Stone of The Fierce Chapter 1

Thundering cries could be heard all throughout Denares stadium as Xander, the Valiant sat patiently in his personal chamber. This would be his third and final battle for the week and, if he'd managed to make it out in one piece, a weekend of drinking and luxury awaited him. The gladiator rose to his sandaled feet and brandished the battered saber's blade before him. It was still slightly chipped from the preceding battle, but would nonetheless, suffice to weather the next. He stared back at himself in the reflection of the weapon, his chopped brunette hair looked slightly unkempt, but matched his persona perfectly. Hazel eyes sat beneath a pierced brow, a reward for winning one of his previous matches in the crown city. Over the past several months his physique had improved drastically; his once frail arms now bulged with definition beneath his slightly scratched iron chest plate and his legs that at one point could hardly carry his own frame, had expanded to the point of hardly fitting under his weapon's belt. As he observed himself, he pursed his lips, eyeing the scar that rested vertically amongst them and trailed up past his brow. That was the one scar on his body he'd received before he even stepped foot in the Colosseum.
He was discovered two years ago, facedown in a pit of muddy water and blood; his small country of Cinder had just been brought to its knees by its neighboring powers. The war had taken his mother, his brother, and father all in a single day, that alone hardened the painful fall of his one and only home and all its land. Xander was alone, starving, and too weak to push himself any farther away from the burning city, so he collapsed there completely content with death. He awoke to the stomping of hooves around him and rose to see four men clad in imperial armor, surrounding him like some foul messengers of death.
"You look lost, little boy." One spoke.
"He looks weak." Said another in a gravely, raucous tone. "We ought to end his suffering."
With an instantaneous flick of the wrist, he drew a spiked Lance from his side and aimed it at the frail form below.
"I don't know, he's kinda handsome." Spoke a female voice. Long, violet hair cascaded from beneath her garnet helm, and from between its slits, Xander could see two eyes burning with a blazing yellow hue like that of the sun.
"I agree, it'd be a waste to kill such an intriguing being." this voice was definitely a male's, but it was lighthearted and devoid of malcontent. The first one that spoke dismounted his horse and knelt beside the fallen boy. He removed his ornate, golden helm, revealing a set of amethyst eyes against a face with soft features, but it was clear those eyes had seen much blood in their time.
"I have a proposition for you, boy. Come and fight for me in my tournament, represent my name and honor. You shall be greatly rewarded." A confident yet young voice was accompanied by a clap of thunder from above.
Commander Argus was answered with a bloody spit to the face.
"I'll never serve... Imperial garbage!" Xander coughed out between rough and ragged breaths.
The commander chuckled and ran a gloved hand through his jet black hair. In a flash, his sword was drawn and Xander was gushing from the slit in his face. His cries were drowned out by the rain and thunder that surrounded them.
"You don't know it yet, but I'm saving your life, boy." The young man turned to his comrades as he straddled his horse once again.
"Bring him with us."

And so, that was the day Xander lost everything. His family, his home, his freedom, even his own name.
"Loss!" One of the imperial guards called from the door of his chamber. "It's time for your next battle."
Loss donned his tempered bronze headpiece and exited the dimly lit room into the sunlight at the center of the Colosseum. The crowd was thrown into unrest at the sight of their favorite champion entering the fray. As he stepped closer towards the center, his opponent became visible. A man who was almost as tall as Loss himself, but nowhere near as toned. He brandished a hooked Sabre and a crude wooden shield. Tattooed arms disappeared beneath an onyx colored chest-piece and his trousers were tattered at the legs. He let out a battle cry and beat the blade against his shield.
"Citizens of Acadia," the announcer began his usual spiel. "We are so pleased that you could bear audience to this tremendous display of mettle... " Loss had long since drowned out the words of the pompous announcer, instead opting to engage in an unbreakable staring contest with his opponent. In fact, he hadn't heard anything until the battle horn sounded, signaling the beginning of the bloodshed.

