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It had been three days since, and Ser Greymort had lost his patience.

Immediately, the Silvermane Spearman hurried forward, bearing the crest of a silver sword and shield over their ring mail, and dunked the boy\'s head into the water until the bubbles stopped.

The Young Man\'s eyes snapped open in a panic, feeling the foul water filling his lungs. He flailed when the guardsman pulled him out of the water bucket. There, they saw red and black eyes glaring.

"Who are you, boy!" Ser Greymort demanded in basic. He\'d never seen red eyes before, at least not in a human, but it left him raw and exposed.

Somewhat dazed, the Young man felt himself bounded by the two guardsmen\'s arms. He glanced down, noticing his naked body, and his frown deepened as he looked back up.

[Ding]

[Welcome to the Realm of Yarwin]

[Quest: ???]

[Time Limit: ???]

Restriction: [All external Mana skills will be sealed.] [God Observation]

The Young Man growled with a throbbing ache of hunger burning the back of his throat. He was still confused but not enough to forget himself.

"Altair…" He answered with a deep rasp in his throat. "W-Where am I? Hells, my head hurts."

"The High Roads." Ser Greymort answered, scrunching a brow. "How old are you?"

"Twelve," Altair answered, still struggling to recall what happened. He groaned and glimpsed a golden ring on his finger. \'Drupnir,\' he thought, more confused. \' But how? I gave this to Master.\' He looked up at Greymort, who seemed as if he\'d heard the most ridiculous thing.

"Twelve!" Greymort roared with a sneer. "You look to be at least sixteen or eighteen." He said, looking the boy over. He had pale milky white skin, without a hint of a blemish, as if he had not felt the sun\'s glare before. "Do not lie to me."

Altair grimaced and tried to stand to his feet. But the Silvermane guardsman held him down. He winced, annoyed, pondering whether he should make a move or not.

"Have you seen a woman with red hair? Beautiful with two blood-red eyes." He saw to ask.

"You are in no position to demand questions," snapped Greymort. "Now answer me. Why were you on the high roads? Why were you bloodied? And why were you—"

"So you don\'t know," Altair realized, closing his eyes, unable to sense his Fallen Shadows within his shadows. Rather… they were further away… Very far away. Four, five, six days journey.

Hopeful Altair allowed his mind to connect to Jorm, where he saw her resting in a field of flowers, with Kuu resting on her bosom, protected by Kirr and Jorm. He sighed a sigh of relief, feeling the tension leave his body.

Greymort struck him with the back of his palm, bloodying his lips. Altair spat the blood from his mouth onto the ground, somewhat dazed. When Ser Greymort jerked his head up by a handful of hair, "Boy, I\'ll hang you by your tendons if you don\'t answer me." he said.

Altair stared at the man with a full head of silver that matched his silver armor. Tall and gaunt, he stood with a sword and dagger strapped to his hip, his boots matted with mud and leaves. He turned, glancing around his surroundings to what seemed like a camp. He could see the shadows of guardsmen coming and going.

"You don\'t seem like a stable boy or a farmer. So you\'re either a lordling or merchant." Ser Greymort said, letting go of his hair.

"You\'re brave to strike a supposed lorling," Altair smirked. "Truly brave or stupid. release me now!" He said with the bearing of a lord, his voice thick with presence.

Greymort nearly felt his soul leave his body as the guardsman man and knight staggered back. Their faces pale. And for a moment, Greymort felt he was before their Lord once more.

Altair stood up, wiping the blood off his lip. "You didn\'t have to hit me, you know." He winced, tracing a finger over his wound, allowing the Hands of Nirvana to mend the wound.

"Y-Y-You\'re a healer!" Greymort stammered to say.

"I dabble in the art." The Prince told him. Curious if it was fear he was seeing or hope. Either way, he needed information… and blood.

A day, possibly two, maybe three, he could go without it. And based on the time of date within his HUD, it had been a week since he fainted.

"What\'s going on here? And why the bloody devil is he naked?!" A dark, effeminate voice rang out from behind Greymort as Ser Liana Sinclair stepped forward. Her emerald eyes settled onto the wooden bucket of dirty water, and then Altair\'s matted wet hair and understood. "Our lady did not rescue this young man so that he may be tortured him." She said brusquely. "What is your name and occupation?"

"Altair, occupation… well, let\'s say I\'m a wanderer. With a bit of bad luck." He said, though no one believed him. He was too handsome, too charming for that, to articulate. He didn\'t sound like a commoner but rather a lordling. Not one they recognized.

"Get this… Wanderer some clothes." Liana commanded, with mockery in her tone, but the guardsman followed. They tossed him a tunic and trousers, which he quickly got into and turned to the woman with hair so blonde it seemed white. Beautiful without a blemish, she stood with crossed arms over her surcoat.

