Two Kings Revolution: Prologue V2

Book I: The King's Shadow
Prologue

    How often do you come to a historic book and find out that the wars your fathers and, your grandfathers fought in; were all winnable thanks to the works of assassins? In our world, valor and honor are all that separate the just from the muck. Yet, the reason why generals and kings are able to succeed in their battles is because assassins and spies have done their job. When the world fell to darkness, an Elven clan of assassins known as the De’Alselah saved this world.

    The king will never admit it, but were it not for those who lie in shadows; their country would have fallen ages ago. Until recently, there was but one king. The Alexander bloodline, the first; and for the longest time, the only king. In the eastern regions of Gerrandus, eight of the most powerful lords and ladies rebelled against the Alexander throne. Thanks to the help of the De’Alselah, the east became its own nation. It was because of those assassins, that the Eastern Faction was created.

    A treaty was signed at the end of the Eastern Rebellion. The Treaty of Two, where the appointed leaders signed a pact to always assist one another; should they be attacked by outside sources. This treaty lasted a mere two-hundred-forty-four years.

    When the East needed the Kingdom of Alexandra the most, their cries were ignored. Barely holding off an attack of barbarians, the Eastern Faction survived thanks to the efforts of general: Aarongen Salvor. In his anger, Salvor declared himself the King of the East. Feeling betrayed, the Eastern King declared war on the western nation.

    In the first year alone, the Eastern Faction has won several key trading checkpoints in the war now named: The Two Kings War. However, King Salvor knew that in order to win this war; he will need to stop the west from regrouping at every turn. He will need an assassin. However, that is difficult to do in these times. The De’Alselah have disappeared. 

    Up in the mountains of Forrocaste, there lies a Half-Elven man and a young human boy. The waterfall behind them echoes in the distance. It is at this moment, that the wheels of history begin to spin.

    “What?” the Half-Elven man demanded with his dead voice. “You intend to leave without finishing your training?” he questions the boy, harshly.

    Nodding his head, the young boy with his a thin tone answers, “That’s right.”

    Standing next to the waterfall, his gray cloak starts to get wet. The red bandage around his right eye is touched by his left hand. The Half-Elf retorts, “You little fool!” he slaps the boy. “Don’t be concerned with outside affairs! Just concentrate on your training,” the man implores with an extended finger.

    “But even as we stand here right now, there are people lost in the sea of chaos!” the boy exclaims. “They’re suffering and dying!” he now shouts at his mentor. “Doesn’t the De’Alselah philosophy teach that we should aid those in need!”?

    Blinking at his apprentices words, the mentor asks, “Are you telling me, that’s what you want to do?” There’s a short pause before the man’s voice raises, “Don’t be so arrogant!” The boy was taken back at his master’s sudden assertiveness. “If you insist on going, then know you’ll be nothing more than a murderer,” he turns his back to his apprentice.

    “I don’t understand how you can be so callous!” Valliard, the apprentice yells.

    Facing Valliard, the mentor replies, “You don’t get it.” He goes on to explain that the De’Alselah swordsmanship will almost always guarantee victory to the side it chooses, thanks to its vastly superior prowess. “In the light of greater events, you are completely insignificant! Get it now?”

    “Get what!” the apprentice retorts. “I can see all of the pain and suffering right before my eyes! I have to help!”

    “Going to war is not how you save this world!” the mentor shouts. “Killing evil men who prolong war, that is the only way to save this accursed world!” He unsheathes his sword. A slight curved blade with one edge; a katana. The master places his left hand on the blunt end of his the blade, while his main hand holds the weapon still. “Never forget your first lesson: A sword is designed to kill. The art of swordsmanship is learning to take the life of your opponent.” Sheathing the blade, he tosses it into Valliard’s hands, “And never forget the De’Alselah Philosophy: Syk, Zou, Fisa (Slay Evil Immediately). These are the two things you will always carry with you. Understood?”

