The stained window rained glass upon the cloaked Vezeyle as he burst out of the church and into the surrounding alley. A few passers by pulled their hoods down lower and quickly made haste away from such a scene. Vezeyle's mind was racing. He had just declared war on the gods and taken his first life. Melodias's blood would forever stain his hands. Vezeyle quickly reprimanded himself, this was a world where the strong ruled. One who paled at the thought of taking a life wouldn't get very far, especially one who had just disrespected the gods themselves.
The churches bells started ringing. Thirteen times the bells rang. That was the signal that the town was under martial law, protocol called that every citizen must return to either their home or the nearest tavern within half an hour. Anyone seen on the streets after that time would immediately be cut down by the towns guard. Of course Vezeyle wasn't aware of this.
Frowning the boy thought of Fredrick who still remained in the church. He had to know what became of the man who had shown him kindness, Vezeyle wouldn't allow the man who had helped him suffer for his sake. With a turn the cloaked youth jumped up fifteen metres onto the tiled roof of the building opposite the church. The slanted roof easily took his weight and the boy dashed onto the next roof over, leaping the four metre gap that separated the buildings gracefully. Stealthy making his way around the buildings he manoeuvred himself so that he was sitting upon the roof of the building that was opposite the courtyard that led to the churches main doors. Settling down against a chimney the youth nestled himself in for a long wait.
The midday sun beat down upon Vezeyle who was wrapped in his black cloak. People were becoming more sparse as everyone disappeared off of the streets. Until after half an hour since he first settled down no one was to be seen. The only sign of life that was visible were the platoons of soldiers that occasionally marched past, coming in and out of the church. Hours passed and the solar star in the sky began to descend. Still no sign of Fredrick. Fear began to worry at Vezeyle. Suddenly a great crowd left the church, all the nobles and their children who had attended the naming ceremony. Weeping women held their husbands and many of the children held their parents hands tightly. The group was in a sorry state to say the least. Vezeyle quickly looked for any sign of the armoured Fredrick. However Fredrick was not in this crowd. The fear that had been lurching in his gut solidified.
The sun set and still Vezeyle waited, hoping that any second now Fredrick would walk free out of the churches doors. Darkness laid claim to the courtyard. Torches were lit inside of the church casting their shining rays onto the cobblestone outside. Peace temporarily reigned over the town of Brickendale and with this peace Vezeyle grabbed hold of his fire pendant, mentally calling out for his master "Youngling I'm glad you still walk amongst us, what's happened?" Fyreons voice sounded relived as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"I killed the Namer master and wrote what you told me to in his book" the youths answer was blunt and to the point "but what does my name mean master?" Vezeyle questioned, understanding the importance of ones names true meaning.
"Youngling your name in the old tongue means Great Warrior Who Wields Lighting. I thought it suited, no?" Fyreon answered.
The young boy laughed "Of course master it was a fine choice"
"Youngling I must tell you that this communication uses up a lot of my energy, your aware that inside my barrier time flows at a different rate to the outside. To communicate with you I must match the flow of time inside the barrier to the flow of time outside the barrier, which is no small feat even for myself, so please Vezeyle only contact me if it's urgent" saying so Vezeyle felt Fyreons mind disconnect from his mind.
And so Vezeyle went back to waiting. His watchful vigil lasted for the entire night. The lunar king relinquished his starry kingdom to the solar star. Shimmering rays cast their warming light upon Vezeyle's haggard face. Since he had stepped onto the path of ascension Vezeyle had no longer felt the mortal feelings of tiredness or hunger. However now Vezeyle very much felt tired. Tired with worry.
The streets of Brickendale began bustling, yesterday's martial law forgotten, washed away by the warm suns rays. Word of the boy named Vezeyle, who had beheaded one of the gods namers quickly spread through the town. The courtyard became crowded as people came to gossip and look at the scene of the crime. Armoured soldiers came out and established a barrier around the courtyard. Some men who were carrying planks of wood were allowed through this barrier. Construction started in the courtyard, and a sneaking suspicion wormed it's way into Vezeyle's heart.
