In the midst of the grey and ominous mountains with their ice and snow glistened tips, trees’ so bare and thin they were hardly anything interesting to look at, a dead open field had men lined up perfectly precise amount of steps from one another, pointing a heavy, long lever-action rifle towards the round targets with uneven holes already teared against the wide wooden boards. The heavy clicking sound after each time the weapon was loaded, the simply abhorrent echo which followed after each arch of a finger. One could agree it was perhaps too much—allowing a single index finger such amount of sheer power.

  On the side stood a man above all, silently observing the entire field laid on the side of the magnificent mountains of Tempe Deur. Used as the training ground for The Northern Agathen’s Royal Military. Soldiers of The Kingdom. The Northern Town of Delmaer was a rocky terrain as far as the eye of a mortal man could behold.

  Commander Ren VonGehall was born bestowed with dignity and honor. He was a man who came from a strong noble family of long lineage, owning the entire Northern Town of Delmaer, in a way, after the first VonGehall had become the first Duke of the stern Delmaer. A position which would fall on Ren’s shoulder one day whether he wanted it, or not. Although, such matter would not be a question he’d have to spend time pondering much, for it was the only life he knew. A life where he quite never reached the end of responsibility. A life where the list of expectations got longer the more he checked off from it.

  Being the son of Duke Benedict VonGehall and Duchess Katherine VonGehall meant a life of endless luxury inside The Aurelius Manor, named after his great-grandfather, the first man to be given nobility as The Duke of North by The King at the time. After the devastating war, and The Great Independence, a fallen monarchy in the new world order began to form. An era for peace to come as it pleased, and stay in the hopes of many.

  One would think that a man like Ren had it all. A large manor worth millions in Frahan’s shared currency, worth even more with what the manor and its many useless rooms held inside. A car which were expensive in itself, and an employee whose only job was to drive it. And what better than all the materialistic possession together combined—he had the unwavering respect of the public. After all, being born as VonGehall meant stability, wealth, power and status. But it also came with a price perhaps just as hefty. As the nobles of The North, VonGehall’s were in charge of the weaponry and military of Agathen. The town had a factory manufacturing the long bullets, parts for the heavy machinery and vehicles, and even daggers from the ancient times with wooden handles that were decorated with carved protective charms from the olden tales. Legacy from the citizens of the past. For Agathenian’s, it was important to keep the eyes pointing forward and advance—yet just as important to remember the days that once were. Those daggers were gifted to cadets once they passed all the harrowing first stages of their training and could carry the title of a soldier. May only the strongest survive.

  Eastern Agathen, The Town of Wrethn had their own Duke and Duchess as well, with given responsibility on the business and trading with the other Land’s along Agathen borders, while Southern Agathen, The Town of Emréla had the responsibility of the largest harbor in their care. Only the isolated Western Town of Brifena had no noble family to care for them, as the smallest town out of the big four along The Kingdom Capital. Between the mountains and hills and forests and the lovely thin waterfall—perhaps Brifena was blessed with a closer community amongst its people in comparison.

  Ren had an impeccable posture with his chin held high and tight fists behind his back. The dark emerald green military outfit represented the resilience of their Land, a well fitted double-breasted coat embellished with golden badges of Agathen’s and Northern Delmaer’s coat of arms, one specifically in the middle of the lavish army cap stating his status as The Commander. A leather belt over the coat with a simple golden belt buckle. His straight tailored trousers were of the same color, over the black, well shined leather boots. Ren’s hair was neatly cut and swept on the side with some of the strands from his fringe landing over forehead and eyebrows beneath the status-displaying army cap, strands of fascinating shade of dark rich coffee, or perhaps well compared to the Agathen’s famous dark brewed beer. His eyes complimented the golden glow of amber, wide-set shape of an almond with slightly upturned well-defined corners. Beneath the black high turtleneck collar of his shirt, he hid the scar which held its own secrets. His facial features could be compared cat-like with a strong yet pointed nose bridge and sharp jawline. His cheekbones were not defined, perhaps more of an oval shape with a well balanced mixture of harsh and soft edges. Long legs and lean, well proportioned figure. Truly a man who caught many wandering eyes, equally as respectful as they were audacious. But then again, a man over his mid 20s’ and unwed with his status could be seen as rare even-though not entirely impossible. It created a line of women, and men, ready to be swept away towards the altar. Little did they know, that The Duke and Duchess had been closely exchanging letters with The Southern Town of Emréla’s noble family with intentions to possibly unite Ren and their unwed daughter who graced beside the ocean. But as of right now, those letters did not hold anything remarkable nor noteworthy. The subjects of them entirely unaware, even, although Ren could feel the wave of possible pressure to get married approaching.

