Bastian paced the ground impatiently with his arms folded across his chest. The sun was about to set and Amadeus still hadn't returned. The other commoners were growing restless. They only have themselves to blame for being too weak, he thought to himself. While the Avianath were not as ruthless in the pursuit of strength when compared to those brutes who called themselves the Rokuth, they still believed in making the most out of talent. When he was only a young boy, he was handpicked for his talent in combat and trained in the ways of the spear. It was an honor to serve in the Avianath army as a rider, and few were given the chance.

His twin, Bianca looked at him irritably, as if to know what he was thinking. Since birth, they had the uncanny ability to communicate with each other without speaking. It gave them a huge advantage in fights, and it came as no surprise when they were drafted together in the same riding unit. She stretched out her arms and twirled her head in a full circle. She was certainly a strong fighter as well; strong enough to earn his respect, but far from being his equal. With spear and shield, he had no rival among the tribe. Well, maybe except for Chief Penn. No one was foolish enough to go against him and his legendary spear, the Blackbird.

The athletic and agile Izenth who called himself Rei spoke animatedly with his daughter. From the way he carried himself, Bastian could tell that he was an experienced and deadly fighter. He had been so happy when she returned safely from the wilderness, he hadn't bother to ask why she was had returned alone. He didn't seem happy now though. Both of them were out of earshot but Bastian could tell from their body language that they were immersed in a full-fledged argument.

Bastian smirked and rolled his eyes. Family squabbles. It was just another distraction, another form of weakness. He promised himself he wouldn't allow himself to fall in love and settle down with a family. He never had a shortage of admirers from among the women in his tribe, but he never paid them any mind. He was too busy training; just a little more, just a little stronger. He wouldn't be satisfied until he was the strongest. The row of icicles that hung from the belt slung across Rei's shoulder glinted in the setting sun, and two daggers hung at the sides of his hips. Precision weapons, Bastian mused. Rei must rely on his skill and speed in battle instead of his strength. I'd have loved to test my skills against him in battle.

The Rokuth whom Amadeus called 'One' sat quietly next to Jarbus. His eyes remained pointed towards the edge of the commoner camp. Those eyes confused Bastian; they were filled with kindness, and looked nothing like the eyes of a warrior. The palladium on his back however, betrayed the weak façade that One portrayed. There was no doubt about it, One could single-handedly defeat several Avianath riders – no, riding units if he decided to. He was truly dangerous, like a volcano waiting to erupt. Yet... there he was. Sitting quietly, waiting as a dog did for his master. How Amadeus subdued One into acknowledging him as his master remained a mystery to Bastian. Curiosity gnawed at the corner of Bastian's mind; he would need to convince Amadeus to share the story with him someday.

While the women and children of the commoner camp remained hidden in their tents, the men were starting to gather around Jarbus. They must have realized that they were going to die anyway, might as well go down with a fight. It wouldn't do them any good though; they were too weak to fight the Nobles. Just look at what they are holding, pitchforks, hammers and assortments of different industrial tools. This had to be a joke, this rabble wanted to go up against the powerful Nobles?

Bastian laughed derisively at the sight of the desperate commoners huddling around Jarbus, waiting for a plan. Jarbus had the choice to be the general of the mighty Avianath riders and instead chose to lead a bunch of weaklings. He didn't mean to be cruel, but it was a hard truth of life. The weak dwindled and the strong survive.

General Jar— No, it was Jarbus now. Jarbus spoke with the commoners with authority, directing them. One thing about Jarbus, he always had a plan. In his heyday, he had led many a battle where the odds were close to impossible and still managed to gain a victory over the enemy. Sure, he had lost his great strength from the sluggish lifestyle that he had been living among the commoners, but he must have kept his quick wits about him. A tactician true-and-true, and strength that used to rival Chief Penn. What a waste of talent, Bastian thought with a sigh.

At Jarbus's word, the commoners scattered in all directions, their eyes renewed with hope. Each person had a sense of purpose as some of the commoners started driving sharp wooden spikes into the ground, ready to impale any Noble who was stupid enough to swoop down among them. Others coated the building with a layer of brown muck. It must have been wet mud, to prevent the Nobles from burning the building. Another group seemed to be soaking pieces of cloth and wrapping planks in them. Those planks were then used to seal up the windows of a large concrete building. It all came together in Bastian's mind; Jarbus was making them focus all their efforts in reinforcing the largest solid building in the commoner camp.

Putting all your eggs in one basket eh, Jarbus? Risky move. Bastian walked over to Jarbus, who was now standing alone, overseeing the preparations. "Turtle shell strategy?" he asked.

Jarbus nodded. "Women and children go in the building, while the men set up strategic structures and traps to defend it. Look at those spikes in the ground," pointed Jarbus at the group of commoners hammering away in the distance. The spikes were distanced evenly from one another, that one person could fit comfortably in between them. "The men will stay behind these stakes to discourage the Nobles from swooping in and picking them off."

"Have you considered range attacks?" Bastian asked. He knew it was a moot question the moment it left his mouth. While Jarbus had lost most of his impressive physique, he was still no doubt the greatest tactician the Avianath had ever seen.

"We don't have silver or steel like you do," replied Jarbus tapping the circular shield hanging on Bastian's back. The shield clanged and hummed with a ringing sound. "So we will coat our wooden bucket covers with mud. They should be sturdy enough to withstand objects and mud will keep the Nobles from setting them aflame."

"As expected of you... a solid plan. Well, as solid at it can be with the resources you have at your disposal," Bastian said while gesturing to the commoner's hard at work. "The turtle shell could be your best chance to survive this, but against an entire Noble army I have to say the odds still aren't looking good."

