The Giant of Nimbleville stood with a battleaxe in hand. With his massive arms he swung. His training opponent bowed and ducked to the right. The battleaxe broke a wooden pole in two; he had already predicted that, a right kick landed on the opponents ribs. The Giant could feel the snap. That pleased him.

"BRING IT ON! Three at a time!" he roared.

As his men led the pathetic excuse for an opponent away on a stretcher, three new warriors filled his place. This time, they all wore armour; one was almost six foot tall, with a great sword in hand but the Giant did not seem to care for he himself was a foot taller than that. He tightened the grip on his battleaxe and it threw at the first one to charge. The axe spun in circles before lodging in the stomach after tearing the armour of an unsuspecting opponent, making him yell in agony. He had made a flailing attempt at raising his shield, but it was already too late. At the same time, another armoured opponent charged at him from the right, spear in hand. The Giant caught the spear by the neck, with his bare hands and thrust it towards the offender. The blunt side of the spear made a dent in the opponent's armour. He jerked the spear free from his hand and rotated it in a smooth motion and then thrust the spear straight through the dent he had just created in his armour. He felt the tearing of flesh. "You are afraid!" The Giant spat. "Pussy."

He did not find the time to witness the injured man led out on a stretcher as the six footed warrior had chose the moment fit for charging, the great sword in a right offensive stance. He swung wide. Too wide. The Giant caught the wrist of his sword arm. The man tried a left uppercut but that too was caught in mid air by his right. He caught his left hand's wrist, by changing grips rendering both his arms at the mercy of The Giant now. A powerful kick landed in the warrior's stomach, leaving a shoe shaped dent in his armour. He left the grip at the exact instant so that the warrior would be pushed behind. The great sword flung across and the armoured warrior lay in the field. "You would be dead if this was an actual battle", The Giant said as he unsheathed a hidden knife from his armour. He didn't add, 'Or if I was in the mood'.

The Giant of Nimbleville sat on a wooden bench set beside the training grounds. His massive frame made it creak. He didn't enjoy today's training session much. He had no contest.

Should have taken five instead of three.

But then he didn't expect any contest to be found in this God forsaken place. He was at the Capital City before. Now that was what he considered a good place. The warriors were filled to the neck with pride. He found much amusement in  watching it get crushed in parts.

There is no fun in defeating a man who has already accepted defeat, before the fight begins.

But the King disapproved of him, when he tried to fuck the noblemen's wives. Noblemen actually had a good taste in women. He didn't usually get along well with them, politicians as most of them were. Even their wives looked for amusement elsewhere. The King sent him here to guard the place, he and his platoon. What was there to guard?

The bastard could just have told me it was exile.

One of his men passed him water; the cool liquid slipped down his throat and eased him. He accepted the cloth he was further offered to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He took a deep breath.

Now he was stuck here.

The platoon under him was nothing he could be proud of either, they were the weak lot in the King's army, cravens who had run in the face of battle. And he knew that all too well, for he had seen them run in the battle of Vamindale himself. One of them had actually tried to disobey him when they went out to extol taxes, but when the sharp end of his axe met his neck it was all but clear that it was just some hollow talk of honour and nothing else. He had hoped that the little incident would set a good example for any other men who might be brewing the soup of betrayal against him. The humorous yet unseemly part was, that it actually worked. They now laughed at all his jokes (and his sense of humour was another thing he did not take pride in) and sang whatever tune he wished to sing.

It wasn't all bad though. He was the most powerful man in town, politically and physically, with a platoon under his command, although dastardly but a platoon still the same. He could do what he pleased unlike the Capital City. No one could stop him. He even got a place in the Town Centre. It was a lavish enough place. Whenever he felt like the comfort was lacking, he could call for a tax collection round. Taxes were always due according to the records he saw. Made would be the correct term here. He even cut from the king's share by meddling with records.

It's his fucking fault after all.

Amusement took the form of rounds around the towns in the evening. The brothel here was not as good as those in the Capital City for most whores were middle aged while he preferred them young. So he just moved around town and ordered younger girls to come to his chambers. Sometimes their family members resisted and that, The Giant found amusing. Just yesterday, he had summoned another young girl to his chambers for tonight.

