Fordshire

The tall, slender, caped figure was wearily dragging his feet along the dirt path under the starlit sky, beaten almost to submission by the torrent of water that fell down from the stormclouds above. He almost felt like crying, he had been stripped of the happy life he had once lived on his manor and was now a fugitive with nowhere to run to. He could only keep fleeing, keep fleeing until the church finally caught up to him. He could feel his boots squelching in the path that was slowly turning to mud, a feeling he had never experienced before due to his isolation in the manor. It was not a pleasant experience, and Edward expected he would be able to describe all his experiences from now on in such a manner. Squelch. Squelch. Squelch. He trudged forward down the churned up path, hoping he could find something at the end of it.

Edward found something alright, but that something was not the village with an inn where he could rest his weary bones, it was something far different. The squelching of his boots were greeted by the squelching of another three pairs', but these boots were moving at a much more brisk pace than his. They were also clinking, and that could only mean one thing, he was being approached by armoured soldiers. Edward stopped dead in his tracks and looked forward to see three men, all of them clad in suits of steel and carrying weapons. Two were clutching swords in their right hands and shields in their left. The other was carrying a lance, gripping the wooden hilt in both hands. He stepped forward towards Edward and stopped a few paces away from him, close enough to skewer him with his lance.
"Look kid, you know why we're here." he stated straightforwardly, "If you surrender now, you'll get to live a bit longer and you'll die a more humane death. Willing to accompany us to the courts for your trial?"
"N-no..." Edward stammered out, forcing out the words with extreme effort.
He wasn't about to let that bishop sneer at him as he died, and he wasn't going to endure the pain and humiliation of the rigged trial he would surely face.
"You're a brave young man." the soldier complimented, "It's a shame I have to kill you."
With that, he lunged forward with his lance, aiming straight for Edward's forehead. Edward could feel time slowing down before him as he saw the lance slowly driving itself towards his forehead. He felt like just allowing the spear to pierce his head and end his miserable life for what seemed like a few seconds, but then a sudden wave of determination washed over him, washing away his will to die. He swung his hands towards the hilt of the spear and gripped it tightly as he released dark energy into its shaft, causing it to rot away in the soldiers hands. The spearhead fell to the ground and sploshed into the mud, a sound that brought Edward's perception of time back to normal. The soldier stepped backwards in terror as Edward was gripped with a steely conviction to kill all these men on the spot. He flicked his wrist forward and a black flash shot from his hand an embedded itself within the soldier's throat, causing his lifeless body to drop to the ground, squelching in the mud. Undaunted, his companions rushed forwards, swords raised high. Edward gripped the neck of one and released dark energy into the man's body, causing his neck to rot away in Edward's grasp. His head fell next to the body of his companion, and there was a soft clink as their open-faced helmets collided gently. Edward was about to do the same thing to the other soldier as he spun round, only to find the soldier's sword swung at his face. Edward stumbled backwards, but the sword still cut into his forehead, and he could feel it ripping through his flesh and grazing against his skull. Edward had never felt pain so intense in his whole life, but it only spurred him on. He narrowly avoided the soldier's next swipe and pressed his palm against the man's face. He released a massive burst of dark energy fueled by rage, causing the man's skull to explode inside his helmet, killing him instantly.

Edward felt the adrenaline rush suddenly fading away, making the pain in his forehead more intense and his desire to kill evaporated into thin air. He was a murderer now, he had killed three men. He stumbled away, horrified by the atrocity he had committed, blood streaming from his forehead and into his eyes, clouding his vision. His eyes stung madly as he trudged away, unaware of where he was going, but he thought he could feel grass under his boots as well as mud. Edward's willpower finally ran out, and he dropped to the ground, out could.

It was no more than a split second for Edward between closing his eyes and opening them again, where as it had really been just under half an hour. The pain in his forehead had lessened slightly, but was still searing horribly and his eyes stung madly, causing them to weep out a mixture of blood and salt water. Once his vision had cleared, he found himself being carried in an awkward position by a boy who was about his age with thick, tanned skin, much unlike Edward's, and matted, curly, chocolate brown hair. There was a girl slightly younger running around in front of him, waffling on about how she had won, and how she had reached the village first. Was he dreaming? It certainly seemed unlikely that he would wake up in the arms of a stranger who was racing someone while carrying him. The shock caused him to jump slightly, in turn causing him to fall out the tanned boy's arms. He landed with a thud on his back and winced in pain, disoriented and in pain.

He slowly got to his feet and raised his hand to his forehead to check the bleeding, and felt leaves pressed into the wound. They appeared to have soaked up a large amount of blood, which was certainly a good thing. He wondered who these strangers were, and why they had decided to carry him to safety as opposed to robbing his "corpse" and making off with his satchel and the goods within it. Maybe there were still good people left in the world and not just in stories.

As Edward was about to open his mouth and start asking questions, he felt a sudden wave of terror wash over him and looked up to the sky to see a figure with large, celestial wings in the sky. Edward couldn't tell what it was up in the sky, but he knew he had to get away from it as quickly as he could, or it would end his life with ease.
"I-I've got to get away..." Edward stammered in fright and began to teeter away, swaying from left to right as he walked, almost falling over multiple times.

