"Saiyne in the fall...the stone city's walls stained with blood, though washed away in the many rains that passed after the death of innocence years ago. No one speaks of it anymore, I do...they call me insane. The pain scratches the back of my mind like a rusty nail, every waking moment I think that I may collapse from the grief, every time I open my eyes in the morning I curse myself for not choking on my tongue as I lay, happiness has left me...bitterness consumes me, and anguish surrounds me..."

Chapter One: Long Live the King

74 years before...

Crimson draperies collapsed to the ground around the palace walls. The Crest of the Vyste royal family scattered around the home of these masters of Saiyne.

'What am I doing here?" a young thief thought to himself as he sneaked along the shadows of the statues of the palace. He ran his fingers through his light blonde hair as he sighed. "Thieves are killed on sight, this is a huge mistake, I shouldn't have taken that advice." He took out a note that he had gotten only hours earlier. "Come to the Palace throne room at 10:00 pm for a treasure greater than that of the halls of Ji-kai". He quickly put it away as his sharp ears picked up the sound of foot steps, he jumped out of the high castle windows grabbing onto the side and holding for dear life as the person walked by. Sensing that the figure had passed, he hopped back up through the window, landing softly with out sound on the floor, looking around he saw the face of the General of the Saiyne Guard.

"General Ykol..." the scraggly thief thought to himself. Standing roughly 6'9'', he was surely worthy of his fear, battle scars scattered across his arm, he had seen many a battle. The royal armor he wore shone brightly in the moonlight of the darkened palace, his red cloak dragging on the ground after him as he paced towards the doors of the throne room. Our thief, dangerously curious as to what business the general has in the kings quarters so late, follows him in, jumping and rolling into the shadows of the room before the tall doors slammed shut.

Ykol moved swiftly to the old king's side. He bowed then lifted his head "My liege...the operation was a success, the city of Zayne fell easily to our surprise attack, they were no match to our Pyrik Dragoons." he breathed in and stood up, a smile broke out on his face, "Piotika's army is weak, their king waning in grief at the loss of his son, soon we shall take the capitol of Su-Iyn."

"Su-Iyn..." the thief thought "Holy City, Su-Iyn."

The King breathed deeply and spoke "You've done well my son, soon you will take my place as King, as soon as the corrupted church of Su-Iyn is under our control peace will reign across our lands." The old man smiled and rested in his chair. He was proud of his son, fair, proud, and just, so he thought.

The warrior prince snickered and averted his gaze from his father "Peace and prosperity shall never prosper, don't be so unrealistic, the only way to maintain order in this land is to destroy the infidels!"

The old king did not like the manner in which his son spoke "They are not infidels my son, just a mislead schism, they believe in our same goddess."

"You speak of them as equals, they misname our Holy Queen as Linwe-ha-phahni though it is clear her name is Hia-Soh-Natia. Same Goddess? I think not, old fool..." the battle scarred general then paced forward towards the throne. "You know and I know that the only way to power is by force, please, my father, let me decimate the infidels of Su-Iyn, the women, children and farmers...as I have in Zayne'"

The aged Lord of Saiyne took this of shock. He stood up out of his chair and screamed obscenities at his son. "What have you done? You naive fool! The nobles, they look down on the Intaists, yes, but death is far from what the innocent deserve! We are to set an example for the other followers of Skianism, force is a last effort we were forced to use on Zayne! We tried many times in negotiation and failed!"

"Then... I am sorry." he stepped closer to his father.

"For what?"

"For what I must do..."

He then embraced his father for a moment, then the flash of steel, he had drawn his blade. "Sorry that I must take the throne by force!" he then quickly dug his embroidered broad sword deep into his fathers chest.

The thief took this harsh...for the king was his great uncle.

"No!" the thief drew a dagger and charged at the Prince, now king. Quickly slashing he barely broke the skin and left a small mark that bled quickly. Ykol grasped the sword at his fathers chest and pulled it out and hit the thief with the flat of the blade, blood from the dead king's wounds flying all over the thief. Stumbling to get up, the warrior king once again struck, a fierce blow with his gauntlet sent him across the room and against the wall. Ykol picked him up at the scruff of his neck and struck him through the glass window. The thief struggled for air as he was dangled many a height from the rocky coast below.

"Spartyk Mahken...so you got my letter?" the king laughed and let him struggle to get free as the Palace guard rushed in. "Over here captain!" Ykol shouted to the lead guard "I'm afraid we are too late, an assassin got to my beloved father before I could get him." Spartyk looked on in awe "So that's why I was brought here, to be framed." The new king smiled and spoke "My father is gone and that makes me king, and my first act as king is to take judgement on this murderer, guilty as charged, goodbye, thief..." He then loosened his grip and let go, the thief screamed as he plummeted to the sea below. Ykol turned from the window and took to his fathers slumped body. He closed his eyes and said a prayer for his passage to the heaven of Skian.

"Long lives the King..."