Early Foresight

"Do you think our battalion will win?"

"I don't know. Will we?"

"Do you think I can die in the war?"

"I don't know. Is it not your life?"

"Are you worried about my life now?"

"I am not sure. Should I be?"

    Alexander slowly let out a frustrated sigh, his gaze fell down at his son. He often wondered why his own blood was like this, who neither had any interest in war strategy, nor people around him. His only son Jordan was going to seventeen years old after two moon, his beginning to become a man. But he was always so inattentive about the things around him, except nature, which made his father slightly concerned.

"Commander Alexander!" someone knocked at the door thrice, the voice sounded restless.

"Come in," Alexander declared.

    A middle-aged senior soldier Amro hurriedly paced into the hall room with his heavy boots. He looked like a storm had gone over him, his outfit was covered with dust and sweat. He glanced at Jordan with a weird expression at his face. Jordan noticed the soldier's face, but didn't give any reaction, just turned back to the book he was reading.

"Amro, why do look so grinding?" he glowered at him. "Did you fight in an illegal duel again?"

"No, no, Commander!" he vigorously waved his hands and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment from his cloak. "I didn't get into a fight, but I have some pretty bad news, Commander. I just got this," Amro extended the parchment to him. "And Commander, Lord Nrikawn has asked for you."

Alexander heaved a quiet sigh.

"King Ramos has died," Jordan uttered the words which his father were exactly going to say. Alexander was a little surprised after hearing him.

He sighed again. Another war was coming.

• • • • •

Nrikawn indolently poured the golden cup with a little amount of colorless wine, then slowly parted his lips, tasting it by small sips.

   The room he was sitting at, was astonishingly beautiful and well crafted, the walls were bright colored, the windows were decorated with rare flowers. The candles were lighted and the moonlight coming from outside with the cold wind, making a dark scene in the room. Nrikawn was used to sit in the light and dark like that, it calmed his body, exploring his mind to think.

A piece of parchment was lying on the table in front of him, the seal was broken. He picked up the paper with two of his fingers and glanced at it for the second and last time.

"Honorable Lord Nrikawn,

    We haven't seen each other for a long time and I politely apologize for this sudden letter. I know, what I am going to say next must be a huge shock to you. King Ramos has died of his severe illness tonight a while ago, I was with him by the time of deathbed. May God bless his heavenly soul. We both know what is going to happen tomorrow and yet, you have my deepest sympathy for your loss.

                                 - ELIJAH LONGLEAF                                   

                                     Hand of the King"

Nrikawn chuckled feebly and put the parchment down. He couldn't deny that tricky Elijah knew how to use words in letters and conduct the bravery coming from his little brain. He served his father for a long while, one of the greatest and most mighty kings of the eight kingdoms, King Ramos. Nrikawn had watched him carefully since he was little, it didn't take much time for him to realize what his hidden intentions were.

Elijah wanted to sit in the throne and to be the King, not just Hand of the King. But that hadn't been possible until the King had been dead. And now, it was an opportunity for him to seize the throne.

Alexander entered into the room, slightly panting because of the long stairs of the way to come here. He stepped front to the white oak table and bowed slightly, "My Lord."

   Nrikawn didn't look at him and continued to sip wine, like it was only work. Alexander knew that his master was very good at ignoring people and after staying by his side for many years, he had realized that his attitude was spontaneous. After a while, Nrikawn glanced up at the Commander of his army.

"Alex, obviously you heard, my father, the greatest King Ramos died," he spoke, with a hint of banter in his voice.

"My condolences, My Lord," Alexander said with a hard face.

"Do you know what does that man?" Nrikawn asked testily, staring at the wall where his portrait were hanging.

"It means....you and your brother Lord Moriah will fight in a battle," he stated carefully.

"When?"

"Maybe....tomorrow. Whenever you wish."

  Nrikawn put the cup down on the table and stood up. He was incredibly tall and handsome, his exceptional aura was enough to make someone scared. After a second, he extended his hand to him and ordered, "Hand me your sword, Alexander."

Commander obeyed his order and pulled out his sword from the leather casing and placed it at his hand without hesitation.

Nrikawn stared at the sword, then held it skillfully by his palm. "Alex, a war is just like an art, which you can't leave unfinished. In a war, there is no maybe," he swung the sword in the air, it stopped an inch away from his neck. "If I kill you now, what is going to happen? Are you going to live or die? Or maybe something else?"

Alexander gulped, standing still, looking into Nrikawn's intense gaze. "I am going to live or....die," he breathed out, could feel the touch of the cold metal in his neck.

"No maybe?" Nrikawn chuckled.

"No maybe," Alexander repeated.

