Itsuke

Greetings. Apologies for the time/wait/etc. I had placed the story on hold, re-constructing and going through everything while focusing on my schoolwork. I doubt I'll post anything until May or June as I will have a new laptop by then (old one died, so eh). I've came up with a new title, so. Right. Just updating. G'day.

I see what you mean. I admit at first I was going with a Fire Emblem-esque world, but then I decided to go further than that, broaden my horizon and whatnot. There will be still some Fire Emblem stuff, but not by much. Hm... Duly noted. Well, at first I was really embarrassed and a bit angry, mostly at myself. I never intended my story to be portrayed in such way you described and realized I simply was not thinking. It opened my eyes to see my technique was lacking and simply wrong, not liking that I was inconsiderate to my readers. I wrote both chapters a little under 4 hours and just posted them as soon as I was done. Yes, I know, stupid. After thinking hard on this, I decided to go really slow, take my time and go through my work until I feel content. Your words might have been a bit too harsh, but it was for good! How else would I learn? I am thankful for the opportunity, really. So, my plan now will be to take out prologue and rewrite Ch. 1. Perhaps, I'll have it done by this weekend if not the next. May you have a great week.

Please, I welcome your thoughts, however criticizing it is. I started this story as a way to improve myself, my skills if any. Your comments help more than you know. It is what I need and more like it is helpful. I'm aware there will always be those who may like my stuff and those who simply don't, so I appreciate your not 'softening it up' for me, thanks. I am merely ashamed for not seeing it. Because frankly, you are right. I'll put a hold on what I'm doing, take a step back and re-think things thoroughly. I should have done that in the first place. I look forward to your next thoughts (if any, hopefully). Elaborate much, if you can.

Hi! Update. The final version of Chapter 1 is now posted (with some tweaks). I apologize for the delay with Chapter 2, it seems I came across a block that required me to do some more research before I post it. Still working on it, heh. See, my schooling comes first, so yeah. My schedule might permit me to post a chapter every once or twice a week. Oh, well. Good day to y'all. edit: chapter 2 on hold until further notice.

Hi! Just wanted to mention that the final version of the prologue has been completely cleaned up and posted, thanks to an outside friend (not on the site). Next will be Chapter 1. Since there's nothing on my feedback thread about Ch. 1, I will heed an advice somebody once told me on the site, "Take no news as good news." I will post Ch. 2 either tomorrow or Sunday, definitely by Monday. It's been typed, just have to tweak a few things here and there. Good day to y'all!

