And so it began

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A day in the life of Alden, well night anyway.

Hey Raven, I know how much you love proper spelling and grammar so I threw in a little treat for you ;)

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Standing in the deepest shadows of the ancient trees that defined the edge of the muddy road Alden felt alive. With a slight smile he turned his head upwards to better embrace the cold rain of the storm that enveloped him. Breathing the cold wet air he turned his face back to the road, watching every droplet of water cascade into the black pools on the road. It was all shrouded in blackness the deep dark night of seventeenth century Europe was not held back by a single unnatural light. This too made Alden smile, only he could ever truly appreciate the beauty in the blackness.

Feeling a crash of thunder roll over him he let his gaze follow the road until he saw what he was looking for, a single pinpoint of light was moving slowly along the path. Slowly he moved out to the very edge of the path, he knelt at the ready, looking for any sign that his location was known. The light grew closer.

A brilliant flash of lightning lit the sky and wincing he shut his eyes as hard as he could. After a moment he opened them again and blinked to regain his night vision, he cursed. The light, a carriage window had already passed him. Quickly he stepped out onto the road behind it. It was already twenty feet away but he took one step forward and upwards and thanks to a greater understanding of space and reality he crossed the distance instantly. He found himself gripping the back of the carriage; he ducked his head low under the window and held on.

He held on to the back of the carriage for two hours, bouncing, being sloshed with mud and water occasionally. After a time he heard voices in the distance, almost indistinguishable from the sounds of the storm. Carefully he looked around the edge of the carriage; they were approaching their destination, a small bandit outpost hidden near the edge of a swollen river. He smiled. He dropped off the back of his carriage just before they reached sight of the parameter guards. He ducked back into the shadows and crept his way to the wall of spiked logs that was meant to force anyone wishing to enter the camp to do so through the checkpoint. He almost laughed out loud, almost half of their carefully laid defenses had fallen when the rain had turned the earth to mush. He passed the barrier without difficulty. Inside he could see the remains of a fire; he could even smell the brews the bandits had used to render themselves unconscious. He moved slowly around the parameter, watching the carriage. It stopped before a large tent that had been erected under some large trees for protection from the weather. The driver of the carriage stepped out and sloshed through the mud to open the door, a man stepped out. From his vantage point Alden could see the man cringe at the smells of the camp. Alden smirked, his dislike of the noble class apparent by his look of amusement.

The man, the second son of the former Duke of Ashton, was ushered into the tent. Alden quickly stepped out into the open, but only for a brief second. Quickly he was inside beside the carriage, opposite the driver who was now tending to the horses. Silently he opened the door and slipped a small object into the carriage and closed the door again.

Next he moved even quicker to the back of the tent, from here he could hear two voices talking.

“…do not care if you killed a hundred men to get those letters, I am not paying for anything but the letters.” The second son’s voice.

“Iz se’z you say ‘at, but yu’z bes’ be ‘inking long and ‘ard first siiar” Said a heavily accented and broken voice belonging, Alden assumed, to the bandit’s leader. He put extra emphasis on the honorific, turning it into an insult.

“Ve’z ‘ad to kill mor’ ‘an you sayz ve vould, siiar. At bringz trouble to mez and me men.”

“I offered you fifty gold coins to get those letters, that was our deal.”

“Aa, yez, at vas aur deel vas et? An vyy vould Iz be caring about aur deel? Zee price iz a ‘undred goold coins, or you’z not getting zem letters siiar.” The man laughed. Alden could hear the second son fuming.

“And I pay your outrageous demands and I get my letters? How do I even know they are authentic?”

“Signed vit ze dutcheze’z own ‘and they iz, seeled with ‘er seel. Zey prooves it zey does, ‘or ‘alf broder not the duke’z blood. Ou’z the first boorn ou’z the duke, and ou’z can affooord my ‘undred gold coins!” The man shouted the last part and slammed his fist on something for emphases.

Alden heard the jingle of a purse being throw onto something wooden.
“Fine, now give me those letters so I can be free of this filthy hovel.”
“Take ou’r letters, begon’ an diz ‘ovel make’s better men zan ou could ever bee siiar.”

Alden moved slightly so he could see the second son, rightful Duke of Ashton hurry back to his carriage, where the driver opened the door for him. As the soon to be Duke climbed into the carriage with fratricide on his mind Alden quietly slipped out of the shadows and came up behind the guard in front of the tent. He grabbed the man’s throat from behind and squeezed to prevent him from making a sound. Quickly he pulled him backwards and bashed his head against a tree, the sounds masked by the storm. He took the guards dagger from his belt.

Alden entered the tent; the only light in the entire camp came from an oil lamp on a wooden stump in the center of the room. The leader of the bandits lounged comfortably in the only real chair in the camp, no doubt stolen from a raid. He was smiling and counting his hundred gold coins, lovingly passing them through his fingers. He looked up as Alden entered opening his mouth to speak, before he could make a sound Alden had thrown the guard’s dagger into the man’s heart. He left the tent, saddened that he had to kill the man, he had liked the way he had handled the second son. He left the coins in the mud floor of the tent, soon the bandits would awaken and find their leader dead, suspicion and greed would lead them to destroy each other, thanks to those few small coins.

