Lothar, Traetos Province, Southern Avestria

Herios had finally regained his consciousness and when he opened his eyes, he found himself lying below a stone ceiling with damp corners and an acrid smell all around the room. As he glanced around, he found himself inside a dungeon alongside the captured soldiers of Lothar. Most of them were maimed but some of them were well enough to walk around. The dungeon was enclosed by rusty bars that had trapped the entire horde into one chamber. "You are awake," said a voice from behind. Herios lifted his back to sit erect and turned behind, towards the voice. It was Ikshah, the bowman who had saved him from getting impaled by a spear over the rampart.

"We thought you were dead. Anyways, we are all dead now, either way" said Ikshah nonchalantly. There were a rustic slang and a hint of surrender in his tone. Herios's eyes somehow adjusted to the dark chamber illuminated by rays of light which entered through a small opening at the corner of the room.

"What happened to the kingdom? Is anyone alive?" asked Herios, worriedly. Ikshah snorted and chortled a little.

"Alive? Everything up there is burned. No one would have survived that. Even if they did, they must have been taken as slaves by now," replied Ikshah. He was sitting with his legs folded, scribbling something on the floor with his fingernail. Herios was petrified on hearing this. Were his siblings and his grandmother killed? Was he the only one remaining? His thoughts perturbed him. "Where are we?" he asked. Ikshah glimpsed at him. He could see the terror on Herios's face.

"Look around you and take a guess," Ikshah replied tersely. "I-I need to get out of here. I-I need to find them," Herios said. His voice faltered and his throat was parched. He stood instantly and rushed towards the bars. The soldiers seated in front of him were befuddled. Herios started pulling on those bars vigorously and banging on them but with no avail. Ikshah sighed in exasperation. He was disheartened that a boy of eight Mesha was going to be butchered along with them, but he was helpless in this case.

Tears dropped from Herios's eyes but they were not because he was afraid but because he was angry. He started punching the bars fiercely and kept on punching until his knuckles were skinned and wounds appeared over them. Then he punched some more.

"Knock it off Kid! You are just hurting yourself." yelled one of the soldiers. Herios halted and looked at his knuckles. There were wounds over them, but he wasn't satisfied. His inner self was disheartened, knowing about the loss of his family, but equally vengeful about killing the murderers who butchered them. Once his knuckles could no longer take any more wounds and his shoulders were flagged from the punching action, he cried, by resting his forehead over the bars, filled with sorrow and regret.

He just couldn't acknowledge the fact that his grandmother, the one who always helped everyone, would die such a brutal death. He couldn't accept that his pristine and innocent sister, Aerytha, would be killed and his maladroit but benign brother Mythra would be murdered by the invaders. He yelled and banged his head over the bars. Ikshah was startled and he immediately stood up and rushed towards Herios. Herios kept on banging his head until his temple had a bump over it. Ikshah yanked him.

"Stop it!! This isn't going to help," exclaimed Ikshah. Herios was exasperated. After a while, he was placated by Ikshah.

"What is your name?" asked Ikshah.

"Herios... Herios Neraepherus," he replied, impassively. Ikshah was astonished.

"Neraepherus? You are a Roshai? Are you related to our Ethnarch?" asked Ikshah, curiously. Herios denied.

"I am not a Roshai. My grandmother was a Roshai," he replied.

"Kid, Roshai is a social class. It's the highest in the hierarchy," replied Ikshah. Herios was befuddled because he was oblivious to the caste system of the Avestriān society. He had always believed that Roshai was a title, and as everyone knew his grandmother by that title, he thought it was reserved only for her.

"The House of Neraepherus belongs to the Eight Elder tribes of the continent, hence you are a Roshai. You have ancient blood in your lineage," spoke Ikshah. Herios was astounded on hearing this from Ikshah. All this time, he had thought that he was nothing more than an orphan who was being raised by the Roshai, but now he came to know about the origin of his blood. He also realized that he had never known his grandmother's name. How could he have been so ignorant even after reading all her books? He wondered, embarrassed by his ignorance.

"Where do you come from?" asked Ikshah. "I-I am an orphan. I was raised by granny Roshai. She was the head of the infirmary near the Temple of Seros, beside Lake Lush," replied Herios. He had to describe his grandmother's work so that Ikshah would know about his grandmother's identity. Ikshah nodded and looked at Herios with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, so you are the brother of that Caligor?" he asked, as he frowned upon Herios. Herios nodded affirmatively.

"Well...we were not related by blood. He was an orphan too, like me. He is not a Neraepherus. His name is Mythra Auctisila" replied Herios.

"We all know the story of that Caligor. Doesn't make any difference even if he belongs to the house of Auctisila, he is still a Caligor and he would always be" said Ikshah, dismissively. Herios was offended on hearing this derogatory remark about Mythra. Although Mythra was a troublemaker, he was still his brother. Herios somehow had always cared about him in his unsentimental way.

"What is your name?" asked Herios, looking at Ikshah. Ikshah snorted.

"Thought you'd never ask...I am Ikshah Rectasius*," he replied. Herios nodded, tersely.