(Hey! I posted Chapter 1 on Monday, but as we know, the 'blackout' and backup recovery took that away. A good thing out of this was that it gave me the time to look over the chapter once more and edited/added some things, so here you go. Looking forward to the feedback!) (Note: Later chapters will have more clear information about the world of Pyndarea but not through Arran's eyes.) Chapter 1: A Simple Life Golden Sun 1092, 17th of Sarado, Blackstone Arran? There was nothing but blackness, though the aromatic smell of flowers were in the air. Everything was hazy, so confusing. He couldn't see anything except a small, bright light. He ran toward it and was bewildered to note everything was in slow motion, including himself. The closer he was to the small bright light, the less visible it was. The light died out, disappearing as he approached it and reappeared even farther. Then came again the haunting voice, full of heart-wrenching sorrow. Oh, please, not him! Not him! Folly it might have been, but he ran toward the bright light once more, only to see the shape take the form of something humanoid. The form was too bright and blinding to confirm a gender, but as he stretched out his hands to touch it, grasp it, anything, he was knocked back and the voice was abruptly loud. No... Arran! "Arran!" Arran jolted up from the grassy ground that was his rest stop, looking up to see the familiar smirk of Boyle, his best friend, the warm chocolate-like eyes looking at him. Boyle was tall, very tall and Arran could never get over that. Because of his kind, friendly demeanor, many of the villagers referred to Boyle as a "gentle giant". Arran was confused at first, briefly wondering why he was outside but remembered he had decided to take a short break, a simple nap under a tree about two miles from Blackstone, near his cabin. Boyle offered his hand and Arran took it as the tall boy pulled him up. "Same dream?" "Aye. It might have lessened, but it still occurs. The old hag's remedy helped a bit but it was no good," "Well, it ain't like she's in her prime. Could check it over with her later today, might have to strengthen it or sumthin'. Meanwhile, ya best hurry, ain't that Forester girl waitin' for you?" Arran chuckled and dusted off his clothes. He wore a simple, beige half-sleeved tunic with a leather belt around his waist. His deerskin pants were comfortable enough for work and they had served him well. Not long ago, he received a new pair of leather boots. His previous ones had not worn out, rather outgrown. He looked up at the sky, mostly analyzing the sun's position. He figured it to be nearing midday. He was not late. Once or twice a month, around midday, he was supposed to gather a certain number of supplies, go into the Forest of Emyrti and deliver them to any one of the Foresters who inhabited it, the person usually being Marian or Robin, the Head Ranger's children. Truth be told, Arran was quite taken with Marian, though she never said anything to him but a word or two or more if he were lucky. Her voice was lovely. "Indeed. I'll go get the bags of supplies and head out. Meet you at the Hippogryff after?" "'Right, don't be late now. The old man's tellin' his tales again, and Forden might let us've our first taste of ale!" Boyle said, heading back to Blackstone. Arran grinned and quickly headed into the cabin which had housed him his entire life. He grabbed two bags of the supplies he had gathered at first light. He lived with Damien, the village storyteller, who was also his guardian, but the old cheapskate often left him alone to take care of things and to tend to the small farm that supported their living as he traveled all over Rhythor. Even if present, the man had Arran do most of the work, telling the boy it was for his own well-being. To compensate, Arran had Damien get him a wooden sword and throw in a few pointers in swordplay. He knew he could never own a real sword, for he was bastard-born so he had all the fun he could with the battered, sturdy wooden sword. It was not much but it was something. He practiced with it as much as he could, to indulge his fantasies of being a grand swordsman. As undependable as Damien was, the commonfolk liked him for his stories and tales. Arran's life was simple and he had not much to complain about. His only friend was Boyle, who made his living learning the ways of the forge. He was the best smith Arran knew, despite his giant-like features and the villagers' musings about how the tall boy was a dimwit. On the contrary, Boyle was smart, but more of a slow thinker, one who took his time to form a solution. However, when the situation called for it, he was quite reliable. The two were always together, talking of their dreams, such as becoming Knights, joining the King's army or being grand adventurers, but what could a gentle giant and a bastard do? Boyle might have more of a chance in life, not being ill-born, but he was never comfortable with the idea of hurting others or distancing himself from his zone of comfort. Arran, however, had no opportunity to change his stars. A bastard-born might have the opportunity to be knighted but such event was rare. He did not even know his parentage, only from what Damien told him of his mother, how she was a whore who wanted a better living. His father was unknown. If not for Boyle, Arran might have attempted to go against his stars by falling into the path of banditry, or by taking on the occupation of a mercenary with dashed hopes of fame. To him, a simple life was better than one of hardship and the unknown. The two boys had entered their fifteenth winter not long ago and figured it was about time for their first taste of ale. They were tired of milk and juices. Forden was the owner of the Mighty Hippogryff Tavern in the village; he claimed to have once encountered a Hippogryff that saved his life, a tale which many of the villagers called ridiculous. After all, Hippogryffs were the stuff of legends. Nobody told him that to his face, of course. The man was kind, especially to Arran, the bastard; many frowned upon bastards existing. The problem was that Forden had one hell of temper. The treatment of bastards in Rhythor was harsher compared to a decade or two ago, so he heard. It had all changed after the execution of Sir Tuck, the Blackspear, for treason. Bastards were distrusted and glared at with suspicion. It was hard for Arran, but as long he kept his nose out of other people's business and did his worth of work, helping around with carrying, cutting, tending or cleaning, the villagers would leave him alone. Since he had no family, he had to put up with the bastard surname for Rhythorians, Horn. It was a way of identifying which country a bastard was from, using the arms of a ruling house in said country as a reference. The sigil of House Farlow was a white, charging bull on black. The weather was nice, so Arran could enjoy the soft, warm breeze. It was the seventh month of Sarado, spring's end. Next would be Dymando, the start of summer. Walking to Emyrti's Forest while carrying two loads of supplies was not easy, but his constant activities of farming or chores allowed him to strengthen his body quite impressively. Farmhands might be one of the lower classes, but they were hardy and strong from years of hard work on their fields. Honest work made honest men. In about an hour's time, he reached the entrance of the Forest. Many dared not venture into it as it was guarded the mysterious Foresters who prized their trees more than coins. The Foresters were isolated people who kept to themselves and cared not for the world outside their leaves. Occasionally, however, a young Forester, better known as a Huntsman, might venture out into the open world to build whatever experience he so desired. Arran had heard that, when deemed worthy, a Huntsman would be able to become a legendary master of woodcraft and the bow, a Ranger. If the stories Damien told were to be believed, a Ranger never missed his mark. Ever. Arran was about to move forward and call out when Marian came out of the forest's shadows, wearing a green-sleeved tunic, a green doeskin vest as well as her pants. Her cowl covered her hair, but, when she pulled it back, he could see her long hair, the color of green forest leaves. Her eyes were jade, somber. She was holding her longbow as she greeted the dark-haired boy and looked into his blue-grey eyes, which held the look of an eagle. "Hello, Arran. Almost thought you'd forgotten..." "Marian. Sorry 'bout that, but better late than never, eh?" Arran said, handing her the burlap bags. She took them and smiled. She never smiled before. He couldn't help blushing. He could see the arrows' fletch and moss-colored feathers, in the azure quiver on her back. She turned back, handed the bags to another hooded Forester, who Arran thought to be Robin, and who did not notice the boy's presence until now. These Huntsmen were good at woodcraft. Marian then threw him a leather bag of coins and Arran caught it with his right hand. He smiled and made a short wave to her, turning around to head back to Blackstone as he always had done. But not today. Today was different. With her, at least. "You... should be careful. Something will happen. Be aware... he of the black approaches..." Marian said. Arran turned around to ask her what she meant but she was already gone, safe in the green of her home. He thought what she was was odd, but paid it no mind. There was really no knowing what went on inside the minds of Foresters. Shrugging, he attached the bag of coins to his waist-belt and went on his way back to Blackstone, eager for Damien's exciting stories. Honestly, Foresters...

