn. My stomach rumbled. The last time I ate was yesterday morning. I felt like I could devour an entire horse. I headed out into the bustling street, prepared for the looks I would inevitably receive. There were many people who were out walking the streets at this early hour.

I took this chance to study some of the people who constituted this town's population. There was a dark skinned man walking down the street in a sleeveless tunic flanked by two bulky men with brass rings in their noses. They eyed me suspiciously as they passed by. Most other people walking down the streets looked like common tradesfolk. I focused on the task at hand and searched for a bite to eat. As I headed in no direction in particular, a number of nice smells assaulted me. I came across an outdoor marketplace. There were several stalls on the side of the street selling meat and other wares.

Perhaps my hunger affected my judgement, but no matter the case, I decided to obtain my meal through deceit. There was a woman with a basket of tomatoes calling out loudly their price. I approached seemingly clueless and then pretended to trip, pushing over the basket and scattering tomatoes across the cobblestones. As they scattered, I shoved two of them in my cloak as I fell to the ground. I got up and made apologies, even helping to pick up the remaining tomatoes. The woman instead of scolding me, tossed me a third tomato and smiled. I quickly shuffled away, feeling a pang of guilt as I bit into my breakfast.

With food in my stomach, my mood improved. I began to run over options in my head. The only thing I could do was play music. I also had no instrument or anything to my name. There must have been some kind of musician's guild in the city. As I was walking and finishing my breakfast, I recognized the old man from the common room. He was standing on a street corner apparently looking for something. I walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and a grin appeared on his face.

"Ah! I've been looking for you since your %[email protected]#@%$#@ at the Twin Mares' Inn. We need to talk. Could I interest you in a drink? My treat..." The old man spoke very quickly.

He appeared very excited about talking to me. He appeared especially spirited for a man his age, reminding me of the little girl, Sylvia. I touched my hairtie unconsciously. He ushered me into a nearby building and soon I was sitting in a barstool. First, the man introduced himself simply as Pluck Songsmith, which was likely just a stage name. The man ordered me some type of drink and then got down to business.

"I am going to be honest with you kid...I have never heard anyone play half as well as you did last night. There is a definite place for you at The Academy of the Arts. Would you be interested in coming to our small school? I am sure we could compensate you @%$#@[email protected]#. We only %@$#@$ the best of the best. With your level of skill, you could probably become an %[email protected]#@$%@." Pluck said earnestly.

A position at a musical academy...It is my only option I have so far.

"What...Academy?" I replied.

"You don't know Ethrul Academy?! It is a branch of the Ethruhiel. It's on the countess' land in the center of the blasted town! As a man of music, you surely have heard of them...Right?" Pluck asked with a hint of unbelief.

This Academy must've been a large deal in this town. The gruff man behind the bar slammed two large flagons of smelly, amber coloured liquid down in front of both of us. As I looked down at my drink, I saw my scarred reflection silently watching me. Pluck exclaimed loudly and began to down the large drink with haste. This was a man fond of drink. I took a long drink of my flagon and felt a familiar fire ignite in my stomach. I tipped my mug back and imitated the enthusiastic chugging of drink in which the old man was partaking. The old man looked shocked by the time he finished his drink that my flagon was already empty.

"Now you're someone I can drink with, son! Rick! Send us another round!" The old man said excitedly.

The man behind the bar grumbled something unintelligible about a tab while uncorking another barrel of drink. The old man proceeded to tell me more of this academy. It was built next to the large stone structure I saw when entering the city. The minister of this town, The Countess, had a fond appreciation for music of all sorts, and The Academy was very well financed. Apparently, it was also a part of an esteemed musicians' guild, which gave it significant political clout. According to the old man, this academy, The Countess, and the merchants' guild ran this town.

The politics of this town seemed very simplistic, with a single noble family which ruled through the small force of guards which report directly to The Countess. There were likely also militias which would rally during wartime. Pluck also told me that the population of this town, Mayfield, was actually quite small. Most people who were here were seeking to trade their wares, or they were part of caravans who stopped here on their journey.