Back in his room, Loss removed his armor and helmet, leaving on nothing but his wool shorts that clung tightly to his sweat-soaked thighs. He collapsed, face up against his own bed. From the doorway, Argus entered, two imperial guards at his side and a prideful smile at his lips. He clapped slowly as he approached Loss' bedside where the champion lay exhausted. Embroidered velvet robes danced in the few rays of light that entered the chamber as Argus drew closer. He removed one of his black gloves and drug a hand across Loss' bare chest. Loss hardly budged or flinched as Argus' fingers grazed the fresh wound on his left pectoral. The crimson fluid contrasted the Commander's own pale skin.
"I give you all that expensive armor, yet you still manage to damage my goods." Argus shook his head in a sardonic manner. "But fortunately for you, Frond city has the best apothecaries in all of Caldero.You will be in good hands." Argus lifted his gloved hand and beckoned one of the guards forward. In his arms were miscellaneous parcels of clothing that were much fancier than what Loss was used to.
"I want you changed and ready before the hour's end. Oh, and excellent work on not dying, Loss." And with that, Argus and his men exited the chamber in uniform fashion.

The road to Frond city was a long and harrowing one, especially for those who did not travel in luxury as Argus and his company did. Three imperial horse-drawn coaches traversed the rocky terrain, one after the other, with Argus and Loss occupying the middle carriage. Among this cab also sat the purple-haired woman from all that time ago, cross-legged and cross-armed; Loss had long since learned her name; Countess Greta, or just Greta, to those not being formal. She was a skilled assassin who was a long-time companion of Argus' and seemed to accompany him any time he traveled to foreign cities. Loss had to say, that armor had done nothing to compliment her gorgeous physique, she was a beautiful woman with olive skin and a toned figure, and arguably the best hand-to-hand fighter amongst the troupe. Whenever the woman was not at Argus' side, she would often pick up bounties or train with the royal guards to occupy her time.
The carriage in front of them housed the lancer, the man who had wanted to take Loss's life all that time ago, accompanied only by three footsoldiers. He went by the name of Bane and was no stranger to the brigand lifestyle, though he had no need to rob or pillage. He had simply found joy in inciting chaos. Although the warrior was not currently in his presence, Loss could see his dark skin and salt-and-pepper dreaded hair clearly in memory. This man was the only one he'd seen that stood taller than himself, and he also sported a bit more muscle tone as well.
"If you ever lose a bout and don't die before the crowd," He'd once said, "then don't bother returning to your quarters, because I will be there waiting." Needless to say, Loss has never lost a match.
And finally, behind them was Adolfus the Gay. His name was quite fitting because as it entailed, he was indeed homosexual and had an eye for Loss since that fateful day in Cinder. He stood at about 5'7, but his height meant nothing to him; the man spoke to everyone as if he was ten feet tall and made of steel. He had made his rise to fame with his extensive knowledge of all things medical and his incredible gambling skill, however we didn't get to see much of the latter. Blonde wavy locks cascaded at his shoulders, though he usually opted to keep his hair tied up. He donned a pair of striking rose-colored eyes that tended to gain a lot of attention in areas where it was not so common.
"It's a shame you are Argus' property, my dear Loss. I would love to have you to myself for a time." He had been escorting Loss to a tournament just outside of The Ebony Valley and the two had stopped in a market to grab a few morsels of sustenance. The comment came from Adolfus' own unusual arousal at the ferocity in which Loss had devoured a whole turkey leg. With even, caramel skin and an aptly placed mole just below his left brow, the man was anything but unattractive. However, Loss knew that involvement with Argus' company was strictly forbidden and would warrant punishment.
"It's at least another day's journey to Frond," spoke Argus. "We ought to stop in Fallengale for the night." He parted the velvet plum curtains to his left and eyed the slowly setting sun. The sky was painted with sumptuous hues of purples, yellows, and reds that seemed to melt into each other and sink underneath the horizon.
"Quiescet!" Bane's voice could be heard from the carriage in front, calling the horses to a halt. Shortly after, all the carriages were stopped in a thin brush of trees. The door to Argus' coach creaked open and Bane's form became visible.
