Galliard winced as the window he was leaning on let out a small creak. The boy hoped that the sound of the busy town would drown out the noise coming from his attempt to escape.

‘So close just one more step.’ He thought as he eased himself out, slowing down to be as stealthy as possible. Minute pieces of the old window seal crumbled underneath the strain of his body weight.

"Ah there you are boy, come now, your mother will tan your hide if you run off to the markets again." Alfrard, Galliard's Father beckoned with a hearty laugh, the boy could not help as his face dropped in disappointment at being caught.

It was not the first time Alfrard had found his youngest son trying to sneak out of the cottage to catch a glimpse of the outside world. He suspected that it also would not be the last. For the hatred that Galliard felt being trapped inside those walls burned brighter than the avatar of Xrion. He yearned for adventure, lusted for the unknown, as young ones often do. Still, his parents had faith in him not to roam the streets of the nearby merchants' city alone. Or at least his father did, his mother less so. There were simply too many dangers for a boy his age to stumble upon and he was not yet able to truly defend himself if such threats presented themselves.

"Now then, hurry and hand me that map there on the desk." His father chuckled good-naturedly, pointing towards the row of bookshelves that lined the wall to the left of him.

A low groan was heard coming from the boy's mouth and his father did not have to look at him to know that it was accompanied by an eye roll. He was displeased at the thought of having to hear yet another one of his father's stories of adventures, instead of being able to have one of his own. It infuriated him that they did not trust him to roam the streets when he watched other kids his age do as they pleased. What bothered Galliard the most was that his two older siblings had no restraint in where they were allowed to go, but he did what he was told to do nonetheless. He knew from experience that whatever his father ordered him to do directly ought to be followed.

"Now child, it's about time that you learned a little more about the world you live in." Alfrard spoke as he sat down at the wooden table in the middle of the kitchen and the parlour.

One of the boy's eyebrows raised slightly at his sire’s words, this sounded like the beginning of a tale he had not yet heard. Trying not to be too obvious about his newfound interest, the boy handed his father the parchment nonchalantly and took his spot on his lap, waiting patiently for the older man to begin. Alfrard took a deep breath, building on to the suspense that the boy was starting to feel.

"This is Xendrada, home to the ten thousand mortal realms, within her bloody battlegrounds many rulers have risen to power and more still have been ground to dust." He ruffled his third born's hair idly as he began, making the corners of the child's mouth pull up in mirth.

The older man ran his thumb over the map in his hand, smiling to himself at a distant memory the action brought. As he opened the map, shadowy figures appeared. Kings and Queens of all different shapes, sizes, and species scattered throughout the lands. All rising to power only to be blown away like ash in the wind.

"But for every general a ruler faces on the field of battle, there are a thousand blades in the dark." Alfrard held a chuckle in at his son's attempt to hide the curiosity that he could see was growing by the second.

"That, my dear young one, is where our story truly begins." As if called by his words, thousands of glowing eyes materialized in place of the shadowy rulers. Bodies slowly started to form, moving in harmony and fighting as one.

"Two thousand years ago there was a mighty King by the name of Aiden the Red. Ruling the Kingdom of Orvivia with a mighty fist, he was one of the most fearsome warriors that have been or will ever be." He leaned back slightly as his son pulled himself upwards on the high table ledge to see the shadows a bit more clearly.

The little boy reached out towards the map curious as to if he could grasp the figures. Much to his disappointment, the shapes turned to fog as his fingers grazed them only to solidify again. His cheeks puffed out in displeasure at the defiant wisp of darkness.

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Alfrard shook his head, a smile present on his lips at his son's actions. "This King was known far and wide for his strength and honour, even took the fearsome warrior princess Nacia as his bride."

"However, as with any great man, he also gathered his fair share of enemies.” As his father spoke a battle broke out upon the map and in the midst of it all, a red king and purple queen held strong side by side. Cutting down any being that dared to stand in their way.

"Rival Kingdoms, petty nobles, even some of his very kin who craved the throne for themselves."

“His own family?” Galliard gasped, unable to comprehend the concept of betraying one's family. Even he would not think to do something so unspeakable though he scarcely knew his two older siblings.

“Sometimes the people you trust the most will stab you in the back.” The older man looked down at his offspring with saddened eyes. “Hopefully that is something you will never have to learn first-hand.”

Galliard's eyebrows drew together in thought before he nodded his head at his father in understanding. He too wished that he would never have to deal with such betrayal in his lifetime. The boy loved his family deeply and to be cut down by one of them would leave a scar that would never heal.

“Now where were we,” His hand waved at the map and mighty bastions sprang from the parchment, manned by many great warriors. "The King, honourable as he was, was no fool; he saw that he was envied just as much as he was loved and guarded his Kingdom well."

"Until one day a rebellion broke out in the southern lands, stoked by the Redwater Duchy to the south and taken advantage of by the traitorous people of Gordartown along the west coast."

"To protect his wife that was now heavy with child from the hands of those wretched people. He rode out with his brothers and set out to crush the rebellion and traitors alike."

The purple figure began to change slowly, her stomach swelling with the heir of the Kingdom. Castle walls grew around her and many guards patrolled the perimeter of the keep.

"But with much of the King's army, along with the King's guards riding off to war, the Kingdom was set upon by mercenaries bought and paid for by the Redwater Duchy entering the city as beggars and refugees."

"In the dead of night, thousands of armed men stormed the castle catching the guards completely by surprise! The Queen herself, despite being months into her pregnancy and in her nightclothes, slew a score of men in her fury." The young boy cheered for the warrior Queen, before being gently shushed by his father for interrupting.

“With the need to protect her child heavy in the back of her mind, she fought more ferociously than she had ever done before.”

"Slowly, inevitably perhaps, the guards were being overrun and with all exits swarming with mercenaries or blocked by burning carts it seemed the Queen would be captured, or worse."

The castle walls crumbled as forces fought their way inside, the childbearing Queen fought gracefully. Never once faltering for she knew she had to protect what was hers. The numbers became overwhelming and soon she was surrounded. At last, only a few of her remaining guards stood with her in defiance.

Galliard gasped and tightly shut his eyes, afraid to see the Queen harmed by those ruthless people. Though what poured through his father's lips next had him peeking one eye open in hope.

"Then when all appeared lost there was a cry from the rear of the mercenaries."

"The Masks, the Masks are here!" Alfrard bellowed, banging his hands against the table to frighten his son.

Galliard, however, was so transfixed on the figures appearing out of nowhere to come to the Queen's aid, that he remained unafraid. His sire had to resist the urge to pout. His youngest son was hypnotized by the words spewing out of his father's lips as the wispy illusions in front of him showed exactly what took place on the castle grounds that fateful night.

"One thousand men and women in bone-white masks appeared around the flanks of the sellswords, all wielding blades as black as demon's blood."

The clashes of men and women played out before them fiercely and swiftly, but it was obvious who had the upper hand even to Galliard.

"They were as nightmares, cutting down men with speed and strength beyond mortal beings." He smiled as if reliving a memory. "Carving through armour with black blades and caving in helms with fist harder than the strongest stone."

"Within the hour no sellsword lived within the city walls, there were no signs of the masks that had saved the city or its Queen and they have yet to find us." Alfrard stated, his chest puffing out in pride.

"Us?" The boy asked, looking up at his father in bewilderment.

"Yes, my dear boy, us." His father waved his hand in front of him and in between his fingers appeared a bone white mask similar to some of the ones on the map.

With gentle hands, Alfrard placed it over the shocked face of his youngest son. "Today is the day that you learn the ways of our kin, today is the day that you become one of the countless Masks of Wrath."