-- June 1211 AD --
With the sounds of cicadas filling the air, followed by the rushing streams of a nearby river, a young man, cloaked in wolf pelts, with dark Ruthenian[1] noble attire underneath could be seen. He carried with him a dignified yet fierce aura. Everywhere he went the scent of blood and ash followed, no doubt a testament to his survival. His pristine silver mask, glistening along with the sun's reflections caused by the water's surface, held an indescribable feeling of power, delicate yet harsh.
Isaac had taken far longer to reach this far in his journey than he could've ever predicted, due to the constant need to rest after any usage of the mask. It was often he would have nightmares about the day of his family's collapse.
He learned the hard way that the mask doesn't just make him tired, it hurts him as if drawing from the very source of his life. And just like any injury, he had to rest to let it heal. This isn't even mentioning the time he would have to take to hunt for food and set up shelter every night.
Though the mask still tolled him constantly due to months of continuous usage, he rationed its use to maintain pace on his journey west. This time of year was definitely easier on him, as wildlife became more active, procuring food happened much faster. There was one drawback, however, there were more travelers during the warmer times, thus he decided to follow rivers instead of roads or paths, to avoid conflicts. Sometimes he would have to take the paths due to knowing that these rivers would point away from his destination.
The sun was setting, dying the sky a shade of orange, Isaac made his way to part of the riverbend shielded by trees, as to block wind from knocking down is shelter, which now looks something like a teepee as he used animal skins to insulate it. He had a make shift bed of rolled weeds and dead grass covered by deer skin, which was, as one might expect, much more comfortable then sleeping on rocks and dirt.
As he made a fire and was about to catch a fish for his final meal of the day, he heard the heavy footsteps of several men accompanied by the clink of metal. Isaac shot up and stared in that direction. Emerging from the trees, they approached, laughing, with a sinister grin on their face, full of greed. With an aura of unlawfulness, it was clear at first glance they were brigands. Upon coming within a few meters they started surrounding Isaac and asked,
"Hey bud, you're in our territory, it's okay though... That's a really nice mask you got there~. How much did it cost?" One of the four men said with a clearly sarcastic friendly voice. His eyes narrowed upon seeing his mask.
After a slight pause, he followed up, without even giving Isaac a chance to respond.
"How about you leave it with me, and in return, hmm... Ah, we don't kill you!" He said as his grin broke out into a wide smile. The four brigands moved closer, pulling out their weapons.
The four men were similarly armored, showing a sense of order, but there weapons varied, the two men farthest outside wielded rather heavy looking one handed axe's, another wielded a one handed mace of decent size. Finally, the man that spoke to him, exuding more confidence then the rest, evidently he was the leader, wielded a rapier with a slightly thicker blade, this oddity caught Isaac's attention while it was pointed at him.
Isaac's thoughts went into overdrive, he had fought animal's before but never humans save for the time he lit one on fire, especially a well armed group of them. It seemed evident he would have to use the mask, and as if hearing this very thought it began to heat up. The same exact feeling as that night emerged, as if his entire body was being remade in a smoldering forge, his senses were heightened, and his instincts took over.
The four men, sensing the growing aura of danger, realized this was no simple man and kicked into action immediately. The two axe-wielding men flanked Isaac, just enough to be out of his vision, one slashing towards his neck, the other aiming for his abdomen. The mace wielding man lunged forth at a slight angle, and brought the mace down towards his head with such force that it displaced the air enough to make noise.
As the leader lunged head-on aiming directly for his heart, their coordination was impeccable. Isaac, threw himself backward with a violent force as he bent forward, dodging the axe aimed at his neck. He slid to a halt several meters back and bolted toward the nearest brigand. While closing in he went low, reaching for the man's chest with his palm, which was beginning to glow, his other hand pointed at the mace wielder.
"*BOOM!*"
Isaac shot a flame at the mace wielder, who was immediately covered in flames, and as his bright orange palm hit the other one, it melted straight through his body. As Isaac pulled his arm out of the man, he collapsed to the ground, a visible hole in the center of his chest, charred and still smoking.
The other two brigand's eyes widened in horror. Were they fighting a demon from the tales of myth!? In a moment of panic, the final subordinate began to turn and flee.
"M-Monster!" He screamed while sprinting for his life
"Get back here dumbass!" The subordinate leader turned and barked.
"*WOOSH*"
The bandit leader's face lit up as a mass of fire streaked by his face, hitting his subordinate and exploding into a human-shaped bonfire. Before he could turn around, he felt a hand on the back of his head. His heart sank as he said his final words.
"What the fu-"
His head turned into a human candle wick as smoke filled the twilight sky, the reek of burnt flesh all around.
Isaac calmed down after the intense struggle and the display of brute force from the mask. Trembling from the mask's toll with bloodshot eyes, he coughed up blood. As it dripped out of his mask, he collapsed to the ground.
2 days later, as dawn broke, birds chirping, Isaac awoke, grunting in pain. Struggling to get up, he crawled to the forest edge and grabbed a fallen branch, using it as a cane to help him walk.
"I can't keep this up. If I run into another group again, the mask will kill me before they do." He groaned with a grim face.
"I need allies, and I need to heal. Gniezno should be southwest, I'll head there and look for helpers while recouping."
Heading over to his camp site, he looted the remains of the brigands. Taking the bag of coins they carried and, after glancing at the leader's rapier he took it and strapped it to his waist.
"I needed a weapon anyway. I can't use makeshift spears forever."
Feeling the weight of the coin bag he was content as he thought,
"It will be enough to live in the city for a while"
Opening the bag of coins he felt no emotion, in the past, when his father would give him an allowance, he would be ecstatic. After that fateful night, he had not used any money at all, let alone feel like going shopping, out in the wilderness all these coins were just dead weight.
Reminded of his past, he frowned, his brows deeply knitted. Heaving a sigh, he began to pack the deerskin from the teepee and bed into a roll before strapping it to his back, he set out towards Gniezno immediately. This trip would be a long one even for it's short distance, due to his fragile state, though he will get better, he still could not rush it.
The weeks passed slowly, due to his fragile state, adverse terrain was difficult to pass through and he took several short detours. He would set up snares around the forest to catch food overnight hoping something wouldn't eat anything caught during his sleep. Fish became his staple food for this whole month, as he couldn't use the mask to hunt animals. On the rare occasion a rabbit got caught he would be overjoyed, as if he had been gifted a luxury item.
Nearing a month since the battle on the riverside, he was healed a decent amount, though he still could not exert himself much he could at least traverse more difficult terrain than previously.
"The city should be shortly ahead.." He thought, filled with cautious hope.
About an hour later he could see farms in the distance through the gentile rolling hills.
As the summer breeze whisked through his hair, the sun's warming light, comforting his aching body, he stopped. Inhaling deeply, he said,
"Gniezno... Finally, I've arrived."
[1] Just to clear up confusion, one can assume Ruthenia to refer to the Kyivan-Rus. Naming wise I think Ruthenia sounds better Kyivan Rus.