    In the courtyard of Uzera, King Salvor stands besides his brother, Kandrus. Of the two of them, Aarongen is the older, thus king. However, Kandrus has always been crafty. Part of the reason the East has been doing so well in the war is because of Kandrus’s less than legitimate soldiers. Kandrus owns a mercenary company, and he obtains new blood all of the time.

    While out in the rain, King Salvor watches as the new mercenaries train on wooden dummies. Each “soldier” was allowed to bring their own weapon to show off their skills. Most of the mercenaries’ weapons got stuck in the wood after a few swings. Their efforts primarily disappointed King Salvor.

    “These men may not seem like much,” Kandrus begins, “but their contributions are more than needed.” The man smiles wickedly, “They’ll be more than a match for the Royal Offense.”

    Without batting an eye, Aarongen refutes his brother’s statement. “I’ll remind you that the Royal Offense is the fiercest of aggregations.”

    Pointing to a lone soldier, Kandrus retorts, “They’ll be less fierce when they’re dead.”

    “You train children?” Aarongen asks in surprise.

    The boy unsheathes his sword and cuts the target in two, with one swing. “Meet the best I’ve found, for your ghostly army.”

    In shock and awe at the power the boy just unleashed, Aarongen is speechless. The shape of the boy’s sword, the speed and handling he could do. It was unbelievable. For a moment, he questioned if what he saw was real or not. And then, Kandrus assured that his eyes are really seeing the reality of life. What just transpired can and will change the world.

    “I want the boy,” Aarongen mutters. “I want him to work for me!”

    The two men approach the boy. Kandrus, the boy’s employer, asks that he speak with Aarongen. While inside a small shack, Aarongen gazes out of the window for a moment. The silence in the room could choke you. Finally, the King breaks that silence, “What I’m about to ask you is disturbing.” He faces the young boy, “I will be asking you to kill for me.”

    “You’re young, but merit truth,” Aarongen continues. “Certain men stand between us and a better world.” The boy’s face is one of unsettlement, “We have no choice but to destroy those men in order to reach that better world.” The King sighs, “It’s not pleasant, but it’s true.” With an outstretched hand, Aarongen says, “Kandrus informed me that you wish to protect the weak and innocent. I can show you the way.” Staring at the boy, he asks, “Will you kill for me?”

    With a strong will and sharp eyes, Valliard answers the man. “Yes.”

    That night, the brothers sit in a private section of a local pub. Kandrus, being the whimsical man that he is, brought a lute with him. Meanwhile, his brother and king, carries a mere longsword. Sipping his wine, Aarongen remains quiet as his brother tunes the instrument.

    “Does the boy please you?” Kandrus asks.

    “He’s perfect.”

    The younger brother shrugs, “The boy’s special. As much as I could use him in the front lines, I will give him to you…” Kandrus raises his index finger, “...on one condition.” With a shaking fist, he begs, “Let the boy absorb the horrors of our struggle! Keep yourself clear of the disturbance! Give me your word that you will never again draw your sword!”

    Picking up his sword, Aarongen walks to the door. “I work everyday to ensure that day will happen. Not just for me, but for everyone.”

    “Promise me!”

    Without turning to get a glance at his brother, the King replies; “You have my word. Aarongen Salvor, King of the East, will never swing a sword again.”

    Giving a cheeky smile, Kandrus plucks the strings of his lute. “Just focus on leading the Eastern Faction to victory. I’ll take care of the rest.”

    As the sunrises, Aarongen stands at the entrance of the Choshun Mercenary Company. Next to him is Valliard Rosenhill, his personalized manslayer. Seeing his brother wave, the three say their goodbyes. The Eastern King looks upon Valliard and thinks, Corruption is what allows justice to appear as insanity. This boy’s pure heart will be what changes this world. I swear it!

    The moment the two are out of sight, Kandrus falls to his knees. Coughing, he covers his mouth and takes in deep and shallow breaths. “I hope I live… long enough… to see the final battle…”