Wrathful Inferno

Wrathful Inferno

Act 1

I

'Twas a hot March evening or, perhaps, that was the rekindling of the flame?.. The leaves of the trees surrounding the two individuals and the multiple observers, were a luscious green, and the barks of the oaks were painted with the ancient blood of Vralauen's heroes. The chirping of the birds bore a calming ambience amidst the chaotic duel. The dust beneath the duelists was swirling wildly - a showcase of their movement and intensity. Rowan was just a little under the height of one and a half longswords, but filled with kilograms of muscle forged to destroy. His hair was cut evenly, as if a Toyatman had done so. He had a rather ugly face, but his eyes spoke something… An old fire could be seen in them…

He licked his lips at the taste of blood and conjured the thought: "just like metal, the only time I shall experience the taste." As he felt the rage, or rather, the flame steaming up from his heart again, the Demon in him struck with a roar. All of his hate, released into one strike. Gerthandir, the fifth opponent in a row to face Rowan in sparring, fell and grabbed his bruised leg.

"The East will not see you coming," stated the master firmly, a touch of pride, or something else?.. defeating his usual nonchalance.

"These are my acquaintances - the East… Did what they did - they shall be punished twice as much!"

"I want to fight you again some day. Your strength is like the stories of the dark knight and your fluidity is like the toyatmans'. You make me fight the hardest I can," said Gerthandir, while getting up. He was taller than Rowan. His hair had the look of grass after a battle: black, uneven and short.

"Well said…" the others seconded.

"I think my rib is broken," uttered a weak voice from the small group of the defeated.

"In that case, Beaish, come with me. Everyone else, you shall go," the master was back to his usual coldness, as the two hour training session came to an end.

"Rowan, wanna grab a beer?" Gerthandir suggested.

"Yes, of course," he said with a slight smirk, "Where do you usually go?"

"Usually the Ulgern." Gerthandir was a man of habit.

"I usually go to the Bonther, as I am a Bonth," Rowan was religious, Believed Bonther to be his vessel and ideal of morality.

"Yeah, that works. Next time we can go to the Ulgern."

"Alright, that is certainly a valid option," Rowan said with not a worry rested on his heart and they left for their short journey.

The two walked along the beautiful and famous houses of southern Vralauen. They were mostly made of desert willow, a sturdy material to survive the bloody war. As they were on the path to the Bonther, they spoke of their further training

"I await what exercises the master will realize. Though the training is rather easy, at least for me." Rowan was right, the training was not harsh at all.

"I agree. From what I've heard, the East is much more disciplined, their army works way harder before getting in the army. They have higher standards I've heard."

"That does not change my opinion on their death, when met by me." Rowan's hatred of the East couldn't be quenched.

"Have you ever thought that it is a little weird that he demands that we call him 'master'? He hasn't even told us his name." The thought had been in Gerthandir's mind for some time now.

"I have yet to let my mind linger on that…" they grew silent as Rowan had fallen into deep thought over this weird behavior of their master.

The over 30 step tall tavern was pretty luxurious from the outside. The windows were gloriously stained, some even had images of Bonthers' victories. One, the most notable one, of his final battle before the about 30 year peace, was right above the gold-detailed door. A sign was visible above the door: "When Bonther watches you, you'd better behave." A weak noise could be heard inside - a preacher, telling everyone of Lord Bonther's great victories. All eyes shot straight at them upon entry. Not noticing that they were not of age, they got back to their conversations and some - listening to the preacher. They would not have cared anyway. The tavern was mostly made of wooden planks, as most are, but unlike the others - it had hints of gold and stained glass. It bore an atmosphere, one difficult to explain. It was lively and everyone seemed happy and upbeat there. The preacher was enthusiastic about the job at hand, and multiple people enjoyed his speeches. The tavern, surprisingly, didn't smell of beer, but had a sweet smell - one stemming from the burning sticks that bear the name of incense. The Asafetida bore a blissful smell. Rowan threw the seemingly happy bartender a grime, Gerthandir followed, they both sat next to the clean counter, made of beautiful birch. An awkward silence settled between the adolescents. Rowan was out to fix that:

"Are you familiar with the ins and outs of the war with the east?"

"I know some things, but remember that I didn't get as good of an education that you did, so go easy on me," Gerthandir was an individual with little resources to fuel his interest. As he took a gulp of beer, a slight disgust broke through his relaxed expression.

