Broken Crusade (boyxboy)

Chapter 1: The Warlock

Altair’s POV

 "I am no more a witch than you are a wizard. If you take my life away, God will give you blood to drink.” The last words of the first convicted witch lingered through the air of the once rowdy town. Now all there was was the silence and cries from the men and women who hid behind locked doors. The trials weren't anything new; they simply decided to spring them about to the public merely a week ago. Ash engulfed the streets; rust blackened the fine artistry of the homes, now broken down. Filth and dirt seemed to gather and travel among the homeless. Blood from the innocent stained the walls which once held security and the hands of the officials who had promised safety.

It hasn't always been this way. I had a life; I actually lived wonderfully, in some kind of peace, if you’re into that kind of thing. Sadly, peace isn't forever. I walked down the ravaged streets. The vendors were out as always and a few men and women bought as they needed to keep their family living and scurried back to the safety of their homes. It must be cold… I thought. With my hands in my pockets, I walked down the street to one of the vendors for spices. “Caraway, fennel, kelp powder, and cinnamon, please” My voice was rough from a previous night of shouts and fights that had strung through the bars. Honestly, I was a mess; I came straight out of bed so my hair was more of a mess than usual and my robes were, not quite as presentable as I would have liked, but oh well.

“We’re out. You missed the rush.” The vendor didn't look up; probably too busy counting his cash.

 “Rush? “ Honestly what am I missing now?

 He looked up at me then, his eyes narrowed. “The tariffs have been raised, kid. Tomorrow, food won’t be as cheap, if you catch my drift.” He flashed a smirk as he thought of the money he would soon be cashing in.

 Kid? Seriously? I sighed, expecting that answer anyway. “Don’t you have anything?” I folded my arms.

“Heh, I might. Are you willing to cough up an extra coin? What do you need those for anyway, you a witch? Er…warlock?” The greed was clear in his eyes.

I shook my head, irritated. “Course not. Fine, whatever, double for an extra bag of fennel.”

“Hmhm, done, one moment.” He walked off to the back with a stupid smile on his face.

 I sighed as I looked up at the sky. Sadly, I am one and no form of sorcery will ever change that. Geez, I'm depressing. Not even a moment later, I heard a scream of a child. A filthy young girl in rags, maybe 5 or 6 years old, bumped into my legs. I simply stared down at her. My silence must have frightened her. She looked up at me like I was some giant. Some monster. The color drained from her face as she looked in my eyes. Did she notice?

 “S-Sorry mister…” She stumbled back afraid.

 “Whatever is the matter, young one? You look as if you've seen a ghost.”

 “S-Stranger…” She backed away from me even more as if touching me had set her ablaze. She ran off to where I suspected was her home. It was one of the worst looking homes I must say. 

 What did she mean by stranger? I looked in the direction she came from, curiously. All I saw from the distance was the smoke and an outline of a horse and its hooded rider who I couldn't quite make out.

 “Hey, kid.” The man’s voice sliced through my train of thought.

 I looked over at him dumbfounded. Suddenly remembering what I was doing, I took the bag from his hands and paid him, then left without a word. My skin was crawling; something about this ‘stranger’ didn't feel right. I’d rather not think about it, I had my own problems to deal with.