"So hold on. If you are an orphan, how do you know that you are a Neraepherus?" asked Ikshah. Herios gradually took his finger near the string around his neck and pulled it out of his upper garment. He removed the string and displayed the pendant to Ikshah. It is a Talisman made from Vescar. Ikshah held it in his hand and glared at it to read the inscriptions.

"Well...It seems you are descended from Neraepherus bloodline. But then how did you end up as an orphan?" asked Ikshah, while reading the lineage carved over the talisman. With time, the carvings had become obscure, ergo Herios had never known the name of either of his parents.

"Granny found me in a basket floating by the river stream. Inside the basket, there was a baby with this talisman and...." Herios took a pause.

"And what?"

"And one more object that came with me," replied Herios. "What object?"

Herios hesitated to reveal the object but since Ikshah had saved him twice, he felt he could trust him. He put his hand inside the pocket and pulled out a closed fist. Ikshah was flustered and curious to know about it. Herios slowly opened his fist to reveal a small and squamous object. It resembled a fruit with a tough, scaly cover.

"What is it?" asked Ikshah. He tried to touch it but Herios retracted his hand.

"No. Only I can touch it," he said. Ikshah laughed. "What worse could happen?" Ikshah spoke and he gazed all around, hinting at the smelly dungeon, in which they were imprisoned. Herios hesitatingly extended his arm again. "Give it a try," he said. Ikshah warily advanced his fingers towards the object on hearing Herios's snide comment. The moment he touched the object, he snapped with a reflex. He felt a strong burn at his fingers. As his fingers pulled back, he saw that the enigmatic object was emanating fumes like it was on fire.

"What devilry is this? What just happened?" asked Ikshah, dumbfounded. Herios kept the object back into his pocket.

"How did you do it?" asked Ikshah. He was eager to know about this arcane object which burnt his fingers but not Herios's.

"I didn't do anything. This object can only be handled by me. If anyone else tries to touch it, it burns the hand of that thief," explained Herios, calmly.

"It's some kind of trick. The object is bewitched, isn't it?" asked Ikshah, trying to rationally explain this enigma, but Herios denied with a nod.

"It's no trick. No curse or a spell. That's just the way it is. It came along with me in the basket" he replied.

As Ikshah was wondering about that arcane object, they suddenly heard the stomping of footsteps on the staircase that led down to the dungeon. There was a group of Parso soldiers who had entered the prison and they were holding a firebrand in their hands to illuminate the dark environment of the chamber. Ikshah and all the soldiers of Lothar who were imprisoned in this dungeon were alarmed on seeing the Parso soldiers march towards them.

"What is it?" whispered Herios. Ikshah signaled him to stop talking.

One of the Parso soldiers held the firebrand near the hinge of the prison cell, while his other comrade opened the lock. The Parso soldiers were armed with weapons. Some of them appeared quite vicious and strong.

"Get up you rats!!" yelled the Parso who opened the lock and kicked one of the prisoners who was sitting near the hinge. "You are commanded to present yourself before your Autarch, at once. Get up and start walking" he said in a loud and daunting tone.

"Anyone tries to do something rebellious, he would suffer the most excruciating death" yelled the Parso. The prisoners got up and started walking towards the egress of the dungeon. They were infuriated and their blood was boiling with a vengeance, against these filthy invaders who had destroyed their beautiful town. Each one of Lothar's soldiers glared at the Parso soldiers with gritted teeth, when they walked past them.

When the prisoners stepped outside the dungeon, they saw the demolished citadel and the desecrated statues of their deities. The keeps were destroyed, the curtain stone wall was breached and everything had a blackish residue of ash, left behind by the burning. The soldiers of Lothar were infuriated on seeing this condition of the kingdom which they had served, all their life. Along with wrath, they also felt compunction for this state of their kingdom as they couldn't protect it from the invaders.

They thought of themselves as failures of their social class who couldn't execute their duty. As soon as the prisoners reached the middle bailey, they were terrified of seeing that most of the women and children were held as hostages by the Parso. They were the wives and sons and daughters of these soldiers of Lothar. Some of the soldiers ran towards their family with rage against the Parso but they were immediately impaled by the Parso archers stationed over the ramparts. Ikshah looked at everything and his fists were so tightly closed, that small drops of blood dripped from his palms as his fingernails sunk deep.

"You cowards!" he exclaimed. The commander of the Parso soldiers stepped forward. He was the one who had launched this campaign against the kingdom of Lothar. The commander was a stout man with broad shoulders. His belly was covered by a plackart and he wore armor, displaying the emblem of the Parso painted over the greenish banner. He had a dense beard, a dark skin, and wore a full-sleeved upper garment. Herios was terrified by this scenario. He just hoped that Aerytha and Mythra weren't captured by these invaders. There was a huge crowd of civilians who were taken as hostages by the Parso.

Herios could spot neither Mythra nor Aerytha in the crowd. He was partly relieved but partly worried about their whereabouts. The commander of Parso was standing on a platform stationed in the middle of the bailey and the civilians were forced to kneel in front of him. The bowmen of the Parso had stretched their bowstrings, with their arrows aimed at the civilians.

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Footnotes:

• Vescar was one of the strongest, naturally occurring element on the continent

• Rectasius was a clan from the Traetos Province