Prologue

  An armoured young man sheathed his blade as he corrected his flaxen hair, parting it from the middle. He made a march with his father’s band back to their town, their footsteps thunderous, yet the locals greeted them with cheers. Merchants, carpenters, farmers, ranchers, men, and women, all seemed to be welcoming them with smiles and waves.

  The young man’s father spoke up, “Crepus,” his voice authoritative and his expression even. “Dost thou have the band’s gold?”

  “That I do, father!” Crepus replied, raising a heavy sack as its contents clinked. The mercenaries began to circle around him and their leader, distributing each of their share.

  Not too far from the scene, another young man tilled the soil of his mother’s farm with a frown, sighing as he tossed the shovel beside him. He shook his head and gathered the seeds with slow, dull movements, planting each absentmindedly.

  Then he heard a sudden cheer down the small hill he resided in. Curious, he descended the hill, lurking with blinking, sparkling eyes at the circle of gathered, armoured men. His eyes caught the rough expressions on each of their faces, the blood that smeared their armours, and the still cheering crowd.

  The Commander of the band spotted the lurking young man and the expression he held. He stood silently for a moment, observing the young man. “Lad,” he called, “come hither.”

  Crepus, hearing his father, tilted his head to see whom he called. Spotting the lurking young man, Crepus smirked. “Well, well, well! I did not take thee for a ferret, cousin!”

  The mercenaries looked over to the young man, giving him unwanted attention. He scowled before glancing back at the half-lidded, demanding gaze of The Commander. Begrudgingly, he dragged his feet to his caller. “Yes, uncle?”

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  The Commander gazed back at his nephew, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Say, lad, dost thou wish to join our band?”

  Crepus’ smirk turned to a genuine smile, tilting his head to both his father and his cousin, yet remained preoccupied with distributing gold.”

  The young man’s eyes sparkled once more, the corners of his lips lifting subtly. Then he swallowed, his lips turning even once more. “What causeth thee to grant me such an offer?”

  The Commander’s rough hand laid on his nephew’s shoulder, his half-lidded gaze unmoved and his voice low. “Thou art my kin, and I see within thee promise and spirit.” He paused, glancing up to his nephew’s abode. “That is, of course, if my brother’s spouse willeth so as well.” Both him and his nephew, paused, eyeing each other.

  “So long as thou lettst me school him!” Crepus interjected.

  “So long as thou dost not make sport of him.” The Commander replied as both his son and his nephew snickered.

  “I take thee at thy word, mine uncle, and I shall prove myself.” he smiled.

  "Tryst not get us all slain, thou knave!" Crepus chuckled as Desider's smile turned to a sneer.