Someone from his platoon, whose name he cared not recall, brought him his battleaxe. He held it in his hand and ran his hand along the blade. Sharp enough. The Giant nodded and the man was gone.

What The Giant of Nimbleville didn't realise was that he was going to need his axe sooner, much sooner than he expected.

****

Vincent the blacksmith, finished his morning prayers and walked out of the temple to see his seven year old son, Jon, seated on the lowest stair of the temple. He was staring intently at the gate of the Town Centre that lay directly to his left. Vincent could hear sparring and loud yells of The Giant of Nimbleville from here.

Just as he was about to call out to Jon, he heard a shout from the streets. He turned to look at the source of the commotion.

Now, Vincent was a traveller. He had visited most of the important cities and towns in the entire empire, he only settled here after the birth of Rose. He had encountered men of greatness, men of cowardice and experience had taught him well how to differentiate among them, for the later usually chose to wear the mask of the former. He had witnessed the alchemists, the mages, the dark magicians, the masters, the mind readers, the knights. He had been fortunate enough to appreciate the play of the gladiators from the pits and the lances in tourneys. Vincent had watched men fly, tame wildest creatures, walk on water. In fact, he was of the opinion, which most would agree was well founded, that he had seen enough for a single lifetime. But what Vincent the blacksmith, saw next created a memory so deep, the others seemed to fade.

The town of Andlenore was covered with forests on all sides. A wall surrounding it, kept animals out. The gates were rarely guarded, thanks to the very efficient military the town was bestowed with.

Vincent looked at the wall of the town which were barely visible from where he was. He heard rustling of the leaves. A loud sudden noise that heightened his reflexes. The rustling was always a warning for things to come. A sudden gush of wind hit him, so strong that he almost toppled behind. He had to lean to even be able to stand. He noticed everyone was in the same predicament. This wasn't a storm. Vincent had seen storms, they gave ample of signs before they came. They came quite gradually in comparison to this. Sign boards of shops started fluttering uncontrollably. The gate of the town centre rattled. There was a light in the sky. It was almost as bright as the sun. The only difference being, it came from the west. The light seemed to be approaching nearer. As that happened, the wind strengthened. The windows of houses broke. Between the shattering glass, a cart crashed against a wall opposite to Vincent.

No, this isn't wind at all.

This seemed more like energy. Wind had a different effect. It could make you feel warmer or cooler. This was a force, like someone was pushing every part of his body. He faced the source of the light.

A faint figure could be seen in the distance as it neared the outer wall of the city. The wall itself started to break apart, bricks, stones and a whole section of the wall was destroyed. The now broken wall revealed that a few trees in the forest had been uprooted. Many people had come out by now. Vincent could feel the ground vibrating beneath him. He moved protectively towards Jon.

Vincent saw it was a figure of a man. Can man have such power? That seemed to be impossible. A wizard could fly, but this being seemed to hover effortlessly, as if the sky itself was helping him. After decades of training, sorcerers could conjure up destructive magic, but that destructive power seemed so insignificant in front of this man. No man could hold such power. No man could emanate such light. Vincent concluded that this wasn't a man at all.

As the figure came closer the intensity of the energy increased exponentially. The priest had come out. He was chanting. Eyes closed.

Who are you praying to, O Priest?

This seemingly Godly figure slowly descended and came to a steady halt over the cobblestone street and hovered above. Never before had Vincent seen anyone hover. So still was the being, that it felt wind held him with its hands. The houses around him and the street itself seemed to vibrate with the energy. Bricks and stones of the houses started to fall apart. He descended slowly on the cobblestone street. The houses around him were reduced to a rubble. The pillars broke as if they were matchsticks. And the cobblestone street didn't look like a cobblestone street anymore. A ripple formed in stone the moment his feet touched the ground. That ripple was felt throughout the town.

It was then that Vincent realised.

