Let's join the story of Aaron, shall we?
Aaron was only four when the red archers, under the comman of Lord Gaovulte, came to claim his village. But he has vivid memories of the day.
Aaron remembers clearly when his father died. The archers came to claim his home, to take the family's meager belongings for themselves. Aaron's father stood up to them, valuing the wellbeing of his home and family moreso than his own safety.
The archers killed him then and there, before Aaron's eyes. They ran him through with a sword and left his body in the doorway, stepping over it as if it wasn't even there.
They then took Aaron's mother. They took her into one of the other buildings in the village. At the time, he didn't know what they were doing with her.
Of course, he now had a better understanding of the depths of brutality the red soldiers were capable of.
But at the time, all he knew was that he didn't see his mother for several hours. And when she came out, she was never the same.
Aaron had fostered a hatred of the red archers throughout the rest of his life. When he was sixteen, he heard tales of a man by the name of Justin recruiting followers for a rebellion against Gaovulte.
Most townspeople dismissed the tales as just that... tales. Stories. Legends circulated to give the people hope, but nothing to place too much confidence in.
Aaron believed differently. He had to. He sought out Justin, and pledged his service. He spent the next four years training for the day when they would face Gaovulte's forces and free their world.
The day had come.
He didn't know where these people had come from. The ones that stirred Justin onwards towards his revolutionary battle. The one named Sam and later the one named Danny, who both seemed to possess powers borne of magic. He didn't know them and he didn't really trust them.
But Justin did, and Aaron followed Justin's orders.
So Aaron found himself at the edge of the forest about to charge down towards Gaovulte's fortress in a battle to the death against the red archers.
This was the moment Aaron had been preparing for his entire life. The moment all his rage, all his confidence, and all his hope had been pushing him towards.
But right then, at the back of an army of knights about to charge into a deadly battle, all Aaron felt was fear.
He gripped his sword handle with his right hand, and held his small wooden shield tightly against himself.
Then came the order to charge.
He couldn't remember making the decision to move forward. His body was simply swept forward on a wave of men, regardless of whether or not he actually wished it.
He raised his sword and moved forward, and hoped that he wouldn't die.
Then arrows started raining from above. He tried to dodge them, to run back to the relative safety of the trees, but he was closed in on all sides by his fellow knights. Lateral movement was impossible.
So he held up his shield in front of his face. He momentarily froze in fear every time he heard the thwack of an arrow against his shield. He was certain he heard one strike and shield and stick there, but didn't dare lower it to check.
The battle moved forward. He knew he was getting closer to the enemy.
And suddenly, the enemy was upon them.
Soldiers dressed in red leather spilled in through the cracks in the ranks of the knights. One of them raised his sword against Aaron.
Aaron panicked, and parried the blow with the front of his shield. He drew his sword back then thrust it forward into his attacker's chest, watching the man in red fall down dead in front of him.
Aaron noticed something moving in the corner of his eye. He only realised it was an arrow when it lodged itself in his neck and he died.
