A young man was looking at the crimson sunset over the dark yellow fields filled with nearly ripe wheat and the forests and mountains beyond them. He was a man of black hair, dashing good looks and a fit form. The most striking thing about him was his eyes, a muted yellow almost like the sun. That owed to his name, Kard Lightwatcher, and its ancestry. Obviously trained for martial pursuits, he carried a sword and a dagger on his belt. It was with a feeling of trepidation that he looked over these lands, they would one day be his, but he did not feel he deserved them. In truth, he was not worthy of any of them. The winding stone walls that made the castle, and the small village that sat outside of it, he had earned none of it. It was his only by right, not by virtue. He would often come there, to that small balcony at the edge of the castle, to ponder such things. It was away from the rest of his family, from the people who expected more of him than he had achieved before. The utter silence there let his mind wander.

That silence was soon broken by the appearance of a beautiful woman from the inside of the keep, where the rooms of the royal family were safely kept. She was his younger sister, a woman of magnificent blonde hair that shone in the light of the sinking sun. She slowly walked across to where he stood, facing over the parapet of the keep. He paid her no mind until she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Brother, why are you out here?" her voice seemed quite tired but otherwise normal.

"I was just thinking, as usual," he responded briskly but not coldly.

“Well, it’s good I found you. Our Lord father is looking for you,”

“What does he want now?” Kard would have quite liked to stay there.

“I don’t know, but he looked distraught. You should ask him yourself,” she said, her voice filled with obvious concern.

“Fine,” he said, indignantly, taking his hands off the small outcropping of stone and walking back towards the staircase leading further into the keep. She didn’t follow.

The whole keep was made of gray, finely cut, blocks of stone. It was built over a hundred years before now, as a gift from the king at that time to the young man’s family. The house of Lightwatcher. Around it they built the rest of the castle. The keep, named Lighthold, was given to them along with 1200 square miles of land, one of the bigger counties in the kingdom. That size declined with time, however, as his family’s status did. They were by no means a lowly noble house, but their days of grandeur were mostly gone.

’I wonder what he wants of me,’ the young man thought, concerned about what could possibly disturb his father. There was always an air of confidence about the man that made him seem like he was scared of nothing.

He walked slowly down the winding stairs of the keep, various rooms and hallways splitting off from it. When he reached the bottom he found himself at the entrance to the great hall, where his father sat and met petitioners. The decorations were of white and yellow, their family's colors. There he found Lord Lightwatcher, he was talking with a stout old man with sharp features and black hair. The keep's steward, Sam Forde. Sam was a good man, he was always kind to Kard and his siblings as children, and he seemed to do his duty diligently.

"My son! Come here, you need to hear this too," his father, Magnus Lightwatcher, turned to him as he entered, catching his eyes. Just like his own, they were a muted yellow color. Magnus bore many other similarities to him. His hair was just as black, and his features similarly dashing, if marked by age. He was obviously a man of war, as various scars could be seen on his face and hands and his build was quite bulky.

When the young man approached, the steward continued, "we received a message from the capital. Sir Edward was murdered when another riot broke out in the merchant’s district. The city watch thinks it was the rebels again."

"He was a good man… the Comet damn those bastards!" his father was angry but solemn. His son was too shocked to say anything. The man had captained the king's guard since before he was born. It was no easy feat to live this long, so his death at the hands of some riot was unthinkable. More than that, he was the strongest man he knew, and he had trained with him personally.

His thoughts were interrupted by Magnus, "that is why I called you. I heard Sam had bad news and knew it was time. The king is choosing a new captain of the guard from among their ranks, and he's looking for new recruits. I must send you there to put your name into the ballot, we both know how important this could be for our family, Kard," his eyes showed uncertainty, even fear.

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'That I knew this would happen does not mean I resent this any less,' he thought to himself, unable to form the words, "I will go if that is what you wish of me, father," Kard said quickly, his tone muted.

"You leave tomorrow," that's all Magnus could say.

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A fog had set across the town outside the small castle. Dread and fear came with it. The news had spread quickly throughout it, putting terror into the hearts of all.

“Rebels killed the king’s captain? What else could they do?” the people whispered, and none had an answer.

