Book 1:The Age of Disaster

The Age of Disaster

Year 1098. Winter.

The high castle walls were unshakable. Or were they?

A black clothed shadow scaled the stone parapet with ease. Simple to the senior thief.

The heister pulled the black cloth over freezing cheeks and lips. Jumping with ease to the closest balcony, the thin, but strong, arm grabbed the gold balustrade. Pulling his body over the banister, the thief paused as a soldier patrolled the alley metres below.

Dusting off the skintight, onyx attire, average of a thief from the "Shadow Assembly", he opens the balcony door nonchalantly.  In the extravagant, shining room, a figure rested behind the red curtain of a grand four-poster bed. The young prince, the tender age of 15. The thief grimaced, a life that short should not be taken away so soon. Yet, it could be necessary to save the rest of the nation.

Luckily, it wasn't his job to steal a life. Just the crown sword. Stepping over wooden soldier figurines and hobby-horses lying on the floor, the thief sneaks out the solid room door and down the hallway. Making sure no marks were left on the plush, velvet runner, he snuck down the curling stariwell to the basement.

"Hmph, kind of messy." The thief flicked a tarnished breastplate away with his foot. "Where would I be if I was a valued object?" Digging around in the piles of rusted armour, a shine was finally seen. Lifting the blade carefully, the thief smiled at it contemptously. "Ooh, shiny. Haven't seen much action since the Battle of Kinnings, eh?" Tucking the long cutlass into his belt, he pulled off his bandana and attached a scrap of paper to it. Putting it neatly on the pile, he jumped out of the nearest fenestra, landing on the top of  a turret with amazing ease.

Fading into the shadows, the thief avoided the shaking of the walls that would soon follow....