Extended PrologueA Chapter by ShaneBerryextended prologue, Terron meets Maximilien.Prologue The boy looked out to the battle; he
could feel the rumble of the tanks, and the sound of the blades clashing
together. The wind moved his long black hair as he turned back to look at the bodies
of his mother and her body guard, their blood was crimson red. He
stepped over to the General’s body, which lay against a great tree;
its roots were so massive they had protruded out of the ground. The boy’s
mother was being protected by the General, but her dead body lay behind him,
her throat slit by an enemy blade. "Terron..."
The General said slowly. The boy jumped at the sound of his voice. The cold,
Coal eyes of the General peered into him filled with tears as he lifted the
great Dao blade. Its handle wrapping was a bright blue color; the blade was
dented and scarred from recent use. Hair and blood of many defeated Minoan soldiers,
was stuck in the dents and cracks of the blade. "When
you carry this....blade...You carry my dreams and my… honor…” The general’s
last words grew soft as the blade collapsed out of his hand. The sound it made
as it hit the Concrete ground made the seven year old boys heart drop. The boy
grabbed the blade, its shape and weight should have made it hard for the boy to
lift but he held it like it was a small stick. He looked over, off into the
Wheat fields. The golden stalks of grain where now gone, destroyed by the tanks
and Grenade fire of the Minoan troops. The
boy did not know much, not about the war, he was raised in the eastern city,
moved here to get away from the smaller war occurring there. But this war was
like nothing he had ever seen. He stood, blade in hand and charged out into the
warzone, the clashing of blades grew louder, and the boy could feel the sting
of sparks hitting his body created by the meeting of two blades in combat. He swung
the great weapon from side to side, attacking anyone and everyone he could,
even troops on his countries side. The Generals voice could be heard in his
mind. “We
make war, so that we may live in peace.” “Fear
is the true opiate of battle” “To a real warrior,
power perceived may be power achieved.” Breastplates and arrows, cast iron cannon balls, spears and shields,
swords and helmets littered the ground that the boy ran on. He soon slipped and
landed face first in a red liquid, the boy slowly rose finding that he had
landed in a puddle of human blood. His face, covered in blood and sweat, was
now becoming littered in tears. “Why is this
happening?” he asked himself burying his face in his hands. Soon he heard the footsteps of Minoan soldiers; they were harmonized,
marching to the sounds of blades clashing and cannons being fired. The boy then
looked up, he saw a man who was looking down at him in surprise and
recognition, as if he knew the boy. The man wore a red cloak, and had light
brown hair with a soft, kind face. “Fate weaves a cruel
and indifferent web child.” said the man turning and walking towards a collection
of tents and tanks, the boy had made it to the base where the leader of the
Minoan army sat. The boy knew that if he was to kill the dictator in control of
this army, it would end. He stood, soaked in blood, sword in hand and ran towards
the tents. …moments later… The boy looked up at the neatly
groomed dictator. His canary yellow hair was brushed back; his neat and trim goatee
was as yellow as his hair and eyebrows. The dictators deep blue eyes penetrated
the boy’s soul. “I
told you to put your blade down boy.” The dictator said in a charismatic tone. The
many soldiers who surrounded them laughed as the boy growled at the dictator. The
blood on the boy’s face had dried and made it hard to feel anything at all. “I…
I will kill you!” shouted the boy as images of his mothers dead body, and the
generals last moments with him filled his mind. The dictator then turned his
back to the boy and said, “Trust
in the divine art, of secrecy and invisibility. The words of your Emperor, he
was planning to destroy my country.” The dictator explained, walking toward one
of the soldiers. “You
are quite skilled, most likely stronger than most of my own soldiers. This is
very troubling for me. But you fight like a savage, sloppy, and unfocused. Without Knowledge, Skill cannot be focused. Without Skill, Strength
cannot be brought to bear and without Strength, Knowledge may not be applied.” He
then turned back and looked at the boy who was still on the ground, to petrify
to move. “I shall teach your
people how to be true human beings.” The dictator said with a disturbing smile
on his face. “YOU ARE NOT
HUMANS! You are all monsters from the west!”
shouted the boy, he then ran at the dictator and swung his blade at him,
as he did the dictator grabbed the broad side of the blade, then pulled the boy
closer and kneed him in the stomach so hard that the boy dropped to the ground
and passed out. The dictator walked
over to the boy and looked at his face closely; he then snapped his fingers and
the man who had seen him earlier ran up to the dictator’s side. “Yes my Fuehrer
sir!” he asked standing straight and tall. “Take this boy to
my home.” He ordered standing from his crouched position. “Sir? You understand
who this boy is, correct?” he asked confused. “General Obilic
that was an order. Are we clear?” he asked staring into the Generals eyes. He nodded then picked the boy up in his arms and began to walk to a
military Humvee. As the General drove off on the very long drive to Minoa from Gonur,
the Dictator was approached by another high ranking military officer, “Sir, the subject
has returned? This is an unforeseen series of events. The other Labors will not
enjoy this development.” He said crossing his arms; the man had neck length
grey hair, and wore the same red cloak as the General, his eyes where a deep
forest green. “Yes Lieutenant General Aldrich, things are completely different now. But we will not inform the other Labors; instead we shall withdraw from this attack. The emperor’s death should shake their confidence enough. I trust you to follow through with the assassination of the emperor after we leave.” The Fuehrer answered ending with a very serious order. The Lieutenant General then bowed and faded off into the battlefield. “Damocles, if you
are watching this from heaven, May every soul lost in these battles be rested
on your shoulders.” The Fuehrer said looking off into the distant war. The
war in Gonur raged for three more years, and bled into the nation of Angkor
Watt, these wars, including a war from two years earlier would forever be known
as the Four Corners War. The boy awoke in the home of the
Fuehrer, with no memory of his past life, and would later be raised by the
Fuehrer, as a brother to his son Judas. © 2011 ShaneBerryAuthor's Note
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27 Reviews Added on July 30, 2010 Last Updated on March 22, 2011 AuthorShaneBerrydenton, TXAboutMy Chemical Romance “The Ghost of You” Name: Shane Douglas Berry Age: Born on 8/4/1992 Hair color: Brown Eye color: Green Skin color: White, Freckled Tattoos: Oroborus (red, center.. more..Writing
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