Amicus, hooded and cloaked upon a black thoroughbred steed, strides through a silver storm. Frost clings to the air as he breaths, freezing his already hardened chest. Riding just over the border, he comes up upon a ruined villa in the snow. Sliding down, his boots crushing the snow down with an audible crunch.
With a swift strike of a match, the Amicus’ pipe lights and smoke drifts up into the air. The light illuminates the man’s black and grey hair, shining against dull blue eyes. Puffing a trail of smoke, the old man follows a trail of horse prints, boot patterns, and blood stains.
Approaching the broken door, Amicus hears the echoes of lute strings. He sighs and steps over a bleeding corpse, entering the ruin. Following the music, the old man walks down the hall, the rotten floor creaking under his footsteps.
“Have I been here too long? Perhaps.
They will come for me in the night.
To seek revenge for my mishaps,
Cuz they do not think I will fight...
Anymore…”
Amicus pulls out a silver cutlass from the chest of a red hooded man, letting the corpse drop to the floor with a heavy thud. The music stops for a brief moment, but soon starts back up again.
“I don’t fear the dance of malice.
I don’t fear the cold of the night.
But they think I sail for goodness,
Cuz they do not think I will fight…
Anymore…”
Reaching to the ground, Amicus pulls up a blue banner with a stitched, silver horizon at its center, rescuing it from the pool of blood quickly making its way down the hall. He folds up the blade in the fabric and follows the echos, slightly annoyed that his boots are sticking to the floor.
“Not yet shall I seek salvation.
I shall remain here in the night.
I mark my own destination.
And they will know that I will fight…
Forevermore…”
The young man with short black hair and blazing blue eyes looks up from the lute to see Amicus standing in the doorway.
Amicus looks around in the Ambassador’s office to see it mostly covered in bloodstains and body parts. Wind whistles outside the window and the villa creaks against the silence. He takes in a deep breath and sighs, seeing a blue cape and silver circlet with sapphire inlays sitting next to his son. “When I suggested that we take care of the situation, this is not what I meant, Junior.”
“Please don’t call me that, Father.” The young man puts down the lute and picks up the circlet and cape. “I can make this work…” he says. “You have taught me enough and this is the only way.”
“The only way for what?” Amicus questions, snuffing out his pipe. “You’ve been on a mad dash through Elyria, killing every Red Hood and corrupt noble you can get your hands on.”
The young man nods. “This is the only way to make sure what happened to mother doesn’t happen to anyone else… While taking down the rest that did this.”
“You can’t guarantee that, son.”
“I can try!” He barks back at his father, quickly bowing his head back down. “I apologize. However, I know I can make this work.”
Amicus looks his son up and down. Shaking his head, he hands over the cutlass to his son and grabs his shoulder. “Do what you want, son. You will always have my support.”
The younger man, Amicus II, takes the blade and pulls it out from banner, looking over the stains. “One way or another… I will find them all.”