Hey! There might be some of you waiting for my next chapter. Well, I apologize for the wait, I've had a busy month, see, and my laptop died on me. So I spent most of the month working on Chapter 1 & 2, organizing it and whatnot. By the end of the week, Chapter 1 will be up. For now I'm focusing on editing the prologue, improve it. I last edited it yesterday and might do so again, just either add some things or clean it up. I thought I could impart some information about the world of my story. It has thirteen months and three seasons. The names will be mentioned so worry not of it. I also have a proposition. While I'm an okay writer full of ideas, I'm not that particularly good at editing because you all know what its like to be blinded to certain things in your own work. I was thinking, would anybody like to be my editor? You know, help me out a bit here and there. Just PM me if you're interested, I'd appreciate the help. If nobody does it, well I'm okay with that. The feedback given alone suffices and is most obliged. Thank you for your patience. I only hope you can enjoy my work.

Thank you for the feedback, it is well-appreciated. I have cleaned up some things and edited the prologue. Let me know what you think! Meanwhile, I'll be working on Chapter 1 and may have it posted this weekend or the next. We'll see. Good day to you all.

I was told to make another thread as seeing my other feedback thread has not been touched for a year and I don't want to do what it is called 'necro-posting'... or something like that. Feedback goes here for my new story and I look forward to them! I desire nothing but to improve myself, so bring it on!

