The air so far north was cold. Deadly cold. The wind on the plains was devastating and Aylard had seen many winters. However, none of that experience prepared him for what was up north. As soon as the Light Brigade entered the north part of North Ymira, they were caught in a blizzard. The wind was so thick and white, Aylard could not see several feet in front of him. Nevertheless, Aylard pushed on, determined to complete the mission.

Aylard's ears burned. His hands were stiff, as were his feet. His lungs hurt and stung with each breath. The wind whistled past his ears. He heard a large crack. His head whipped around looking for the source of the sound.

"Blasted wind," he muttered. "Can't see anything like this. Magic won't work either," he sighed. It wasn't so long ago that the Light Brigade began chasing the target nicknamed "Mad Dragon." So far all their efforts were in vain until they stumbled upon a traveler who had seen the target.

Aylard, still running forward, glanced around searching intently for clues. Craaack. He heard the sound again, but this time it was closer. He knew it was just over the hill. He pumped his burning knees harder and harder.

The scent of iron slammed into him abruptly. He stopped, cautious, to catch his breath. pant. pant.

He then proceeded to investigate, with his heart slamming away. He didn't know why, but some good premonition overshadowed him. He felt that afterward, the world would never be the same after he went over the hill.

Aylard, carrying the burdens of his station, proceeded over the hill.

Three of the Light Brigade are dead. Three friends. Three comrades. Naught I can do about it, but complete the mission. Aylard's eyes were full of grief and resolve. Right before him, there were three bodies, wearing the red and white uniform of the Ajlad. The arms were slashed to tiny bits of meat, the fingers crushed, one of them had his throat slit, the other an arm broken into two, and the other arm cut clean off. The amount of blood surrounding the blood was sickening. Clearly, the target was more powerful than an Expert casting magician.

Aylard, in light of this newfound information, ran across the snow. There was a clearing not too far in front of him. He continued keeping his eyes peeled for "Mad Dragon." Mad Dragon killed not only three of the Light Brigade, but murdered many people in South Ymira.

Exiting the forest, Aylard saw that across the clearing there was an old structure. A castle or mansion of some kind. The castle was comparable to an old magician, who had many stories to tell, good and bad, and his golden years were long gone. But still, his back stood proud. Such was the castle that stood before him.

He believed that it could be the remnants of a bygone era. Or even an age.

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Stones were elaborately decorated, with moss climbing the walls. There was an opening to what appeared to be windows near the entrance. The entrance was two dark brown doors with a winged serpent carved into it.

Aylard crossed the courtyard, puzzled that such a structure was built upon a mountain and not upon the ground where it would have been easy to transport stone, not to mention the sheer girth of the castle displayed the inconceivable resources of the master, confused him further because there were no records about a civilization this far north.

During his musings, Aylard noticed the blizzard just let up. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to see the castle. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a gathering of members of the Light Brigade entering the courtyard. They gestured at him to join them.

"My lord, we are missing Adfar, Hjure, and Klen. Besides those three we are all accounted for. Nevin witnessed target "Mad Dragon" entering the ruins there," He pointed towards the castle with his chin.

"The trio is dead," Aylard told Lyndian, his right-hand man, his voice thick with emotion. Lyn's eyes opened wide in shock, then slowly faded into melancholy.

"We will bury them after this expedition. Lyndia, organize the Brigade, we're about to sortie into those ruins," Aylard commanded. Lyn nodded.

"That's another three that have passed on," Lyn ventured to mention.

"Indeed, naught we can do but move on," Aylard told Lyn. The Light Brigade had braved many a loss amongst their members. Enough deaths had occurred on the job, that they were able to do the mission with little difficulty.

Aylard had the Light Brigade group up into three companies of nine. The Light Brigade's faces were full of tension; sweat pouring down each and every person's brow.

Each wore some kind of armor, light, leather, chain, plate, scale, cloth, and many others. Each armor was different from the last except for the white clothes beneath them, and the sign of the Ajlad. The torch on a white background and yellow rays sprouting from the back. The sign of the chosen vanguard of the gods.

The three companies were headed by Aylard, Lyn, and Odjar. Odjar was as strong as four men and his head was sharper than an ax. Aylard had Odjar lead the search into the ruins with Lyn as support. Aylard would stand as reserves outside the entrance.

Aylard trusted his men. So much, that some of the other commanders called it a mortal flaw of his. Not that it mattered much to him. They were the pinnacle of the Ajlad, of humankind, of their faith. Nothing would bring them down smoothly.

Full of confidence they marched in three groups with Odjar at the head. Shields held lax, but alert, arrows knocked, and chants uttered, the first group went to open the doors.

Then all of a sudden, the doors burst open with a figure with a red, suspicious liquid floating around it. The mages instantly fired upwards to protect them. The glowing, white light surrounded Aylard. Within the light, Aylard felt the protective embrace of a mother in the light. The light was warm and had the effect of relaxing those it touched.

The black figure crashed into the clerics in front, sending one of them flying into the ground. The figure, faster and stronger than Aylard had anticipated, sent more of the clerics flying. Each time the figure waved its hand, the red liquid slashed and cut into them sending blood flying through the air. What amazed Aylard was that the blood had not simply spouted out, but it orbited the figure. Aylard rushed toward the figure with his shield in front of him. When Aylard reached the figure, he slashed the figure. The figure turned toward him, thrust its hand out, and sent Aylard tumbling through the air. The last thing Aylard saw was several Clerics being slashed by the floating blood and Lyn shouting his name.