The sun was slowly rising over the Kingdom, Pyros.

At the royal palace were guards observing vigilant their surroundings. If the servants made even the smallest sounds, they would have been merciless stared down. Even the once beautiful chirping of the birds sounded behind a window frail and dull. A dim light shined through the slits of two fluttering curtains. It exposed a fragile boy lying on a bed. Unnoticed by his parents, tears have flown down his cheeks.

The tender voice of his mother whispered, "Do you have the poison?" Though it was delicate, there was a deep hidden vanity and coldness in it.

"No!" The owner of this deep and vibrant voice was his father.

"Will you let him succeed you?"

"Sigh, have you forgotten the 'Awakening Sickness'?"

"Do you have…?"

"Yes."

Sudden, footsteps resounded from the outside. Short afterwards was a loud bang. After a while, a young boy with a red temple entered the room. He was rubbing his forehead while muttering to himself, "Ow." He showed an expression of extreme anguish.

"Father, how is Libertas?"

"Don't worry, he is fine. Wait one or two days more, and he will wake up."

"Really?"

"Yeah, for real!"

The boy walked to the bed and kneeled. He shut his eyes. With a white Lily between his hands, he prayed. The parents had their eyes closed and their hands were put together. A full minute passed in silence. Following the boy placed the white lily on the chest of his brother. Just as he raised his shaking hand, it was grabbed and pulled down.

"Caesar, do you want me dead!?"

Plop!

Caesar fell into Libertas embrace.

"B… Brother, you… you are awake?"

With a light hit on Caesar's head, Libertas laughed, "Do you expect my death?"

The father patted Libertas head gentle, "No one wishes you dead."

At this remark, Libertas froze, but quickly laughed, "Yeah, no one wishes me dead!"

"My Son, aren't you hungry?"

"No, Mum, just tired."

Growl….

"Mum, I am hungry…."

"Haha! Honey, Caesar we should leave now. Libertas is tired and hungry! Haha!"

"Brother, recover quickly."

Looking at Caesar's departing back, the mother sighed, "He sneaked out of a class again."

Short afterwards, there was silence. Libertas stared at the door, then the white roof and in the end the window with the two fluttering curtains. Beside the bed was a long table with a half-burned candle atop. There were scribbled papers spread all over the table, and some even laid on the floor. A chair has fallen over. However, a row of books was neatly placed under the table. A small room, like his past. A past he hated...

It was a room, he just knew too well, but it felt strange. Something inside him told him, this isn't the room he knew. It was difficult to describe this feeling. A Deja-Vu? Maybe, maybe not. He couldn't think at all, just too much has happened. Amid his confusion, he slowly fell asleep…

Three different locations, three different times and three different Men, who can't be more different than each other, are more similar than thought. It wasn't their appearance, disposition, or ambition, but their stories and fate which linked the three of them together.

One of them was holding a sword while standing in a village. It was burned down and the blood of the innocent villagers covered the ashes. Their families, their friends, their home and even their very own ash. He bit his lips, as bones cracked under his weight. He couldn't stop shivering, he burned in a furious rage. An old well at the centre of the village seems to be one of his last memories of this place. Finally, he breaks down and cries, while he leaned against the well. Just a single tear fell.

Similar, in a grand palace underground. Countless corpses were strewn in a festival hall. The lavish wines and foods were toppled. The expensive carpet was covered in holes. The extravagant tableware were all trampled with dirty and bloody boots. A group of soldiers surrounded a couple, a young man in ragged clothes and a pale beauty with a gaping hole in her stomach. Two long wings ragged out of her graceful dress and a pair of sparkling canine teeth glowed in the darkness. Suddenly, the young man loosened the grip around his spear, and he fell on his knees. He coughed. On the floor was black blood.

A man drifted in the vast ocean while laying on a huge shield. He was heavily wounded, barely alive. Instead of two beautiful white wings, he had only one. From time to time, fishes jumped out of the ocean, before they fell in again. Strangely enough was there no predator lured by the blood which steadily flowed into the ocean. As he breathed his last, rolled a pearly-white crystal out of hand. In the end, it fell in a crack of the shield. Suddenly it exploded with a white radiance, blinding everyone…

Libertas couldn't breathe. Something heavy laid on his chest, it was stifling. He groaned. Suddenly it disappeared, just to be replaced with a loud cry.

"Your… Your Highness, I… I am sorry!"

Following the cry, was an intense shaking. He almost puked with an empty stomach…

"Igor, stop it."

"Yes, Your Highness!"

Standing before Libertas was a man with broad shoulders and a tanned skin. Despite his rugged appearance, he smiled warmly through his coarse beard. He wore a leather armour, which seemed worn-out. Leaning against Libertas' bed was a broadsword, similar worn-out.

"Your Highness, your breakfast is placed at your table."

On the table was a light broth. It was cold, but despite that, it felt warm, scalding hot. The soup plate was out of white porcelain with delicate embellishment. Regrettably, there was a small crack on the edge of the plate, and the high-quality soup was mixed with cheap ingredients. The usual transparent soup was now thick and yellowish.

"Thank you, Igor."

"As long as you are happy, Your Highness."

As he ate, his memories slowly merged and new questions emerged. Some could be inferred, some remained a mystery.

"Igor…"

"Your Highness?"

"You have once told me a story, which is entirely different from the history books. Was it really the true history?"

Igor was stunned. Previously His Highness has just laughed it over and told him he has a marvellous mind to create stories. Since then every night he was commanded to tell His Highness a good-night story… Though he asked himself about His Highness sudden change of attitude, he smiled and regained his composure.

"Yes, shall I tell it again?"

"Yes, please."

"Your Father, His Majesty, was just a lowly commoner who later earned a noble title through Military Achievements. Though he retired at the first opportunity he saw, he fears the death the most. As such, he tried to avoid a confrontation and hid by all means behind his comrades. After surviving together he killed his comrades and piled one after another undue Achievement up. He boot-licked the higher-ups and trampled the lower one. In the end, he was promoted to noble, retired from the Military and was granted a fief.

But even such a cruel man can fall in love, your Mother, Her Queen. Pitiful, she was a peasant and His Majesty already a noble. The Genus Empire under which they lived was strictly hierarchical. The intermarriage between different ranks is forbidden. Whoever has the gut to do it, will be persecuted and killed. If the Empire were at peace your Father would be dead a long time ago. The war granted His Majesty the chance to rebel against the Royal Family and marry your Mother. Your Father isn't the only opportunist and countless others created their own Kingdom, like him."

Igor paused for a moment, before he sighed, "A 20-Year long war against unknown enemies while fighting against itself. It is a miracle how the Empire could survive such a long time. Soon… "

Igor's voice turned faint until Libertas couldn't understand it any longer. He looked down at his feet with his eyes wet. However, in the next moment, he smiled brightly at His Highness and stroked his hair mildly, "Don't worry, I will protect you."

Libertas starred at Igor's eyes. His hand shivering, unknowingly forming a fist. His lips quivered, as intended words didn't come out of his throat. They stuck in it. A few simple words played with emotion. A plain statement, which was stronger than any fist. To have emotion was to have a burden. The desire to accept Igor lost against the fear of the past. He could only stammer, "I… Igor, I… "

The light in Igor's eyes dimmed a bit. He smiled in self-mockery and ended the pitiful stammering, "I am sorry Your Highness. This lowly one isn't worth to protect to. Please excuse me for my delusion."

"Igor, n-"

"Your Highness, His Majesty wish to see Your Highness. Please follow this lowly servant."