I had a hard time falling asleep during the night, my body was restless. My mind wouldn't stop turning and thinking, trying to remember just the smallest detail of my life.
But nothing worked, I began to learn what the cold hard sting of failure felt like. I got up, not knowing what my previous morning routine might have been I decided I would make a new one.
After about an hour, I had gotten myself ready for my day. My bed was made, my clothes were clean, and I looked in the mirror. I stared for what seemed like a millennia, just taking in my features.
My hair was black, like the midnight sky. I decided to part it in the middle, I don't know if this is how I used to wear it. But, the current me liked it. And that was all that mattered.
My eyes were gray, I had dark circles too. Signifying the lack of sleep I got last night. My face sharp, defined. I had a pretty striking appearance, but I don't know. I just didn't feel like myself.
Not in a way where I wanted to be someone or something else, I just--didn't recognize myself.
I'd put on a brown undershirt, and a loose coat over it. Gustang--No, Father, told me it was winter this morning. I'd attached a knife to the side of my waist, resting on my belt. I kept it hidden under my coat.
I also had been told I was one of the most formidable assassins in all of the duchy last night. But aside from basic talents, I forgot all of my training. All of my abilities, the years I spent honing my art of killing had gone to waste.
Gustang promised to get me some sort of mentor, a trainer, though in his voice I knew he would forget. His posture was strange, like a serpent poised to strike. But I didn't hold him forgetting it against him, our family had a lot going on. And I was the only relative he had left--well, aside from that person he spoke of last night, still probably too soon to ask about.
I scratched the light stubble on my face, the short hairs pricking against my face. How old even was I? I looked around 20, but I couldn't say whether or not that was true.
I stepped out of my room, that same green rug I saw last night capturing my attention. Now that it was morning, I could see it with clarity. It illustrations of green snakes flowing along it. House Ouroboros, family of the great snake.
I knew of the three great house's of the county--Ouroboros, Cerberus, and Draconia--but the names felt like they were written in a textbook, I couldn't recall who I bled for.
In the current state of Faelrau, House Cerberus had been in control. Nearly six years ago, Ardius (the now dead mayor) Cerberus, also known as the Fang of Faelrau had taken control. In the war of the three houses, a time of uncertainty in the county.
Each House fought for dominion of the throne, with Ardius Cerberus killing the head of House Draconia in a brutal duel, causing House Ouroboros to retreat and give up the war. House Draconia still had not recovered fully even six years later.
Ardius ruled with an iron fist, not to say he was a bad count. Far from it in all honesty, he had shaped the county from a land of war and ruins to a solidified citadel. But, as apparent, some figures had other plans for the man.
As I grazed the serpents on the rug, I began to wonder how the fight went down all those years ago...
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Six years ago... The Fang's Gambit
The earth shuddered beneath my boots, a dull beat that matched the aching in my ribs. The sun lay in the sky, like an indifferent god watching ants fight. It carved everything into light and shadow. Blood painted the grass, and shot the smell of iron up my nostrils. The blood of men I had trained–men I made promises to–stuck to my boots. I would not let them rot while I stand by idly.
I refused to let it be for nothing.
A sea of banners stood between me and the horizon. Some dragons, some snakes, and some a three headed wolf. Men lay in rows behind me, broken teeth, broken bones, maimed and battered. A few heartbeats, a few minutes, and I would shape the fate of this world. For them.
I lifted a hand to my soldiers, they questioned me, cursing me but I didn't listen. They might think I was crazy, but all of this was for them. I could not stand by as I watched them die. My blade was ready to finish what had been tormenting this land for centuries.
I planted my feet into the ground. The air sang to me an enchanting tune, the weight of my armor slowed me down. I felt like I was in a coffin, I tore my helmet off and dropped it on the ground. It made a thud and rolled behind me. The air hit my face, cold and full of death. I needed the world burned in my eyes, not the skewed vision a visor brought me.
I raised my great sword with one hand, the winds answered my call, the battlefield watched.
The winds swirled, like some unknown hand gathered them. Not a breeze–a hurricane–the banners around me snapped, and the grass swayed faster than I had ever seen. In front of me the soldiers of Draconia sunk down, fear in their hearts, I could smell it. Sunlight caught my blade and reflected into a thousand points. My heart drummed, a beat I had learned to obey. To hunt was my family's legacy, I would not be the prey any longer.
The hunger inside me reached its peak, my vision turned. The air had grown so thick even the sound struggled to break through. The weight of the sword not even a hundred lesser men could lift, but I could. Behind me the flashing image of a wolf showed. Three heads, fangs unsheathed, I was ready.
I dragged the great sword backwards with all my might, its force grazed the ground and split it in half. Every fiber of my body burned and screamed as I channelled all my might into this swing, rage, torment–pain; everything I endured on this battlefield would be unleashed in one fatal thrust.
"Asthyx!" I roared, my voice breaking through the battlefield, the dread wyrm could not ignore me any longer.
The flashing image behind me materialized–three heads, jaws open, each breath exhaled a ghost-white flame. The Cerberan Titan, he chose me.
My swing came forward, it was a motion and a reckoning. The blade came up and my body screamed at me. The men behind me grew deadly silent, all in awe of the strength of the avatar of a titan.
My ark glew brighter than it ever had before, on my shoulder it's red light began to illuminate my shoulder guard, and it burned through the metal making an opening. Its presence suffocated the field.
As I swung, red tendrils of pure energy erupted from the ark and gripped onto my back. I infused this swing with my ark's ability.
The men in front of me, with Draconia emblems, were flung across the field, some sent flying into trees. I could hear the breaking of bones, and the battlefield in front of me was split in half. A crater left where my blade swung.
The dust hit my face, and obscured the area in front of me.
Through the red haze my ark had left, a man stepped forward. The air burnt around him, and the grass ignited in flames. He was wrapped in flames like a cloak, taller than any man I'd seen before. He towered over the battlefield, and his body had scales ridden all over it. On his forehead his ark burned, I could see it burning the skin around it and it began to singe his body. But he didn't wince. He stepped forward, his gaze matching mine.
He wiped the ash from his head, the ash his ark had made. Asthyx had an incredibly powerful ark, and more so titan. But I knew his drawbacks were just as strong, he could not hold either long without turning into ashes.
His face turned into a smile, and he grabbed the lance off his back, it was dark and the spear tip ignited in orange flames.
He pointed his speartip at me, and shouted "Ardius! We end this here and now. The winner takes all."
As he finished speaking I could see wings of flame sprouting behind him, the dread wyrm began to manifest.
I could already see his skin begin to burn, and the Cerberan titan behind me became harder to control by the second.
Neither of us had long, flame met fang.
The sky screamed with us.