Prologue
The Wanderer
-Continent of Syrilastia, 2045-
The Wanderer
-Continent of Syrilastia, 2045-
A pale crescent moon looked down over the land. Nestled between two mountains was Niyaire, the capital of the kingdom of N’laine. To the west beyond the mountains, the sea glittered like a thousand diamonds. A grassy plain lay on the other side of the mountain range, and a winding dirt road meandered into the distance.
Many of the city’s lights were still on. The buildings were carved out of the mountains themselves, giving the capital a light gray hue. Two armed guards stood at the towering gates, dressed in chain armor. They both wore tabards in the colors of their kingdom; gray and deep blue.
A lone traveler made his way down the road. A blood-red scarf hung loosely from his neck, and a long hooded coat hid most of his face. Black leather boots secured his aching feet. A sword of eastern make hung at his left hip. The rest of the young man’s wardrobe was pure white.
“Halt! Unidentified travelers are not allowed into Niyaire at night!” The adventurer had reached the capital. He casually observed the guard that had spoken. This one was a woman. Her golden hair had been neatly cut to her chin, and she gazed at him with deep green eyes. “My humblest apologies,” the young man replied, “But as you said, I am merely a traveler. I have come to seek shelter in the sanctuary, as my family was lost to the recent attacks by the Other. You know, the one that’s been wandering the area, killing people?”
The female soldier wasn’t phased. “Many people have the same story,” she told him matter-of-factly, “I can’t let you in unless I know who you are, and your exact reasons for coming here.” The traveler tilted his head slightly. “Ah, I am no one of consequence. A lonely soul, worn and forlorn. But if it is my name that you require, then you may call me Kirinketsu. My full name is Furibou no Kirinketsu. I have nowhere to go, and hope to stay the night here. I will then leave this place and continue my wanderings.”
“You’re one of the Others, aren’t you? No human has an accent like that.” It was the second guard that spoke. He had a faint trace of a mustache, and intense brown eyes. “The murders as of late have been by an Other male. According to the rumors, he’s about your age. That’s a bit …suspicious, wouldn’t you say? ” Kirinketsu shook his head. “I am not he. If I were a maddened killer, you both would have died already, no? I wield this sword”-- he gestured to the weapon--“for defense and justice. What reason have I for carrying it otherwise?”
The male guard sighed. “Very well; you may pass.”
“My thanks.”
As he strolled into the gate, Kirinketsu’s hand moved to his blade. He drew it with a practiced hand. “Poor choice,” he said softly.
The woman turned just in time to see the Other rushing at her. Her scream was cut short by a cold blade tearing into her face. Bright crimson blood gushed from the wound, distorting her face and staining her tabard.
“You killed her,” the man said in fear and disbelief, “How could you? You killed her!” With a savage cry, he bounded towards Kirinketsu, his halberd pointed at the Other’s heart.
Kirinketsu smirked and swiftly leapt sideways, avoiding his adversary’s attack. “How odd. I was going to say that... For 'twas you who failed to aid her.”
The man attacked again, and Kirinketsu dove into a roll. He stopped too close to the soldier to be struck with the halberd. In one gossamer movement, he thrust the man under the chin. The guard went down, blood spurting out in a gory fountain.
A large group of rapid footsteps alerted the mysterious killer to a squad of soldiers running towards him, their weapons catching the moonlight in wicked, flashing arcs.
A bolt from a crossbow shot past him, grazing his cheek. A small trickle of blood made its way down Kirinketsu’s face. He turned to face the advancing soldiers and grinned in anticipation.
They killed…Murderers, all of them…I must avenge…More…more! Kill them all…yes…They must die…The cries of the N’lainian soldiers echoed through the night.
Exhausted and battered by the seemingly endless onslaught, Kirinketsu slipped inside the chapel a short walk from the gates. A small boy, not more than ten years old, sprang from the shadows, a blunt dagger in hand. The murderer deflected the boy’s attack with the flat side of his blade, and laid the sword gently across the child’s neck.
“You should not attempt to bring down such a dangerous enemy,” Kirinketsu whispered, “Especially not with a weapon like that. You could be killed. And you have a family that will miss you, no…?
“Protect them at all costs, but be not a fool. You needn’t worry; I am only here for the soldiers. I’ve no desire to hurt your friends or family. So go back home…you can protect them better if they’re closer by, anyway.”
The child said nothing, but exited the chapel, ran down a narrow street and disappeared into a tiny house.
Kirinketsu figured that most of the civilians had either hid or fled, and new soldiers probably wouldn’t arrive for a few days. He curled up in a small corner and fell into a light sleep.