'ello! I've been busy with school for the past year so I rarely have time to check in SF. Now with the break coming, I had a new story in mind and wanted to work it out into something great. I am putting more of an effort into this one, taking all feedback to heart, from my last story, which I have placed on hold, though I'll likely drop it. So I look forward to feedback and hope you do enjoy it. I am also working on a map, but I have no map making skill and will likely slow a simple on displaying the location of the five countries. The Promised Rose War erupted and five countries were in turmoil. Megys III, the Dark One, attempted to bring Varos Salvio, Rhythor and Tharcyne under his control through extreme brutality that involved butchering of children of all nations on his whim, invention of the Tartarus, a creation of the Embracing the Dark and was solely responsible for the Rape of Tharcyne. His goal was one country united, a Kingdom of Pyndarea. Great men fell, along with great houses, until only a few remained. Those few had no choice but requested aid from the nations of Baridi Mtu and Mohega. The Baridi and Mohegan people were willing to lend aid, for they knew their countries would be next. The cruel King succeed in seizing Varos Salvio, Rhythor, and Tharcyne. He wanted to add the lands of the cold men of Baridi Mtu and the wild plainsmen of Mohega to his new country. He would have taken them if not for a significant foe that heralded his downfall: his own son, Aegys Merlyn, the Brightstar. With his light magic, he was able to emerge victorious against his father, though not without the help of the Firestar, a stone of light containing the Sun's blessing. With it, he was able to subsume his father's essence into it and cast it away, so it might sleep within the depths of Tartarus, his father's pit. With this, a new era began, a golden sun for all. In the year of Golden Sun 0001, one the first of Aegado, Aegys established Auros, the capital of Varos Salvio, and became the King of Pyndarea, which consisted of Varos Salvio, Rhythor and Tharcyne, combined out of a popular vote, for the people of Pyndarea realized a united country was better than none. Baridi Mtu and Mohega became independent countries under Pyndarea, remaining true allies of King Aegys, whenever he needed its citizens' aid. Through military prowess, Agnar Silvermace became leader of Baridi Mtu and Ahiga Freewind became the High Chief of Mohega. Rhyden became the capital of Rhythor and was given to Sir Alaric Farlow. Hydrus for Tharcyen and was given to the Dragon Rider, Sir Cecil Bloodwyn. The three families, along with the Baridi and the Mohegan, rebuilt their war-torn homes and recovered eventually. All of the five countries' descendants continued to rule with fairness and thrived under House Merlyn, the light of Auros. But darkness seemed to rise once more, for blood and chaos. But the words of House Merlyn will ring once more... The night is darkest just before the dawn. Prologue: Embracing the Dark Golden Sun 1077, 6th of Merkerdo, Village of Dawnstone Sir Tuck smiled as he exited Dawnstone's inn, The Gold Stallion, thankful for the temporary rest. He spent two months of winter in Hydrus and was thrilled for the fourth month of Merkerdo, the bud of spring. The Tharcyneans may love their cold, but he favored the warm weathers of his Rhythor. He took a good look at Dawnstone, as it was dark when he arrived. The village was not particularly large, but its people made up most for it. They were kind to him, as expected of a Salvian, being simple and honest folks making do with what they had in order to build a living. They stared at him as he headed toward their stables where he left his black horse. It was not often they'd see a man like him. Before he could get to his horse and go on his way to Auros to bring news from Tharcyne to His Highness, he was attacked by five men clad in red who came out of nowhere, as if out of shadows. They had thrown a knife at Tuck and he raised his black, circular shield in time to deflect it. They were assassins. He could tell by the fabled red cloak of the Silent Men. It seemed somebody wanted him dead. He had been threatened time to time as he was the son of Lord Cedric Farlow, but never had assassins been sent to kill him. Villagers ran into their houses and bolted the doors. He preferred it that way; less people to defend. Sir Tuck glared at them with his obsidian eyes as he held his shield in his left hand, his spear in the other. He pierced another assassin, having felled two so far. They were skilled, no doubt, but he was a man of the Honorguard, a brotherhood formed of elite warriors trained to protect the King. Tuck was only in his twentieth year, having joined only two years ago, which was impressive enough. For seven of the best were to be chosen. One of the assassins had cut him in the shoulders, a lucky hit, but Sir Tuck did not lose his look of determination nor did he falter as the words of the Honorguard vibrated in his mind: Stand firm. He pushed the man back with his shield and penetrated the man's heart with the tip of his spear, its shaft black, its black steel glossy. It was called Blackheart and one would see why, eventually. Tuck pulled it out of the man's