  ’’They are young.’’ Colin Fior stood beside Ren but did not take his ice-blue eyes off the cadets training, ’’Joining the military, beginning their training. They know nothing.’’ He sounded somewhat bitter if one did not know him personally, but to those close enough knew his often pessimistic and rather glum outlook on most things. Colin Fior was the right arm of Commander VonGehall. A bodyguard. An advisor. The sword and shield. But most importantly, a dear friend.

  ’’How many do you think will end their service after the first contract expires?’’ Ren asked, eyes shifting left while noticing even the slightest mishaps and hesitations on the young, inexperienced men.

  ’’All. Each and every one of ’em.’’ Colin grunted, ’’Pathetic. Is this really all our Land had to offer this year?’’

  ’’Now, now.’’ Ren huffed with an ominously playful yet dark tone that seeped from the bottom of his lungs, ’’We need each and every candidate.’’ Agathen had no shortage of men wanting to join the military, for it allowed them to provide for their families, often young, thus meaning they had their parents and siblings at home relying on them. They could start the military service by the age of 16, thus many came right after finishing their education. Those who had more prosperity in academic successes usually went with a higher education, becoming apprentices or getting scouted by professors. There were some of those who entertained the thought of the military being for those who were lacking intellectually and had no other option but to enlist— yet to most parents there wouldn’t be a greater honor than telling everyone their son had been accepted in the Troops of Commander VonGehall himself. It was well concluded that those with ill-intended opinions about military men were usually from people who did get into higher education, thus felt the need to boost their self-righteous ego with their repugnant dirty sticks. Should any of them be thrown in the field with nothing more than the usual gear and the needed unyielding fortitude—they would be left with nothing more than their gear, useless and empty without the strength to go on.

  ’’We’re wasting our time.’’ Colin seemed agitated, and as if proven right in that very moment, he saw a cadet drop his folded weapon whilst in the process of loading it filled with fresh new bullets, scattering them on the cold and harsh ground with heavy, ponderous clinking of the metal, ’’YOU! Three laps around the field, NOW.’’ He yelled with a demanding echo rumbling the side of the walls of Tempe Deur, asking a lot since the field carried wide, the unclothed trees’ were merely dots by the other end. Still, the young cadet had no reason to object—not that he could—and served as a harsh lesson to others as they held on to their weapons with much care now. A falling weapon could be just as dangerous as it was held towards a point. One reckless moron with a gun could cost the lives of many.

  ’’You think I could go home for the one-hundredth Independence Celebration?’’ Colin leaned against the hard, deep mahogany table with a hint of red as the midday sun shone through the window behind Ren, who sat on the large velvet chair and went through the papers regarding his new cadets. Colin’s family originally came from a small village just outside The Kingdom Capital, but many years ago had settled in the center of the Capital, where only those high enough in society could afford a house, ’’Mother sent me another letter. She’s close to begging, for it has been a year.’’

  ’’Can’t deny you that.’’ Ren answered unbothered not even glancing away from the paperwork, ’’Go. You’ve deserved a break.’’

  ’’What about you?’’ Colin crossed his arms, ’’Still attending that Royal Banquet?’’ He brought his gaze on the side enough to see with the corner of his slightly downturned husky eyes.

  ’’Haven’t found an excuse yet.’’ Ren did not seem pleased by him bringing up the matter, his eyebrow twitching with resentment.

  ’’Well, I heard the noble Lady from the southern harbor is attending.’’ Colin knew he struck the right nerve from the way Ren clicked his tongue and growled out a whole lot of unpleasant sensation. To Ren, marriage seemed like yet another possible battlefield to maneuver. Unnecessary. For his entire life, he had not seen a single marriage that worked the way often sang in songs or found in silly poems of twisted fantasy. His parents were cold and calculative. Married out of convenience. And so were many of the high society. Keeping the wealth in the right circles. He cared about The Town of Delmaer and the legacy of the name VonGehall enough to accept his duty as The Duke once the time was appropriate— but the game of affairs and socialites and relationships drew a line of disgust he had to place in perspective to endure. In his opinion, pointless and unnecessary games of unveiled masks and contaminated facades. A Banquet out of all places unfortunately filled with just that, ’’I have heard rumors of her beauty by the sailors of the seas.’’ Colin continued despite the received reaction.

  ’’Beauty is merely a fleeting concept.’’ Ren placed the stack of papers neatly in a folder, ’’What is there to look at in 40 years if the person themselves are insufferable?’’

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  ’’That is harsh. What a cold heart.’’ Colin chuckled not at all surprised. Ren was a man of few words enough to state his mind at ease, ’’Very well. You’ll die alone with that mindset.’’

  ’’So be it.’’ Ren answered. He had a goal, a purpose. Nothing else mattered, nor would matter in the future. Agathen’s safety and making sure his town worked like the perfectly shaped wheel going nonstop down an endless hill was all he cared about. And if marriage was truly necessary, so be it.