By the time the old man was done explaining, I looked down at the numerous empty mugs surrounding the two of us on the bar. My head was starting to feel fuzzy, and I felt especially warm and relaxed. Pluck seemed unaffected by the drink at all as he nimbly hopped down from the barstool. Patrons were starting to flood into the tavern, meaning that it was mid'day...Meaning that I had been sitting on the barstool for a significant amount of time.

"If you would like, I could have a %@$#@$ escort you to The Academy so you can see it for yourself...HaHA! In my excitement, I forgot to ask'ya your name, son! In my defense, I had several drinks before we talked...So, how are you called?" Pluck said, his words seeming to pour out of his mouth with terrifying speed.

"My name..."

It would be very bad for him to find out that I still had no name. I guess I just have to make one up... Perhaps I could use the name of the boy with the bow...

"My name is Da-...Darrius," I said to the old man.

"You must be beyond drunk for you to forget your own name like that! Ha! You can still hold your liquor pretty well for a [email protected]#%$# like yourself," Pluck admitted.

As we moved to leave, the man behind the bar called out to Pluck in anger over the substantial tab which had built. Pluck called over his shoulder to send it to The Academy. As we walked into the blinding light of day, my head began to throb painfully. There was a gilded black coach stopped right outside of the tavern.

"I wish to see your...Academy, Pluck." I told the old man.

"Then let us travel! Gian! We ride!" Pluck shouted at the coach-man as we walked around to the doors of the coach.

Pluck flashed me a lopsided grin as shoved me lightly into the carriage. Inside, the seats were leather, indicating a level of luxury which I had yet to witness.

"I will have you know, I'm now a teacher at this here academy and I'll be able to vouch for your attendance. Normally for a person to attend the academy, it would cost a considerable amount of silver, but for you, I sure that bitch of a headmistress will make an exception. Ha!" Pluck explained.

I just listened silently while absorbing the information. The teachers at this school must be payed very well, if a carriage of this quality was transporting him around from tavern to tavern. He was probably high on the hierarchy in The Academy, whatever it was. The crack of a whip and the carriage lurched forward at a sickening pace... To The Academy.

'To a new beginning' I thought as I leaned out of the carriage to empty the contents of my stomach.

Amelia

I woke up in my feather bed with a splitting hangover.

Always after a night of carousing with friends, I awoke with a headache, but this was abnormally painful. I tried to remember all of what took place last night. I remembered someone playing a song of peerless beauty. I tried to recall the melody, but it slipped away like water through split fingers. However, I clearly remembered the conversation I had with the one-eyed musician after the performance. I thought he had a charming demeanor about him, even with his strange white hair and facial scar. It ran from his forehead down to the corner of his mouth and exposed some of his teeth. I thought that it made him look mischievous, but perhaps I was just very intoxicated.

I think he rejected me...With my awkward, drunken flirting, there's no surprise there.

I looked out of one of my bedroom windows only to see the sun already high in the sky. It was probably around mid'day.

Bloody Hell! Mother will kill me!

Today was Sundas, and I had class at noon. I flung the covers off my bed and leapt off. I wondered why my the house servant, Agatha, didn't wake me up earlier. Soon I was briskly walking out of my room, fiddle in hand, dressed in a practical, yet fashionable lavender skirt and blouse. Not even bothering to eat or speak to mother, I went down the hall and down the grand staircase. I exited the estate into the grounds, using the gardens as a shortcut to The Academy.

Mother had signed me up for the academy when I was twelve. It really was this town's only feature, a music academy to rival the ones in The Capital City. Some of the poorer noble gentry even sent their sons and daughters all the way here just to study at this school. I know I should've been grateful that I had the privilege to attend such a school, but it really was a pain! Mother tended to force her wishes on the people around her as easily as breathing. A truly fearsome woman.

The actual structure of The Academy was unlike that of other schools, it had outdoor pavilions and small sound shells for musical performance. The only real building was called 'The Barn' by the students and it was a relatively small structure and was only used for beginner instruction and bad weather. There were four classes of students: beginners, intermediates, advanced, and master. That being said, we now only had three teachers, one of them, Cyrus Copper who taught my class - the advanced division, had gone missing a few weeks prior. Currently, the headmistress had appointed a famous local troubadour to the task. If I wasn't mistaken, he was a graduate of this very academy.

