Darkness. All engulfing darkness. A place beyond the reach of light, which even the sun couldn't touch.

A room filled with corpses.

Bodies of extinguished knights, renown magicians, and ruthless mercenaries whose names and achievements have long been forgotten in the course of history.

A fate no one, regardless of how remarkable one's life was, could escape.

To those individuals laying in this abandoned cemetery, it was a fate worse than death. Their dreams, honor, and achievements not even worth having been written down in history books.

Remnants of a war that wasn't worth dying for.

Yet, each and every single one of those brave warriors followed their lord into battle, in hope of a better future for friends and family.

A single spark of light, shining in a brilliant bright yellow appeared, illuminating the room.

Along the wall ran intricate runes, of an old language that wasn't spoken anymore. There was no entrance nor exit, only a statue of a woman clothed in robes.

Her hair beautiful ran way past her shoulders, her eyes bore a deep sadness. The woman was on her knees, her upper body leaned slightly forward while her hands were bound to the wall.

She was confined.

She was beautiful, warming the hearts of every man who was lucky enough to cross paths with her. Even just her statue, that was but an image of her had that effect.

She was obviously of noble heritage… as for why she was confined, maybe one of the warriors knew the answer.

The spark slowly fell and landed on the head of one of the fallen.

The light grew dim until it after a while fully extinguished.

Then another light appeared, illuminating the room once more. But this time it wasn't from a spark. It originated from a woman who wore a bright shining pendant.

She stood there in front of the young warrior, on who, the spark had descended.

The woman had ash blond, shoulder long hair. She had pale blue eyes, a timid nose and only faintly red lips. She wore a black skirt that went only a little past her knees. Her black blouse was adorned with two small white jewels near her collar bones.

She slowly knelt down and wiped off the dust from the young man's face. It was riddled with. The boy was sixteen at most.

The woman looked at the boy with empathy and gently placed her fingers on his forehead.

"Arise brave warrior, your fight has not ended. Your time has not come."

She stood back up and watched. For a few minutes nothing happened. But she didn't look disappointed nor impatient. It would take time.

Then she saw a slight movement in his left hand. Slowly, his body began to reform itself and heal the many scars it had suffered.

Throughout the entire process she didn't leave his side. For she had found her duty.

As time passed and the boy's condition improved, his eyelids made way for his deep blue eyes. He slowly tried to get on his feet, but his legs gave in. They had yet to recover their strength.

"You are in no condition to walk. Sit," the white haired woman gently said.

The boy took her advice and looked around. His eyes widened and he sucked in a deep breath.

"Wh- What happened here?" he asked, his voice weak.

"You and your comrades fought valiantly under lord Alaric's banner. In the end nobody but you survived," she answered, maintaining her gentle tone.

She had lied.

The young boy sat there unmoving. He had no recollection of having fought a battle, much less a war. But when he looked at himself, it was true. He wore iron armor with a blue cape. His chestplate had been adorned with a curled up dragon which looked like it was about to bite its own tail.

The armor was battered, the blue cape torn and worn out. Dust was all over him.

He indeed had fought. But for what and why? He was unsure.

"How come I am the only one who survived?" the boy asked, his voice had grown steady but was still raspy.

A faint blue glow emitted from them woman's palm. Blue particles formed a little iron flask. Then she handed it over to the boy.

He accepted it without much thought. His throat felt like he hadn't drunk anything in days. He opened it and drank.

The white haired woman spoke. "It was a spell. A magician on the enemy side cast a powerful slumber spell. When they started executing your sleeping comrades, they had overlooked you. You later were thrown in here, assumed dead."

The boy used his arms to push himself up. He tumbled back and forth, waving around with his arms until he finally stabilized himself. He looked at her with an unreadable expression.

"How long have I been asleep for?"

Just by looking at the corpses of his fellow warriors he was sure that it had to have been months, or even multiple years.

"Over 2000 years."

Huh?

His jaw dropped a bit, and his eyes widened ever so slightly. He couldn't believe what he had heard. How could someone sleep for so long? His body should've died long ago.

He wanted to refute her, but chose not to say anything. Looking at her he knew she wasn't lying. For some reason, he felt that she was a trustworthy person.

They both stood there in silence. The boy was waiting for her to speak, she however only looked at him with a conflicted expression.

She closed her eyes for a while, then shortly opened them again. With steps that radiated confidence she walked towards the young boy. Only when she was barely a meter away from him did she come to a halt.

"What do you want from me?" he asked the woman who stood quite a bit taller than him, finally breaking the silence.

"I want that you enjoy your life to the fullest. For as long as you can."

She took a last step towards the boy, then she lifted her hand, resting her fingers on the boys forehead. He wanted to say something, but his jaw wouldn't move.

