REMEMBRANCE CROSS

                                                               Chapter 1

'My lord, I have brought them'

War looked at the attendant. He was trembling from head to toe. War smirked. He hated weakness. He detested weak people.

The nerve that he has. What a weakling! And he has the guts to stand before me.

But War had no time to waste on the insignificant person standing before him. A feast awaited him - the new bunch of slaves had been captured and brought to his abode.

Nodding, War said, 'Yes. Don't just stand there looking at my face. Send them in at once.'

The attendant, who had turned pale by now rushed out - all the while bowing and shouting a number of praises at his lord. War turned and looked out the window. The night was as dark as his eyes and heart. Starless. The mighty sky looked sullen, uninspired, melancholic. He liked it. He felt connected to the night. That was strange. War had no strings attached to him. Nothing could bind him to anything - not to this world, not to heaven, not to hell. He had decided that years ago. This brought back a flood of memories. That night. The night he lost hope. The night he turned into 'the lord'. The night that broke his sanity into a thousand shards, which scattered away, far and wide, never to coalesce again. The ever - impassive War winced.

Well, why think about useless shit. Time for business.

War turned around as he heard heavy, dragging footsteps on the floor. War's chamber was lit but by a single candle, leaving most parts of the room in partial darkness. Just how he preferred it. Slaves. They were pitiable indeed.

Ever since a few years ago, when War 'transformed', he had gotten into what he would call an 'entertaining pastime'. He would send his minions and get them to capture people from the all sects of his Kingdom, Tranquilia. The name was quite ironic, as ever since War over threw the rightful heir of the former king to Tranquilia, the town had enjoyed no trace of tranquility. The prosperous kingdom that was once gifted with peace and fraternity had turned into an offspring of hell.  Every month, his soldiers would march into the town and capture people - especially beggars and petty vendors. If they conceded, they were clever. Atleast they would escape the brutal beating. If they resisted, they faced hell. The town was a temple of pandemonium. There lies the dark humour.

War was wrong. The public hated him. But what could one do? Cruel as he was, he was invincible. So, people had to resign to their fate.

War analysed each and every  one of the slaves. His sadistic mind came to life. He 'graded' each of them.

'Doable' he stated looking at a healthy young man of about twenty. 'Make arrangements for him to receive training in war craft. But before that, test his worth. Do you know to wield the sword?' He asked in a harsh tone  to the man.

'Yes, my Lord. I am a hunter. I go into the forest everyday in hopes of finding raw meat.'

War nodded and spoke to his soldiers: 'So, to test his worth, make him practice for the entire forenoon. He may rest for a few minutes after that. The man looks healthy. If he died, it would be a waste. But do not feed him till you are satisfied with his work. If you slack off, you shall be exiled.'

The effect that his words had on the soldiers was admirable, in a bad way. They were now determined to drain the man of the little strength he had left after receiving the beating and being dragged through the busy streets of Tranquilia. In this part of the world, there was neither time nor means for compassion.  Betrayal became a necessity.

One by one, War assessed the 'slaves' and dispatched them. He looked out the window again. He really did love the night sky.

I must keep this up. I must become the strongest warrior that ever was. Soon, nobody would dare to speak up against me. Moreover, there is the matter of the cross. I must find it. The remembrance cross...'