Court of Hearts Pt.1

A Hidden Agenda

Year 396

Hello there Larak, we've never met, except for that dream you've just had with me, did you like the peek-a-boo at the ending?

I hoped it'd give you chills, make you sweat... Perhaps even have an accident!

Just so you'd read this journal.

I am going to admit an old crime to you, Dragon Slayer...

In year 249, and 250.

Edward rubbed his eyes, looking around his room; the right forearm that he called his own was now red from his left thumb, and index finger pinching himself to see if this was another nightmare.

See we were trying to kill off that pathetic dugnim race, yet it backfired and every Trotor dwarf was slaughtered. By that egomaniac of a wood elf...

Tael' Lighsur, otherwise known as Quickblade, the legendary, blah, blah, blah...

He's no different from you and I, do you wish to see?

Come with me.

The pages then began to flip rapidly as Edward felt as if he was being sucked into the paper.

Then in a blink.

Tiro hovered with Edward over a historic scene, wearing plain leather armor.

While Edward hovered in his pajamas.

Marble and gold, crafted skyhigh, a tree of great importance rose as people prayed to it.

The fire tree.

A magnificent, otherworldly keep, palace, marble spectacle; stood tall as five different beings stepped from the palace.

The large wooden door, etched with designs and golden bracers to reinforce it slowly creaked open as to reveal them.

One stood short, dressed like a fish, the other tall and proud in his silk like robe.

The other two stood close, talking amongst one another; noticeably getting along. The banners of House Lighsur marched up the marble steps.

"This is ancient Lashmir." Tiro turned his gaze from the events playing out in front of them to the startled and confused Edward.

The banners showed the image of an ignited sword with white flame; Tael' rushed out of the palace away from his counterparts and stood in front of his bannermen. "I will no longer wait for trial on that crow!"

Quickblade stomped his foot down, peering at the man in question. "He answers today!" Yelled Tael' as his fellow advisors and new initiates slammed their feet against the marble steps in approval of their leader's words.

Townsfolk began to gather around below, to see the event.

Then the ground began to shake, as members from another house assembled; the House was of Lock's leadership, the bulky elf wearing large mechanical-like armor.

Tonsh Crow, a short elf, standing at five foot eight inches. Having his messy brown hair tied into a ponytail, while a full grown bushy beard called it's home, his face. The accused elf decided to take a course of action, far more violent than presumed.

Kicking off of the ground he flew sky high, nearing the two hovering specters in the air.

Tiro smiled nervously "By the way, the recorded year is thirty one, I am using dark magic to show you this... Using that has it's hazards however." Anxiously spoke Tiro to Edward as Tonsh looked directly at them, obviously being able to see them.

The entire elf's robes and staff lit up a bright orangish red, illuminating onto Tael's face which had been unhidden as a sign of trust for wood elves.

His skin peeled back in a burning manner, his left eye nearly bursting from his eye socket.

Then Tonsh whispered to the two observing, "War always... Arrives." Whispering the last word in a serpent like voice, yet seeming to mock the notion of even using the tone.

Edward had been laying on the wood floor, shivering with vomit on his mustache and trousers. Slowly he stood up, his pupils fully dilated, he stared down at the dream journal that had remained in it's spot on the desk; perfectly.

The knight then cursed loudly at the journal in such a way even the other knights down the hall had gathered outside his door, which only added to his frustration.

He reluctantly walked to the door.

It was now mid-day and Edward had missed his concert to sing his line in the westerner's favorite song, 'Edward the Dragon Slayer.' They needed his attention for a far worse reason now, however.

"Mi lord, is everything alright in there?!" Screamed out the incomparable Finrel, who at the age of fifteen still remained a squire.

Edward opened the door, revealing his puked covered face and body, eyes still dilated and bloodshot. Ten knights stood behind the squire; the small redhead, freckled Finrel, cheeks as red as an apple.

"I am momentarily okay, yet managed to foul..." Edward motioned to the vomit, "Without the alcohol."

He crossed his arms and leaned his weight onto his back leg, which was his right. "What's the reason for a small squad gathered...?" Then he remembered, getting upset very quickly, "And is it already mid-day?!"

Edward huffed as he had been looking forward to the concert for an entire month.

Finrel's voice cracked as he went to speak, only to cough and slightly giggle before nervously grasping a leaking waterskin from his belt and take a drink, afterwards he began to speak.

"Well I gathered them... There's been a murder at the-" Finrel began to cough once again.

Edward grit his teeth, eyes widening even more as he impatiently waited for Finrel to speak. 'Yet this little nervous fuck managed to gather ten knights?!' Edward asked himself in disbelief.

"At the event! We need you now Edward!"

Events and decisions began to play out in the older man's mind, planning and creating strategies. He felt a bad feeling for someone about to enter battle.

Anxiety

Edward closed the door, dawned his platemail and tabard, grasping ahold of the Dragon's Defiler he strapped it to his back.

Also making sure to get a cloth rag and clean off his face.

Opening the door, he lead his men to the quickest way to the slums where he would cut off their retreat only to be controlled by dark magic again.

What did he lose freedom of this time you ask?

His memory.