Rage, a world of red with one finely-dressed noble being the epicenter. Count Smith was on him in a moment, striking and screaming incoherently as his anger fueled him. Too quickly, the nobleman has been knocked senseless along side the woman, countess Jessica, who was Smith's precious wife.
Out the door, orders shouted and ignored, eyes filled with uncertainty as the count's soldiers refused to aid him in harming a duke, yet were unable to bring themselves to stop him. On and on he went, stumbling down the street with the corpse-like nobleman.
Fabien, his son, appeared alongside him with a sharpened stake, struggling yet succeeding in dragging it along.
In the strange red world, time stopped. Nothing existed other than the need to utterly destroy the scum who had dared harm his wife. The law of the county was that rapists were punished by being impaled in the town center, a law set in place by Smith to ensure the punishment would fit the crime.
Upon reaching the town square, Smith crushed his feelings and calmly analyzed the situation. If the nobleman, the heir of a neighboring dukedom, were to be permitted to survive this night, he would certainly carry out a sadistic revenge for suffering a blow from a lower ranking noble. Executing him according to the local law, however, would permit him to avoid an outright war. So long as his people remained loyal to him, his family at least would survive the backlash, although he may have to pay with his life.
Satisfied with his calculations, Smith hoisted the noble onto the stick set in place by Fabien, his son and heir.
Fabien Forlorn, the sole child and heir to the Forlorn county, looked bleakly at the fire raging in his father's eyes. The nobleman had been staked in the town square two days ago, and in response the Whitmour dukedom had petitioned the king for permission to go to war. As Smith had acted in accordance with the law of his territory, this request was denied. The result, was obvious.
The Forlorn throne room was simple and efficient. A small throne on a raised platform overlooked an assembly of advisors and officials, with the center of the floor being cleared for petitions and court cases to be carried out. Right now, a court case was underway for the crime of rebellion against the count. The accused were two young men, both from Forlorn county.
"-heinous crime against your gracious ruler and against your fellow man, your crime bears the typical penalty of execution." the prosecution lawyer intoned. While he spoke well and had a good knowledge of the laws, Fabien already knew the outcome of this case and so did everyone else in the room, a fact not hidden from his father.
For two decades, the Forlorn county had grown and prospered under the intelligent, shrewd and decisive rule of the count, tempered by the wise advise of his wife Jessica. However, the countess now rested and recovered from her traumatic experience at the hands of the duke's heir, and the wisdom that once would have advised prudence and fairness had fled with her.
In his many years of rule, count Smith had very rarely ever taken vengeance for himself, and even found the meting out of justice against his own citizens to be distasteful. He had taught Fabien when he was young "A good ruler is merciful. A great ruler is just. The ruler to aspire to be is both."
Fabien could see what his father was doing, trying to appease his people by treating the rebels gently in an attempt to unite them against the foreign enemy funding and inciting the rebellion. How that would turn out, would be revealed in the following weeks.
Stumbling through the darkness, Fabien heard sounds of fighting as he grabbed his sword and rushed to get out of his room and rally the defenders. In a few minutes, he had a fighting force of nearly a dozen soldiers and arrived at the scene of conflict, outside his parent's bedroom. In one moment, he saw his father, fighting with a calculated fury against a brace of well armored soldiers, with the corpse of a third at his feet, while countess Jessica was dragged from the room and more darkly clad men dropped their capes to reveal armor and weapons. Fabien rushed to rescue his mother, however several men, including some of the house guard he had known since he was a child, stood in his way. In the narrow corridor, advanced tactics were impossible, so Fabien simple charged, swiping the eyes from one man's head as he shoulder butted the man next to him, dragged a dagger out of his sheath and thew it into the man behind him.
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He then impaled the second man with his sword, used his sword to put down the screaming first man and dodged a blade from a fourth by backing away. His own soldiers rushed forward to take advantage of the moment, and in just a few long minutes, the attackers were dead and the pursuit for the men who had kidnapped the countess began.
After a week had passed, it became apparent that the kidnappers had been aided by the pristine infrastructure and well-established horse traders that Smith had invested so much into, which permitted the kidnappers to escape to Whitmour. Smith raised his entire army to march on Whitmour, the incredibly organized force assembling in a single week. However, what should have been a force of nearly a thousand men had become a force of 200, as the summons were sabotaged and many refused to aid the count in an invasion awaiting approval. Smith had applied to the royals for permission to invade, however without any direct evidence to their involvement in the rebels that had suddenly sprung up, or the kidnapping (none of the men had worn the livery of the Whitmour house), at least none that could be brought up in a week, the request had been denied.
Every day, a letter arrived from Whitmour, but all it held was a number. First, about a hundred, but by the end of the week the number was already close to a thousand. Unsure what it was, but concerned by the growth of it and convinced it was an attempt at intimidation, Smith chose to not delay his invasion any longer and lead his forces against Whitmour.
However, the rebels sabotaged his supply lines, weakening his men, causing desertions and starving his forces of the necessary ammo for their planned siege of the capital of Whitmour, the Burning City (so called due to its reputation for burning anyone who was perceived to have disrespected a noble at the stake).
All the same, Smith was a genius commander, and his son was a capable tactician. In a series of skirmishes, Fabien led a group of fifty soldiers against forces even as much as three times his number and still winning, primarily by using ambushes and manipulating the morale of his opponent. Through this, they managed to steal enough enemy supplies to maintain the army moving forward.
After a week of travel, they arrived before the gates of Whitmour, ready to siege the city down and force a surrender. Through an almost miraculous series of military victories, they had managed to route and kill about 500 enemy soldiers, and now they stood before Whitmour, which was thoroughly unprepared for a siege, ready to starve the city into surrender.
At least, until countess Jessica was revealed.
Fabien read a book in the command tent. It was the final book in a series he had enjoyed since childhood, which taught about the history, geography and diverse sentient species on a fictional realm. The writing wasn't popular, most people finding it boring, but Fabien had found it had many lessons to teach that were useful in the real world.
While he read the final pages, his father's corpse cooling on the floor near him alongside the corpses of several assassins and traitors, he thought to the events of the past day. The realization of the treatment his mother had received, the attempted storming of the city, the betrayal of several of their officers and the assassination attempt on himself. His father had rescued him, dying in his stead while the two fought back to back. Ultimately, this had been the final straw. Now, in his last act of defiance, Fabien read the last pages of his book while the final moments of his life approached.
In an instant, he was blinded by a flash of light, only to find himself flung through an incomprehensible amount of space and time, seeing but not comprehending more than he had ever known. His body was destroyed in the first instant yet his consciousness continued on, flashes of thought overwhelming him as his very instincts and intuition were overwritten, 10s of thousands of years of forgotten pain and joy fused into his very soul.
Finally, it stopped, and he found himself floating in a cave of nothingness, only his most basic sense of self remaining to him, and then, he fell into a deep sleep.