CHAPTER 1
The Ravings of a mad General
Maeldrin sat on the rock, slowly stroking the hilt of the double edged sword he was clutching in his left hand. The moon was full, a pale disc of light emphasizing the beauty of such a quite night. A few drops of rain could be heard spluttering on rocks here and there. There might be heavy rainfall later on, but for now it was just the raindrops. The air was slightly chilled, creating the perfect condition for a man to fall asleep.
A man appeared behind the General, loudly clearing his throat. Maeldrin continued stroking his sword thoughtfully without sparing a glance for whoever had disturbed him from his meditations.
"General Maeldrin, the scouts are back with their report" the man announced with an excited tinge in his voice.
Maeldrin turned slowly to examine the intruder. Young for a soldier of his rank, he was twice as capable a swordsman as most of his veteran soldiers. He had black hair and a skin tanned from too much exposure to sunlight. Dressed in full brown leather body armor, he carried two swords on his back with dagger tacked into the heels of his boots. A black sash was twined upon his fingers in the shape of rings.The sign of a dangerous man.
Maeldrin cleared his throat "How long have you served as a captain under my command?" The soldier looked a bit worried
"Two months, my lord." Came a meek reply
The General rose to his feet,carefully placing the sword at his feet. The young soldier shifted his gaze to the sword, pretending the general wasn't staring at his face.
"Aachan, I have served as a General in this army for the past ten years. I will not pretend that it has been an easy duty. No, it has been a combination of the most grueling tasks I have ever performed in my life." The General paced around the rock slowly with his head bent down deep in thought.
"I have never complained nor shown any bitterness in my service to the throne. My soldiers think I am a man with no conscience whatsoever the deed I perform.Today i tell you, I am a man who has been haunted every single day by every man he has watched die on the battlefield." Aachan coughed slightly as if to remind the General of his presence.
"My young captain" He continued, ignoring the interruption "I can feel death when it is approaching. I feel it coursing through my veins like fresh blood pouring out of a wounded man.. A man has to know his time, when its due."
Aachan was amazed. He had always known the General to be a man of few words. A hard man with no guilt or conscience no matter the action he took. Hearing these words from his mouth made him realise how little he knew of the General. He slowly examined the man all over again. With a build as stout as a young bull, Maeldrin stood a head taller than most men in his army. The shade of grey hair on his head spoke of an age not easily guessed. He walked with a limp in his left leg, a wound received from the battle of falling stones, twenty summers ago. It was common knowledge that the man was impervious to pain and therefore did not showcase his wounds of war like a badge of honor. Thick scars run along the length of his neck, which he had evidently covered with the collar of his shirt. Aachan had known many men with very strange wounds, but had he ever met one with scars that outnumbered those on the Generals' body?
He had brought urgent news to General Maeldrin and here the man was, ranting about things his small mind could not digest. Aachan braced his fear and took a few steps forward
"My lord, the scouts have brought urgent news" The General snapped out of his thoughts with a smile on his face.
"I heard you the first time, my young Captain. Patience is the only privilege that can be afforded an old dying man like me." He moved back to the rock and retrieved his sword from the ground.
