The Scythe: Death's Arise

Chapter 2: Morals And Treason

A few days later, in the middle of the cold autumn night, Thomas Marshall jumped awake, clutching his chest and breathing heavily. He looked around as if he didn't recognize his own room. What was that?! That dream... It felt so real. But what was it? I remember... I was in the forest... Fighting. But who was it? Who was I figh- Just then there was a knock on his door. Thomas, confused as to who it might be at this hour, cautiously treaded down the creaking wooden stairs to the main room. He grabbed his hunting knife from the table near the door and walked to a small window in the other side that could see who was there.

Of course, it was very dark out so he couldn't see much; just a silhouette. Though, that was all the detail he required to know that it was a man Thomas knew. He put the knife back on the small table and opened the door welcoming his late night guest. Christian Perinson walked inside.

"Christian, why are you here at this hour?" Thomas asked as he closed the door and Christian sat down in one of the chairs that stood on the large rug.

"Thomas, I don't know what to do. Fighting beside you the other day, it reminded me of the days of old, back when we fought as a nearly unstoppable duo of warriors."

"Yeah? Me too."

"I've been thinking about what Ashdown said: about how you could be an admiral by now. I think you should rejoin the Knight Legion."

"You know I can't do that."

"No, Thomas, I spoke to recruitment, they said that they are willing to give you back yo-"

"No." Thomas interrupted sternly.

"What? You don't wa-"

"I said no. I won't fight alongside those who don't trust me. That's what made us such a great pair: the trust we had in each other. If a group cannot trust each other, it falls apart. That's why I haven't rejoined."

- Five Years Ago -

The year is 646; Thomas was a general in the Saefville Knight Legion and Christian had just been ranked as Major. It had been only two weeks since Numar Gordon, leader of the country of Vendolegon, had committed suicide. They were at a celebration in the castle dining rooms.

"Here's to Lord Xavier III!" A random Commander shouted.

"YEAH!!!" Everyone raised their glasses in a cheerful and exciting mood. Thomas had sat in the corner of the room drinking the best tankard of Saefville Lager he'd ever had. Saefville had a tradition of which the rule was your father gifted you your first alcoholic drink when you aged twenty years. Though, Thomas hadn't had a father figure since he was fourteen so, he raised his large mug and took a drink. As he set it down on the table, a high ranking officer, Admiral Trulias Grant, sat beside him.

"Thomas Marshall, I presume?" He asked putting his hand out. He was a tall man and he wore the dark blue admiral uniform that they wore during off the field military gatherings. He had well groomed blonde hair and deep brown eyes. Thomas shook his hand.

"Yes sir." Thomas wasn't one to jump up and salute a high ranking officer if he wasn't in a mission briefing or more formal event.

"I'll skip the formalities, Thomas, though only seventeen years in age, you've gained the general rank and you have surpassed many of the senior officers here in strength, myself included. I'm here to discuss with you a promotion to Vice Admiral position. Yes, I am well aware that this skips the Commander position. Talking personally, I believe you deserve Admiral rank, but after talking with the higher ups, this was the best offer I could get you. Are you willing to take this position?"