Morning became midday and the men's labour was finished. Standing ominously in the courtyard was a rectangular wooden platform. The platform stood five feet high and was made of ramshackle planks of wood. In the centre of the platform was a block of wood that had a semi circular indention upon it's surface. Rusty red stains adorned this block of wood. Vezeyle's position on the roof was perfect to view this morbid sight. He's place behind the chimney allowed him to see everything that happened in this small courtyard, plus he was shielded from the onlookers eyes, he would only be visible to someone atop the roof.
Vezeyle was filled with uncertainty. He had concluded long ago that someone was to be executed. However he hoped that Fredrick wouldn't be bought up onto that stage of death. Guilt wrecked Vezeyle. A hush swept the gathered crowd as the churches doors swung open. Beaten and battered a bruised form was carried on to the wooden platform by four knights dressed in full ceremonial armour. The man was roughly forced to kneel beside the block of wood by the knights. He wore a ragged thread bare shirt and a ripped pair of shorts, a sack covered his head. The mans strong arms were bound behind his back. Blood was clearly splattered on the shirts material. Vezeyle's heart was in his mouth. He recognised that athletic figure. A well dressed man stepped up beside the four knights on the platform and loudly proclaimed "This man here is Fredrick Thouwn-Guard, today he has been accused of assisting the one know as Vezeyle to murder one of the gods namers. He has been stripped of all his titles and now stands before you as a traitor. He is to be beheaded, his body and severed head will then hang from the parapets of the city's walls to become crow carrion. So is the fate of those who rebel against the gods" saying so the pompous announcer stepped back off of the platform.
Vezeyle was in shock. He don't know what to do. He had gotten Fredrick in this situation, the man had shown him kindness and because of that he was to be killed and disgraced. The knights removed the sack from his head. Fredrick's face was haggard and beaten. He was a young man of only twenty five years. His hazel hair that was cropped close to his head was now matted with clotted blood. His face was swollen hideously, cracked lips and a broken nose screamed of the tortures he had undergone. Such grievous injuries betrayed a rather handsome and regal face. Feeble eyes stared out at the jeering crowd that cried for his death. What little spirt and resolve held Fredrick together dissipated in front of this jeering crowd, whom bayed for blood. Fredrick's head sagged and his eyes went dim in defeat.
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He was lugged to his feet and dragged over to the block of wood that was stained with blood. A sharp kick from one of the knights sent Fredrick sprawling forwards onto his knees. Placing a foot on his back the knight forced Fredrick's head to sink into the indentation in the wood, his bare neck lay vulnerably exposed. Like a shadow creeping forth a small man clad in clothes like midnight emerged upon the platform, his face covered by a black hood. In the small mans hands was a disgusting axe. His fleshy fingers were clasped around the wooden handle of the axe as he vehemently stared down at Fredrick's neck. With a nod from the man who had announced Fredrick's death the small executioner lifted his axe above his head. Fredrick's eyes were dull as if he was waiting for deaths cold embrace. With a grunt of effort the executioners axe swung downwards.
After Vezeyle had shattered through the church's windows everyone had been in a state of pandemonium. The priest clutched the book that Vezeyle had cast to him. When peace had been restored the priest immediately went to the bloody altar and prayed to the gods telling them of his situation. Never before had the priests prayers been acknowledged like they were this time. A burst of light came forth from the corners of the room illuminating the church brightly, off in the distance a figure, silhouetted by this radiant light walked towards them. All the officials who had gathered stopped and turned around in panic to look at this divine figure walking towards them from afar. The warm light calmed all of their hearts and it was like they were gazing upon their loved ones.
The distant silhouette came closer, his figure became visible. Glorious golden armour that was skin tight adorned this magnificent man. His lean body was accentuated by the golden chest plate he wore. His powerful arms were bare, only a pair of braces covered his wrists, fabric woven from golden thread formed trousers that flowed down his long legs, glittering greaves transformed into glowing golden boots that looked as if they had never graced the floor. A flowing red cape stretched behind him. Upon his waist a smooth black sword created a stark contrast with his glittering appearance. A full golden helmet crowned the figures head. The helmet was in the shape of a devils face, holes where the eyes were supposed to be revealed nothing but an inky darkness. The devils mouth was twisted into a grimace of rage, jagged fangs filled the demons mouth.Two twisting horns jutted out of the helmet making all who saw them quake in fear.
