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nThe fog had thinned to nothingness, and Rowan was surprised that daybreak had arrived. It did not seem so long ago when the sun rose yesterday, a full day had been consumed by the chaos and despair.

nHe had experienced so much, yet he could close his eyes… and easily remember when he was a miner digging through the earth or he when he was a frail Noble brat, who buried his head in books and dreams. Now in less than a week. He had become something different.

nIn less than a week, he had seen death and suffering far more than he could have ever imagined. He had killed and 𝘸𝘴 killed. This should have been a terrible dream, but he was awake and aware of all of it. So, what does that make reality but a nightmare.

nWhat would he have to become to survive this reality? What atrocities was he willing to commit? What sacrifices was he willing to make?

nAgain that words came forth, unbidden, from his mind, “I thought I was a man, but I am nothing but char and cinders.”

n𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘴 𝘯 𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘉𝘰𝘰 𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘴. 𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘰 𝘐 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘯𝘺 𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴?

nRowan finally approached the heavy gates of his manor, it was a draw bridge which dropped over a small mot filled with Azythin, a nasty material that corrodes flesh and bones.

nThey arrive to the cheering and weeping of the manor’s staff, who saw the techniques Rowan had unleashed from a distance and heard the screams from the town. They had all shaken in fear.

nThe relief when they had felt seeing the arriving crowd was palpable, since most of them had families from the town, and they were distraught at the fate of their loved ones.

nRowan saw hopeful faces, that soon scrunched up in sorrow and disbelief at the sparse crowd behind him, he had done all he could, yet he still felt shame.

nBut he was amazed at the tenacity of these people. At the start of the day, this town was breathing and thriving. Well over three thousand people made this place home. Now what was left numbered no more than one hundred and twenty.

nIf Rowan did not fully understand the reality of this world. Now he did. Death came for all, but in this world, death was a malicious and relentless wave washing over the shore. The people were like loose sand, and with every wave, more of them were dragged to the cold darkness. Inevitable and unrelenting, it would never stop until it consumes all.

nThen he saw something amazing that drove the darkness away from his thoughts. These people understood their helpless stance in this world, yet they kept on pushing for a better day, he had never seen strength like this.

nRowan saw them bracing themselves and picking their grief and placing them aside. Without the threat of immediate demise, they hugged their neighbors and comforted the children.

nHe saw Purdue the Dark Priest, his face drawn and tired. Yet, his voice of consolation and comfort was strong. Purdue caught his gaze and Rowan nodded at him, he returned the gesture.

nHe saw faces he knew from his memories, and those he knew from the souls he kept. In a manner, he knows everyone here deeply.

nRowan watches as a semblance of calm comes over the people. He watched the horror and the nightmare slowly pull away from their Visage.

nBut you only had to look beneath the surface, and you would catch a glimpse into eyes that held only pain but shielded by a strength borne from love. They did not complain over what was lost, but instead strove to protect what was left.

nSeeing all these. Rowan wept. He was thankful for his shell, for he was sure his face presently would make babies cry. And in a weird way, tears were a form of release.

nWhy should he complain about the darkness and his loss? He was far more powerful than these people, but in their own way, they were all stronger than him, like an unyielding grass, they bend but they do not break and even if they are cut down and burnt, from the ashes they would make themselves new.

nHe had much to learn from them, for even in his plight, he still had much to give thanks for. Not only that, but he had already lost if he let despair win.

nThe butlers called to round up the people, for he was going to distribute them in the hall beside the manor, but Rowan stopped him.

nHe cleared his throat and addressed the gathered people, surprised at how effortlessly he switched to the role of prince, another stark reminder of how different he had become, not only his body had changed, his mind as well.

nHe was born to Nobility, and in this world that title meant something entirely different from the norm. It was not just a difference in social class or in the way of thinking. They could as well be a different species from the rest of humanity.

nRowan was not convinced that this made them better than regular humans, he could even argue that it worsened them in certain aspects. To him, sentience was a watershed. Any creature that had sentience had to be placed in the same category, and none was superior to the other.

nSo, even if he had the blood of gods running in his veins, he was not superior to humans, he was glad that the prince all through his life never drew himself away from humanity.

nWith that in mind, this world believed in might, and whoever had the bigger fist, would rule.

nAlthough these sentiments were for good reasons. Gods and fantastical beings walked the land, and some of them were not virtuous. Many were downright evil, and humanity as a whole would suffer if it did not have capable leaders and guardians.

nRowan felt that Nobles began as that—Guardians. And as with all things that power touches, it tends to change and not always for the better. Nobles were no longer Guardians but became Rulers and Tyrant.

nAll his entire life he had been told that the blood of a Noble is more precious than the lives of ten thousand men.

nThe actions of these few here begged to differ.

nThe bravery and tenacity of these people was remarkable to him, and so he needed to give back to these people who had shown him a path from despair.

nThat was what he told them, as they all gathered before him in silence.

nHe could not promise them salvation, every path to that sweet release had been blocked, escape by land or water had been denied to them.

nHe was unable to promise them victory, for even he himself did not know the hour he would die, only that it was soon, and he feared he was not strong enough to face their foes…

nYet, he could tell them…

n“When I was given the keys to these land to make it my own. I despaired. I questioned the decision of my family. Why should I leave the Magnificent Capital and go live at the end of nowhere? To live with people who have not seen a different scenery their entire life? What could they teach me? They had no grand tale or ballads. The gods had never deemed it fit to walk their land, or dine in their halls.”

n𝘖𝘳𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘦 𝘳𝘵 𝘙𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘛𝘰 𝘮𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘰 𝘰𝘳 𝘪, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘴.

n“I said to my family: They had no sense of fashion. No reputable arts or craft, they were not even wealthy. The tax they paid… pittance.”

n𝘉𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.

nThe crowd began to shift, yet the tone of Rowan’s voice held them, even the children went silent,

n“Nevertheless I did come to your land, with hopes that I could see some redeeming quality. Something to stir my spirit.”

n𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵… 𝘗𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮!

n“What I saw was worse. Your farmlands were more rock than land. You hunt for meat where Demons and Mutants rove. Your rains were storms, and your ports are never peaceful.”

n𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘍𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘦𝘴. 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮…

n“Yet, day after day, I watched you create miracles out of suffering. You broke the land. You tame your waters. Each one of you left me in awe. You made me aware that it was me who was unworthy of these lands and of its people, and ever since that moment, I had fought to gain her acceptance… And I have failed.”

n𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵! 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘱𝘵𝘩!

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