When at last he was clothed and his hair was dried, Liana brought him some bread with a bowl of stew that tasted sour. He didn\'t complain. Anything was better than nothing.

"A Lordling wouldn\'t touch that," Liana remarked, observing his every action.

"He would if he hadn\'t eaten in weeks," Altair replied, smiling. "What\'s your name?"

"Liana Sinclair, Personal Knight to Lady Aria Silvermane," She answered, curious about how the boy acted. He was calm. Eerily so surrounded by dozens of armed guardsmen.

When he was done, Altair stood up. "Well. Liana, I thank you for aiding me. Will I be allowed to leave? I\'ve got to find someone."

"A girl with red hair?" Liana said, having heard it from Greymort.

Altair didn\'t deny it. "Yes. My Knights are with her," he replied. "I—"

\'Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh~\'

Taken back by the sound of the grim horn, a loud cry rang out from within the encampment. "Bandits! Bandits!" one of the spearmen howled. "Ready your arms!"

"What Bandit would risk attacking us when carrying the banner of House Silvermane." Liana whipped, storming to her lady\'s side, as nearly forty men armed with crossbows, spears, shields, and swords got into position.

A league away, Altair\'s curious eyes graced several men gripping silvery blades of steel. Fine and polished, it gleamed beneath the early rays of dawn. The rode heard, lifting their shields as Arrows hurled themselves down in the rain, catching a few mounts. Horses tumbled over the grass, skidding over bandits and stone. Yet none of the twenty or so bandits seemed to care.

\'Not bandits,\' Altair confirmed. They were to clean and polish for that. \'I should kill someone. I could use the information their soul has.\'

Soon, blood graced the dawn, weapons hacked, and men roared. Steel against steel crossed against one another, bathing the dirt red.

When Altair drove forward, he kicked off his feet like an arrow leaving its string and snatched a sword from the body of a dead Silvermane Guardsman that had been run through by an arrowhead, exploding out from the back of his head, dark and wet. He was upon a bandit in the blink of an eye on horseback.

as his sword danced into a dreadful arc of light, blurring through horse and man in a single stroke.

[Bandit Felled. Exp Gained]

By the time the bandit fell into halves, his organs spilling out in a dreadful scene of madness, and his sword tumbling towards the ground, Altair was already upon another, his longsword beginning to carve out a path, laying waste to whatever caught his eye.

[Bandit Felled. Exp Gained]

[Bandit Felled. Exp Gained]

[Bandit Felled. Exp Gained]

Liana watched, shaken to her core at the slaughter he brought. But didn\'t move to join. Her task had been to guard her lady.

"Greymort! Aid the boy!" She commanded him, tightening her fingers around her spear.

Slowly, minutes later, after a hard-fought battle, the regiments of bandits fled, tumbling over themselves. When the cruel order to take no prisoners came. Arrows rained like a dark shadow, cutting them down one after the other. Altair had his fill of blood when no one was looking, stealing a few souls.

He gorged himself to quell his sanguine hunger when he sensed Liana approaching, spear in hand, with ten men by her side.

"Who are you!" Liana growled. She\'d never seen a man so young and skilled move like that. It was as if he were a master.

Pretending to rummage through the dead bodies, Altair wiped his mouth of the blood and stood up. "Your friendly neighborhood, wanderer," he said lightly. " Though I suppose I\'m no longer welcome. Well. It\'s all the better. I\'ve much to do.

So consider this me paying you back."

Liana scrunched her brow. "You needn\'t leave."

Altair looked up at the skies and then at the carriage. "You are heading North." he looked back at her, and the men beside her stiffened in fear. "Am I mistaken?"

"No,"

"I must head West." He told her, swatting over the dead, to better find something other than rags.

"Come with us," Liana said. "We\'ll pay. And it looks like you—"

"Is it over?" A gentle voice rang out from within the carriage of silver, airy and young it sounded. Revealing a small thing peeping out from a crack, where a small child slid its head out. No more than six or seven, she had hair of long spun gold and eyes a deep ocean blue that sparkled like sapphire.

"Ari!" Liana cried, but it was too late as she lept out of the carriage with a bright smile in an ocean of blood and death.

"You\'re awake!\' Aria said, pointing, trotting over with her small legs.

"My lady, it\'s not kind to point." Ser Greymort said with a kind grin over his gaunt flesh, wet with blood. "Come, my Lady, this is no place for a Lordling."

"But a Great Prince is here!" Aria said, staring deeply into the black of Altair\'s eyes. "The Prince who shall burn the world and create it anew."