Thunder roared and lightning flashed lighting up the fields, the sounds of the waves crashing strong against the cliffs below. The lightning flashed again… you could see something come out of the shadow, they were 2 crosses. I walked into the ruins and picked up a piece of wood. It was inscribed: Marcel. I only stood there amongst the wreckage, thinking to myself, remembering the past.

Day Before the Next - Part I, A Story to Tell

"My life, they asked for my life... in a tale. My memory is as horrid as it is and they ask for my life on parchment. Is it not absurd to ask for such a thing before one's passing? I guess if the Duke really wishes to have the tales written out for ages to come, to add to the stacks of tales, politics, history, and such to his basement scrolls, possibly never to be read again. Oh what official businesses one must go through these years... the world is changing, then again it's always been this way. Where to start, though? Where- ah, yes, here. The year is 1529..."

The sword before me glimmered in the midday light. I swung it left to right and followed through, jabbing forward with it. Each blow was parried by the sword wielded across from me.

"Ah Jean, you are getting better." Dante said, his thick brown hair being thrown back as it intruded his face. His deep green eyes looked upon me with great potential.

"Thanks, Dante." I replied with much due grace.

My brother, Dante, was only a good 18 years of age now. My idol, he had fought in all sorts of places that Man was not deemed to see. He was a strong, serious, but sensitive man. He turned around and signaled me with two fingers to follow him. I was but 15 at the time, unknowing what the future held for one Jean Marcel, but ready to embrace it with all the force I had as an errant.

"Good morning father, mother." Dante said aloud as we walked towards the keep.

My father, Duke Alexander Marcel of l'Anguille, was an inspirational man. Time and time again he fought the inevitable hordes of Chaos in all of its forms, he had slain the fell ratmen of the underworld, and he had traveled to the very depths of Araby and the Zombie swamps to quell the undead from their unholy lives. He had kept l'Anguille at peace for the last 27 years.

My mother, Mercedes Marcel, was a kind and grateful woman. She, unlike any other, kept our family together in times of war and would always find a way to make sure everything was okay. My parents loved each other greatly and with a care that could not be described to the dear readers. One thing that separated her from most women, though, would be that she was a Lady Knight. My father met her during the end of a war in the Marches of Couronne, her skill has never been met by her opponents yet, and a truly amazing person, one I would like to say I'm proud to call my mother.

Walking into the open spaced heaven of stone, I asked Dante when I could fight alongside him in the future, his only response being "In time." I guess it was intended that I had to ‘grow up' first, even though I had just earned my steed not too long ago. But it was not to be too disappointed of, although I could only think that it should not be of age that judges your time of readiness, but your maturity. One who shows a great level of calmness and courage in battle is dubbed mature, I figured.  

***

Beasts threw themselves at him, his blade cleansed through their wrath in droves. Each one was removed of their head; each one fell to the ground lifeless. Beregond, the merciless, cut another down and another. Each died in valiant attempt to slay him. "It is you wretched scum which will taste my blade until each of you has learnt your lesson and cowers before me again!" He would swear at them.

Arden's ample forests provided the defenders of l'Anguille with many foes, countless thousands of Beasts seemed to scourge from its depths every day, unknowing of where they are actually coming from, but Beregond was one such defender. Entitled the "Keeper of the Forest" after leading a grand host and claiming over 5,000 bodies in a massive victory in the forest by Alexander Marcel, he was a well known knight in the Northern parts, in fact, it was he who was supposed to be leader of the Dukedom of l'Anguille for his father, Gallaviere Eléfer was the former duke, but, fate turned its hand away from him, the Lady's servants found him guilty of heresy and he was burned, the spirits of evil forever left these plains. His son had been seen with no taint in his heart by the servants of our Goddess, but for his father's evil, there is no throne to take for him.

Beregond's sword fell with a pounding downward thrust through the skull of another beast, the blood curdling noise of its skin and bone being ripped simultaneously would haunt any lesser man then him, battles like these were the ones he had a lust for. As the beasts fled at the sight of their leader being slain, Beregond nodded in another delightful victory in the woods, a single-handed victory at that. He headed back to the keep for the night, for now, Chaos could wait.

***

I hadn't known it at the time, but it had seemed that the Lady had already begun to move her pieces into play. With every step, every thought, every action, I had not realized it, but it was now that she slowly moved me, decided my destiny for better or for worse. Her paragon and I had not known it, if I did, it may not have had to come at its steep price.

Oh readers, how much I wish to write these words "What a glorious life I had." But it is not so, I must trouble you further with these tales. It begins so beautifully, it is a life one could only dream of, but soon it is to be darkened, too soon to tell yet, but soon none-the-less.

Beregond, there is a name I won't forget. What can I say about him... you know he was always an inspirational warrior? Though he had lost his position for the dukedom of l'Anguille, he was still one of the most influential knights in the land. I had met him once or twice... he was a questing knight. His blade was as big as he was, his beard was pretty long too... you could say he was compensating for something, but let us not stay on filthy thoughts now shall we? I never really liked him though, too arrogant.

***

It was just the middle of summer, it had been invigorating... so much discovery of the world, and I believed I had a place to play inside of it. Fate played its hand for my future, if only I had known where it led. The great gates of the fortress opened, Alexander, my father, walked in. He was equipped tightly with his armour and weapons as he slammed his fist on the table upon his arrival during dinner. Dante and I looked up to meet the rough exterior of his face, finding him gritting his teeth in thought.

