He arrived too late to witness these events unfold, but looking at the scene afterwards was enough to surmise what had occured here. He looked at the two corpses with a sick grin, and began laughing hysterically. "How ironic... that the battle I tried so desperately to flee from begins right here where I came to hide from it.", he said. He looked around the area, there was no sign of a third corpse. The third man must've been captured.
He took a large drink from his freshly refilled jug, mead ran down his face, through his black beard. "The drink saitsfies once more, then it is truly begun.", he said. He thought back to his days in Nivix, in particular his first trainer in the ways of the sword. An old, wise man; easily in his 70th year. He had a long grey beard, and looked as though he'd never touched a sword in his life. He remembered very clearly one of the many fragments of wisdom his master had given him, "A mere soldier rejoices at battle's end, but a true warrior is only at peace when he is at war." He was absolutely right. Combat was a way of life for Lucian. He had tried many tiems throughout the years to leave that life behind. He'd been a traveler, an explorer, a merchant, and many other things... but if he did not find battle, battle found him. One way or another, Lucian's life was caught in a spiral of unending warfare. In times of peace, he hated war with all his heart... but when the chance came to take up the sword once more, the sword became his only friend, and the battlefield the only place he could call home.
He began searching for Arc. If he was to fight, he'd need to choose a side...
Bookmarks