The sun’s blissful rays shone down on Redven as he tore the dirt from its settled bed. The harvest last year was better than any in recent memory and he was lucky enough to reap the benefits. In fact, not only was his previous yield greater than any year in his short time as a farmer, but it was also better than many of his competitors, which had some people questioning his methods. But Redven believed that hard work was all it took and putting your blood and sweat in with the seeds didn’t hurt. A lesson he would teach his son, Kairam. A strong young boy who took his father’s strength and many of his looks but his mother’s eyes made certain for a future that would be filled with many women, not that his father had any trouble. Redven’s dark skin and even darker eyes drew many girls in with questions about his travels and adventures, such skin was not common in the capital. His dreadlocked

Hair was kept neat in a ponytail, a trait he took from his father who felt it easier to keep and wash than to shave his head often, vowing that having as little maintenance was the key. Kairam had hair like his mother, wavy and thick. He was a lively boy whose antics were playful and his intelligence meant that he often surprised his parents with how much he understood. His father saw in him many of the traits that made his mother a goddess in his eyes. He saw Azura as a heavenly being, one of pure light and warmth. She knew how to quell his anger and read his mind. When she came into his life, she managed to climb into his warring heart and rip the thorn from deep inside it, allowing the wound to heal. As far as Redven was concerned, Azura filled his body with life when anger and darkness filled it before, and to see this in his son was a defining moment of pride.

Kairam burst out of the door with a drinking pouch filled with fresh water from the nearby river. A light sheen of sweat had collected on his brow as he’d been playing all morning with some of the local children. Azura had gone to the market and would be home in time to make dinner. Their family earned very little that they did not need to survive, but somehow Azura always managed to make dinner seem like a royal feast. Redven on the other hand, managed to make every meal seem like crumbs left for a giant. Aside from working very hard in the fields, he was a large man whose muscular body craved food, often shortly after having eaten his fill. Despite this, he was always sated by Azura whether through her cooking or anything else she would offer. And when his mind was restless, Azura would sing songs of love and joy to him, soothing his thoughts.

Their household was rarely troubled, but when it was, it was Azura who would bring sense to the problem and it was she who would lead Redven to the answer he sought so that he could fix the problem. She knew that if his thoughts were not to breaking something they were to how best to fix it and fix it quickly. Azura saw the world with eyes that could discern value and importance from distraction, which Redven knew more than he knew the colour of the sky. It was his fiery passion and her calming demeanor that made the two of them thrive together. That said, this relationship was not without troubles, as nothing worth having is without toil. It was through mutual understanding of each other that made their marriage work as well as it did and it was from knowing who they were and that the other knew it too, that ensured that trust and respect were the foundations of their relationship, as was their mutual need for each other. Kairam didn’t know it yet, but his parents had the relationship that they wanted him to have one day.

That night dinner was braised duck with some assorted vegetables. Sweet potato to fill the belly, beans to grow the muscles and carrots to see better in the dark. Should Kairam actually eat all of his vegetables, these stories would have led him to believe he was some sort of higher being. The duck was somewhat of a celebratory purchase, rarely did anything so sought after end up on their table. Duck was a bird more often consumed by those with deeper pockets, as they are more difficult to keep and feed well, but Azura knew how proud Redven was of their success, so she wanted to celebrate the occasion with him. Dinner that night was the best meal Redven had eaten in his entire life. Not just for the quality or the love put into the meal, but the company and the serenity of the night. The sky was clear and a cool breeze drifted in through the window, bringing the sweetness of the summer air into the dining room. There was nothing in that moment that could ever be remembered as less than perfect.

The next day Redven was visiting a friend in the city. He lived a day’s ride from the city, so he would stay the night at The Leaky Boot Tavern. He knew the owner, so he was sure he might be able to stay the night and eat for less than usual. The owner has had many brawls and disasters strike the tavern but it was on the few occasions when they didn't just sort themselves out that he needed help. Help that Redven was only to happy to provide. Besides, he knew his father when he worked in the city and so he was basically family.

The friend who’d invited him to meet was the garrison commander of the city guard’s eastern garrison. After the multitude of wars and rebellions, Redven met Azura and quickly asked to be moved the the city guard, which was promptly obliged but even that was too far from comfort for Redven. Any possibility of dying brought him great anxiety and guilt. He feared that should he die, Azura would live her life never being treated the way she ought to be. She would go without being told every day that she was loved and cared for, she’d go without somebody willing to beckon to her every need. And selfishly, he feared that he would miss the opportunity to be the one to do these things for her, feeling blessed by an unseen god with more luck than any man had ever had. So he left the city guard for the farmer’s life, a life of hard work and simple satisfaction. Though, it was not his calling and his friend knew this.

Since they last spoke, his friend had risen to the rank of Chief Commander, one of four warchiefs under the General. His position was not only one of great import but also one of great influence. Knowing this, Redven’s intrigue was piqued when he received a message from his friend about the meeting. What could he want from him now, thought Redven, now that he’d hung up his swords? He travelled all day to reach the city of Amerossa. The ancient walls, sand in colour and feel but older than any history book can tell, were a welcome sight after the long day of travel. Whilst adept at horse riding, he much preferred being on his own two feet, though it was thought that he did not ride a horse into battle because he wished to inspire the men.