The sound of horses trotting towards the town was the only thing that broke the sense of dread. As they neared the cramped streets they slowed to a canter. Hooves struck the half cobbled paths inside the town at a steady rhythm, like a siren song in the overwhelming darkness. The sun had not yet risen, only the faintest rays of light broke through the clouds, and even they seemed to fade into the fog. The knights were utterly silent, and it all matched Kard's dreary demeanor as he looked at the sights of his youth.

The old tavern on the main road, the various merchant's houses and workshops crowding the inner streets, and the training grounds placed on the outskirts, they all brought back memories. Edward was a good man, a man he had known well. He looked at the grounds as they left the town, and the memories of the captain flooded back to him.

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"Get up, Kard!" the gruff but lean man shouted at him, "come on!" he approached him when the young boy still did not get up.

His sword was resheathed, so as to not damage the blade. It was a mighty and legendary weapon, passed down to every captain of the king's guard. Its name was Comet, as it was forged from the mythical steel of the comet itself or so the legend told. The shine on it was a brilliant blue, and the edge of the sword was tinted purple. They also said it never dulled, but Kard knew well enough to not believe them, it just dulled quite slowly.

He jumped to his feet, grabbing his own training sword in hand. A blow from the blunt side of the blade had felled him again, but their spar was not yet over. It had been going on for a few hours by then, Kard falling over every few minutes and always getting up with more and more bruises every time.

"I think that's enough," the now somehow even taller looking knight told Kard. That knight was Edward Stadfast, at the time he had been the captain of the guard for thirty five years. His eyes were a light brown color, same as his hair. As he moved to wash his face with water from a small bucket on the other side of the yard, Kard got up.

“Who said I was done!” Kard shot back defiantly, ‘there’s no way I can give up now, I almost had him,’ that’s what he had thought the last few times now.

“I said so,” Edward came back and put his hand on Kard’s shoulder, “there’s nothing left for us to do today. Go rest,” and so he did, just to return the following day.

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They were bittersweet memories now. The man he’d known was gone, and now he was being sent to be or work under his replacement. Whatever it was, he still did not know his father’s true intent. It was obvious that him being an important figure in the king’s court would advance his family’s standing, but what exactly he was supposed to do there, he did not know.

‘My father has a plan. He must have one. There is no other reason he is sending me to the heartlands,’ he thought to himself, concerned.

They had left the town about an hour prior, while he was reminiscing, and were now passing through a dense forest. That was when a sudden shout was heard. It was from one of his knights.

“Master Kard!” one of the knights called out. He was the most experienced one there and was acting as their leader.

“What is it?” he rode towards the knight and saw what had occurred. They both dismounted their horses as they delved deeper into the woods. A few other men came alongside them. There they found a carriage wagon, its wooden frame twisted and its wheels destroyed. No bodies were found, but there was some basic cargo, it seemed to be a merchant’s carriage.

“It looks like it was attacked, one of my men spotted it. Look here,” he pointed to a piece of paper stuck to the bent frame of the carriage. It had a strange symbol none of them quite recognized. It looked to be a sword of some sort stabbed through a blue circle, which was bleeding crimson blood, “seems some of the bandits have gotten brave…”

‘Bandits! I have to inform my father immediately. They are quite bold to be so close to the castle, but that means they are far more dangerous than we thought,’ he had to send word back, or the situation would quickly get out of hand.

“Send a knight back, tell my father bandits were here and request he send some knights to investigate. Have this symbol taken back to him as well,” Kard ripped it off the frame and gave it to the leader, “did you find any survivors of this attack?”

The knight quickly informed one of his men. The men remounted quickly and began galloping back towards the castle, symbol in hand, “no, there are no signs of any bodies either, master Kard. It seems whoever did this only wanted us to know they were here…” he trailed off as he spoke, his voice full of concern.

“This is nothing we should be concerned about, this is clearly only an attempt to scare my father and the people of our county. I am sure it will be handled swiftly. For now, we ride for the capital,” he soon got back on his horse and once the rest of the knights were ready, returned to riding towards the capital.

‘At least, I hope it is…’ he thought, solemnly.