This being is holding back his power. He can reduce the whole town to dust if he so willed, within a fraction of a second. But that isn't even the extent of his full strength.

Vincent wondered if there was an extent at all. He imagined a town. Then a city. Then the whole empire itself.

Vincent the blacksmith felt his spine tremble. Vincent the blacksmith was overwhelmed.

The energy started to recede after that. Vincent was finally able to stand upright. He checked on his son to see if he was unhurt. Fortunately he was. Then he saw the being.

The Godly figure had white eyes that shone radiance, silver hair that flowed. His face looked serene and sublime, His robes were white. Pure white. It seemed as if they were flowing like river water in spring. He emanated a light which was steadily reducing as was the energy. He walked along the street with a steady even face. The townsfolk were too astonished to make a move. All eyes were on him. It seemed the being was looking directly at Vincent. No he seemed to be looking at everything simultaneously. His walk continued.

This being must have passed the shop. Rose and Lara must have seen him too!

The being had reached the inner circle of the town. The being did not look left or right. He looked directly in front.

Vincent noticed that The Giant was standing behind the gate, an axe in hand. As the being came nearer to Vincent, he felt a strange aura. He somehow felt relieved. The priest had stopped chanting. He stood awestruck as the being passed in front of his eyes. The being passed Vincent and his son as well. The gate started rattling. It rattled till the iron bent and hinges broke. The being raised his right hand a little and the gate flew as if it was made up of paper. It hit the walls of the town centre with a clang and hit the ground with another. Another flick with the right hand and the wall was reduced to rubble.

The Giant stood with the axe in hand. His platoon was out as well. But something seemed out of place. The platoon wasn't looking at the being. They were looking at The Giant. This seemed to confuse the Giant as well. The being was looking at the platoon.

The Giant charged at the being. A massive swing. The being just stood there, eyes now on the Giant. Unflinching. The Giant somehow looked completely insignificant in front of the being.

The Giant was flabbergasted when a member of his own platoon blocked his axe. A six footed warrior raised his great sword to hack the Giant's head. The Giant lowered his visor just in time to intercept the blow. He realised he had no option but to take the hit; had he not been in battle armour, he would have been dead right there. The great sword made a deep dent in his helm and left with a ring. The warrior tried to make another wide swing. But the Giant arced his body to the left and hit him in the helm hard with his elbow. The warrior fell. But the Giant felt a push as something metallic hit him from the right. He fell to his left, beside the warrior. Vincent noticed it was another member of his troops, the one who had blocked his blow. He raised his sword to stab The Giant but he received a kick on his foot instead, that sent him sprawling on the ground. The warrior tried to strangle The Giant, now that he had no weapon. He produced a knife from one of the many hidden pockets in his armour and stabbed him between the ribs through the armour. The man screamed. Vincent whispered, "Don't look, Jon", covering his eyes with his hand.

Vincent saw a few other members of his platoon come towards him with weapons in hand. The Giant was up by then. He swung his axe in a huge motion that kept the offenders away for a split instant, in turn giving him time to throw a knife. It lodged in one of the warrior's hand and disarmed him. He swung again, a lower swoop this time, and hit another man directly in the chest. The armour split in two and the man fell dead. Vincent saw a spear swoop, and lodge directly in the Giant's left shoulder. It narrowly missed the neck. An inhuman growl escaped his throat as a reaction to the pain. He threw his battle axe at the nearest man and removed the spear form his shoulder gritting his teeth. He used the same spear to thrust at another offender. The offender had his shield at ready but the thrust came with such force that it pierced through the shield and went through him. All the offenders which had come forward were either dead or severely injured. The Giant stood panting as he tried to retrieve his battleaxe.

The whole platoon charged at The Giant this time. Three of the men who used spears, stayed behind. Vincent saw they were looking for a clear shoot fling the spear.

