Chapter Two: Chaos

Spartyk awoke in a small room. His bed was too small, his blanket had holes, but he was alive. "Good bye, thief…" the voice rang in his head, he could hear his own screams, his own pain, his own fear. "How am I here?" He had faint memories of being carried by something, someone He looked around himself and thought "Someone must have found me washed up on the shore, and carried me here.

Spartyk's train of thought was interrupted , he could hear shouting, chanting, outside of the window. He got up and looked outside, people were gathered in the town square.

"Today…I regret to inform you that my father, King ,Lyle II, was murdered by an assassin." Spartyk recognized the voice easily. "Ykol…" The people of Saiyne gasped in sadness at the news of the death of their beloved king. "Yes, and I his son, have exterminated the scum, his name was Spartyk Mahken, an Intaist!" Spartyk remembered what happened, Ykol killing his father, framing Spartyk. "An Intaist… one of those scum." He let the word ring as the people murmured and uttered things, saying fragments of sentences to each other. "Intaists have taken Su-Iyn, they have killed many of out priests, and now they kill out king, so today I announce my campaign to eliminate the Inta threat."

The people around there cheered, cheered and were for the bloodlust that was soon to follow. A priest ran through the door and yelled. "The soldiers! Get out of the church! Get ou-" An arrow pierced the old man's body before he could finish, he fell to the floor with a thump. Spartyk now knew where he was, the Intaist church, and it was being attacked.

A Royal solider, sword out, charged into the room. The thief acted quickly and jumped from off of the bed and onto the solider. He swiftly punched him in the jaw and flipped him on his back. Spartyk twisted the neck of the swordsman ending his life. Grabbing the sword from the knight's dead hands, he ran out of the room and saw the massacre that was unfolding.

The stench of blood filled the air. Death floated like a heavy cloud of rain. Women, children, it didn't matter, they were all subject to Ykol's wrath. Arrows flew by Spartyk's head. An archer was shooting at him. The agile thief jumped off of the stairs, the archer hesitated and Spartyk thrust his sword down, piercing his chest, breaking through the chain mail. Four knights were left, blood stained their weapons, their armor, their skin. Two of the knights ran at the thief, he jumped up and behind one of them and slashed with his stolen sword. The assaulted knight groaned in pain but struck back with his spear, hitting Spartyk with the wooded side, the thief lost his air and stumbled. The knight threw his spear and scratched the side of Spartyk's left arm. Then he grabbed the spear and threw it back, piercing the thrower in the thigh. The knight groaned in pain as he slumped to the ground. Spartyk, in rage of what the soldiers had done, slit the neck of his foe. The second knight, who had just watched, drew his sword and prepared to fight.

Spartyk ran and thrust his sword at the knight, he parried and brought his sword upward for a quick slash. The thief blocked with his sword. Sparks flew as the metal grinded. Spartyk saw his chance and kicked his antagonist in the gut. As he keeled over, Spartyk pushed him through the stained glass window. He fell down many stories and landed with a sick thud. The thief, breathing heavily, grasped his wound gazed at his work. They were all dead at his hand, but he was justified. Now that the adrenaline had subsided he smelt the burning of wood. The church was being burned.

Spartyk ran down the stairs and through the arch gates. He had made it in time, the whole church erupted in flames. Spartyk knelt down as grief took over. He looked about him, death, destruction, chaos. If the church was first, he knew what was next, the slums. The abandoned sector of the city, the area with the most Intaists.

His home.