Jarbus nodded in acknowledgement. "I know the numbers well. We have about a thousand male commoners with us. White Harrow has a ten thousand strong battle-wizard army. That makes it—"

"Ten to one," interrupted Bastian. "Ten Nobles to one commoner. Might as well be a hundred to one. Even if it was one to one, the Nobles would clean the battlefield easily."

"Well... not so easily," said Jarbus with a smile as he put two fingers in between his lips and whistled loudly. There was a moment of silence before a humongous Eadren, perhaps twice the size of Bob swooped down from above. The wind being displaced by its wings were so powerful that the force caused Bastian to stumble back a few steps.

"That's... that's—" Bastian stuttered with his eyes wide open.

"My Eadren, Griff." Jarbus answered. "Eadren's are bonded to their masters for life; you know that. Did you think I would just let him go? I'm going to ride him tonight."

Apparently my old mentor didn't lose all of his battle prowess after all, smiled Bastian to himself. "That's very impressive Gener— I mean, Jarbus. But even with Griff and a group of commoners, you can't expect to hold off the entire army of White Harrow?"

"Well... either we hold out until my brother and the Avianath troops arrive, or..." Jarbus trailed off, not wanting to contemplate the alternative.

The sun had completely set, and only the moon illuminated the camp with its soft glow. It was a clear night and there was not a single cloud in the sky. There were only about four more hours before zero hour. Torches were lit as the commoners continued to work. The women and children were now emerging from their homes, shuffling into the reinforced building in a single file. Bread and potatoes were handed out, and the commoners were encouraged to eat up for strength for the coming battle. Battle? more like a slaughter, Bastian mused with a frown.

"Master!" the Rokuth shouted behind Jarbus and stood up, pointing at the wilderness boundary which he had been watching like a hawk.

Bastian looked towards the wilderness boundary, which was shrouded in darkness. A figure was emerging from the boundary, and he looked very much like Amadeus. He stopped a few steps from the boundary, his tunic whipping in the wind. There was something strange about his face; it was glowing. "What in the world—"

Distracted from their work at the strange sight before them, every eye was no upon the figure with the glowing face who had emerged from the wilderness. There was a presence emanating from him, one of power and authority. Looking at his face, Bastian felt like he was staring directly at the morning sun. Even at this distance, Bastian had to turn away his face. He felt like he would be brought to his knees.

"It can't be," one commoner whispered.

"Is that Amadeus the weakling?" another gasped.

"What is that power, I can't... I can't look directly at him."

"Help us!" a female voice shouted in panic.

"Calm down." Jarbus commanded, and the camp immediately fell silent. The sound of whistling wind was all that could be heard.

Everyone watched in silence as Jarbus took off his Avianath cloak and walked towards the glowing figure. He only managed to reach a stone's throw away from the figure before he was brought to his knees. He flung the cloak at the figure. "Put the cloak on and pull up the hood to cover your face!"

The figure complied with Jarbus's request and the glow was now dimmed. Jarbus managed to rise to his feet and walked over to the figure with One lumbering behind him. Rei and Izumi started to sprint towards the figure as well. Bastian glanced and Bianca who shrugged back. Clearly, she was saying, 'Sure, why not?' They both curiously walked towards the figure, wanting to see if it was really Amadeus emerging from the wilderness.

"Is that you, Amadeus?" Izumi asked.

The figure nodded. "Yes, it's me. Why is everyone staring at me like that? And why did Jarbus asked me to cover my face?" He suddenly gasped, as though a realization had dawned upon him. "Did I get scarred horribly while fighting earlier?"

Izumi giggled. "No, silly. Your face, it's glowing! What happened? It's been an hour since I left you."

"I'm glowing?" Amadeus' grin could be seen from beneath his hood. "I-I'm not sure, but I think it could be because I had this weird encounter. I was minding my own business, feeling sorry for myself. When suddenly Enoch comes up, and—"

"Enoch?" Rei interrupted him. "Surely, you can't mean 'the' Enoch?"

"What do you mean, 'the' Enoch? I only know one Enoch."

"Enoch is the most powerful prophet who has ever lived."

"Oh? Is that what Enoch does? I knew there was something weird about him," replied Amadeus. He paused for a while and tapped his chin with his finger. "So anyway, Enoch comes up and then tells me he wants me to talk to the one he serves. Of course, I had no choice in the matter. All of the sudden—"

"But the prophets serve the Maker. No one speaks with the Maker except the prophets!" Rei exclaimed. This is crazy, Bastian agreed with a nod while the others looked from Rei to Amadeus, waiting for him to continue.

"Well, I did," Amadeus insisted with frustration. "Stop interrupting me, Rei! Anyway, this really awesome and powerful presence covered the entire place." He started to tremble as he remembered what he had just experienced. No words would do it justice or describe it aptly. The others waited for him to continue, hanging on his every word.

"It was like time stood still." Amadeus paused again, struggling to find the words. "T-then this voice that sounded like thunder started speaking and I... I thought I was going to die... but in the end, the voice turned out to be really nice. He called himself the Maker. He told me to fight and defend the commoners. I can't describe it, but after he spoke to me I just knew I had to do it." There was a glint of determination in his eyes as he spoke. "No... wait. I didn't feel like I had to do it. I just felt deep down in my very being that this is my purpose; this is why I'm standing here. I'm going to defend the commoners against the Nobles. Even if it comes down to just me against all of them. I know it sounds crazy, but after speaking with the Maker, I feel like I can take on the world. So... here I am."

Author's Note: If you reached this far and haven't sounded off in the comments, please do. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Don't worry I don't bite. Also, vote if you liked what you've read :)