lifeless body and towered over the remaining assassins. They stood still, evidently fearless and confident as they continued attacking him, only for another to be punctured. Now one remained, leader. What Tuck needed to do was kill the hooded man with visible scars, but not before extracting information. The leader growled. "I never thought this to be difficult..." "Your employer told you nothing of me?" "It matters not who you are. Our employer need only to point a finger. You were better than anticipated, is all. I had never been bested nor will I now," "A first for everything then. I am Sir Tuck of the Honorguard. Today you die, skewered like a pig atop my spear. Tell me who employed you and I shall allow you last words!" The leader's grip on his sword's hilt tightened as anger grasped him, which soon was replaced with that cold fearlessness. "...I am called Karth and it is you who shall die!" The man was incredibly fast and quite handy with the sword. His dagger was made of silver. It seemed to be a lancereaver, a specially forged blade meant to be used against spearusers, but Sir Tuck had nothing to fear as long he stood firm. Never in battle did he tremble merely because his opponent had a special weapon that could be used against him. He had heard tales of Knights who overcame weapons like those. Tuck raised his shield as Karth attacked him. A loud clang rang as weapon and shield made contact. Tuck jabbed at Karth and stabbed his shoulder. Karth howled and made a thrust for Tuck's face. Tuck responded by bringing his shield up to defend, but Karth took the opportunity to attempt a swift cut to his exposed leg. Unfortunately for the assassin, Tuck was aware of such a trick and jumped to his right. Using his momentum, he pierced the assassin in the throat and pulled back. All that was heard were gurgling sounds as the man let go his blade and fell forward. The promise of no last words remained true. Tuck was not hurt too severely as his all-black Honorguard armor served him quite well. He had made quite a mess and realized he should leave Dawnstone as soon as possible lest reinforcements of sorts might stall him. He had to bring news to His Majesty or else all would be lost. In any other circumstances, he'd enjoy the calm quietness of Dawnstone. He was about to walk over to his horse when he noticed the approach of a unit of men, the royal banners in sight. He smiled and thanked the gods for this kindness, for he could get to Auros faster this way, but he lost his smile when he realized the man leading them was no other than his cousin, Sir Beric Farlow. "Tuck!" Beric smugly grinned. Tuck had always hated that, hated everything about his cousin. Hated that he shared the obvious Farlow traits of jet-black eyes and hair with him, though Beric's hair was slicked back, and with his stern face, it somehow gave him a menacingly look. His own lord father disliked him as well. How the man had come to be a Knight was beyond his understanding, for he was no true Knight. But even on a bad day, Beric had always greeted him properly so why did he not greet him by his proper title? Beric noticed Tuck's expression. This only served to widen his smirk. Sir Beric took a few steps and looked at his kinsman. "I see you were too good for these men..." He pointed to Tuck. "Arrest him!" "What? You?" Tuck was grabbed by two soldiers. "On what charges? Fools, unhand me! I am Sir Tuck of the Hono--" "WERE! You were Sir Tuck of the Honorguard, now no more! You have been stripped of your titles, lands and wealth for committing treason!" Beric said, picking up Tuck's weapon, Blackheart. "Hm... just as they say. Black steel, black heart." "Lies! I never committed treason! Take me before the King and I'll prov--" He could not continue his words for the elbow of a solider holding him struck him in the head, unconsciousness approaching. This was not good. As a man of the Honorguard, he gave up claim to Rhyden and the next in line would have been his younger brother, Edric Farlow. Beric would be next in line if anything happened to Edric and Tuck knew his cousin wanted nothing but the seat of Rhyden, for he once admitted to him that he would do anything to seize it. Tuck vowed as long he drew breath, Beric would never find his way as Lord of Rhyden, but now.... Now he might just have a chance. He only heard Beric's laughter as he became unconscious, "Oh, cousin, why act surprised? His Majesty, King Naegys II the Bright is dead. You'd know. After all, you murdered him..." If his King was dead, the Princess would be next in line for the throne as she was the eldest, but he knew Prince Naerys never had love for his eldest sister. It was possible she would be in danger. The Prince having once japed he'd kill for the throne... Nanna... Golden Sun 1077, 7th of Merkerdo, Auros Dungeons Tuck woke up to find himself in the dungeon ruins of Auros, its only source of light the torches attached to the walls. There were no windows as far he could see. This effect was meant to demoralize criminals, ringing true to the expression, "You'll never see the light of the day again." Even so, he felt it was already a new day. Groaning, he realized his armor was gone as well as his weapon and shield. All he was wearing were the standard prison