  He gently put the sword back to his casing, then turned to the window. "Now, you go to Master Pieron's chamber and collect the copies of parchment from him. Send ten fastest Ravens to Lord Moriah's and his allies' castles and tell them to give the letters to the Lords."

"But tonight, My Lord...." Alexander hesitated to say the rumors about the rise of the Lord of Life.

Nrikawn looked outside of the window, at the black sky. "I don't believe in these hollow legends and I don't care if the ravens are afraid of the dark or some shitty Gods. I do not will to be a coward and attack them from behind. I want them to know in their hearts that I am coming," he said coldly and placed a finger at his clean chin. "What I order, must be obeyed."

Alexander nodded, "Yes, My Lord."

"Tomorrow sunrise," he gazed dreamily at the stars. "My brother and I will meet again in the Battle of Blood, where we are meant to fight," he tilted his gaze to him. "Don't stand there like a sculpture, Alex, prepare the soldiers and get the weapons ready for the war."

"Yes, My Lord," Alexander finally moved.

• • • • •

   Alvina moaned softly, when his stubbly chin brushed the skin of her chest, his rough breathing caressing her. A waves of tingle raced through her, his hand slid down her legs to make them apart. She shut her eyes with pleasure, giving her possession to her, desire beginning to overtake her.

Moriah threw up her head backwards on the pillow, sitting up and his hands started to tear up her white thin robe.

"Wait," she stopped his arm. "Can you put it off gently? I like it to wear, I do not want you to rip it up."

  Moriah chuckled at her words, then in a twitch of eyes, he twirled her on the bed, so her face was against the pillow, her back was to his hard, muscular chest.

"I will not rip it," he whispered, his lips were at the lace of her robe. He breathed out at her ear and suddenly caught her earlobe with his teeth, causing her shiver. He continued to nibble at there and his hips moved tightly around her waist, she bit her bottom lip, a burst of throbbing flaming between her legs.

His hand gently but forcefully removed the robe from her shoulders, his wet lips rubbing her skin, "You love to feel me from back, don't you, Alvina?"

His seductive whisper made her arching for more, she felt him become hardened from desire. He fully removed the robe from her body, then he lifted up his cloak too and she gasped for breath, when his naked skin collided with hers. His hot tongue barely brushed against her neck, their breaths were melting together.

"Moriahhh," she shivered at his name, her heavy eyelids fluttering with lust, the heat between her parted legs was too much, aching.

"A-alvina," a groan emanated from his mouth, his hands grasping her hips and he slowly commanded his entrance. His eyes flashed with pleasure and he intertwined his hand with hers on the bedcover, burying his face at her red heated nape.

  An elated heat ran through her when she felt him down there, even his breathing and his scent on her cheek were like blasts of fire. Alvina pressed her face hard to the soft pillow, moaning audibly, feeling the tip of him hard and deep inside of her, she was arching for more.

At that moment, there was a sudden bang on the door, "Lord Moriah! Lord Moriah!"

He clenched the flesh of her shoulders, grimacing. Alvina stopped moving, breathing hard, "Who is it?"

The bang continued.

Moriah sighed and clambered off from her, then hastily picked his cloak from the floor. "I am going to kill that bastard!" he snarled.

"Don't be angry, it must be urgent," Alvina sat up, covering her chest with her robe and brushed the strands of her hair from her face, her panting slowed.

After wearing clothes and armor, he leant to her and pressed his lips to her forehead. She was so surprised at that gesture, he never did anything caring like that to her before, but she smiled sweetly.

"Another night," he patted her head and walked to the door, his angry eyes returned again. 

"Lord Moriah__" the young man standing in front of him abruptly stooped talking, seeing his red eyes. Because Moriah, the second son of King Ramos and Queen Adelaide, was well known in this kingdom for his anger, atrocities and fighting skills. He was only thirty years old, but already he was one of the greatest swordsman of at that time, his ability could only be compared to his brother's, Nrikawn.

"If you don't speak within five seconds," he growled, putting his hand on his sword, "I am willing to make a solemn vow that I will strangle you."

The young man was shaking slightly after hearing his words, he knew how cruel his master could be. "F-forgive me, My Lord. Master of War Lord Severson has sent me to you to give you this," he extended the tiny roll of parchment, bowing his head deeply. "Your father, Greatest King Ramos has died a while ago, My Lord."

"W-what? What did you just say?" Moriah flinched, grabbing the roll from his hand.

"The Royal Committee is going to ring the Death Bell now. Pardon me, My Lord," he bowed again and left the place hurriedly.

    Then, the Death Bell would be rang for eight times for the heavenly decease of King Ramos Callan. Each time of the sacred rings represents the eight kingdoms of the world, for the sacrifice of his soul.

  Moriah covered his ears when he heard the rings of the Death Bell, because he just came across that he was in grave danger.

"The Battle of Blood," he whispered.