The Spirited Compass: Prologue. East meets West

Snow fell from the grey sky, landing in the imprints of countless feet, erasing them from the world. Everywhere he looked there was a crimson splash against the invading white. Why was it always like this? What was the purpose? The puddles of blood stained the surrounding snow as more continued to fall. It covered the bodies and erased them as well. How had it come to this?

Anger gives raise to hate and hatred breeds more hate but where did the anger come from? Was it fear? He moved across the battlefield and counted the bodies. When he was finished, reaching a grand total of 400, he dug for pebbles in the deepening snow. Taking 400 pebbles, as cold and lifeless as the men they represented, he walked deeper into the forest and came to a stop inside a clearing.

Carefully, the Enchanter stacked them into a pile that soon reached his chest. He stoop wrapped in a blue cloak with blood freezing to his face, hair and clothes as the snow covered the pile of pebbles. One word ran in his head, the same word the soldiers had murmured.

Evil.

Evil, they called him. His hand tightened into a fist at his side. If that was what they were going to call him then he’d show them just how evil he could be.

```

Years later the Enchanter walked through his forest with a pebble in his hand. The summer sun beat down on him full forces as he stepped out of the shades of the trees and into a clearing strewn with piles of pebbles. The tallest was one that reached his chest. Carefully he set the newest pebbles, representing the knight that had just tried to kill him, down beside a multitude of evenly spaced pebbles.

Single kills that still deserved to be remembered.

When he stood, a flash of pale yellow caught his eye. Slowly turning his head, the Enchanter was surprised to see a young child peeking out from behind a waist high pebble pile. Dirt hugged his small face and tattered clothes. His hair was a mess of knots and his pale blue eyes were wide with hunger, fright and a small spark of hope.

“What are you doing out here, small one?” The Enchanter’s voice was deep and scratchy from disuse. The boy ducked back behind the pile. Even though it was only as tall as the Enchanter’s hips, it hid the boy from view completely. The Enchanter stood there and looked on with an amused smirk.

Slowly the child leaned into view again. If his quickness to flee, his torn clothes and the layer of dirt were anything to go by, the Enchanter guessed he was an orphan. His heart strings were suddenly yanked on.

“I’m Gilbert.” The Enchanter held out his pale hand, willing the child to take it. Immediately the boy raced forward and grasped onto it like he was afraid of being abandoned again. Maybe he was. Gilbert noted that it hadn’t taken much of a push from his magic to get him to take his hand.

“I’m Ludwig.” The child whispered.

“Let’s go home, Luddy.”

```

Of course Gilbert hadn’t anticipated that raising a child would have been so difficult. Ludwig didn’t know anything about magic and was constantly getting himself into trouble. Gilbert would never get mad at him when he stepped into his next misshape.  Like the time he had knocked over an entire book shelf that housed jars of powders and other ingredients for spells and charms.

“I’m sorry bruder, I didn’t mean too.” Ludwig had sniffled and blinked several times to keep the tears from falling. Somewhere along the line the small German had started referring to his albino Prussian counterpart as his older brother.

Said albino didn’t mind, in fact he had started playing the role full heartedly. Gilbert had chuckled and put a comforting hand on his blonde head. “Shit happens, Lud. C’mon, help me clean this up.” And part of the role was cleaning up the messes.

Or the time he had seen a Will o’ the Wisp and followed it out of curiosity and had gotten lost for a few days. Gilbert had found him curled up at the base of a tree with his head laying on his knees and his arms curled around himself. He had kneeled down beside the terrified boy and slowly coaxed him to his feet. Ludwig had clung to him and whispered ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘bruder’ over and over again.

When they got back to the house, Gilbert had set him down at the table and went into the kitchen and started cooking for him. “…Bruder, have you ever seen a blue flame out in the forest?” Ludwig had asked in a whisper.

“I have. It’s called a Will o’ the Wisp. Some say they’re the souls of the recently deceased trying to get close to loved ones. Others say each one is a little piece of Hell being carried alone by the soul of an evil man.” Here Gilbert had paused to chuckle bitterly.

Ludwig had noticed some time ago that Gilbert did that whenever the word ‘evil’ came up.

“There are some tales of them being good and some of them being bad. One of the extreme stories about them being bad that I’ve heard is that the misguided follow the flame thinking it’s a lantern leading them to safety, but it’s the soul leading them into some deep part of a swamp or a forest or wherever you are and they kill you.” Gilbert had set a bowl of steaming soup in front of Ludwig and sat down in the chair beside him.

“Of course the other side to that coin was a story in which they marked the location of buried treasure, or something, I can’t remember exactly. I was in Sweden at the time and didn’t really understand the language.”

“What do you believe, bruder?” Ludwig had asked as he started eating for the first time in a few days.

“I believe that they’re spirits and, just like people, there are good ones and there are bad ones. I also believe that the spirit world and human world should never come in contact with each other.”

They left it at that.

```

EAST MEETS WEST.