Equestrium: The Blood of Tyrants

Ameon I

Running, fear and terror, he was running from something, he wasn't sure what, but he just knew he had to run away from it, he ran into a crowd, hoping to escape the ghastly demon, it wasn't fooled by his seemingly cunning trick. It cut through the crowd with a blade, as it slashed and sweeped its steel sword, a trail of crimson mist followed.

As the man looked behind him, he saw the demon, it was red, transparent and ghastly. For every single step the man took, the spirit seemed to take five, his heart raced inside his chest, for every great bound he took, he simply prolonged the inevitable end. He ran nonetheless, until he tripped on a stray stone and slammed his face into the dirt, snapping his leg like a twig.

Dammit, is this the end for me? The man thought in horror to himself, it was all he could do to sit there on his mangled leg, staring at the demonic apparition closing in on him, he saw the great demon raise his sword, and bring it down and then . . .

He woke up, and tried to regain his composure, after his eyes adjusted to the pitch black, he saw a welcome sight after the horrific start to his day.

Gregory Dolton, his arcanum instructor, stood over him, with a look of concern on his face.

"You mumble in your sleep." Gregory said as he poured himself a glass of water.

"Mhm," Ameon grumbled while holding his face in his hands.

"In your waking too, it would seem." Gregory said with a shining smile.

"I had a nightmare, in it, I died. Killed by a ghastly figure of some kind."

"Really? They feel like they're getting more and more intense."

"There's always the option of quitting the arts in pursuit of something a little less controversial, cooking, perhaps?" Gregory said with a smile.

"Ha! I'm sure the King in the North would love that!" Ameon exclaimed while standing to his feet.

"That he would, sir," Gregory said softly.

"Stop with the damned titles and pleasantries, Dolton. I'm Ameon, to you." Ameon commanded

"As you wish, sir." He said chuckling.

"My memory seems to be failing me, Dolton. What do I have scheduled for today?"

"Your lord father seems to have cleared your schedule quite substantially, Ameon. All you have planned is to practice more on the 'arts', as it were, and then attend the meeting of all the royals in the grand hall," Gregory said.

"Oh, but Gregory, I wish I could ignore all these high royal meetings, they're all so bland, it's less a meeting of politicians rather then a bunch of old men screaming at each other for an hour and accomplishing nothing in the meantime."

"Sounds like a gathering of politicians to me." Gregory said with a smile, this remark made both of them laugh heartily.

"I feel we should get started on our lessons," Ameon said.

Gregory agreed, over the following hour, they practiced basic spells, much to Ameon's objections. "Must we repeat the basics perpetually? I'll never become a master sorcerer if I never learn more," he would say. "Mastery of the basics is the key to the advanced ones, the form for a fireball is practically identical to a magic light."

"Either way, the room will be lit up," Ameon said shrugging.

"Concentrate!" Gregory commanded him.

Ameon would take the position for a magelight, his dominant arm extended, which was his right, spreading his fingers as far apart as he could, and focusing as much as his mind would allow, after much time of nothing happening, and even more of Ameon's anger due to it, he finally felt something, a magical orb that illuminated the room around him formed, it felt, and looked, like nothing he'd ever seen before.