Awen | Priestess of Light

Chapter 4:1 The Roseriff Kingdom

Scars are tattoos with better stories

~anonymous

It was past noon when Lysander had reached his respective destination. At the top of a hill where the entire Roseriff kingdom can be seen with a huge Acacia tree stood alone in a beautiful landscape of Bermuda grass and bushes with blooming colorful flowers.

For years the solemnity and privacy of the place have been maintained with care and respect. Even though Lysander's mind was troubled, watching the familiar place gave him a comfortable sensation.

The Acacia tree has wide branches and healthy dark-green and green leaves with scattered red flowers atop of it. The sun-rays penetrating the small gaps between moving leaves, creating a beautiful masterpiece of dancing sunbeams.

Just watching the leaves gracefully swayed along with the wind together with the lovely scenery, Lysander could feel a flashed of memory washed over him.

It was a secret hide-out of the prince and him when they were still kids, almost every day they were here, playing. Often times they organized hard training to improved their skills, then they'd debated random things to kept them busy for the whole day. It was a great idea because they had both have different perspectives on life and have different opinions almost in all things. They were like the two sides of a coin yet strangely they get along smoothly. Though, one thing they have shared both that strengthen the bond between them.

They have both loved the sunset.

Before any day ended, they had ritually stared at the infernal lights while they would tried to figure what people might be doing at that hour, they had habitually surveyed the entire kingdom in that pace until beautiful tiny lights appeared at the horizon.

It was like yesterday Lysander had thought while he was touching the branches of the familiar Acacia tree if this was the same tree that had used to watch them silently over the past years. Lysander wasn't aware of some playful melancholic feelings until it had struck him today.

However, noises rudely distracted his moment of bittersweets throwbacks. His eyebrows instantly furrowed at the noise, but his eyes widen in delights when he remembered someone he knew.

Thus, disappointments enveloped him when the person wasn't the person he expected.

Scandalous noise came from two armored guards, bullying some random begar who fell asleep under the comfortable shade of Acacia tree, covered only with a dirty cloth from his head to toe. The two guards had these nasty attitude toward the unmoving begar. It was indeed an unpleasant sight and Lysander had to force himself to ignore the drama to maintained his low-profile. However, in his utter surprised they even had to pee on the poor man.

"Oi!"

The two guards turned at Lysander, surprised there was another person aside from them, and observing the expensive tunic and cloth of Lysander, they sent meaningful glances to one another with the hint of a small malicious smile on their faces. Unfortunately, they didn't notice the current darker face of Lysander who kept pushing his fingers into his palms.

Lysander was beyond mad.

"Oi? Were you talking to us, foreigner?" The armored guard with an intimidating look asked after he quickly fixed his fly, and without any shame, the guard wiped away his tainted hands on his cape. "Go back to the market place before we personally escort you out of the city proper. Foreigners aren't allowed at this place. Unless... You pay for our silence."

The guards have intimidating voice with the lace of irritating arrogance probably because they had higher ranks among the guards Lysander had seen today with the silver emblem on their armor that they proudly showing off. At the same time, they also have a huge body with a towering height higher than him.

"Oi? Are you deaf--"

It was just a split second when the world of the huge armored guard titled and he was flipped over in the mid-air then painfully met the ground after.

His heavy armor loudly rang, almost detached on his body. While the other one was dumbfounded staring at his companion, who was groaning, twisting in so much pain he received and still receiving. Considering Lysander kept twisting his arm in a painful way.

"Don't you dare touch me with your filthy hands!" Lysander almost growled at him, showing his perfectly white teeth. "And I wasn't a foreigner of this land you fool!"

In the gap of Lysander's cloth, the lying guard could make out the gold emblem of Lysander's clan. The Red Pheonix proudly spreading his wings ready to take his flight. The famous emblem and the symbol of one of the most powerful clans here in Roseriff, the clan that had threatened the power of the royal family for several years now.

The Braveheart clan.

When the other guard finally had composed himself, he quickly moved to strike at Lysander, drew his sword in the process yet he didn't notice the warning look from his comrade. However, the guard mysteriously has been sent on the ground, face first.

"Can you tone it down, someone is currently sleeping here." The beggar that was now sitting upright announced irritatedly then yawned heartily after. The dirty cloth fell down when he stretched his arms in the air. Revealing the beggar half-naked body.

It was too obvious, that the beggar accent wasn't from this land, even the language he was using was a mixture of eastern and western words yet his accent was distinguishedly from the western continent.

The myaterious continent where the temple of Mythryl moon goddess was residing. The Mourodowey kingdom.

But that wasn't the thing that took Lysander's interest and didn't realize he was staring at the exposed half-naked body of the beggar. Yet he could not blame himself because it was indeed extraordinary.

As if God personally sculptured the beggar's biceps and well-defined muscles. Lysander knew that kind of shapes only formed in endless hard training for decades and even in Arena of Pheonicios, he haven't seen anything like this one. For some reasons, he felt a little ashamed for his body compared to the old man.

Unconsciously Lysander's eyes roamed at scars on the beggar's body, especially the big and horrendous scar on his chest, the biggest scar Lysander had seen in his entire life.

He had seen many scars caused by different weapons at the Arena of Pheonicious yet the beggar scar was different, entirely overwhelming. Lysander had tried to speculate what kind of weapon or things could create such scar yet nothing came realistically. He had thought. It was a miracle to survive that kind of injury.

"Martial arts is created for self-defense but if anyone will use it recklessly upon the weak, then it will become violence that soon could create murder, Florence."