A Tale of Time: The Malice of Men

Chapter 1: Dark

Dark is delightful. Dark is deadly.

Dark is devilish. Dark is divine.

Dark is indulging. Dark is intriguing.

Dark are men's hearts, and dark are their deeds.

Our story begins on a dark night. It was almost cloudless, so the stars shone brightly against the buildings. Not that it mattered. Their light couldn't guide an alley cat. Most men here tend to sleep early on. That singular fact proved to be very useful for our first character:

Dark nights for darks deeds, so was the belief amongst the more shady characters of the place, and this was the darkest night in a long time.

It was the time of the eclipse. Few could see more than a few feet off in the blackness of the night and it wasn't that there were many people to begin with. Across the town, people were asleep. Only shady characters refered to as 'bad men' or 'dangerous men' were awake. A chill quiet governed the streets.

The only other people awake on this night were the court astrologers, who were in the astronomy tower, discussing the ominous signs of the first lunar eclipse on the winter solstice since the pact with the Giants was broken. The King was not superstitious, but he liked to believe in some things. Especially if said things were to his favour.

Out of the shady, cobbled streets, a black figure emerged. It was shrouded; wreathed in the darkness from where it seemed to appear. From the silhouette, the figure in the dark appeared to be a human, and a healthy example of the species. Broad-shouldered and muscular, it was covered in well-worn skin that looked rough but was surprisingly well kept. It had the heavy mist of hard labour on it, suggesting a difficult journey on this cold, moonless night. Dark nights for dark deeds, they said. Maybe the old saying was true. The shadow smiled, revealing a line of pearly white teeth which were well groomed.

This figure stood in front of a door; a side entrance to a brothel. With times being hard as they were, places of cheer thinned out, and taverns and brothels were the last places left. The place was well lit, but little noise escaped it. Curiously, this place was going to give him a different sort of happiness. He knocked at the door. Almost immediately, it was opened by a young boy not more than ten years of age. He looked scared, and no doubt, for this was not the place for boys of his age. There was a wild fear in his eyes, but he tried hard to not show it. Looking for a long time at a crack in the woodwork, he mustered enough courage to say' "he is waiting for you, sir." Before running away, leaving the door open. It ushered in the cold night air into the warm spaces within. The man welcomed himself in, taking of his cloak. Turning back, he banned the night.

He made his way, it was not very hard considering the fact that he was in a place that looked like a passage. There was only one route and it led upstairs. It brought him to a long corridor with several doors. The visitor remembered the door number well. He had made it a point to memorize it before proceeding with his journey. He stopped at door 7. A powerful number. Seven was solemn, seven was powerful. The door was ajar. Inside, it was like any other room. A fire burned within and a bed lay at the centre of the room, its clean sheets neatly spread. Only, the person who had asked him to appear in this shady place was not a woman, it was an old acquaintance of his. This acquaintance turned now, and looked into the eyes of the newcomer. He had a well-built frame that rivaled that of his friend. It was accompanied by a firm jaw and fair, brown eyes. The joy was all too obvious as he went to embrace him. "My old friend, he said."