I followed the paved path through my families' gardens onto the main academy green. The Academy actually functioned on my mothers land, and so my tuition was essentially non-existent as well as having a very short walk to its grounds. As I arrived at the advanced students' pavilion, all of the students had already circled around and were in the process of tuning their instruments. Most of the students in my class were the sons and daughters of merchants, so I was treated with exaggerated flattery and respect in order to try and curry favor with my mother.

The only person who actually treated me as an equal in my class was Elaine Morvel, who was the daughter of a low-born noble family far off to the east of Mayfield, on the border of the Ilyian Desert. Her skin was a light bronze and she had shiny black locks of hair which seemed to cascade off of her head. Her eyelashes were long and her eyes were a rich chocolate hue. If she weren't my friend, I would probably be jealous. A true beauty. She was also incredibly talented with the harp. The only bad thing about her was that she was Gligian. God-folk like her sometimes put me off.

"Amelia! By the God, I thought you were never going to show up! Quickly! Take a seat before Master Songsmith arrives!" Elaine exclaimed as I took the chair next to her.

As I sat down I realized how hungry I was at the moment. There was nothing I could do about it now that I was sitting around the advanced pavilion. I began to tune my fiddle, which was a gift from my mother as well.

"S'all right Elaine, I'm here now and this 'Master Songsmith' isn't and that's what matters," I replied.

"...Umm Amelia...Your hair..." Elaine looked sheepish.

I reached up and felt my hair, which was from what I could feel, was horribly messy. I looked around, embarrassed to be seen with the sorry state my hair was in. Most other students were pretending not to notice out of respect to me, or more specifically, my mother. Elaine handed me a bone comb which she kept with her at all times. I began to rake through my flaming, waist-length hair with the feeling of a dozen pairs of eyes on me. My cheeks reddened even further. Mother would murder me when she found out that I left the estate with my lady-like appearance, and she would find out thanks to her extensive network of informants around Ethrul Academy.

Tamwell, a son of a wealthy merchant with an uncanny knack for the lute spoke up, "When will that blithering idiot get here? We have been waiting for a quarter of an hour and he still isn't here!"

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the circled students. Apparently 'Master Songsmith' was not very popular among his pupils. Most other students had a chance to learn under him already, but I rarely attended class. The students' seemingly unanimous disapproval of the new teacher made me curious to meet him.

An Academy carriage pulled by two black mares was rolling up the cobble path to 'The Barn', the main building which was circled by the the numerous student pavilions and sound shells already ringing out in a muffled cacophony of music. It was probably the new instructor. The carriage pulled to a halt right next to the pavilion and a motley figure emerged. An old man with a ratty cloak sauntered into the center of the students. I could already smell the alcohol on him as he stood there acting like a king among peasants. I looked at Elaine in surprise and she mouthed, 'I know' back at me. I was looking at 'Master Songsmith'.

"*Ahem* I apologize for my less than timely arrival. I was sidetracked by a personal matter...I hope all of you practiced your monthly number...What was it again?...Ah yes, 'The Folly of Sir Tahallad'. I would also like you all to welcome an observer...Darrius! Come on now boy!" The old man said with a rough voice as he called out towards his carriage.

I heard Elaine make a quick gasp and turned to see where she was looking. My eyes fell upon a vaguely familiar pair of hunched shoulders and stark white hair shutting the coach door. It was the strange musician from last night. He looked somewhat green, but he still cut an intimidating figure. As his eye quickly scanned every student in attendance, his eye slightly widened when it fell on me. His study was interrupted by the old man clapping arms on his shoulder and telling him something. Other students were whispering among themselves, eyes flicking towards the new face.

"Well, change of plans...I am going to have my friend here play a quick piece to show you all how far you still have to go before you can call yourselves 'bards'...No objections? Have at it then boy," Master Songsmith said while handing 'Darrius' a 15 string lute and motioning towards a nearby chair.

