Cormac had travelled out of their estate numerous times throughout his childhood. It was customary to introduce the families future heirs as early on as possible, to forge bonds and relationships between them. There were also ceremonies and festivals that he attended with his father before, but it has been a long time.

He forgot just how much their carriage was comfortable. It may have jumped a bit when they rode on the more unkempt roads, but the seating pillows, filled with what must have been god's gentleness, felt like little clouds.

Cormac was filled with positive emotions, the enthusiasm at the change of his surroundings infecting his family that rode with him. Even his mother treated him fairly good, definitely better than average.

Cormac wore a set of fine clothes he was given. They looked absolutely ridiculous, but most noble wardrobe seemed such to Cormac, so he was used to wearing things he did not like. The yellow jacket and trousers, both adorned with red dragons and lions intricately woven into his shoulders and waist, were especially horrendous. If his mother did not have a weird sense of fashion herself, Cormac would have thought she clothed him in this clown outfit on purpose. But she seemed to give actual effort to make them presentable, even him. Eamon was dressed in very similar themed clothes, though his primary color was green and the dragons and lions blue, which in Cormac's point of view, was much less brazenly bad. Their father looked prepared for celebration and battle both, as he donned on his favorite casual armor, underneath he wore an ornate brown-to-gold tunic, coupled with a number of belts holding his body in a way that made him look even bigger. Though she was definitely the crowning jewel of their family, her dress was long and intricate, with a more than generous amount cleavage on display. Her hair was let down to its full extent, absent of her usual gold jewels.

Their sister was left at home, in care of their servants. She was only two and Cormac agreed that taking a two year old to an execution was very poor taste.

It was surprising, the whole of it. In this carriage ride, he felt like a part of the La Bors more than he did in years. Right when he decided to leave them for the Academy. Though he still did not announce his decision, he was positive that his father knew. He has always known ahead of time when Cormac had to make a choice. Maybe he prepared everyone for his departure, maybe that was why his mother was in good spirits…

Cormac shut that train of thought down quickly. Why would he undervalue the nice mood his family trip had? Especially since he wouldn’t see them in some time. His father wanted them to reconciliate anyway, he might as well commend his mother when she acted nice.

The places they rode through were stunning, from the huge pine trees to small grass fields, the nature around them varied, but stayed consistently beautiful. But what caught Cormac's interest the most was the giant lake he was wont to observe all the way from home. This up close, the lake seemed to span for miles, enough to struggle to see the other shore.

"Do you know what this lake is called Eamon?" asked their mother. He just shook his head and looked out the window, then he made a weird sly face.

"The lake." he deadpanned. The silence following was too grueling and Cormac had to stifle the laugh that threatened to break it. Surprisingly enough, the collective quiet was broken by his mother's giggle. Then in the greatest twist of all, she turned to him, a light smile still on her face.

"Do you know Cormac?"

Cormac was so taken aback, even if he did know the story, he would have forgotten it. He just shook his head.

"In a war, too long ago for its name to be remembered," Their mother started, trading glances between Cormac and Eamon both. "All we know is, that it was a fight against the forces evil. One of the first rulers emerged from the fray, it was their king. He saw his army losing, men dying by blade and flames, their victory unreachable. He took his hope, his anger, his love and his very life and transformed it all to encase their opposing army in ice. That day, a great sacrifice was made and a great victory achieved. The Salvatoris is what remains of the giant iceberg. It is said, that countless treasures of days past still remain hidden in its depths, guarded by what awakened deep down." her green eyes glistened while she told her story enthusiastically.

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A singular "Wow." sounded from Eamon, who was searching the surface of the lake for the said treasures. Cormac was doing much the same. A promise of artifacts of untold power was a tad too strong for him to overlook it.

The capital was overflowing with people, the streets littered with small time peddlers of mildly magical artifacts to known travelling merchants with a reputation for trading weapons, scrolls and other items with immense power. People of all cultures of the kingdom gathered here, to create an intriguing blend of cultures from far away.

But through all the haggling and cheers in the crowd, most were gathered here to witness an execution. It was something that still bothered Cormac, that so many people would come together just to watch a man's head come off. He himself was no happier having to witness this and he couldn’t understand his brothers enthusiasm at the sight of the gallows.

They arrived just moments before the event was to take place. They had seats assigned to them, the honorable kind, with full view of the impending death. If they had been just a little closer, they might have been in the splashing zone of the blood.

A soldier walked out onto the platform, carrying a fairly big-sized parchment.

"Hear ye, hear ye. We are gathered here today, to witness the passing of a former lord. For his disgrace, the lord is not to be named, or else he stain the name for generations to come. He has sullied his ways with abhorrent slaughter of the meek and is therefore judged to end by sword." he rolled the parchment again and walked over to a side.

Then an executioner made his way through the crowd along with the prisoner. The unnamed lord had a gag over his mouth and his arms and legs were bound. His face was that of a lunatic, his eyes opened wide, as if to gather all the information he could, dark bags under them. His arms and legs were scratched and bloodied. A chill ran down Cormac's spine, as he watched the man stumble his way over to the gallows. There was something…wrong about him.

Cormac looked at his father, looking for assurance, but he seemed on edge. When Cormac took a look around the crowd, he could spot many such expressions, but they were subdued by the far louder part of the onlookers.

Shouts, yells and curses of all kinds flowed at the man. The barrage overpowering any other speech the soldier might have said and only increased as the prisoner got on his knees and placed his head on the wooden block.

The prisoner placed his head Cormac's way, and he was sure that his eyes were locked onto his. The blue in them watching him intently. The eyes watched him even when the head was severed and had fallen into a basket. The lifeless head still locked in the same crazed expression.

Cormac's daze was broken when he felt his father's hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked, worry blatant in his voice.

"Yes…I think so. It was just a little too much."

"It can be like that. Death is hard to get used to." he then petted his back with a sigh. "Let's go, there are a bright spots to this city as well."

The rest of the day was quite pleasant. They toured the city, enjoyed the sights of magnificent churches and a cathedral. Thy tasted the food the city had to offer, enjoyed a travelling circus show and watched a battle tournament. All in all, it turned into a very good day, one that Cormac would treasure in his time away. His mother supplied them with stories throughout their outing, stopping more than once at a building to explain its historical significance.

Somehow, their day led them to a place Cormac knew very well, though he actually never been here yet. The walkway high up on the walls offered it's view gratuitously. It was as gorgeous as it always was…but there was a hint of unease now. The image of the incoming dark swirling cloud appeared in Cormac's eyes whenever he looked far east, conjuring the feeling of an incoming end.

Thankfully, the skies were clear, but Cormac feared that whenever he blinked, the great grey cloud would be right there again.

His mother and father were just saying something to Eamon, when Cormac made his mind up definitely. Whatever he felt now, he would never be able to stand a chance against what was coming. He did not think his dream a vision anymore, but still. He wanted to be strong enough, prepared enough.

"I will go to the Academy father."