"Why are we stopped." Argus inquired.
"Bodies up ahead," He stated in a gravelly tone, then his deep brown eyes flicked over to Loss. "My company is going to investigate, and you're accompanying as well, peasant." Loss knew not to argue with this request since no protest was spoken by his superior. The caravan shook violently as the man's large mass shifted to exit into the crisp fall evening. Decayed leaves crunched beneath his heels as he followed Bane to join the rest of his fellowship. They'd already had weapons drawn and were examining the bodies of what looked like medicine peddlers; their figures were mangled and several of the bodies were missing limbs.
"Some of this blood is still warm, Captain." One of the men spoke. Bane mulled over these words, for that meant the attacker could very well be close by.
"What manner of beast is capable of something this gruesome?" Another soldier asked.
"Me." The captain stated flatly as he pushed past his company to observe the damage. "If you're still here, you ought to show yourself or piss off!" He called in a thundering baritone. Tension filled the atmosphere and the entirety of the forest fell into a silent hush.
"Captain!" One of his men exclaimed frantically as a ball of flame whizzed past Bane's anger stricken face and struck a tree behind him. It served as a form of torch for the gradually darkening forest. From the treeline stepped a boy clad in deep onyx and aqua magus robes, brandishing a book whose pages flipped violently and stopped at an unknown page.
"Ha! A battle mage? Let us see how those spells fare when I cut your tongue from your skull, worm!" Bane shouted and drew his lance. The other men knew better than to interfere, they'd seen enough of their comrades fall at the Captain's hands. Loss drew his chipped blade and rusted shield, prepared for the ensuing conflict.
"Ortum, inmortui." The mage spoke, his eyes glowed like the white moonlight as the bodies below began to move. Before they knew it, Captain Bane and his company were surrounded by a band of the undead.
"Gaaargh!" Came a cry of a soldier as one of the reanimated latched itself to his throat. Their unnatural snarls and wails filled the air as Adolfus exited his caravan to investigate.
"What in blue blazes is all the-" He stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell upon the scene before him.
"Tell Lord Argus and Countess Greta to stay inside! We can handle this." Loss commanded. Normally Adolfus would have never taken an order from him, and Bane would have wrung his neck for even attempting to. But under the current circumstances, that had seemed to be the best option.
Loss bashed the head of an approaching undead with his shield, then drove his sword straight through its chest. It slumped to the ground without a struggle. Meanwhile, Bane danced with the mage himself. His golden lance reflected the light of the setting sun with each wide swing but met only air or the ethereal dagger the mage had summoned. The young boy was quick on his feet and obviously had some sort of battle experience. Bane aimed for his head with a thrust, the boy parried with his own blade and struck the captain's chest with his open palm. He spoke an indecipherable spell and sent Bane flying backward into a nearby tree. The boy looked pleased with himself.
Loss took this opportunity to catch him off-guard with a slash to his back. Though he caught only cloth, he still got the boy's attention. The mage swiped at him with his summoned blade, each time, Loss swiftly dodged until he saw an opening. Without hesitation, he placed a kick to the boy's chest that sent him tumbling to the ground. As the blackness left his vision, the boy stared up to see that Bane was descending upon him from above with his lance pointing straight down at his person. Quickly, he barrel-rolled aside, causing Bane to lodge his weapon into the earth below. The mage was back on his feet but only moments later, a soldier approached, swinging his sword formlessly in the mage's direction. He struck the soldier's arm with enough force to knock the weapon from his hand, then followed up with two more to his underarm and neck, two of the few areas his armor did not cover. The soldier fell to his knees and as he did, the mage spoke another spell. His opponent's armor began to glow red hot and melt into his skin. The man wailed.
Loss and Bane regrouped before charging at the mage again with coordinated attacks. Bane swept low with his lance, an attack the mage saw coming as he suspended himself in the air. It was then that Loss leaped over Bane's figure and struck the boy with his blade. He blocked it, but it was clear that the attack had still damaged him. Behind them, the remaining soldier had dispatched the undead and came to join the duo. He grabbed the blade of one of his fallen companions and dual-wielded both with skill and grace.