"We are of great luck to be in such a strategically strong position. The narrow pass of the Great wall makes it impossible for the East to break through, though Vralauen's military is too weak to do anything, as I am not included, of course. This stalemate is hopefully not going to drag on. By the way, are you voting to expand the fleet and prepare to raid the seas, or to create more trade routes and strengthen the economy?" Rowan rambled for quite some time.

"If I am being honest, this government form should be abandoned. Hyperdemocracy will not end well. We might survive the East, but we will burn and slaughter each other from the inside. We should be united against the East, not each other. Which is already happening," Gerthandir made a slight pause

"You really are so naive to think that the East has no spies in Vralauen? Heck there might even be one in this tavern," he said in a quieter tone "Knowledge is power, and the East gets it easily with Vralauen giving their plans away to the citizens to choose. Not even having to risk. They can even have their spies befriend and talk to Vralauenians, so they might even know the next move of Vralauen before the council does." Gerthandir took a deep breath after this short monologue

Rowan gulped his beer with a slow growing frown and got ready to attack Gerthandir's clearly wrong opinion:

"Power is power. Vralauen has a lot of healthy relations and future plans to bring them to the war. So what if the east knows everything about Vralauen? You can't win a war against an army two or three times your size. I, personally, think that hyperdemocracy is the best form of government I've seen, a lot of the papers and wise minds of the sixth century say so too." Rowan, being a big politics enthusiast and a big advocate of hyperdemocracy, was getting annoyed at his peer - A soon to be warrior of Vralauen didn't agree to its form of governing, even thought it to be bad.

"If you dislike the government so much, why are you willing to fight for Vralauen? Military service is optional after all." The words fell from the tip of Rowan's tongue, he was really trying to be rational here…

"For money," he answered simply and inhaled as preparation to elaborate on the stupid opinion:

"The thing is, Rowan, I really do not care for politics, Vralauen or the war at all. I just need the money. My family is barely holding on! I have 5 siblings! Not all of us have the opportunities you do. If there will be war, I will only fight to survive, never for something other than myself… You yourself have said multiple times that you want to rid this world of the East, because they are attacking Vralauen, but are you absolutely sure that it isn't only to avenge your father? You may call me selfish, but I'm simply logical." The conversation was beginning to get rather heated. Rowan, being the thing he is, had some words to say on Gerthandir's view.

"He not only doesn't agree to the council's way of governing, he does not care if the kingdom falls!" a flame yet again ignited in his heart, bringing back all the hate contained in him. It has definitely been a while since Rowan has felt such anger, nay, rage.

"He doesn't care if the women and children are raped and sold to slavery!" His heart, yet again, came to a boil. "He does not give a fuck if Vralauen burns to the ground, with all of its grand history erased!"

Such pressure, being the wrath of such a Beast, cannot be contained in such a weak place as a heart. "A strike released by only the heart, shall only chip the blade…" A maxim from the holy book of the Gandt. But this time, there were no blades, only the thundering thuds of Rowan's heart. The beast stood up at the speed of a bloodthirsty wolf hunting a rabbit, even the stool fell down. In the Demon's eyes… something powerful - wrath. That is the only way to describe his image at that moment. He cocked back his right hand and struck, all in a single moment. Gerthandir fell from his stool, the beer glass, having been in his hand, was now bloodied and lying, shattered to pieces on the pale wooden floor. The punch formed a cut just below Gerthandir's right eye and instantly began to leak life. He was conscious, but had wished he wasn't there to experience this great pain. The fiend guzzled down his drink in one quick motion and crouched next to Gerthandir.

"Power is power, strength is power." He immediately left the tavern to be met by the darkening and starry evening. Rowan turned his bloodied face towards the voidless void that is the night sky, accompanied by the brightening stars, and inhaled the chilling air. He didn't feel anything, nothing except emptiness… Rowan did what he always did in such a moment - turned right to walk out from the Hero village and began his journey toward his usual place of pleasure, isolated from most of Vralauen. As Rowan walked past the inhabitants of the Hero village he thought:

"These weaklings. These parasites. Live in the Hero village, the place of the battle that decided Vralauen's fate, but do nothing themselves to better its current position! They only exist, but do not live. They simply float around, purposeless, as Vralauen protects them from the dangers of the world!" He was indeed displeased with Vralauen's citizens. As Rowan turned onto the empty forest path, he was nearly there, just a few more kilometers to bandage the void…

End of Excerpt