  Left alone in his office by the east wing of the manor, Ren rubbed the stiffened spot between his amber eyes and sank in the chair finally surrendering to a much deserved break. In a typical manner, bedrooms were usually built on the west wing side on a higher level so the morning could be welcomed with a sunrise, and offices and libraries were built on the eastern side to wish the day goodbye. Ren pulled himself up and walked by the high windows overlooking the garden of the backyard. Although it was nothing much to look at, the spring had fully made its way. The snow had molt from the surface of the well kept shrubs molded into fences by human hands. The mixture of green and yellow and brown of the grass visible. There were trees’ of the evergreen pines and large pedunculate oaks, but the most beautiful of anything growing in all of Delmaer were the rowan trees’, with their red clustered berries gifting the otherwise dull cold season some much needed color, showering the yards with rubies. Although Northern Delmaer was just as beautiful as any other town in Agathen in its own way when it came to the nature surrounding it— it had been built with mostly rocks and concrete of different shades of grey, thus the cobblestoned streets and gravel paths were framed rough and lifeless on the eyes.

  Ren felt the growing boredom beginning to make him restless. The dim room had walls covered with thick and decorated bookshelves keeping the carefully chosen golden wallpapers hidden, a large carpet with heavy curving details made by hand, and a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling shipped from Berull—The Land of lavish jewelry and gold.

  He dropped lying on a couch with velvet seating and placed his arm over the eyes, pressing away the still looming pressure. Colin must’ve gone by the Tavern of Fire Lilies which was located by a promiscuous hidden alleyway, nameless with other pubs and taverns not quite as popular. Colin enjoyed the company that the alleyway offered, but such mindless activities did not suit the taste of the Commander. Besides, if seen there, he’d only create a rigid atmosphere since such places often hid various illegal activities under the tainted carpets. Colin, however, had become a regular, thus had proven his loyalty and was rather expected to make an appearance.

  As Ren relaxed further, closing his eyes beneath the arm, the darkness that his eyelids offered brought back an image from the past impossible to avoid, but only for a brief fleeting moment as the door of the office opened, and Ren knew exactly who’d entered. Benedict VonGehall would never ask permission from anyone. As the current Duke of Delmaer, he remained the head of the manor and those doors and what they held inside belonged to him and him only.

  ’’Slacking off, huh.’’ Ren could hear his gruff, already waiting for the conversation to end despite not knowing what it was about. Ren was a spitting image of his father. Their hair and eyes and features, made it harder for Ren to look at him—and himself—even though Ren did not hate nor particularly care about his parents on a deeper level. A family without warmth. Distance resembling nothing more than acquaintances.

  ’’All is done for today.’’ Ren answered to put it simply as he got up to sit on the couch, ’’What do I owe the honor, your grace?’’

  Distant.

  Benedict scoffed at the usual tone on the tongue, ’’Do I need a reason to visit my son?’’ He opened the button of his grey three-piece suit, revealing a fitted vest above a high quality collared button-up shirt as he sat on the large chair around the mahogany table and began to go through the papers. A man who always had to know everything going on, when and where, and Ren did not answer with much but a rather sarcastic sigh which went unnoticed.

  ’’How are the new cadets?’’ Benedict went through the files, each piece of paper having a small black and white picture on the upper corner attached with a paper clip. Serious, expressionless faces of young men one after another.

  ’’Under training.’’ Ren answered. The cadets were indeed new, not much to praise nor complain there. Benedict did not seem very happy with the answer and grew more agitated by the minute, noticeable by the pulsing vein on the side of his neck.

  ’’I trust you, son.’’ Benedict said from under the narrow eyes, directed now towards him for the first time since entering the office.

  ’’Appreciated.’’ Ren got up, bowed and left without another word. His father said he trusted, but anyone can say anything with those narrow eyes still pressuring for more. To be more. Actions told otherwise. Haven’t I done enough already, Ren sometimes wondered in a brief moment of doubt on those sleepless nights when the early signs of dawn would remind him of how many hours had passed with him still failing to rest. That fleeting moment of desperation before he’d instinctively pull himself out of it.

  Ren kept walking through the long corridor of empty useless lounge rooms designed to entertain important guests, barely ever used. The walls were white and had white boards with details of tree branches and birds and mountains, as well as the ceiling. The floors were wooden but covered with an elegant deep ocean blue carpet.

  Each time Ren met his parents it felt as if meeting with an old harsh professor from the past who was not his teacher anymore and definitely not close enough to be more than an acquaintance. Every interaction always had a purpose, a need, a clear conclusion. And nothing more.

  Even as a child.

  His room never lacked a single thing, toy nor warm clothing. Stomach filled with more delicious food than anyone could ever ask for. He used to think that those were the ways his parents showed their love, and felt content with it. He remembered mother having a faint smile from time to time, but never entirely there with him. The maids telling him stories, reading books and accompanying him outside. From his father he had no early memories at all. Still, he was a happy child due to the manor employees who seemed to care. Of course, a child could not distinguish real affection from one which was bought.