"There is a gathering... the hordes of beasts in Arden have seemingly been organizing themselves. This is only a curse for Bretonnia. Beasts were horrible enough as they were when they would pillage and burn at random, in disorganized bands, but it seems that now comes a time for Chaos to surge forward from the depths of the wood. Something, someone, is leading them. Beregond had slaughtered a war band with his retinue just early this morning; he said they had acted fiercely, a force that was to be reckoned with. It seems that I will be forced to muster an army to quell whatever it is that is coming before it comes."

I gulped... I had seen the wrath and terror the Beasts of Chaos had dealt to our people. The dead, missing limbs, cuts, scrapes, broken bones, missing organs, decapitated heads... all hanging from trees, a disgusting tribute to their Dark God. Pools of blood bubbled at the base of these great trees. All around the borders of Arden these were made, such things were warnings. It made me wonder how knights like Beregond could even fight within the monstrous forest, let alone withstand what terrible things lay within there. I had seen the burning piles he had made before, a hundred bodies stacked... and burned. The stench had made me puke.

Within a few days, a muster was rallied from nearby towns. The peasants were brought in and equipped with the rough leftovers of their previous wearers... or, if they were lucky, the brand new weaponry and armour recently acquired. The levies of bowmen recruited to stand aside the knights stood with what pride they had, but just looking from my tower window, you could see the fear in their eyes, they too had seen the evil run through their helpless villages, who knows what fathers were stolen from their sons, who knows what torture their aging eyes beheld.

They took refuge in our large walls. There was hopelessness to them all. It seemed that they thought that whatever they had left behind would never be seen again... and it wasn't too far from the truth either. The constant raids of Beasts left nothing but smouldering ruins on the map, it was heartbreaking for one in this situation... to return and find what possessions they had are gone. Though most were peasants, and thus possessions weren't very many at all, it is still a lost home.

The horn rang through the fields as the knights stampeded in a virtuous charge from deep within the fortress, onwards towards the Forest of Arden they headed. Beregond stood beside my father as far as I could see... who knew how many of these knights would return?

***

Beregond readied his sword as he approached the forest. There was a sense of intensity, like a fierce gnawing beast growling in the uneasy silence that filled the gnarled, twisted woods. It crept in the shadows, watching with an unmoving glare- this was the presence of evil.

As the wind blew through the trees gently, now was the time. Beregond turned to my father, smiled, and shouted to the men, snaring with his noble face: "Charge!" Kicking his horse and going deep into the forest, his blade pummeled into the nearest foe, a beast's skull split in two. Alexander's lance could be seen piercing the heart of a Bestigor nearby as the other knights trampled through the forest in an incoherent manner, dodging the trees.

What beasts that lay deep within the forest would find a match today. Ungors and Gors pushed from behind the trees, unsaddling the knights, their spears digging deep into the hearts of knights. Beregond dismounted his horse and began running into the fray. His blade a wrath untold to this world, what end he would deliver to the beasts cannot be defined.

A crushing blow was dealt, though, when the knights fell as the Dragon Ogres that had been assembled in the doomed forest. What blunt weapons they had utterly crushed the bones of innocence with a single swing. Beside Alexander, Beregond fought for his life, their blades fighting in defense of each other, fighting back to back. The beasts swarmed in defiance of this purge. What Bretonnian cavalry entered the forest seemed not to come out. The hosted army of l'Anguille fell quickly in disarray as the fighting in the forest continued. As their lines began to scatter, the beasts pouring past them, Beregond could be heard shouting above the sounds of bloodshed:

"There shall be no life after this, we will make glory for ourselves here and now and may the Lady pay sympathy to our souls!" What knights around him shouted out in agreement. Lord Alexander Marcel turned to see his comrade beside him "Brothers until the end, Beregond." He said as his blade was seen sunk into the stomach of a beast.

"Until the end." Beregond said aloud, a smile upon his scarred face. His great sword gave into its bloodthirsty urge again, slaughtering another corrupted one. Alexander fought bravely. He could see him out of the corner of his eye fighting. His blade cut the throat of one and then another, the men inspired by his skill. He parried a blow, bashing his shield into the beast's face and then cutting him down by his legs to stab him through the heart whence he was on the ground. Amazing that such a man could be a skilled warrior.

Beregond turned and knocked a Bestigor from his feat, cleaving his head clear off his shoulders before it could reach Lord Marcel. Alexander smiled and continued to push. "Now is your time, knights of Bretonnia, where in the darkest moments of our lives we shall prevail. No evil shall remain before us, no Chaos shall taint us, no beast will be left standing before the day is done." Alexander shouted. The men were being rallied to the cause, beginning to push the beasts back into the forest. "Brothers, strike your foes down and let none stand in your..." Alexander was cut off.

"That is enough out of you." Beregond muttered. His dagger, a heart-wrenching tool, placed firmly through Alexander's throat. The gurgling noise of blood coughed out of Lord Marcel's throat and mouth simultaneously, dropping to his knees, there were no words said, only the utter silence of betrayal. Beregond's dark eyes turned to the Beasts of Chaos as they slaughtered the knights of Bretonnia in a massed charge through the woods. His laugh- maniacal, his heart- cold; what Gods had tainted him pleased him just the same. "To l'Ambertrou; there is a family I would like to visit." He shouted to the beasts before injecting his blade through the flesh of another knight.

***