The mage levitated upward and landed on a tree branch high above, all the while his book floated behind him.
"What's your name, soldier?" Bane asked, his eyes still glued to the mage's figure as it ascended.
"Carmine, Sir." He stated shakily. His helmet had been removed, revealing a bloodied nose and a head of buzzcut brown hair.
"Congratulations, boy, you've just been promoted."
"Thank you, Sir. It's an honor-"
"Save the pleasantries. Keep on your toes." The captain interrupted as balls of fire the size of oranges rained down upon them. The three split to avoid the hail of fire as the mage continued his chanting.
"Listen, peasant!" Loss looked up from his position behind a tree to see Bane crouched at a nearby boulder. "I'm going to throw my lance a meter in front of us, it seems his flames track movement. When I do, I want you to give Carmine a boost up the tree to the mage, understand?" Loss frowned, not that Bane could see in the darkness anyway. It was a half-baked plan, but they didn't have much of a choice at the moment, it seemed.
Bane readied his lance but stopped as the mage cried out in pain. It would seem that Carmine had struck him with a throwing knife from his position up in a nearby tree, but the mage still hadn't spotted him. It was at this moment that a chained whip tore through the air and wound itself tightly around the mage's neck, stopping the half-spoken spell in his throat. This was Adolfus' weapon of choice.
"Adolfus!" Bane exclaimed heartily. "I see you decided to join the affair." He stepped from his hiding spot and beckoned for Loss to do the same.
"Well, I could not sit back and let you have all the fun, now could I?" Adolphus chimed with a smirk, all the while the mage scratched at the chains stopping his airflow.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," He chided, his grip steadfast against the chain whip. "That only makes it cling tighter." He told no lies, for the chain began to seep into his skin and constrict the airway even tighter. The mage was slowly losing consciousness and fell from the tree to the forest floor below with a resounding "THUD" that signaled the end of the battle. The book of spells landed shortly after.
Adolfus whistled a call that beckoned the chain to return to his arm. The mage lay facedown, his long pearl, white hair covering his face and neck area.
"Is he dead?" Loss inquired as he approached.
"Not from the chain, however, I assume the fall could have killed him."
"You saved our hides this time, Gay." Bane said as he gave Adolfus a hard pat on the back that shifted him forward a bit.
"It wouldn't be the first time I saved your ass, Captain."
Carmine approached the three of them in their position surrounding the unconscious mage.
"You did good, boy." The captain spoke, but Carmine was not sure if he referred to him or to the mage. "Time to end this swine." Bane raised his lance high above his head, ready to drive it into the back of the mage's skull.
"Hold on a moment," Adolfus put his arm in the way of Bane's strike. The fierce man's eyes narrowed and glared at Gay as if he'd just halted his last meal.
"You had better have a good reason for interrupting this execution, Gay."
"I do," He answered flatly.
"He does," Argus' voice rang clear as he and Greta emerge from the shadows into the light of the dying flames around them. "I wish to speak with this one."
"Why on earth-" Bane began in an enraged tone, but Argus cut him a gaze that silenced him immediately. The commander moved over to the boy's body and rolled him onto his back.
"As you know, Bane," he had decided to answer his lackey's question, though he had absolutely no obligation to whatsoever. "I myself am a warlock, quite a step up from the smoke-and-mirrors parlor tricks this boy was pulling. But, nonetheless, I see potential in those untrained hands of his," He brushed a few strands from the young mage's face and checked his pulse.
"Honestly, Argus, what is it with you and restoring these lost causes. I say we just let Bane get rid of him." Greta chided as she folded her arms.
"But then how would we ever know who sent him?" At this, they all fell silent. "My deduction is that he was sent to kill one of us, which means that someone knows about our trek to Frond. If this assassin does not return, they will undoubtedly send another. Possibly more than just the one if my previous assumption is correct. In any case, we can question this one further to find out who his employer is."