Staggering down the streets of the town, he fell to his knees, his vision blurred and unclear. He knew that if he kept on walking he would lose consciousness again, and instead dropped to his knees and drew in heavy breaths, trying to gain the energy to walk again.

After many breaths, he stood again and trundled down the street, but once again fell down to his knees, unable to walk or think straight. It was over, whatever was in the sky would descend and end him to rid the world of "filth" like him. Now it was only a matter of time, and Edward slumped backwards, tears trickling down his face as he awaited his execution.

The weather had worsened. Thunder rolled from the sky and the incessant rain made Florian slip and sink into the mud with every step. Less than an hour ago, he'd been safe and dry. What had happened in that short time, for him to be on the run again, carrying an unconscious stranger?

Florian had noticed the pursuers far too late – this damned thunderstorm! Behind him sounded the muddy splatter of a sprint indifferent to stealth. Were they here for him? Or had they come for the person on his back? Either way – he was in trouble, no doubt about it. Florian was well-rested and spurred on by mortal fright, but there was only so much he could do with ten stone of dead weight on his back. His breath came heavily, and hiding was impossible on this hideous deforested stretch. Any moment now, a sword would slip between his ribs and end it.

Something bright entered the corner of his eye. Not a blade, not an arrowhead, but a young girl, racing past him in a light blonde blur. A fairy. That was Florian’s honest first thought, but a single mistake of that nature was quite enough for one evening. She was human. Which, honestly, didn’t make her sudden appearance any less of a mystery. Florian could not make out details, but he could tell that at daylight, she'd stand out from a crowd, if only for her strikingly long hair.

The girl paused her dash as soon as she passed, flashing a wide-toothed grin. The hunters had grinned too, but their grins merely showed teeth. This girl’s smile spoke of exhilaration and triumph. Florian felt an odd tug at the corner of his own mouth that he couldn’t quite identify. If it was the beginning of a smile, then surely it was for the absurdity of the situation. How in the world had she interpreted his desperate flight as a challenge?

Florian looked up with unpleasant surprise. Village, she said. Only now did Florian notice the outlines of buildings against the poor night’s lighting. He abruptly came to a standstill. People lived there. It was not a place he could step into. It wasn’t fear. He was afraid, terrified even, but that wasn’t what kept him from making that step forward. The day when his parents discarded him, Florian had stopped being people. He had no right.

The person on his back stirred. The young man’s leg slipped from Florian’s grip and the sudden shift sent them both tumbling into the mud. The man landed on his back and groaned. Florian caught himself and dropped to a knee, but then found that the run had caught up with him – his legs were weak and wobbly with shivers.

“I-I’ve got to get away,” the white-haired youth stammered from behind him, terror audible in his voice. As one hunted to another, Florian could relate with that terror. The young man found his feet with remarkable speed and stumbled into the town. Florian gave that retreating back a sad smile. The youth was still people, to so fearlessly run into the arms of civilization. He was in someone else’s hands now. It was sad to think that gave Florian more relief than when he saw the young man walk again.

Florian got to his feet and wiped a few locks of drenched hair out of eyes. But what of the girl? No – she, too, belonged among others. If anything, she had too innocent a soul. Did she live here? Florian gave her a shy nod, and mumbled the traditional farewell for travellers.

“Far under fair skies, milady.”

Florian oriented against the wind and started walking, seeking those fair skies. Rain is pleasant, nourishing and the life of the earth, but walking in drenched clothes is quite plainly none of that.

"My name is Argo,"
Argo... It made sense now. He had heard the stories about this woman, the woman who had murder Ariya Celice and mimicked her powers. If she had the powers of Saint Celice, it would make sense that Edward felt naturally uneasy around her, considering Saint Celice and Thanatos had sought to end each other in the past. Perhaps they could be allies, they both seemed to oppose the church strongly, and were wanted criminals. But if she only wanted power? What if she tried to kill him as well to gain his powers? He decided to meet this girl's demands, he was hardly in any state where he could argue. He was just about to speak when Joseph cut him off.

"Argo, this man needs healing, he is hurt. Edward. We need to find my sister, she could be in danger. I helped you escape, now help me find her."
"She, she isn't touching me." Edward stammered as he lifelessly pointed an accusing finger at the girl clad in black, "I don't know whether or not we can trust her. W-what if she kills us too?"
Edward lowered his arm and staggered backwards, trying to put as much distance between himself and Argo without making her suspicious that he would flee on a moment's notice. He didn't get far before nearly falling backwards again, using his lance to stop him from toppling over.
"I, I'll help you find your sister, but not now." Edward continued, "I need to sit down and rest..."
Edwards thoughts began to drift to the appealing prospect of sleep and his eyelids began to droop down, they felt so heavy...

Edward's eyes snapped open again as he felt himself falling over, and once again saved himself with his lance.
"Argo," Edward began wearily and pointed to a copse to the south, "You came from that direction, is there anywhere we could rest in safety in that copse?"