Ch:4- A Time to Live...
"...It has been two years since that day, the day I lost my eyesight, the day I felt true pain, the day I knew the real cold in the silence of death and power.." Azark announced clearly, and continued," I will never forget the feeling of strength and magic I felt as I gripped the hilt of this blade, the energy of the jewel rushing through me, the feeling of the sword dancing about their bodies. That was the most painful day of my life, but I finally saw the world for its truths, and I have never seen it again through the same eyes...That is all...I hope you will accept me as a squire at this castle, I have always loved to learn more about my sword...and to do something with my power." Azark finished telling what he recalled of his recent past to the high council of the castle. This estate was an "audition" place for new knights in the not so nearby town of Haotin. "Where do you come from?", asked then the elder that was presently running his hand through Azark's long black hair. "My family name is Van'Hoven," replied Azark," I come from a village near the shore of the name Azrail; I was told once it was named after one of my ancestors. After the events two years ago, I passed out and was found by a road-weary wanderer. She helped me gather a few things from what was left of my half burnt, bloodstained, and body flooded village. After this, she sent me off on a road in this direction, gave me a heading, and told me to look for a flag that bore the seal of a Dracolich. Once there, in the town of Necrolia, I was greeted very warmly by its inhabitants. They knew who I was amazingly, and took me into a local Inn. Soon, after they tended to my unhealed wounds, they asked me my request. I told them 'I want to be a knight, and learn how to properly help people with this power' and they gave me supplies for a short journey and informed me of a righteous school of knighthood and directed me here...this is my story, and I hope you will accept me"
The elder returned to his seat and took another fine look at Azark, his eye, his scars, and his faulty attempt to sew his own pant's and shirt's holes. He examined closely the crimson cornea that shone with great passion and truth, and remembered the soft feel of the boy's hair, and its unusual color. The man leaned to his left and whispered something into the ear of the council man with a smirk. That man then smiled and looked deep into Azark's eye. Slowly then did he answer Azark's question," Yes boy...you have been accepted as a squire under our highest knight. We will supply you with lodgings at the castle's local housing and your training begins in five days. I hope you will find it acceptable here... Mr.Van'Hovan, soon-to-be, High Knight Of the Dark Glyph..." The man smiled even larger and taped on his desk. As is they were waiting on the other side of the door, three men appeared through it, gesturing Azark towards them, towards the bright sunlight outside. "Come with us sir, we will show you to your room" The boy, filled with joy and pride, followed the men with a smile warming the room around him.
Azark was now outside on a bright day, he looked around to respect it later, to familiarize himself with his surroundings, finding all sorts of things even at a glance. There were trees alive with green, bright blue flowers planted masterfully in the barren ground, the buildings were painted in bright designs of red and built gracefully of grey stone and white bones, and the sky was a bright blue, not a cloud in it. The sun was shining warm on his face; the sound of a trickling stream could be heard. Suddenly, a clash of blades shook his great euphoria and reminded him what he was there for...to learn to fight from the best of the best, the strongest of the Desrolian Knights. The boy looked over the hill that lie in front of him, looking out from its peak to see the many children playing with sticks in imitation of the men to their far right who were training at the blade. The sound of laughter was fluent as Azark walked by the men and women, children and animals. Familiar smells of fresh bakeries and new iron being forged into various shapes were drifting on the breeze. Memories of not so long ago filled his head, the ringing of laughter and chatter took over his ears; an undoubted smile was freshly planted on Azark's face. Wooden houses rose higher than any the boy had ever seen around him. The great city filled his heart with hope as he walked loftily at the rear of his escorts.
"We have arrived" said the front most man in reply to Azark's thoughts," I hope you will be most pleased with your lodgings" He moved his arms as if ushering the boy inside the tall stone building. A small lady with glasses greeted the boy warmly, telling him to come closer and handing him a small skeleton key with a little card attached to it. It was hanging from its ring, and read, "From the council of Desrolia. Room 13. Floor 2"
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