The same blue light that emitted from her hand when she conjured the flask now engulfed the boy. His vision slowly faded and then shortly after blacked out.

The beautiful white haired woman let out a sigh. In her palm she conjured a small bright yellow light, she closed her palm and the small light disappeared.

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Her expression grew tired, her voice weak. "I'm really sending the tarnished back into hell."

Then, she vanished. And the cemetery was once again in darkness embrace.

***

"Is the young lord not awake yet?" a female voice said, as the door opened.

"Shush Lara, he hates to be woken up by loud sounds," a maid reprimanded her.

"How do you know he hates it?" she asked curiously.

"How do you not know, you've been working here for a year!?"

"If he doesn't like it why are you shouting?"She tilted her head to the side and rested a finger on her chin, as though she was thinking.

Lara was a 17 year old maid in training under house Wakefield. She had shoulder long brown braided into two pigtails. Her brown eyes matched her hair. Her were dark red and her nose petite. While not too outstanding, she was a considered beautiful.

The other maid's name was Bernadette. She was an older lady who had served house Wakefield for over forty years. Her hair was already mostly gray and only had a couple blonde strands left. Her nose was rather big, her lips almost entirely lacked colour.

Both of them wore gray dresses that were adorned with white accents, white stockings and a pair of black shoes.

Both the maids bickered for a while, not noticing that their lord had awoken and sat up.

His deep blue eyes scanned his surroundings. He was laying in a grand loft bed that was as soft as a cloud. He didn't remember his bed being so comfortable.

In truth, he didn't even remember his own bed.

Next to the door, in front of which his two maids were bickering, was a brown desk which had a white candle, a stack of paper, fether and ink on it.

Opposite to his bed was a wardrobe with multiple mirrors on it. It was so big that the young lord believed it could fit clothes for an entire family.

On his right was a big window, separated into multiple small squares. The window was adorned with patterns that looked like branches were growing on it.

The bright yellow morning sun was shining through it, landing on his skin. The sky was light blue, devoid of clouds. The perfect morning weather.

Slowly, he pushed away his blanket and got out of bed. Without the maids noticing he walked over to the window and enjoyed the view.

He was met with the sight of a busy city. People and carriages were on the streets going about their day. Houses and taverns were densely built, their roofs a brighter brownish color. Smoke was oozing out of their chimneys.

"Y- Young lord you're awake,"Bernadette stammered, deeply bowing to the young boy, urging Lara to do the same. "We are very sorry to have woken you up, please forgive us."

Lara also apologized after Bernadette slightly pinched her.

"There's no need to apologise, I was already awake," he said, dismissing their apology.

Both of their eyes instantaneously widened. Had he said something wrong?

_Should I have punished them? _

He didn't know where he was, or who he was so he decided to act as their lord. But apparently he had already done a poor job at that.

"I'm hungry," he said, wanting to get out of this situation.

Bernadette hurriedly nodded. "O-of course, your family is already waiting."

"Then let's not keep them waiting for longer, lead the way."

Without saying anything they went ahead, he followed close behind them. The house, or rather mansion he was being led, was huge. He had already seen that it was at least a four-story building but he couldn't grasp just how big it was.

The hallways were broad and adorned with many doors on both sides, each leading to a different room. Along the walls every once in a while hung a portrait. Members of his family he presumed, they wore fancy clothes and stood or sat in a dignified pose.

Just by the look out of his window, he already knew that he was a noble. Anyone beneath the status of a noble couldn't even dream of purchasing a mansion as grand as this, even if they saved all their money their entire life.

"Miss Bernadette, did he just talk earlier? And that like twice," Lara asked her teacher in a hushed tone.

"Yes. But don't mention it, as a maid you are not to question your employer," she responded.

_Ah, so that's the problem… _he thought. But it didn't really matter. If he hadn't talked until now, he didn't need to act a certain way, he just needed to think of an excuse why he suddenly started talking.

He wasn't too afraid on that regard, he had fought in a war before, how hard could it be to come up with a credible lie?

They arriver in front of a door made out of dark brown wood, it looked almost black. Two guards stood on each side, both wore armor made out of pure black steel. Both held in their hand a spear, and had a sword attached to their waist.

When they saw them getting close they crossed their spears before the door, blocking the path of the young lord.

"You are not permitted to enter here, lord Elric," the guard on the right said, his tone firm. He was tall and had a lean build.

The head maid Bernadette spoke in an angered tone. "A knight has no right to-!"

Elric raised his right hand, quietening the maid. She looked at Elric as if she wanted to say something, then close her and chose not to speak.

"It's an order, to not let the disgrace enter, and we will follow our orders," the other knight, a bit smaller than the prior, sneered.

"On whose order?" Elric asked in a tone that did not reveal any emotion.

