On the first hour of the first day of the first month of the year of the Shepherd, the second son of Mikhail, the King of Athena, was born amidst the screaming of his mother, into an era of warfare.

As his tiny hands started to explore the new world, the midwives sighed in relief – because after 10 hours of labor, the prince was born healthy, and the king's favorite concubine had lived through the birthing. The mother of the king's three other children had not been so lucky – and neither were the midwives.

As the cool winds from the river Athena blew in through the window, the midwives looked upon their prince in relief. As the prince took his first breath, he had already saved their lives. He had saved them from the rugged looking man in armor, who was staring, in a still manner, over the whole event with a hand on his blade. The King's words echoed in the mind of this man called Thrasus– "If any harm should come to her – or my son – they all must die along with their failure."

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Thrasus, the bodyguard of the king's favorite concubine, did not show any emotion as he came over to inspect the prince. As he stared into the black eyes of the new prince, he sensed no fear – only curiosity. This child did not cry, and no one else dared to strike the prince – and so Thrasus took the child and lifted his hand. But before his hand fell, an arrow pierced his shoulder. It had come from the window from the south beyond the walls. There was commotion outside.

A hundred archers were shooting their arrows into the residence from the south and one had found its way in through the window. Sounds of struggles were heard throughout the residence as the insurgents broke through the outer gates and searched for their prize. The house guards, outnumbered, were clashing with these insurgents. The commander of the house guards, Sylia, burst into the room – bloody.