The Key: Sails and Tide

Prologue

JNANG DYNASTY

Herly, Burgthon Province

This night was in no way outstanding.

His heart danced wild within the cage that guided it. Rationality would be a miracle if it ever came. This was fate's doing. With his blinded thoughts and rising fright, the youth found himself useless -- useless to the alarmed Lord even.

No. This wasn't fate. It was him. His error. His own blind mistake.

The Teacher had asked to see him. The youth had no clear sense as to this impromptu call. The House had let him go even. They saw no threat in his leaving. Besides, it was vain trying to run away from the establishment. They always knew how to hunt down defectors, and then meet their foolishness with cruelty.

A tingle of amusement had ran through his veins. A moment outside the walls of the House of Hands seemed like eternity. For each step he had taken, the prickling feeling heightened with an absurd delight.

It all should have played out as he imagined.

No. It had a cost. He had inadvertently ushered the killers straight into his Masters castle. And now here he lay, with his Master, only moments to be torn away from existence.

His wavering thought almost conjured the whole scene of his misjudgement and the reason for all the bloodshed. But the shaky voice banished his fantasy.

"Elreal!" The troubled man called to the boy. The man's eyes were wrinkled with bitterness. His countenance burnt with agony. He felt guilty.

But Elreal was confused. He was the reason to this skirmish. Why did his Master feel guilty?

"Take these things and exit this castle at once." The teacher sighed, handing the youth now a Map, a pair of pure Mongthon province blades, and the strange Gold Key.

They were only moments to facing cruel enemies. The boy found the Lords current disposition absurd. Why would he dare tell him to flee? Moreover what was he supposed to do with a mere Map? And how truly was a Key sure to help in the troubles that strived for them with ravenous appetite?

For the first time Elreal found the Lord's current call to be wrong. He could verily tell what the lord was implying. He was meaning to make him run like a coward. No. Together they could take down the marching calamity. He would not run.

"What about you?" The Elreal's voice was firm. His countenance harder. He would not leave the Lord's side.

He could never imagine leaving the Lord helpless. The Lord could try all he wanted, but Elreal had his resolve already -- to stand by him till the end.

The Lord's eyes darted undisciplined -- from the boy, to the shut doors sure to be broken down in few moments. His fist clenched. His lips firm, and his eyes narrowed. Elreal had just seen that emotion for the first time that night on the Lord -- Anger.

He tried to make a word but was halted by the intrusion of a strong roar.
The enemies had alas come. They were drawing to consume.

"Take refuge," Lord Paltiel spoke hastily, as he pushed the youth quickly onto the large mahogany wardrobe.

The youth who had boasted only moments earlier that he would choose death a thousand times than leave the lord' side, turned jaded at the very sight if death. And like a coward he rushed for refuge behind the doors of the wardrobe, without even an ounce of might to refute.

By a slit on the wooden closet's entrance, he commanded view on the entirety of things in the room.

Brusquely the jammed door came opening of an arrogant charge and in drove the foes -- all eight evil staring fellows. Their eyes held fire, bitterness and ill intent. Covered in the shower of their victims blood, they drove in with a smirk and menacing amusement.