Chapter 1

Once upon a time in a land where peace was forgone and the threat of oblivion lurked in the horizon, two immortals came together. They were legends but of that they were not yet aware, for they bore the burden of a prophecy that was not yet written. At the time they were but mortals, whom in each other rivalry they sought.

They first laid eyes on each other at the King’s Golden Banquet, an event sought by the wealthiest population of the Kingdom of Grandel. Those of noble descent longed for the ball to be their magic door towards a life of royalty, for it was no secret that King Marcellus’s true intention was to seek a partner for his son, Prince Flavius.

Prince Flavius, however, thought of marriage poorly. He sorrowed his father’s heart by expressing his fondness for the sword and his passion for battle. He was Flavius the Slayer, General of the Knights and the future King. Of a

union nothing compared in his eyes to the one which tied him to his duties towards his Kingdom.

For Grandel was no land of peace. The King’s recent conquest of the North was a brutal affair. The North failed to sustain its long held freedom and under the King’s dominion the unyielding villages were reduced to ashes. Their populace was left with nothing but hatred and scorn, and soon revenge burned in their hearts.

Thus, with prevailing anger they came together and formed a rebellion. A union of villages that stood against the Kingdom’s rule.

They gained in number and within a year managed to regain control over a quarter of their lost lands. Those lands called themselves the Free Nations, and their strong presence was soon to pose a threat to the Kingdom.

As a formality to halt an era of War and Pain from unfolding beyond grasp, the King decided to invite the Commander of the Free Nations to the Golden Banquet. The idea was to open room for discussion, to negotiate before any regretful losses were made. The eagle of approval was soon bestowing the Kingdom with the merry news and with everyone’s breath held, the Free Nations’ army marched past the gate and into the King’s castle.

Their arrival brought joy to the King but misery to the nobles. They paled at the sight of Commander Gaiak the Great and sank in their seats under the glares of his terrifying second in command and son, Regis the Death Confronter.

At the King’s signal the Banquet began. Drinks flowed from their vials abundantly and food melted at the tip of every tongue. The bards sang of heroic tales and the nobles danced to their heart’s content, until wine began staining the white carpets, hardly contained in the unsteady hands of the drunk.

Soon the King came to notice that his guests of the Free Nations were not participating in the feast. Puzzled and wary, he raised a hand and all sounds ceased for his voice alone could resonate.

“Light shines upon those who trust. Darkness befalls those who do not give a chance. I, King Marcellus of Grandel, invited you, Commander Gaiak of the Free Nations today to remove ourselves forever from the Darkness and beyond. I ask of you to speak for your people. I ask of you to grant me a fragment of your honesty. Before we condemn the generations to follow to a life of Death and Hatred, I give us, hereby, a chance to unite.”

Upon hearing the King’s speech rose Gaiak the Great in all his sublimity. It was said that his grey beard whispered words of wisdom and his eyes saw beyond the corporeal. A man of legends stood before the King and spoke words that would change the course of life itself.

“Your highness, you are a man of honour,” said he in all humbleness. “For I came here today with a similar thought in mind. That of union.”

The King’s mouth curved into what began to form a smile.

“But,” came Gaiak the Great’s ultimatum, “Mere words are a lot like the wind, they lift no stone unless they come from a place of strength. If we were to establish a dynasty together, one that will thrive on the base of equality and reliance, and one that will avoid the slaughter of decades, then I must demand a testament that will prove it. A token of trust, you may call it.”

The Banquet fell silent. Every present soul held its breath. The King’s lips fell flat and his eyes thinned in confusion. He turned in his seat and watched his son, Flavius, quietly seated beside him.

“A token of trust, you say?” said he, rising before the eyewitnesses to address the Commander in all due respect, “Could it be you are speaking of a union of houses?”