Most students in the advanced class were around thirty, so I was considered very skilled for my age...As was Elaine, Tamwell, and a few others. Most musicians at this level had been playing almost their entire life. I could feel the indignation of the people around at having been directly insulted. I just shrugged off the insult, instead focusing on the events unfolding around me. Some of the students were openly glaring at the instructor and the strange looking young man.

'Darrius' set his fingers and started to play a fast, simple melody with an oscillating rhythm. He quickly sped up his music until I scarce could see his fingers blur across the strings. He then altered the melody into a complicated duet, each individual melody battling each other while keeping up the speed of his music. I was immediately enthralled with his playing, and so was everyone in the vicinity. I wouldn't have thought it possible if it wasn't happening in front of my eyes, but he sped up the tempo of his music even more. My eyes couldn't even trace the movement of his fingers until suddenly an ugly snapping sound reverberated across the academy green. The young man had stopped playing.

I was wondering what happened when I realized that the strings on the lute snapped. All of them. His fingers must have been lashed by the strings when they snapped because they were now dripping with blood. Suddenly, all of the students were clapping and talking at once. 'Darrius' laughed and set down the now broken instrument. Yet again, his playing had left me stunned. No one noticed how he was cradling his left hand.

"...Darrius will be helping...Supervise your lessons for now...Please give him a warm welcome." The old man said, answered by a more controlled applause and a smattering of discussion.

The following lesson was not as exciting, mainly just dull articulation exercises. 'Darrius' just sat back and watched with incredible patience as students struggled to play even a fraction as well as he just did moments ago. Finally, after around two hours of dull practice, the lesson was over. As everyone got up to leave, many students went up to talk to 'Darrius'. He said something to the eager fans and was met with laughter. I would have gone to talk to him, but I was ravenous. I also remembered that today was the day my uncle was supposed to arrive. Walking back towards my home, I set a brisk pace.

Soon I was back in the gardens, where I talked with the family groundskeeper, Harris. He was a blond man in his middle ages, particularly taller than most, but he was one of the most gentle people I knew.

"Mistress Amelia! The Countess ordered me to tell you that your family has arrived. They are exchanging greetings in the hearth room as we speak," The gardener said.

"Thank you Harris." I said as he opened the door for me.

I made my way through the house over to the hearth room, but before I made it, a giggling mass of flaming orange hair tackled me.

"Amee! I miffed oo!" Little Sylva said with her head buried in my bodice.

She had grown around two feet since I last saw my younger cousin, when mother and I were visiting Gehenea. Back then she was just a baby with wispy orange hair. Finally she released me and took my hand, tugging me in the direction of the rest of the Swiftand Family.

While we were walking, Sylvia declared, "Your boobies are really big!" while studying my chest.

I laughed out loud. Sylvia's presence was a nice change from the pompous dullards which I usually spent my time talking to. When I entered the hearth room, Uncle Janci, Dag, and Aunt Carla were sitting on cushioned seats and talking with mother. They looked rather threadbare, probably because they had been travelling for weeks.

Sylvia loudly announced, "Amee is here!"

I moved over to greet my uncle like a lady, aware of my mother's watchful gaze. As I curtsied, my uncle started to laugh.

"God Amelia, it's not like we're in a ballroom! No need for formality among family, eh?" He said.

Mother seemed perturbed by this and started to protest.

I knew I would soon have my hands full.

A cold wind blew over The Imperial City.

Home to a multitude of castles and keeps, each housing foreign dignitaries and nobles of high rank, none were as magnificent as the Imperial Palace. Located on the northern edge of the city, it was constructed on a rocky outcropping which jutted out over the rest of the city. This made the palace look like it was teetering on the edge of collapse. The only way to access the palace was through a steel and granite walkway which ran for about a kilometer from the streets of the city below up to the great iron drawbridge, which required an entire team of oxen to raise and to lower.

