Prologue (Complete)

Prologue

Malcolm
"Let's have a party, boys!" Malcolm heard as he was forced from his peaceful sleep and responded with a groan. "Not this shit again..." Malcolm Branfield, a hedge knight that foolishly thought it would be a good idea to spend the night in a damn tavern. Malcolm hated waking up early, he couldn't stand it. Malcolm was determined to go back to sleep, that was when he heard the old man that owned the tavern, "Get the fuck out!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. It was then that Malcolm realized his cursed morality would interfere with his peaceful sleep. Malcolm reluctantly climbed from his bed and grabbed his sword. He didn't bother putting on his armor as he was convinced whatever rabble was down there, was no threat to him. Malcolm walked downstairs and kept his sword sheathed in the hope that he could resolve this without bloodshed. Malcolm saw the distressed face of the old man turn into relief when he became aware of Malcolm's presense. "Ser Malcolm, Ser Malcolm please!". Malcolm groaned, making no attempt to hide how annoyed he was. The old man gestured to a group of well armored men sitting at a table, Malcolm noticed the men were incredibly loud. "These savages refuse to pay, they grope my daughters and they cannot be reasoned with, I want them gone!" Malcolm raised an eyebrow "What exactly do you expect me to do?". "Kill them! Or kick them out, I don't care, just make them disappear!" Malcolm eyed the group and what appeared to be their leader. He was a muscular man with a greatsword, he had dark hair and a beard, he looked like a real brute. Malcolm had no doubt that he could take him easily. Malcolm approached the man "Excuse me?" the brute ignored him and Malcolm became frustrated "I'm talking to you!" he shouted. The brute turned and was visibly annoyed "What?" he spat at Malcolm. "You're not welcome here anymore, you need to leave" Malcolm responded sternly. The brute laughed "How do you see me leaving?" Malcolm glared daggers at the brute "On your feet, or on a corpse cart" the brute was not ammused by Malcolm's threat and rised from his seat revealing himself to be much taller than Malcolm. "Shit, you did not look that intimidating from the other side of the room" Malcolm gulped. The brute growled as he drew his greatsword and took a swing at Malcolm. Malcolm jumped back and drew his sword "Corpse cart it is" the brute growled again "You think you can kill me? You don't even have armor!" Malcolm smirked "I'd be concerned if there was a chance of you hitting me". The brute charged Malcolm and Malcolm easily dodged his strike "leave him! He's mine" the brute shouted to his men. Malcolm studied the brutes armor, it was good armor, Malcolm couldn't see an opening, he had to aim for his head. The brute took another swing and Malcolm dodged it, and hit him in the back, the armor prrotected him but dazed him. Malcolm took the opportunity to barge him into a nearby table, the brute tripped over and Malcolm thrust his sword from the back of his head and straight through his mouth. Malcolm picked his sword back up and glared at the two men who were with the brute and Malcolm simply asked "feet or corpse cart?" the men got the message and ran. "Thank you Ser Malcolm, a thousand blessings upon you" Malcolm heard the old man's praise as he sheathed his sword. Then Malcolm heard a sterner voice "You're too cocky" Malcolm chuckled as he turned to greet the voice "What you call cocky, I call an accurate assessment of my skills" Malcolm saw the man and gasped, he had short blonde hair and a pair of green eyes "Samuel!" Malcolm charged forward to hug his brother Samuel laughed, "Yes brother it's me, now please get off me, you're covered in blood." Malcolm laughed, his older brother always managed to make light of everything "What are you doing here?" Samuel's expression changed to a stern one "You're family needs you Malcolm, I've come to bring you home" Malcolm grew concerned "Has something happened?" "Has something happened" Samuel mocked him "You speak as though you don't know there's a war on." Samuel sighed "Save your questions, I'll answer them on the way home, pack your things, I've two horses outside and we're leaving" Malcolm's eyes widened "But--" "Now Malcolm!" Samuel ordered.

Gregor.
"Give me another!" Gregor, the heir of House Forrester shouted as he finished another mug of ale. "You've had enough, m'lord, I told you to take it easy" Duncan, Gregor's best friend said. "And I told you to stop calling me 'm'lord, my name is Gregor and why can't you just let me have some fun!" he laughed and Duncan could barely hold back a smile "Because I know you m'l-- Gregor... you're trying to drink your problems with your father away" Gregor put down his mug and frowned. Duncan sighed "You can trust me Gregor, we're friends." Gregor nodded "It's just, my father is determined to start another damn war with the Whitehills and any talk of piece angers him" Duncan nodded "Your father's seen a lot of war, and your two Houses history has a lot of it, I imagine all he sees when he sees a Whitehill is an enemy". Gregor nodded "I understand but we don't have to be enemies, we--" "GREGOR!" Gregor gasped "shit" when his father charged in, Thorren Forrester, lord of Ironrath always put a room to silence. "You don't think he'll be able to tell I'm drunk do you?" Duncan laughed "Oh he'll definitely be able to tell." "GREGOR! NOW!" "Yes father!" Gregor quickly followed his father outside. Thorren studied Gregor as he tried to stand straight to hide how drunk he was "You're fucking drunk, aren't you?" Thorren accused his son and Gregor simply nodded, Thorren always knew when Gregor lied. Thorren sighed "Forget it, we have something important to discuss." Thorren walked towards Ironrath's gate "Is something wrong?" Gregor asked. "Yes" Thorren confirmed. "I've been instructed to lead a force against an enemy House but I'm needed at the Trident. So you'll go in my place." Gregor smiled, he finally had a chance to prove himself "I won't fail you--" "It's the Branfields, son" Gregor's eyes widened, his thoughts went to his recent wife Elissa "but that's--" "I'm perfectly aware it's your wife's family boy, but orders are orders" Thorren interrupted Gregor again. "But that's not the problem" Thorren sighed "You're to work alongside several other Northern Houses to destroy the Branfields, the Glenmores, the Degores and... the Whitehills" Thorren looked disgusted by the thought of Forresters fighting alongside Whitehills. Gregor was interested by the idea but kept his thoughts to himself. "Let's be clear about this son, you're to ally for now but never forget that they're our enemies, the Whitehills are not to be trusted." "Of course father" Gregor nodded and Thorren seemed pleased "I agreed to meet them all here, you'll greet them and discuss your plans for the battle" Gregor nodded once again. "I'll be taking majority of our soldiers but your new allies should make up for that." Thorren climbed to his horse "Farewell my son" "farewell father" Father and son bid eachother farewell when suddenly Thorren stopped "One more thing, every Branfield has to die, orders are to completely eradicate them." Gregor gulped, dark days are coming his way.