Prince Sakarus was a boy who did not know fear. This was partly due to the fact that he had never had a place to truly call home. He had grown up traveling the planet as his parents worked to unify it, and was treated with utmost respect by all whom he met. He had no roots, no problems. He had only himself, and his wild spirit. 

That was why he rode up Altair Hill so bravely, supported by a force of hardly fifty men. For in those days, the army of Lessaenes was not so mighty, and the young Empire could not afford to send large numbers of soldiers on such missions. Guarding the Imperial camp was always the priority.

As he approached the wall, he began to urge his horse on faster and faster, until he sailed over it in a heroic leap, landing triumphantly on the other side. He raised his sword and uttered a battle cry of inhuman length and depth, but was met not by black-clad knights, but by the horrified peasants of the township who stood before his mighty steed, their mouths agape. 

"W-who are you, and for what do you come?" A trembling man finally asked. 

"I am Prince Sakarus Arystenn of the Lessaenite Empire, and I come to bring justice to the wicked Magistrate who has shamed my father!" 

"Arystenn?" The man snorted, all traces of fear leaving his face. "You're the son of that loony baker who escaped fifteen years ago!" 

"Like father, like son," another man chuckled. "Delusional, the whole lot of them."

"Tell me where your Magistrate lives!" Sakarus seethed. "Then, we'll see who's delusional." 

"Haven't you heard?" A woman turned away from her work to address the Prince. "Poor old Lord DeGlann passed away just last week, bless his soul. Lord Devon DeGlann's the Magistrate now." 

"Even better," Sakarus pressed on, still unperturbed. "Where is this DeGlann? Show him to me, and we shall fight the battle of our fathers!" 

"He is a maniac," the woman hissed. "Enter his house, and you will not emerge alive." 

"I accept the challenge," Sakarus grinned. 

"I warn you against it- he is a murderous monster! He nearly killed his sister, Thalayna, for trying to run away." 

Sakarus stopped in his tracks. 

His sister, Thalayna. 

Was Devon DeGlann...his uncle? 

"Tell me! Where does he live?" he demanded, yet was met with no response. "Fine, then, I'll find him myself! Come on, boys!" he gestured to his soldiers, who immediately began to follow him through the cobblestone streets of Glaisse-Altair. They made quite a commotion as they approached the center of the township, their horses kicking up a dust storm in their wake. 

..............................

Devon DeGlann looked out the window of his mansion and smiled, seeing the group of arriving soldiers. They thought that they had the element of surprise, but in fact, the young Magistrate had been anticipating their arrival for several hours. 

"Krantus," he called unemotionally to the burly man seated behind him.

"Yes, My Lord," he said in a deep growl. 

"I want your men around my house. Defend the township at all costs- my people must never learn of the possibility of a better life in the Lessaenite Empire, or they may want to leave." He absentmindedly stroked the blade of his new axe. 

Krantus grunted, still not convinced. 

"Oh, I see. You require further motivation, do you? Very well, then, what do you want?" 

"Your sister," Krantus rasped hungrily, an image of the lovely Lady Thalayna occupying his mind. 

"She is all yours," Devon chuckled. "But, of course, you must kill her husband first." 

"It will be done." Krantus rose from his seat and hefted a colossal club over his shoulder. He stormed out the door, prepared to do his Magistrate's bidding. 

..............................

Sakarus' force was stopped in its tracks by a much larger squad of township knights, led by a bear-like man with arms bigger than tree trunks and a dark, foreboding face. He wielded a club that seemed wider than the young prince himself. 

"For Glaisse!" he let out a savage yell, rushing forward as he whacked two Lessaenite warriors off their horses with his club. 

For the first time, panic began to rise in Sakarus' chest. There was no way that he was going to win this fight. Not against this beast of a man. 

Then, suddenly, he remembered his Aura. 

It was his one advantage over the Glaisse-Altairians, the one thing he had that they didn't. 

He created an Aural shield, blocking a strike from the man. His remaining soldiers followed his example, using the Aural skills that they were taught. 

Annotation: As a modern Lessaenite, you may be confused as to why the soldiers did not start the battle with their Auras. Keep in mind that this was a time long before traditional Aura warfare, when the Aura was seen as a secondary defense, something to be used upon the failure of more traditional weaponry. The usage of Aura was still a brand new element of society, and wasn't as cemented in their minds as it is in ours. 

-Dr. Yulah

"Sorcery!" the Altairian knights lost their courage, their basic instincts taking hold of them. Sakarus' men began to tear through their ranks as they abandoned their spears in favor of prayer books. Despite this, the bear-man continued to fight with passion, singlehandedly keeping the Imperials away from his master's home. 

Realizing that the fight was going nowhere, Sakarus used the Aural Gift he had inherited from his father to lift himself off his horse's back and up to the highest balcony of the mansion that stood before him. He had seen some movement there, and wondered if he had stumbled upon an opportunity to quickly finish off Devon DeGlann. 

He landed noiselessly on the balcony and stepped inside, closing the glass door to muffle the clamor of battle outside. The room was richly furnished, and he found himself gaping at it in awe. This was the first time he had ever been inside a permanent settlement- it was so much nicer than his family's caravan. The dark, hardwood floors and thick carpets had an air of finality about them that could not be achieved by any temporary accommodation- no matter how fine. 

"Greetings, my dear nephew."

Sakarus whipped around at the sound of a slightly hoarse voice, tired from years of yelling. His uncle, Magistrate of Glaisse, was dressed in a long, silk robe and thick pants. A gleaming axe hung his side. To Sakarus' relief, he made no move to reach for it. 

"Aren't you going to...fight me?" The Prince gave him a confused look. 

"Now, why would I want to kill my only heir?" Devon shook his head. 

"Your heir?" Sakarus gasped. 

"Why, yes. You and I are the only DeGlann men left, now that my father is dead. This home, this township...it is all to be yours. Give it a good, long look." 

"I don't need your township," Sakarus snarled. "I got a whole empire waiting for me out there, in the real world." 

"To Altairians, there is no real world. The township is the entire universe. Wouldn't you like to be ruler of the universe? Any real man would." 

"Real men don't play pretend," Sakarus grinned. And then, in one swift motion, he sliced through his uncle's neck.