The walkway was lined with steel tiles, making the entire path gleam in the sunlight. This was only the least of the splendors of the Imperial Palace. It stood as a testament to the strength and wealth of the Xerian Empire. The palace was originally constructed by Oderic I Xeria, the first emperor. He and his army of one thousand Wytches had made the palace in a single day. A feat such as that did not come without a cost, however. After the palace was erected, his army exhausted their strength and they died soon after. All one thousand. Of course, this was just a legend. Magic had not existed...Ever.

On this particular walkway, a messenger was running. He had an urgent message for the soon-to-be emperor, and there was not a second to waste. After a quarter of an hour of running throughout the various halls and vast chambers of the palace, the messenger had found the prince in the practice yard.

The pudgy boy was swinging around a wooden, two-handed practice sword like a brute. His opponents looked like random civilians taken off the street. They were too afraid to attack the prince, and instead were just trying to stay out of harm's way. Before the messenger called out to the prince, the large boy sent one of his opponents down with a loud THWACK to the face. The man did not get up or move after that.

"My lord! Urgent message from the Ilyan Desert border." The messenger managed to choke out through ragged breaths.

The prince halted his one sided assault and walked over to where the messenger was kneeling

Wiping off his pasty, toadish face, the prince snapped, "What? Did that Conrad sow refuse to provide fodder for the army again?"

"I...I'm afraid so m'lord...She s-says that she wont send any of her citizens to die for some, and p-pardon my language, 'foolish boy's petty attempt at revenge'." The messenger stuttered.

The prince took a moment to register the news. His face then transformed into a mask of rage as his heavy breaths quickened their pace. With a scream of seething fury, the boy brought down his wooden practice sword onto the messenger's shoulder with tremendous force, shattering the messenger's collarbone. The messenger could only cry out and curl into a ball as the prince rained down blow after blow upon him. Soon the messenger stopped screaming and the only sounds which could be heard were the prince's labored breaths and the sound of wood colliding with lifeless meat. It reminded the servants what would happen to them if they displeased the soon-to-be Emperor Bilthas II Xeria.

While most thought Bilthas to be a dumb brute, he was actually incredibly intelligent. He sought revenge for the death of the only man, perhaps the only human, that he felt compassion for. The Late Emperor Alkestis Xeria had died several years back while on an expedition to the north. In a matter of days, the emperor's only male heir will be crowned emperor, and when that happens, he will wreak havoc on all those who had made light of him in the past.

__

That night, in the war-room of the Imperial Palace, the prince was speaking with one of the five Imperial Generals. General Folcard was one of the prince's most staunch supporters, his only flaw being that he possessed a conscience and lacked ambition.

"You're serious...You want to launch an offensive on citizens of The Empire?" General Folcard said to the prince with more than a hint of incredulity.

The prince explained as if to a small child,"No, you see...They are no longer citizens of my empire. They are committing treason, and for that we will set an example for all to see...You will burn this city, and you will take the young boys. If your troops will not do it, then hire mercenaries to do it and let your army keep their false honor. The young have such pliable minds...We will take them for front-line meat."

General Lews Folcard shuddered inside as he listened to the orders he was honor-bound to follow. Most frightening was how the prince sentenced boys who were around his own age to forced conscription. As soon as the general was dismissed, he relayed the orders with difficulty to his commanders and retired to his chambers to drink himself to oblivion.

The prince had darker activities which he partook in the night. Often, the maids had to dispose of his sheets because they were soaked in too much blood among other things.

__

A dark mass of several hundred bodies, reeking of blood and flames, descended on the badlands. They owed allegiance to none but gold. The Dread-Hawks seemed drawn to the horde, like vultures to a dead carcass. Small it may have been when compared to sizable armies, the town of Mayfield never stood a chance against such a force. The lawless men destroyed farms in their path, slaughtering the men, taking the sons, raping the women, and burning the crop.

They were given Imperial Pardon for their actions, straight from the authority of the prince himself. They left no witnesses...Mayfield never knew what was coming until the sentries spied smoke on the horizon. However, it was shrugged off as merely bandits, for caravans had been robbed frequently in the past few months. How wrong they were.

No longer would Bilthas II Xeria be taken lightly.