garbs of cotton white half-sleeve tunic and brown leather pants tied by a rope on his waist. Truth be told, it made him wonder who in the bloody hell changed him out of his armor... "Finally awake, eh? Ya were down an awfully long time; methinks they drugged you," someone said. It was possible. He vaguely recalled slipping out of unconsciousness once, but all went black when he drank something. He realized the man who spoke was in a cell across from his. It was hard to see his face, but he could make out a gaunt figure. Starvation, perhaps. Sometimes they threw men into the dungeons for a few days, just to let him starve, then throw him out. Cruel, but better than the chopping of hands during the time of King Aegys IV Merlyn, who banned it. Tuck seemed not to realize he was quiet for a while. "Ya mute or somethin'?" "No, no... sorry. I'm just... groggy..." "Ya, it'll wear off. Wot ye in fer?" "Treason supposedly... but lies..." "I been in here fer a while now, fer stealin' they say, lies I say. Ya know, ya look familiar," "I've been in Auros many times, wandering in the streets for my lady... mayhap you had seen me once or twice?" "Who are yer?" the man squinted his eyes, attempting to analyze Tuck's face once more. Short jet-black hair, dark eyes... "Si... No..." If he were truly stripped of his titles, then he is no more a Knight. This hurt more than he thought. "I am Tuck of House Farlow," "HA! And I be the King!" "I jest not, knave!" I growled. "Oh? M'home's Blackstone, see, where they say Sir Tuck was born," the man stated proudly. Tuck made a quick smirk. It was true, he was born in Blackstone, not Rhyden, for he lived the first twelve years of his life as a farmhand only to find out he was the bastard son of Lord Cedric Farlow. "If yer truly 'im, then ya know the first weapon he ever wielded?" Tuck grinned. A trick question. The songs of his humble origins claimed he wielded a pitchfork as his first. "A hand-made fishing spear." The man's eyes widen. "By Gods... will ya answer sumthin' of mines? "What is it?" "The whispers be true?" "What?" "Whispers of Princess Nanna the Whiterose and ya?" The man flinched out of fear as Tuck gave a look of anger. Nobody knew, he had to remind himself. It's impossible. Besides he had not seen Nanna for a year since she decided to join the Church of Aurora to become a Sister of Light. He understood how whispers would form, considering he was her bodyguard. The common folk fawned over foolish tales of how Princesses would fall in love with their Knights but cannot be with them. Only he was with Nanna. She was his love and he hers, her first and only. It was the reason he wanted to leave the Honorguard, to do right by her. He knew her father, the King, was a honorable man, but would not have approved, so they eloped. They had plans of telling the King, but before they could, she had decided to study the ways of a Sister of Light. He did not understand her reasons nor did she ever tell him. She just went and left. It hurt him deeply and he wanted to go find her, but it might have looked suspicious and he trusted Nanna, so he waited, waited and waited. Before he could tell the man the whispers were not true, Sir Beric approached with two guards. Tuck growled. "Well, Tuck! The time for your sentence has come to pass. Are you ready for death?" "No! You cannot do this!" His cries of protest were ignored as the two guards grabbed and dragged him through the long tunnels of the dungeons. Before he knew it, he was on a wooden platform in front of many people. He was forced to go on his knees and watch the scorn in the eyes of the common folk. He looked around and noted that Prince Naerys was present, sitting on a makeshift throne, his golden hair of mid-back length flowing in the wind. Sir Beric walked toward him with a huge grin, his hands behind his back. "If you think they are here to see you die, you are mistaken. When I said death, I meant something else... the death of your soul. Tuck Farlow, for the murder of King Naegys II the Bright, I sentence you to... Embracing the Dark!" There were loud gasps from the crowd and fear filled Tuck's heart. Embracing the Dark was a cruel, cruel punishment that had originated in the time of King Aegys I Merlyn the Brightstar. It was invented by Megys Merlyn the Dark One, who had a fellblade forged for this very purpose. The fellblade was forged of fellstone, a stone made of dark energy. When the sword, Darkstar, was made, Megys the Dark enchanted it with his every ounce of evil within him, the purpose to create a Dark Knight. Once a Dark Knight, one was a mindless puppet of whoever commanded the Knight. The problem was that being influenced by Darkstar was to risk madness or death. The latter was preferable because being a mindless puppet was not appealing. It was a punishment reserved for the worst of criminals, but solemnly used. "N-No... you can't! Wh... What of a fair trial!" It was Prince Naerys who spoke this time, his blue eyes filled with malice. "Ah, a fair trial? Give him a fair trial. Then bring Darkstar." Beric laughed. "Well, Tuck? Have you any explanation?" "My lord! I beseech you to have some mercy! I am being framed somehow. I would never kill His Majest--" He never finished his words as the Prince