  As time went on, he noticed the lack on interest. Lack of communication. Lack of emotions he could not understand. Dinner table fell silent once he wasn’t the child blabbering about the adventures of the day anymore, only the faint clanks of cutlery hitting the antique porcelain remained.

  His life consisted of military training and nothing more since the age of twelve. Although Agathen would not meddle in the matters of the other Land’s in Frahan due to the peace treaty created nearly one hundred years ago, and Agathen having no reason to do so in the first place since the peace and alliance amongst them stood strong— ten years ago, when Ren was only seventeen years old still training in the military, him among five thousand other soldiers were shipped over The Great Ocean of Guruld to partake in an operation. Their agenda was to lessen the risk of an escalating war, standing beside the smaller nations in another Continent of Pelthaza against the aggressor. If the largest military in the Continent of Frahan sent men to their borders, the aggressor would have to either make a whole new strategy or retreat. And luckily, they weren’t prepared for any other Continents to partake in their issue. Of course, it comes without saying that there would always be a hidden agenda with any military operation. Something to gain. To assure.

  The risk had been seized without too many losses on the battlefields after their arrival, but those weeks of traveling on its own took a toll on any human, among with the devastation which waited for them upon arriving. The piles unable to distinguish from fallen ruins and human remains. Homes that could not be returned to, nor would have anyone to return at all. Those images would imprint deep in the minds of any sane person, unable to forget for the rest of their life. Glimpses flashing in front of their eyes uninvited. Ren wouldn’t admit anything else except for the one he could not deny—a visible mark on his skin which wouldn’t fade no matter how many years passed. Their participation was necessary, and added all of Frahan in their peace treaty which offered safety on a more global magnitude to ensure the future. Ren left when he was young, and returned as a man three years after. Soon later, he was given the title of Commender by his father Benedict VonGehall. His father had called the trial a test of his capability. Should he return home as a hero or should he not determined his future. A cruel man with a twisted sense of parenting.

  The war overseas stood as a gruesome learning experience which Ren felt no emotions towards whatsoever. Or perhaps those emotions were forced to be shoved down six feet underground by the expectations. Nonetheless, he came back and although the Town of Delmaer hadn’t changed, his view on it had. His outlook on life in general. He thought about the war one hundred years ago when Agathen had been the bigger evil, and lost. Much like the nation which he had gone against.

  The history repeated itself. Not in Frahan, but elsewhere. And it would continue repeating as long as humans existed. The need for possession. The need for power. He hated how he understood those emotions as human nature. It turned his stomach upside down. Made him sick.

  But despite all, his Land would never be in such position of evil ever again. Agathen’s participation in deescalating the situation over The Great Ocean of Guruld by standing beside the weaker nations gathered appreciation in The Continent of Frahan and beyond, and gifted them global peace which was recognized by the other four Land’s as well.

  Before the war, Ren questioned why he did anything at all. Why he tried so hard. He did not care about the parents approval, he did not desire their praise. At first, resentment clouded his mind upon being sent to the war as a young start of a man. A gamble of life and death. Should he lose his life on the battlefield, then VonGehall's would lose their only Heir. And still, his parents had chosen the war as his lesson. Did they have faith in him? Or did they simply think of him as disposable. Questions which eventually did not make much difference if answered. Either way, once Ren returned from the war with all the right strategic knowledge crowning him a war hero, he finally found the answer to the question—why?

  His purpose now to keep serving The Land of Agathen. As Commander of The Royal Military, then as The Duke of Delmaer. After all, he had gone through too much for it to be thrown away.

  A perfect cage created for him and him only.

  Ren’s deep thoughts were interrupted by the clattering sound of thin rattling wheels of a car rumbling over the gravel somewhere in the distance—getting closer by each mile. Through the window of the never-ending corridor he could see a black car approaching with dusty clouds behind it, showing its hurried speed. They weren’t expecting anyone, and in his calculative mind he knew it was the first red flag.

  Following the car with his eyes, window after another, he hurried the curved stairs down and towards the lobby and entrance of the manor until the car had disappeared towards the front yard.

  ’’URGENT! AN URGENT MESSAGE, YOUR GRACE!’’

  Ren could hear a man’s dire screams outside, nearing the large doors, ’’Open them.’’ He ordered the butler standing ready, on the edge waiting for the order, and thus behind the door revealed a messenger with his typical outfit of light grey suit and a cap with the postal office logo. Out of breath, sweat oozing down from the hairline. His eyes ruined with terror and blue from sleepless nights. He must’ve traveled from far without a break by the looks of it,

  holding an unmarked letter in a tight grip before falling on his knees.

  ─?~???~?─