“Of that I am,” concurred Gaiak, exhaling an air of comfort as his son behind him rose in protest. “You see, your Highness, I have not been blessed. Of my blood I have never conceived a daughter I could offer into your care. However, the sole bloodline, my next of kin and successor of the Free Nations is present here, today, before your very own eyes. Regis the Death Confronter.”

“Commander!” interrupted Regis, his cry soon to be halted by his father.

“Forgive him, your Highness,” said he, “My son fails to understand the importance of politics in times of great need.”

“By all means,” said the King, “Continue.”

“My son, your Highness,” carried on Gaiak, “I offer you in the name of our excellent union, one that will conceal all wounds and heal all that was once broken. One that will grace our houses with a bright future and where peace shall thrive to become the natural order of things. I, my great King, yearn for such a day.”

“And so do I,” confirmed the King. “But I sorrow to inform you, Lord Commander, that of a daughter neither have I been blessed.”

“And of that I am aware,” responded Gaiak with ease.

The King’s eyes returned to his son and Flavius stared back at him in abashment.

“If I may ask, and correct me if I happen to be misguided,” said the King respectfully, “Are you asking to join our sons in the name of the alliance at hand?”

Gaiak removed his hand from his beard and even the King could tell his smile was a rare sight.

“Allow me to remind you that in the history of our continent no such union has been established so far,” informed he, “but neither was it marked implausible.”

“And I see no harm in it,” said the King in thought. “If we must be first then let it be so. But a Legacy, Lord Commander, what of it? An heir for our houses to carry on the bloodline.”

“That, my King, our New World shall no longer deem necessary,” spoke Gaiak in confidence. “A King shall rise by word of his people, such has been the undying tradition of my elders, and I ask of you to consider its far-

fetching end. No more rebellion is necessary when the King is one chosen by the people for the people. No more War when peace and joy rest in the hearts of the lot. We are upon a New World, your Highness. I beg of you to consider my request.”

The silence was soon disrupted and nobles turned to each other in haste, discussing and debating the significance of such a union and its resulting consequences. Flavius turned to his father with a most displeased frown, bashful to what he had just witnessed.

“Father, you cannot!” whispered he.

“Silence,” demanded the King, and the echo of his tone reverberated within the hall, quietening all which it withheld.

King Marcellus’s attention rested on Regis, who, at the edge of his chair, remained seated per order of his father. The tails described him as white-eyed and raven-haired, scars of battle graced his features, and his stare alone froze men to death. A man and a beast, he was, and in him the King saw a protector of his Kingdom.

“Regis of the Free Nations,” called the King, at last, “Come forth.”

Hesitance was a flaw of many but Regis discarded it at birth. He, who had survived death so many a time until Death itself was said to have ceased to claim his soul. He, who had faced his end many a time he hardly remembered what fear truly was. He understood even at the time that he was the pillar upon which all hope lied, and rising from his seat, he came before the King with purpose.

“You father have spoken,” said the King. “But your word we shall yet hear. What say you in this?”

The silence was said to have stretched for hours and that Regis’s words carved into the very walls of the hall that encircled them.

“You speak as if a choice I were given,” said the foul mouthed man and all eyes widened and all mouths gasped around him for addressing the King in such a manner. “But for the Free Nations my beating heart I would rip out of my chest in offering. Even for a King who wiped out our own flesh and blood. I shall forgive, but I will never forget.”

The audacity of such a speech left the King and the rest of the party in awe. Flavius’s hand fell upon his sword handle and he experienced his first outburst of anger towards the man that was soon to be his companion. He thought with such vulgarity and disrespect no one could address his father the King without being deserving of beheading.

“Forgive my son, your Highness,” interrupted Gaiak with a bow that had his back crook. “His mouth runs faster than his brains, but he means no harm. He is as kind hearted towards his duty as your son, Prince Flavius, must be.”

“Of that I am certain,” announced the King, smiling to everyone’s surprise. “What say you in this, my son?”

