Prologue

One overcast and cloudy day, the sun squeezed its rays through the clouds to greet the land while its glistening light danced upon the rustling leaves of the trees. A man sporting a navy green gambeson and brown trousers with hard leather boots, sauntered through the woods holding his son's hand as the little boy skipped excitedly at his side. The man's head rotated left to right as he and his little fountain of energy strolled past the waving leaves of the trees, searching for a meadow to begin the boy's first training in the art of the combat.

Finally, the cloudly skies could be seen ahead where the trees ended, with tall lush green mountains off in the horison, a wide acre of land filled with birds, bees, and butterflies grazing for food before it. The man took the boy out the immense sea of grass near the trees.

He released his hand and turned to the him, "Well son, we are here. You said you wanted to become a knight. This is where it all begins. I was around your age when I started my training."

The boy looked up at his father with widened eyes full of excitement, "Yes Father! I want to grow up to be just like you!"

A proud smile made its way onto the man's face as he ruffled the boy's golden hair. Looking into the bright enthusiastic eyes of his son, the man saw a reflection of his younger self. It had been the same for him when his father took him to this very same meadow, many years ago.

"Ha Ha! Good Zackeus, good. But I must warn you son. The path of a knight is not easy . . ."

With that followed a long and stern lecture about the struggles and hardships of being a knight, along with the morals and behavior befitting of one. After the lecture, the man pulled out a steel sword from his scabbard which shone in the reflection of the sun. And then demonstrated some moves for the boy showing him different stances and strikes.

The boy stood focused with his eyes fastened on his father's movements, trying his best to register his motions in his mind.

"Listen well now Zackeus. This martial art is called Brawlhalla, the trademark style of every Altean Warrior to ever walk the earth. Do you think you have what it takes to learn it my boy?" said the man as he stooped down and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder.

The boy gave a toothy smile burning with passion and an innocent giggle, "Yes father. I am more than ready!" he said clenching a fist before his father's face.

The man smiled, "Good my son, I believe in you. And I am certain one day you will surpass me, but until then. Here, do what I just showed you," said the man as he gave the boy his steel sword.

The boy hurriedly outstreched his hands to receive the sword, but upon receiving it the sword plummeted to the ground, dragging the little boy down with it as he tried to hold his grip.

"Father why is it so heavy?" the boy grunted trying to lift it.

"Oops heh heh, I forgot to start you off with the wooden one," laughed the man as he took a wooden sword from his girdle.

The boy folded his arms and twisted his mouth, "Hmph! You did that on purpose father, stop laughing!" he complained while throwing soft little punches at the man's stomach.

The man smiled from being tickled by his feeble punches, "Okay son, don't beat up your old man now. I am sorry Zackeus, let us resume your training."

As the man instructed his son on a few combat stances of Brawlhalla, he could not help but gaze off into the bushes occasionally, as his ears were fondled by the sound of rustling coming from the forest. Realizing his father was not paying attention to him, the boy halted his training and looked up at the tense stare on the man's face.

"Father, Is everything alright?"

The man turned to him with a warm smile, "My apologies son. It was probably just a hare running about. Speaking of hares, the hunting season is drawing close. Maybe I could take you hunting with me this time?"

The boy's cheeks widened in a wholesome smile, "Yes Father that would be wonderful! I can finally go hunting with you!" he celebrated with the wooden sword in hand.

Out of nowhere, an arrow flew full speed at the boy's head, but the father reacted with lightning-quick reflexes and caught the arrow in the nick of time, just inches from the boy's head. Shocked and bewildered the boy froze, while his father's eyes frantically searched the forest in search of the attacker as he clutched his son, but just then. They heard a huge explosion and large gushes of fire and smoke covered the forest, followed by screams from a nearby village. He heard a twig snap, and swung his head to the left to see a man sprinting through the bushes with a quiver over his back. His brows lowered.

The father grabbed his son and ran through the smokey woods in the direction of the archer, only to stumble upon the village and find invaders slaughtering the inhabitants and burning down their homes, smoke choking the skies. The sound of wood snapping in the flames startled the boy, as his head weaved back and forth looking at the mayhem before him.

He saw houses collapsing with dancing flames around them followed by screams of doom and peril, foreign men galloping in on horses to skewer the villagers with their lances as they tried to run from them. His eyes then widened at a man running toward him and his father with a spear.

"F-father!" the boy yelled and pointed behind him.

The father turned around as the man was about to skewer him from the back, but he jumped to the side to evade the strike, holding on tight to his son in his arms. The man dashed at him, and he kicked the man across the face, sending him to the ground.

"Zackeus, climb onto my back quickly!" he yelled.

The boy crawled over his father's shoulders and wrapped his arms around his neck, and his legs around his waist.

The boy's father unsheathed his sword, and dashed at the man as he got up with his spear. The spearman shoved his weapon forward, but the boy's father jumped to the side, and dashed closer to shove his sword through his chest before he could draw back his spear. The boy's mouth hung wide open as he watched the man fall to the ground, and the sight of blood made him gag.

The man took his son from over his back and put him down to stand, then proceeded to rip a necklace from his neck.

"Son, I want you to take your mother's necklace and follow the crowd to safety. I shall come find you. I promise . . ."

The boy's panicked eyes jerked as he looked into the man's face, "Father, what's happening? I-I'm scared . . . Wait! Don't go!!!" the boy grabbed onto the man's sleeve trying to stop him.

"Obey me and go now Zackeus!!!" he pulled his arm from the boy and shouted.

The man ran off into the smoke disappearing from the boy's sight, only to for the child to hear the cling of steel and gruntful moans. Filled with fear the boy froze again, and was grabbed by one of the villagers fleeing from the invaders, "Come child! Tis not safe here!"