BOOK ONE: CHAPTER ONE: A STUMBLING OF TONGUES AND FORTUNES

His destiny was tethered to the mere sounding of an order and the spilling of blood and for the briefest of instances he fancied himself a god, a god of war who had the power create and destroy with the mere speaking of words or a flourish of his hand. The thought was both terrible and intoxicating and he found he could get used to such a sentiment. "Fate, how fondly I look upon thy countenance."