Flavius’s hesitance was clear for he knew not what to think of the whole matter. He who had never thought of companionship a necessity was torn in regard to the sense of duty it withheld, a duty he foresaw as the healing pillar of generations to come. From his seat he rose, strong willed and unshaken, and spoke loud for all those present to hear.

“In all respect to your decision, Father, don’t you agree that this is, in fact, quite rushed? For years on end we have fought on opposite sides, slayed each other’s people, caused each other pain. How could we pretend history never happened? Turn another page so fast? How could we not think this is but another ruse of some sort? To slay us harder, to pain us further. I cannot agree to such a doubtful arrangement. I cannot lead my people to damnation.”

“My son,” began the King in comfort when a louder, more powerful voice resonated in the hall.

“You call us traitors?!” spat Regis in clear bitterness, his grave tone echoing. “We answer your King’s invitation, walk past the gates of a filthy city that wants our heads on spikes, stand before you, bow to you, offer you peace with our hands tied, and you think of us able of such indignity? I have never been insulted as such in my life entire, and today shall not be my first!”

A wave of panic washed over the Banquet. Swords were unsheathed and positions were taken, but the King was fast to intervene.

“Enough!” ordered he. “No blood is to be shed in my Banquet.”

“Father,” cried Flavius, “With all due respect, you’ve seen it with your very own eyes. How could we unite our house with theirs? How can I unite myself with such a brute?”

“Trust me, you won’t live long enough to,” muttered Regis bitterly.

“I said enough with the threats!” growled the King in madness. “The two of you should be ashamed of yourselves. We are here striving to look past our differences, aiming to save lives that will otherwise fall pointlessly for your houses, their blood on your hands, but instead of conceding to a new Era of peace, the two of you dare stand at each other’s throat and condemn the world entire!”

There was truth to the King’s words, truth that Flavius and Regis failed to see. Union was in itself a base of balance joining two opposites, and the anger they expressed towards each other was the one that led their people to slaughter for years on end. A union was called upon to end that slaughter, and to appease their anger was to trust, to unify.

There was a moment of pondering, of tranquillity, of silence before the storm. Regis moved forth through the court of the King, past the wary Knights whose swords were half-drawn in prudence. It was a moment that called for history’s course to be written, for our story’s path to be carved, a moment without which the prophecy would have never come to be, and the world a frightful end would have met.

Had Regis not stood before Flavius on equal grounds, had their eyes not withheld each other’s darkness and light,

lies and truth, hatred and care, had he not cast his pride aside and knelt before him his sword withdrawn in offering and spoken words of peace, had that very same Banquet been the start of a gruesome end.

“I care for my people,” said Regis, “And for my people there is nothing I wouldn’t do. If my wedding you secures their freedom, then I, Regis of the Free Nations, ask of you, Flavius of Grandel, to grant me the honour to be yours for eternity and beyond.”

The King’s silent eyes fell on his son but Flavius returned not the gaze for he had already made up his mind and it was now but a matter of formality. He gazed upon the man bending the knee before him and saw no longer a threat to his land but a key to its prosperity. He saw a man who valued the protection of his people over that of his own skin, he saw an honourable warrior whose duty came first and he acknowledged his mistake in deeming him unworthy.

“I, Flavius of Grandel, son of King Marcellus and General of the Kingdom’s army, shall take you, Regis of the Free Nations, son of Gaiak the Great, in the name of the alliance that shall unite the House of Grandel and the lands of the Free Nations, to be my companion in life and death, sickness and health. As my oath to you, I vow to protect you and your people as I would mine, to put your

safety before all else and to grant our lands the peace they thoroughly deserve.”

And under the cheers and applause the union was finally established. The Banquet’s feast was resumed. The wine flowed and the food warmed the bellies of the lot who knew not at the time just how monumental an impact the union of these two mortals had on the fabric of Life itself.

Thus, ends out tale of how Flavius and Regis came together, and begins the one which will lead them down the path of immortality.