The Second Side

Chapter 1

Three years before AE (Age of Equilibrium)

"Watch your back, you fool!"

In the middle of a fierce battle, these were not words to be ignored. However, these words were not a threat from an enemy. These words were advice given by a friend, and it was advice well heeded. Raphael spun around just in time to see the enemy approaching from behind, and his foe was dealt with swiftly.

It was not their first battle, nor by any means would it be their last. It was a battle like any other, a contest of armies that amounted to little more than the smell of metal and blood. Victory for one and defeat for the other. Glory for one and grief for the other. Life for one and death for the other.

He swung his sword with the practised air of someone who had spent years perfecting his technique. Perfecting the art of killing. He was not malicious by any means, he was only strong. Too strong.

His comrade, the one who had shouted at him before, was at his side. In an unspoken agreement, they switched places so that they were standing back to back, as his comrade defended him against the onslaught of attackers.

That was how it worked in those days. You were nothing without the warrior by your side. They were truly a fearsome sight, blood-spattered and dirty. They looked like demons.

"That's once more I've saved your life. And your footwork is getting clumsy," said his comrade, as he blocked an attack. "You need to work on that."

"Not the best time, Cain," Raphael replied, as he ducked to avoid a shield that was swung at his head. "As much as I value your advice, save it for later."

One of the magic users, showing more bravery than the rest, ran straight for Raphael with his hands raised raised, wielding balls of flame and shouting a desperate battle cry. Maybe it was bravery, or maybe he was just stupid, or maybe he just had a death wish. It did not matter, he was just as dead. Raphael and his sword separated the man's head from his body.

"You're always so certain that there will be a later," muttered Cain, but Raphael didn't hear him. The Swordsman moved with the conclusiveness of someone who knew that they would not die, and Cain worried that it would one day prove his weakness. But there wasn't time for worry when facing an army of those possessed by magic.

"To your right!" Raphael shouted. Cain turned to his right, but he was too slow. The warrior was upon him, about to stab a blade of molten steel into his exposed side.

But Raphael was there, fighting like lightning. Like light. The magic user died before his stroke fell.

Raphael glanced at his best friend. "Now we're even, eh?"

Eventually there were no more enemies to defeat on this day. The enemy had ordered a retreat, and out of respect the Swordsmen had left the battlefield to allow the Shielders to retrieve their dead. Thankfully, the death toll of the Swordsmen was not quite as high. Thanks to the efforts of Raphael and Cain, another victory had been awarded to them.

Another soldier might have worn it like a badge of honour, but when Raphael watched the aftermath of his so called glory he felt nothing but disgusted in himself. Other soldiers, cadets and higher ranking officers alike, all of them came his way and paid their respects to the Swordsman who had won them too many battles to count. The Sword of Light, they called him.

That wasn't what they should have called him.

In silence, Cain and Raphael made their way back to their camp. They weren't high-ranking soldiers within the militia, and so there room were little more than bunks. Cain knew better than to press Raphael into conversation when he was like this, when he was choking on his self-hatred. Every time someone congratulated him it was another twist of the knife. And yet he bore it.