Vincent noticed The Giant used the same axe swinging motion again but the men were all around him. The Giant managed to kill some with his throwing knifes and axe. That did not seem to have a profound impact as there were too many. Someone cut his hand a bit and disarmed him. While another drove a sword straight through his stomach and backed away as the Giant tried to grab for him. But he grabbed a spear instead. He jerked it free sending another offender behind, ducked a sword slash and thrust it in another one of his men. He tried to do the same to another but the man dodged. He dropped the spear and tried to remove the sword from his stomach. He did and held it in his right hand. Vincent saw three spears come at him in a smooth arc; two pierced him, one missed. Vincent noticed the six footed warrior go towards the Giant with a knife in left hand. His right hand was on the wound in his ribs. The Giant saw him. He tried to raise his sword arm but the six footed warrior was faster. He slit the Giant's throat. The sword dropped from his arm. The Giant fell face first into the dirt that now had blood. The six footed warrior fell, throwing the knife away and holding the wound with both hands, between painful breaths.

The training ground looked like a battlefield, Vincent knew because he had seen one.

Through all this, the being stood still. The surviving platoon now looked at him. Vincent could not see their expressions. But he only ever saw cowards in them.

The being made a flick with his right hand. The whole section of the Town Centre in front of him, caved in, all the warriors standing there, crashed in with it. The town centre started crumbling. There was a deep rumbling noise as the pillars gave in one after another and a dust cloud rose. The dust cloud did not touch the being as if an invisible wall was protecting him. A few seconds later there was thin air in place of the town centre. The whole town seemed to have gone silent. The being started hovering above the ground again. As soon as it left contact with Earth another ripple shook through the town, it formed a wave on the cobblestone street in front of Vincent as if the street was water. Only the change seemed more permanent.

The being rose to some height before stopping again. He turned and spread his arms. It seemed he was facing the people. Vincent first heard a faint rumbling and then the rumbling grew louder. The being seemed to shine in a faint blue light. Everything around him started rumbling. Vincent had seen alchemists mend things. But just after repairs of small things like a vase or a glass, they broke into a sweat. But a whole town? Vincent realised comparing the being with an alchemist seemed plain wrong. The broken cart, the broken pieces of glass, the wall that was now rubble, Vincent himself felt a good feeling as if he was being healed from within. He felt as if it was his very soul that was being healed not just his body. A feeling that made him optimistic. A certain warmth. The being that seemed to be angry a moment ago now had a faint smile on his face.

The glass pieces floated in the air and started aligning in their proper position. The cart did the same as its parts returned to their initial frame. The cart actually seemed in a better condition than it was before. The cobblestone wave now straightened itself. The gate, the Wall, the uprooted trees, the Town Centre itself. It seemed to Vincent as if the whole town was one big puzzle solving itself, piece by piece, without a single error.

The warriors that were buried in rubble were now floating in air, as the Town Centre reconstructed itself. After The Town Centre completed its own reconstruction, the warriors were set in the training ground by invisible hands. Vincent saw that their wounds had been healed. The only difference was that the colour of skin was pale white. Vincent reasoned that it must be the same force of the being that was reconstructing. As the Town Centre was being reconstructed, their bodies that were in the Town Centre's rubble, healed too.

When all the repairs finished the rumbling stopped. Everything somehow seemed newer and better. Vincent felt mildly happy and optimistic. He was compelled to smile. The being shone brighter and brighter, till he seemed brighter than the sun did. His radiance escalated to a point where everyone was left with no choice but to shield their eyes. After a few seconds the light was gone. And so had the being.

The town was in stunned silence. The corpses of The Giant and his platoon lay still. So did the reconstructed carts and signs.

A cheer broke the silence. The whole town followed. Everyone seemed to be laughing and cheering ecstatically. The priest had his hands in the air, a joyful smile across his face.

Vincent joined in the cheering, as he lifted his son and started walking back home. He noticed Jon was laughing as well. Little did Vincent know the reason why Jon felt happy.

First time had Vincent seen people of this town to be that happy. Not only this town. Any town. Any city.

Did I see God? 

Author's Note: Thank you dear reader, for taking the time to read the Prologue. I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it. I really appreciate it!

I will update The White Capes once every week. If I miss any week, the next week I will post two updates instead of usual one and so on.