Alden ran through the camp, outside the barrier in an instant he kept running. It was less than a mile before he caught up with the carriage which was stopped on the road. The driver was cursing and praying in Italian, kneeling next to the carriage in the muddy road. Alden walked up to the man, who was shouting to loudly to hear him even without the storm. Pulling a small club from the inside of his cloak Alden struck the man in the back of the head. The driver fell face first into the mud, Alden knelt down and turned him over onto his side so he would not drown in the mud or rain. He went to the carriage, the door slightly ajar. He opened it, the oil lantern inside was flickering and slowly dying out, but it cast more than enough light for Alden to see the bloated face of the second son. Froth filling his mouth and his eyes rolled back into his skull. Alden quickly went through the clothing of the corpse he retrieved the letters the now deceased rightful Duke of Ashton had paid a hundred gold coins and his life for. He reached to the seat beside the dead man and gently collected his beloved pet asp. He cooed to the creature before returning it to it’s special place in his cloak. He went and unhooked a horse from it’s mount on the carriage. With his new mount he set off down the road, he had a delivery to make.

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Alden knew he was laying down, he also knew there was something wrong before he opened his eyes. He couldn’t feel what he was laying on. Slowly, cautiously he opened his eyes noticing that he could now feel that he was laying on stone as soon as he saw it.

“Meow.” Said a voice behind him. Instantly he was on his feet Ora drawn from her scabbard. He was facing his reflection in a mirror. He blinked and his reflection laughed, it was then that he noticed that it was sitting, while he was standing, and there was no mirror.

“Her kitty kitty!” The other Alden threw his head back and laughed. “Cats! Eaten alive by cats and you slept through it!”

“Who..what..the ruddy hell are you?!” Shouted Alden.

The other gestured to himself and made a mocking look. “Well, I’m you of course.”

“The hell you are!” Alden swung his blade at the Other’s neck where it met another Ora that he’d never seen drawn.

“Right well, on the off chance you’re wrong it might be a bad idea to behead your Host just in case don’t you think?” He pushed Alden’s blade slowly away Alden himself staring stunned.

The Other chuckled. “Oh the look on our face, that’s gonna keep me entertained for years.”

“Wha..”

“Who and what am I? Got that bit the first time thanks. Alright!” He clapped his hands together and jumped down off of his seat. Alden dimly noticed he was seated on the edge of a raised basin of water.

“Short version is..you’re dead, sorry about that. But never fear! All is not lost, minor setback really.”

“Dead…minor…what!?” Alden tightened his grip on Ora.

“Ok then long version it is. You’re dead, still sorry about that by the way. This is not however, the afterlife, although it is..after a life..so I guess it is sort of an afterlife.” He waved a hand by his face as if chasing away an annoying fly. “Anyway like I said, all is not last and this is nothing but a setback, cause it isn’t permanent. Damn lucky we are.”

“You call this an explanation?”

“Wow are we always this impatient? I keep telling you get out, have a little fun but you never listen to me do you?”

“Who are you!?” Alden screamed barely resisting cleaving the Other in half.

“Already been over this try to keep up. I’m you! Well, the rest of you, the puckish rogue you used to be, sort of. I’m the voice inside you mate, the part you don’t listen too. Not sure why, might have something to do with you being an uptight little..ok shutting up.” The Other raised his hands in mock surrender at the way Alden was aiming Ora at his heart.

“You died, but you get to come back.”

“What? Why? How?” Alden blinked, as strange as this was he somehow knew, it was all true.

“Ah well I won’t bore you with the details but you, that is to say we, have a purpose to fulfill. And we can’t very well do that if we’re dead can we?”

“Purpose?”

“Yeah yeah everyone has one don’t they? Some big some small, haven’t a clue what ours is but someone somewhere must want it done right cause we’re getting sent back.”

“Explain, now.”

The Other rolled his eyes again. “You died, in a place you didn’t belong, in a time you didn’t belong in, in a way you weren’t meant to die. All without fulfilling your purpose. This great universe of ours, or God or whatever you want to call it is fixing that imbalance.”

“I do not..”

“Don’t understand, believe me I know and I’m bored of explaining it so, off you get.” He pushed Alden towards the basin.

“Wait what are you doing?”

“Never mind me, hold your breath, and when you land you might want to think about caring a bag of catnip from now on.” Laughing like a madman the other shoved Alden with surprising force headfirst into the basin. He felt the strangest sensation, as if the feeling of slowly waking from a dream and taking a breath after holding it for a long time were suddenly the same thing as water. As a strange rushing sound filled his ears he could just barely make out the sound of the Other’s voice still chortling about cats…