The Jela Mueseum

Prologue

ᘀ Jaeson ᗽ

As quietly as he could Ettan turned, closed and locked the door. Then he slowly crept down the narrow staircase. Suddenly, there was a loud banging on the door above him and after about a minute or two, as suddenly as it started, the banging stopped. This happened a few more times start, stop, start, stop but after a while, the banging went like mad.

A crackling began in the background and then a voice rang out, "You're a dead man, Cannore!"

This being quite scary to him, he looked hastily for an escape. Ettan was small and skinny so he could fit into tight spaces. Swiftly he scrambled into the air vent on his left. After crawling only a few feet he started to feel a burning sensation at his back. Turning as best he could, he was able to see a slight red glow. Knowing that this may be the last thing he would see he stopped to let himself go quickly.

***

Jaeson could barely recognize his younger brother, he was just a pile of ashy flesh and bone. His vibrant green eyes, they were like meadows speckled with flakes of gold were now just the pits of the dark empty sockets. And his hair, there was nothing left of that blonde mess. Whoever did this, would pay. No one could do this a person and get away with it.

2 Years Later

Jaeson Cannore never really fit in especially after what happened to his brother, Jaeson was tall, slim, and had an athletic build with his father's high cheekbones and his Mother's perfect nose, he also got his startling red hair from his grandfather and his eyes were slate-gray like his younger sister.

While he was handsome (some of the girls liked him) he couldn't settle with his looks and wanted to change them in any way. He was known as "the Cannore boy" and he hated it.

***

Jaeson entered the shop glumly. "How could I work on the anniversary of his brother's death?" he wondered. He only wanted to stay home and grieve but that would do no good. He had to work at the post shop to get all the news he could on assassinations.

"Hey, son you gonna getter work?", asked the gruff shopkeeper.

"Huh, sorry sir," muttered Jason.

"Don't mind one bit long as you get your hours, oh and sorry about yer brother. Just learned what happened." the shopkeeper grunted.

"Oh don't bother. It's been two years. He's dead now. Nothing I can do about it." snapped Jaeson.

"Where have you been for the last two years you old hag?" Jaeson thought.

"Actually, you can. The rebels need some recruits. And the recruiter is a friend of mine. His name is Anthon Fairront." said the shopkeeper in a hushed whisper.

"You old hag. You honestly think I want to go die with a bunch of idiots driven by blood lust, that doesn't even know what they're fighting for." Jaeson said fiercely.

"How dare you talk about Sergeant Anthon that way you little punk get out of my shop! Get out! NOW!" screamed the shopkeeper.

"Wait one minute. How come you're defending the Sergeant?̈" said Jaeson, thinking and after a moment he added, "You want me to lead you to him."

Moving quickly, Jaeson attacked the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper went for the long knife under the counter. He grabbed and missed. Moving closer to the counter to get the knife Jaeson tripped the shopkeeper. He fell hard-hitting his head on the table with a loud smack. He slumped to the floor, dead.

"Now did this really have to happen?" whispered Jaeson, mainly to himself.

Thinking hard Jaeson got an idea. He pulled a heavy box off the shelf and dumped its contents on the shopkeeper, setting the box down next to him. Then he put the stool on its side.