The Rise of the Immortal Emperor

The Immortal Emperor:Kiziak The Titan Slayer

1

1100 years ago...

Kiziak was born as the third son of a traveling merchant family. As the third son, he was destined to inherit nothing and be forced to make his way in life, unlike his oldest brother Guymon, who would be given his first traveling wagon and would later inherit all the business when their father passed. Tenmik would be apprenticed to someone whom their father felt would complement both himself and Guymon in their trade. Kiziak would get nothing his father wasn't willing to part with when he turned 16 and became a man. Kiziak knew his father would give him nothing but the rags on his back and a swift boot in the rear to speed him on his way the moment he was old enough.

His father was a distasteful bully outside of business dealings and a violent, abusive drunk who saw no harm in taking his dark temper out on Kiziak. He hadn't wanted the third son and blamed the death of his wife on Kiziak, whose birth was difficult and tore his mother so badly that she had bled out before the umbilical cord could be cut. He would use any excuse to degrade Kiziak and discipline him during his sober hours, and once drunk would need no excuse at all to begin beating the boy until he fell into a blissful unconsciousness where his father's fists could no longer find him. His brothers felt no pity for him as they held him to blame for their mother's death as well and would torment him every chance they got.

"You're a filthy third who couldn't even be born right, you're a mother killer. MOTHER KILLER." One of them would say, usually before a fist or a rock was flung at his head. At times, they would steal his meager meals and leave him to starve for days on end until he was so weak that he was useless for anything and they had to feed him. They knew that if he died, they would have to do all the crap chores around the traveling market. Kiziak felt no love for them and would dream of Guymon being run through by some trader he had lied to or undercut. Guymon was a month from turning 16 and already their father had acquired a wagon and team to gift to him on his birthday. Tenmik was 15 and would leave the wagons upon reaching the city of Uriel to begin his apprenticeship, father had found a wagon write in the city would take him on.

Kiziak was 14 and had just under 2 years before he would be cut loose to live or die on his own if he could last that long. There were days he felt that he wouldn't last the night, his father's beatings becoming worse as they drew closer to Guymon and Tenmik leaving. Kiziak eyed the horizon to the west, in the direction they were traveling, and watched the sun sink to the top of the tallest tower as if it were an orange ember atop a torch. He knew that they were still a good day's travel from the gates of Uriel and the Tower of The Titan's, soon they would be looking for the camping site most traveler's used at this point and making camp. Soon his father would pull the gallon cask of blood mead from beneath the seat of the wagon and begin drinking himself into a black mood.

Another ten minutes of travel and the campsite came into view, several campfires already blazing to announce other travelers resting for the night. Kiziak saw that it was a company of the King's men who had arrived first to the way stop, their patrol for the day ended, and the King's peace upheld. Kiziak wondered if they took third son's into service and began the dangerous prospect of letting his imagination fill his mind as they set up camp and his father spoke to the Captain of the patrol about letting the soldiers shop from his wagons before it grew too dark. He didn't see his father notice the absent look in his eyes and mark it for punishment later that night.

Kiziak was still awake several hours later as the moons rode high in the sky, offering enough light to read by in the night as both were full and there were no clouds to blind them to the world. It was his habit to wait till his father fell asleep before he would allow himself to seek his dreams. So it was no surprise to him when his father finished the cask of blood mead and threw it onto the fire, his temper already showing in the amount of force he used tossing the empty cask. He knew that tonight would be a night of beatings and began to prepare his body to endure the brutality of his father's fists. Father stood and walked over to his lead wagon, pulling a bar of iron stock from the seat he used to threaten those he felt were attempting to steal from him.