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Sutra strode into the large clearing in the dark woods. He had called these banks home for the past seven years. He had seen uprisings and unstable governments rise and fall. Many a face had traversed these worn down paths. Some had managed to remain, others had faded into the wilderness that had originally ferried them here.
The shouting of teasing youths rang through the swaying forest canopy. It had been a couple months since he had managed to step a calm foot in this part of the kingdom. He had seen much in the recent ten months to have remained the same person he was just last year.
He remembered the first day he had visited the Duchy of the Midnight Sun. It had been controlled by the grey ones, adorned in the darkest blacks and richest purples. They were a race of noble giants who had lovingly tended to one of the most illustrious gardens this kingdom had ever known. It had come to pass, that most of the kingdoms power survived in these dark woods.
Gazing upon the once proud pavilion which they made their own. A pantheon if you will, to the once grand towns guardians and savants. It laid barren, housing a younger generation; with little guidance. Their dreams and ambitions had become their guiding light, replacing the old ways.
Those who remained had managed fine, considering what little they had to work with. Youthful pride and blissful ignorance to what only a few were privileged and foolish enough to embark upon, provided a temporary path to explore.
An occasional visit from the ancients proved educational and memorable, stirring a mournful desire for their teachings.
The dark shade focused on the faces of the peoples of the Eastern tribes, this legion of shadows. The pale assassin who first guided him here, eyes black as coal, came into recollection. They saw little potential in the young whelp who had come from a past of no stories.
Leaning unto a worn down stump, Sutras eyes fixed upon the youth engaging in an amusing game of goblin handball. He had rarely seen the game played. War and famine had plagued this kingdom for years, hardly granting the young their childhoods and grown men and women their dreams.
Like a wailing whisper, the sensation had become all too familiar. He was aware that his moment of solitude was interrupted. It had been some time since he had been graced by his knights presence.
Silently, the dark lord stood a few steps to the left, just out of eyesight.
Sutra nodded respectfully.
"Calm demeanors imbue the youth here. A pleasant break from pointless wars and misguided causes we've been burdened with lately sir..."
"And yet the kingdoms forces have begun movements to the north...to this shire of eagles. Amusing."
"I've heard."
The cool breeze picked up into a brief gust of unnatural violence. Something was different. He could not recall the last time he had felt the need to take arms. Slowly, his eyes uncontrollably scanned the horizon, knowing that something familiar was just out of reach.
Slightly squinting, he focused on the large female form intermingled in the small crowd of green warriors. Calming his heart and mind, he concentrated before realizing the faint glimmer of wings.
Faery wings. Dark power.
Pandora.
Everything seemed to momentarily freeze. She was looking for something. How long had it been? A child, small but unmistakable. His mane of red locks were a sure sign of his lineage.
Sutra managed to choke back confused laughter.
He could not decide if he wanted to be happy or disturbed.
Where there is a mother and child...surely, there is a father.
Standing motionless like a headstone he stood. He last remembered him with flowing hair, but his pallid flesh remained the same. His hair had been shorn, almost lighter in appearance to the vibrant shade of fire he recalled.
Tatter. Lord Tatter d'Medallion.
"Amusing indeed." whispered the intrigued squire.
He made no effort to greet them, to bring attention to himself, though he was certain they knew he was there. He knew they were aware that he had seen them as well. At least the gesture of non gesture had been mutual.
They had come for reasons unknown. Appearing like neigh forgotten ghosts, they were treated as new comers to these humble cobble lined streets, yet this pair had seen many of these buildings go up years before.
Satisfied with their effect, they quickly departed.
Sutra leaned further back as he watched an old acquaintance make for the path most commonly traveled.
A cold chill evoked the trees to sway angrily. Without warning, the snapping and cracking demanded attention. The tree nearest him wrenched from itself a limb the size of 10 chained carts. Surely killing a person who had been unwary, it missed it's mark by less than 40 ft.
Sutra remained calm, knowing that the graced father was safe, his wife and offspring out of harms reach.
Sutra remembered him.
The forest remembered him.
"Amusing indeed."
S
[con't]
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The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu
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