This was one of the gods elite soldiers. The Reapers, these soldiers were the right arm of the gods, serving to enforce the gods will upon this mortal plane.These were unparalleled experts of the mortal plane who had given up on achieving ascension, and so had been invited to guard the gods realm instead. It was well known that Gale himself had been offered a position as the leader of the Reapers. The Reaper entered the church's hall and bent down low taking the book from the trembling priests hands. With a flick the Reaper opened the book to the page Vezeyle had desecrated. A smooth voice flowed from the Reaper, it sounded as if he could charm nature herself "I a Reaper serving lord Ah-Geath ruler of the namers and the God Of Fate have been sent to rectify this disgrace you've suffered, now mortal explain how we were dishonoured so" this command was directed to the priest. The priest stammered out an answer explaining what had happened, throughout the mans explanation his eyes were brimming with veneration and awe towards this seemingly perfect being. After hearing what had happened the Reaper stood silently for a while. Breaking his silence the Reaper began speaking. He spoke of what the officials were to do and how they were to execute the plan he had thought of. The officials all complied immediately and preparations were made instantly for the Reapers plan.
Vezeyle sat behind the chimney, every single muscle in his body was strained to the breaking point as he clenched his blade in frustration at the situation. The boys mind was in turmoil, he should save this man who had shown him kindness, but who knew what level of power those four knights had reached. His master words rang in his head, any expert who had a soul with the size of two centimetres in diameter was bound to be a great expert in any small kingdom. Working on this logic Vezeyle tensed as he readied himself to move to save Fredrick.
The detestable executioner raised his deadly axe above his head and with a grunt swung it downwards. Every single pair of eyes in the area was entirely fixed upon this falling axe swooping downwards to claim Fredrick's life, so of course no one saw a figure leap off the roof of a building at the back of the courtyard. All they heard was a peal of thunder before a black figure flew out of the skies and into the executioner. Vezeyle's foot connected squarely with the executioners jaw, twisting his neck sharply round with a wrenching snap. His lifeless body went flying into the church's walls with a wet crunch, before sliding to the floor leaving a bloody trail upon the wall. Before the dead executioner hit the floor Vezeyle had struck the four knights, surrounding the kneeling Fredrick, incapacitating blows. Like leafs they crumpled onto the floor their armour crashing loudly on the wooden platform. With ease Vezeyle hoisted the larger Fredrick onto his right shoulder whilst keeping his blade free, ready for use at any moment.
The crowd was in a complete uproar. Cries of outrage and shock rung from the mob as Vezeyle stood facing them with Fredrick over his shoulder. Gasps of recognition sounded from those sparse few nobles who had been present at yesterday's naming ceremony. The information that the youth who currently stood before them was Vezeyle quickly spread amongst the masses. Like a fire being doused the previous noise faded into silence as the crowd realised just who this audacious young man was. Wasting no time Vezeyle flew into the air with a clap of thunder, Fredrick still resting on his shoulder.
The golden clad Reaper rested in the bell tower staring down at the current procedures. His plan had succeed beautifully. He had ordered that Vezeyle's accomplice be executed as soon as possible, hoping this would lure Vezeyle himself out. And it had. As soon as Vezeyle had appeared and slain the executioner the Reaper had hid his prescience, after all he didn't want to scare such important prey away. As Vezeyle made to escape into the skies with Fredrick the Reaper made his move. With a ripple of movement he disappeared from the bell tower. Twenty metres in the air directly in the path of the fast moving figure of Vezeyle the golden armour clad man appeared. Fear entered Vezeyle's heart as he recognised the prescience of a far superior being "It's a shame you didn't act so foolishly. A talent like yours should be cultivated not culled" so saying so Vezeyle had already flown to close to him, getting him into the Reapers great range. The Reaper flicked his wrist, sending his sword, the colour of midnight, writhing towards Vezeyle's chest. "Good night Vezeyle"