Both of the guards were taken aback for a second but quickly composed themselves.

"Your older brother, Elond Wakefield" the taller one said.

Elric nodded slightly. "Are you his guards?"

"No, young lord, we are guards of house Wakefield," the smaller guard spoke smugly.

"Then as long as my father does not give you any order, my word is worth as much as my brothers. So I command you to open the door," he said with a piercing gaze.

The smaller, disrespectful, guard was about to say something, but Elric didn't let him.

"If not, you will have to live with the consequences of refusing me."

His voice was neutral, no hint of anger in it, but it was firm and unyielding. Even under the heavy stares of two fully armored knights.

He spoke instinctively, having had no experience in the machinations and dynamics of noble houses, nor on how to deal with insubordination. His threats at that moment held no weight.

The two guards looked at each other, then their gazes wandered to Elric as they retracted their spears.

"Of course, lord Elric," the taller one spoke before they together pushed open the door.

Elric inwardly let out a sigh of relief. If they had not opened the door, he didn't know what he would've done.

As the doors slowly slid open, he took a first look. It was a huge hall, in the middle was a long table made out of dark stone along it were many chairs. At the end of the table were two highback chair, the seats of honor.

On them sat Elric's parents. On the left side were four girls, his sisters. On the right side, five boys, his brothers. On the walls hung gray banners, on them a white dragon who was pierced by a sword.

The hall left an impression on him.

When the door fully opened, the two maids bowed and excused themselves. Elric didn't pay them any heed, he waved them off and entered the hall.

Collectively, all gazes flung to him. Each of them had a different reaction to Elric's arrival. The most notable was Elond irritated expression, even if it only lasted for merely a second. He quickly adjusted it to a friendly smile.

Elric's brows rose ever so slightly after having noticed Elond's obvious disdain. However he chose to ignore it. Relationships could be mended, maybe the original Elric had done something to him.

Closest to their parents on the boys side sat Elond. He was 19 and the oldest among them. He had messy brown reddish hair and blue eyes. He was growing his facial hair to look more mature.

On his left was Robert. His dark brown hair was neatly combed back, his eyes, just like Elric's, were azure blue. He was 3 years younger than Elond.

The seat next to him was empty. The seating arrangement was by age, so naturally it belonged to Elric who was after Robert the third oldest among the boys.

He sat down on the empty seat as an attendant brought him his breakfast. He was surprised by its simplicity. A soup, a piece of bread, cheese, and meat. Not the breakfast of a noble as the common folk imagined it.

Elric, however, was relieved. He didn't know anything about etiquette and was afraid he'd make a fool out of himself. From what he had heard, nobles use a different kind of spoon and fork for different meals.

"You're late," Elric's father said to him, while he was stuffing a piece of meat in his mouth.

Elric quickly swallowed the meat and turned his gaze to his father who he hadn't even greeted. "I was held up by the guards, they were under the impression that I wasn't allowed to enter."

Shit, didn't I want to mend my relationship with Elond? Telling on him certainly doesn't push into the right direction… but I didn't mention his name so maybe he won't be mad…

From the corner of his eyes he saw Elond glaring at him.

Shit.

Lyra, the second youngest among the girls, looked at their father and said: "I heard them badmouth Elric a couple of days ago."

Then the black haired girl silently went back to eating.

This really isn't working in my favour!

Elric's father ran a hand through his pitch black hair, which Elric had inherited from him.

"Is that so…" His eyes flicked to his oldest for a second, then quickly retracted his gaze without anyone noticing. "I'll have them both removed and punished."

Hiding his displeasure to how the situation had turned out and his own stupidity, he forced a smile and thanked his father, trying to sound as sincere as he could.

With that matter being handled the family went back to friendly chit -hat. Elric attentively listened to every exchange, learning much about his family in the process.

His family, house Wakefield, as he had guessed earlier was a noble family in the south-east of the kingdom. They were known and respected throughout the entire continent as demon and monster slayers.

Their families coat of arms, a curled up dragon that was pierced by a sword, was a result of one of their ancestors having slain an actual dragon.

The Wakefield house was over a 1000 old.

Elond was the current heir of the family, being the oldest that title rightfully belonged to him. But if another were to contribute much to the family, they might be able to take his place.

Thus, the relationship between his two elder brothers was strained and superficial. They were fighting for the position of Lord.

The rest on the other hand seemed not to be too keen on being the next head of the family, they more or less shared a bond common to siblings.

Which meant, so long he didn't compete to be the heir, he wouldn't be in much trouble. He smiled satisfised with his thoughts and what he had concluded.

His mother, a beautiful red haired women with striking brown eyes, for the first time that morning spoke:

"Elianor, you will be betrothed to the heir of house Tudor, Lendor."