A World Ruled By War

Chapter 1: My World

I take my first steps back into the city, the market still ruled by countless people of all kinds, rich, working or begging. The buildings that higher class were blessed to live in still overcoming the vast amount of land. The alchemic stench of brewing and potion making still burning the nostrils with each step I took past the countless taverns hotels and bars. The air still dusty from the sands and rubble that dust in on the stale wind each day. Home didn't change one bit in the years I was gone.

My name is Anthony. Last time I set foot in this city, I were but a young cub among lions, Head held high but arms hung low. In this world, might means right, war is fact. If you break it, you either buy it or fight for it, if you say against the mayor, you fight for his position. Such is the law.

"You little rat, ill fuckin' end you!" a shop keeper shouts. A lad, not much younger than I set down a request to fight for his establishment with a range of insults in tow, I don't understand why he chose to insult him, the shop keeper had no choice but to fight him at his request either way so it seemed childish, but I was looking to watch and so took a seat.

The men in the crowd stepped back guiding their women caringly in tow for a good few meters, ten if I had to rough an estimate. The shop keep stepped out, a sword on his side larger than his arm and thicker than it too. It stood parallel to his leg in a sheath, it made no sense to be positioned like that but to still have the shop, I wasn't about to argue with his choice. The boy stood tall with a wide grin and a set of iron knuckles, cracked against his as a small attempt to show strength and inspire fear. He wore leather layered against his skin, with small metal plates at vital points such as his neck. He came here looking to fight while the shopkeeper only had his apron on, I assume he was some kind of butcher due to the blood coating it.

The men backed away, both standing at distance with a look of carnal, murderous intent towards the other, the men on the rim of the ring began to count, ten to zero at two second intervals, the air was static with heat, dust slowly rolling in before the moment zero hit.

On the count of zero, both men rushed forward. The young lad raised his fist ready to throw a fierce punch while the shop keeper unveiled his sword. A large metal sword that seemed to thicken as it got to the hilt, a fierce weapon similar to that of a bastard sword however different in one small detail that the average eye couldn't see. The edge was very slightly serrated on one edge and had a small switch at the base near his grip, similar to a trigger. The boy delivered his blow straight towards the swords edge the clash of metal to metal making an ungodly grind. "Step back or you're done" I said to the body at a normal volume. He turned to the crowd in search of me but it seems I wasn't found just yet, I suppose I was too late at that.

The shop keeper reached down towards the weapons base and at that moment the serrated edge began to move side to side, faster and faster till it was too fast for even I to see, the blade cut into the iron knuckles with a seeming burst of heat and cutting strength until it cut through, into the young man's arm separating bone from flesh In a very gory show of power. It was animalistic, carnal at its base, but it worked. From what I know of the rules, the shop keeper cannot be challenged for his shop for another year, with that show of gore and power; I don't think anyone would really want to. It made me smile that only a small man with that much stature could wield that much power in his hands, I revelled in the thought of what could be higher.

The boy was helped up by what few good souls were in attendance and taken to the nearest alchemists, or so I presume. The shop keeper went back to his work and all that was left was the blood on the ground to remember the small battle by. People see this enough to not care when it happens anymore, I have only seen it a rare few times but even I have had my share.

I stood up and went to the nearest hotel. I could never stay in one of the dusty old taverns without electricity or even chemical lighting. I went into the lobby where there were a small room that glowed green, a sign of alchemical shops, and a reception desk with a small beautiful lady standing ready to give me a room key in exchange for my money. I could tell she was just a phantom however, similar to a hologram that the insanely pampered and rich have, however made from magic and alchemy. People use these to make sure those who want to steal the business can't find them let alone challenge them. No pointing in asking for a number I guess. I simply went up to my room on the first floor, just above ground and I slept, thinking of what to come and what my first move is.