kicked him in the face. "That's enough. We know you did it as we have evidence. Bring her in!" Guards bought out a young woman, her long hair pale-gold, though it seemed not to have been washed for a while. Her clothes were ragged and dirty. He would have not recognize her if not for her big, ice-cold blue eyes. "Nanna?" "We discovered that you plotted with my eldest sister to kill my father, wed her, and then seize the throne for your own. We would not have known if it were not for a certain serving girl," Prince Naerys chuckled. "What...?" Tuck was confused. What serving girl? "This serving girl told me Princess Nanna was with child, see? Yours. Oh, don't worry... the child is dead. I made sure of it. You sullied my family's name, dishonored my sister and attempted to use her for your selfish desires. Bring Darkstar now," Prince Naerys' anger rose with each word. Tuck was shocked. She had been with child the whole time? His child, his legacy... gone. "Don't listen to him, Tuck! Lies! Lies! Li--" Naerys smacked her hard on the cheek. "Silence, foolish sister! For that, you die first. Ready the noose!" "No, no! Wait! NO!" Tuck tried to fight off the guards, but there were too many and he was at a disadvantage. Before he knew it, they had him pinned down. Prince Naerys looked at him with so much anger in his eyes. "I have decided to force you to Embrace the Dark while watching my sister die. Men, hold him. It is time!" Darkstar was bought in, encased in glass. Naerys opened it and took the sheathed sword. The sheath allowed anybody to safely touch it. He drew it and many gasped at the sight. The blade was black, blacker than Tuck's own spear, with an eerie shade of purple. Prince Naerys smirked as he plunged the blade into the wooden board and backed away instantly, the sword right in front of Tuck. The two guardsmen immediately released Tuck as seeping mists of darkness started to envelop Tuck. At the same time, Nanna's neck was on the noose, tears on her face. "Tuck! Tuck!" Tuck felt nothing but searing pain, as if somebody were constantly stabbing him with hot pokers; he felt his consciousness fading as darkness crept into his heart. His screams of torment were merely ignored. He fell down and convulsed, unable to handle the pain. His body surrendered itself to the darkness. He was going to be made a mindless servant of Prince, or rather King Naerys' for rest of his life. He won't even remember Nanna or that she will be dead. And his child, oh his sweet child, whoever they would have been. He allowed his love and desire for Nanna to sway him from his proper duty, but how could one not fell in love with her? Even as she was, she was still beautiful. He could feel it; His mind was fading. He either faced his fate as a mindless puppet or was about to die. He took one last look at his beloved before his eyes failed him and closed, as he laid down smiling. "Na... nna..." Prince Naerys looked to his executioner and nodded. The man, his face covered with a black mask, nodded back and was about to kick the stool Nanna was standing on. With a few seconds left, she had to let Tuck know. "Blackstone, Tuck! BLACKSTONE! I love y--" A loud crack was heard as her neck broke, her body dangling under a trapdoor. Tuck heard her and opened his eyes to see her dead. At that moment something imploded in him, something about seeing his lover dangling like that, something about her brother and his cousin both sharing a mutual evil look. "NAAAAANNA!" The darkness enveloping him suddenly went inside him and then came out of his month as a demonic shadow was formed. It evaporated and Tuck felt his mind was clear as well. He stood up, picked up Darkstar and pointed it at Beric. "Death to... you all!" All he remembered was fury and power swelling in him as he readied to kill or be killed...

Swordhunteress or just Huntress? Samurai or Ronin would be nice, with the Eastern thing, and use of Katana in FE, but Lyn has nothing resembling a Samurai personality, but then again, you could shape it into your own, merge your imagination into the game. Lyn has no master, as does a Ronin, so...

Sweet Mother of God... I truly do hope you have much success with this hack. It's a great idea and I've been waiting for something like this. Godspeed, good sir.

It's okay, bro. You take your time. I know you'll make it. I might give the betatesting thing a try if things work out alright later on. We'll see.

Yes! I was confused as to why I could not play Zealot's tale and I really, really, really, really wanted to play a Halberdier, but was disappointed when I couldn't. Thanks for the update, Arch. Now I can complete and enjoy Zealot's tale! You're doing good work here, I've enjoyed the style you have done for this hack. I hope you consider doing another with the other FE games or adding more tales. If not, oh well, good job regardless.

Much thanks for your feedback! It is certainly better than hearing it from my mentors. Well, sorta. I realized I kind of rushed most of the stuff out there without thinking much of it. I've decided to redo the prologue, add more to it, and work on my fight scenes (one of my weaknesses that i'd like to overcome!). I'll keep redoing it until I have done my absolute best. Once again, thanks and stay tuned.