The old tavern wasn’t far from the eastern entrance to the Outer Ring. Amerossa was split into several rings, the Outer Ring was heavily populated and housed many of the poorer folk. The Middle Ring was more of a market district which housed merchants and lesser nobles. Whilst the Inner Ring was home to the upper class, the higher nobles, and was a stark contrast to that of the Outer and Middle Rings. The Inner Ring was clean white with marble in every direction, guards spangled in their ornate red uniforms. Uniforms that looked more suitable for a toy than a warrior, but in the Inner Ring it was more likely that a bee would cause an uprising than any of its inhabitants. The Inner Ring guards were often sons of the lesser nobles who didn’t have the brains to pursue a trade or maintain the family business. The old tavern Redven chose was far from the pomp of the Inner Ring, and the patrons were proud of it.

He entered the tavern on a night he thought would be quiet, but found quite the opposite. A male and female duet were playing their instruments in the far corner with many of the patrons singing along to the song, drunkenly dancing about and spilling the cheap mead on the floor. Some of the patrons playing various games with cards and knives around the tavern, wagering money they couldn’t afford to lose. Behind the bar stood a stout man whose face betrayed his age by a quarter century. A man whose brow rose to heights that alarmed those drinking in front of him, as they’d never seen the man offer much more than a scowl at the best of times. But the sight of an old friend thought long gone was something the man could not contain his feelings about.

“Redven,” said the barkeep, “is it winter already or is that hell freezing over? I never thought I’d see you again!”

Redven beelined for the bar to shake the man’s hand, grasping his forearm with a vice-like grip and a steady shake.

“Gunther, it would appear that all the fun you’ve had in life has finally caught up to you! How are you old friend?” said Redven, his face quickly flooded with a toothy smile. The two men spoke long into the night, reminiscing old adventures and sharing the news of their lives today. Redven asked if anything out of the ordinary had happened that Gunther knew about that could warrant his return to the capital, but he knew of nothing. All seemed well in the city and unless it was a well kept secret, perhaps his friend just wanted to catch up with a brother from war.

Redven took to his room early so as not to be tired during his meeting the following day. Gunther gave him the guest room for the night, knowing it’s quality was higher than that of the rooms for hire and that he deserved the best of what he could offer. The two of them had shared many difficult times together, none more so than the death of Gunther’s wife, several years before Revden met Azura. She was staying at her sister’s property North-West of the capital when a small group of marauders, who until then had been ambushing and robbing travelling merchant carts, decided to ransack the property. His wife, used to dealing with unruly patrons and strong willed men, took it upon herself to rid her sister of the brigands. Unfortunately, she did not fare well. When Gunther hadn’t heard from her or seen her in a few days he closed the tavern and made the journey to the house, only to find his wife and sister-in-law’s family gutted and left for dead inside the house. His wife, still beautiful in his eyes, was beaten and covered in small cuts before the obvious killing blow to the stomach.

Gunther wept to his friend, who at the time was driven by rage and the promise of bloodshed, and the two of them set themselves as bait for the marauders. They borrowed a military cart from the garrison Redven commanded and removed the military accessories and embellishments. After loading it up with some empty barrels of wine and boxes labelled with false contents, they began to travel up the road which had multiple reports of attacks from the group. It wasn’t long before a few men stopped them in their tracks. They acted as fools to the men, feigning weaknesses and ignorance. They waited patiently and played the game, until more men came out from the woods to carry the rest of the cargo. They were left with their horses and cart so that they could continue their business and agreed to pay a fee of sorts each time they used the road, for safety, they were told.

Once the men revealed themselves, Redven quickly scanned the nearby forest and found nobody else hiding as far as he could see. He grabbed a cloth wrapped bundle from under the carriage and flung it open, grabbing two swords from mid-air and readied his stance, the blades already unsheathed to save time. Gunther grabbed a small battle axe just as it hit the ground and launched towards the man who’d done all of the speaking. Redven was confident that Gunther could finish him off, so he took to cleaning up the rest. He was in his prime, a master of the blade and combat, but that wasn’t what set him apart from other combatants. He had an innate ability to adapt to any fighting strategy or technique. He wasn’t always the strongest or the most experienced, but if he could survive the fight long enough, he always won. On this day he left the shackles and the eye patch at home, as he didn’t seek to handicap himself this time. Instead, he took a life with each swing of his sword. Dodging the bandit’s attacks as if time were slowed to a halt, his attacks were calm and precise. He took little pleasure in this fight, for he knew that these men were simple brutes, not the trained warriors he was used to battling.

After he’d dispatched several of the men with swift precision, he turned to find Gunther holding the bandit leader’s baton against its owner’s throat. The man was dead, but still Gunther forced the wood hard against his lifeless body. He was sobbing heavily, soaking the face of the corpse underneath him and mumbling between sobs. Redven only managed to decipher the wife’s name out of what he said between the sudden deep breaths and the heavy sobs that shook his body. He could see that Gunther knew the man was dead, but he wanted him to feel the pain he felt. He wanted him to feel the soul wrenching emptiness that consumed him. He wanted to inflict ten times the pain so he would understand what he has done.

But the man was dead, and Gunther felt no better for it.