Dragonslayer's Remorse

[radio]

To live life without regret. A dream that many chase.
 

 

The time spent following the siege of Naysien's Coat had aging Astor quiet in the politics of Osrona. Present only when needed from family, most of his days were spent within his manor. In an office, sat at desk with papers meaningless to him piled high and ignored.
 
Acacio leaned into high backed seat, plush velvets supporting his weight as his single arm kept him afloat with elbow pressed to armrest. Thumb spun along dark band of greyed arcanium that rested on his ring finger. Eyes of blue, they watched it spin. Whispers spilled from his lips to an audience that wasn't present to hear. A conversation with himself. With this ring.
  
A ring that he had been champion of since the age of sixteen, this very same conversation one he had countless times. It was just as common as his blonde curls that rested atop his head at this point. But, this time? It was different.
 
He was a Dragonslayer. He had done it. Lived to his great ambition, slain a great beast. The Astor had lived his desires since his youth. He had no regrets. Or, at least that is how things should spell out. Though, as he continued to spin thumb against his ring he'd find its grip on his finger loosening. As he told himself what he was. As he told himself that he was a Dragonslayer, the ring that was bound to nobleman began to rise. It began to leave from his finger which it had never budged from for nearly two decades. Something he had tried to remove many times, but found no luck.
 
Dark mist that rested within the gem of his ring, it began to spill out and the scent of the Occult would stain the room as it filled with seemingly never ending mist. But, these were the least of Acacio's worries. As the ring clattered to his desk his mind was filled with the memories of his past. With all of the actions he took in his goals to reach the title of Dragonslayer. They assaulted his mind.
 
The attack of Mei Alder.
The attack on Baleford.
The execution of Pandora.
The slaying of Vjara.
The taunting of Naysien and slaying of their child.
Injuring countless Drakanite, most of them for life.
Slaying innocents in his goal of bringing destruction to the Ebonblooded. Both Osronan soldiers and the enemy.
The execution of countless Drakanite criminals by noose.
 
Memory after memory came rushing back and he lived through them all again. From deep within the manor the screams of the Astor echoed as sweat raced down his body and his hand tugged at his curls of blonde, he tossed in his seat and the papers stacked high atop his desk fluttered around the mist filled room.
 
His curse had lifted, he was a Dragonslayer.
 
At what cost?
 
Without this voice whispering in his head he'd relive these memories, each and every dark thing the Astor did to have his dreams realized as he was driven forward by this influence within the ring he carried. It was too much to bare.
  
Acacio reached for his ring, striking at papers still remaining as he attempted to find it within the black mist that stunk of the Occult and other dark magics. Screaming out, he'd finally come to find it, forcing the dark band back onto his finger. The mist within the room racing back into the gem. 
 
His screams. They ended. He stared down to his ring in a sweat. 
 
Who was he? What were these regrets?

[radio]

 The curse has lifted, but I still feel so much pain. Even to be able to think like this, free of its influence my mind attacks me. I have to fight against myself. Who I truly am. What I've made myself.
  
This is my life's work, but why do I hate it so? Why can I not accept it?
  
I am a Dragonslayer.
 

 
All of these years, all of this time? Spent doing what? My goals, they were never truly met. The dragons, they still fly in their mountains and Naysien still crawls. I have killed Renrrath, child of Naysien. I have taken from his hoard and used his riches to empower Osrona. The Aetherstone belongs to me. To empower the Astor.
  
I am the protector of the Crown. But, I am not a man who has seen his dreams come to life.
  
That will be you, won't it?
  
You will grasp your dreams. Make them reality.
 
I have walked, so that you might run. Do what I could not.
 

  
I am going to take a trip. Well, not a trip. I am going to return home. Back to Adrastos' Estate. Back to where I learned to swing a sword and fight on my two feet. Where I learned of my magic.
 
Perhaps time away is best, perhaps time away from all of this, from these mountains and even this city is what I need.
   
Balmung has returned to me, returned to the Astor. This is the best time. The best time for you to come, for you to join me.
 

---

Who are you?

The child of Acacio ven Astor, a child that was kept from the majority of Esshar and even the Shimmering City. Instead, raised in a secluded estate where the elder Astor Adrastos is known to stay.
  
Why?
Well, for one reason mainly. Though Acacio has entrusted all of his children to carry out his legacy and continue what he has left, you are special, meant to be the one to see it all through. It is no secret that the Astor plays favorites and you have been chosen as his. Taken away from your siblings at a young age, while they learn the higher life of nobility and attend schooling and lessons you were instead brought to the courtyard and given a blade.
   
While all nobles are trained in the basics of swordsmanship, you were taught rigorous lessons from a young age. Never allowed to slack and always tested, pushed to the highest of your capabilities.
  
What is to be expected?
You will be the wielder of the Legendary blade Balmung, a sword of Dragonslayers. As well as many other riches and equipment that has been stolen from the dragons with the idea to one day pass it to you in mind.
  
As your father did not have anyone to help him at the start of his journey, he has taken you from a young age and pushed you further than anyone else could imagine. Blessed with nobility, picked for your innate talents and given extensive training.
 
You will be a Dragonslayer or die trying. That is what you are and were raised to be.
 
Kill Naysien. Then Garling.
  
 
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