#Side Story. The Life of Gregor Dorn.

INTERMISSION: Ok before we go to the main event where Marquess Clayhill unleashes his master plan to take the title of dukedom for himself. In order to find his kidnapped daughter from the Nethorus councils hands. I'm really sorry for the late upload guys! I thought a little side story would be a relief from all the tension and then I realize, sh*t I need to finish this chapter first. So, yeah I made some changes and I need more time to get a incisive battle where Richard is in a corner that he needs to get out of himself while being fun for the readers. Anyway enjoy this little side story. By the way, there will be a new uploaded schedule so... Have a nice day, folks! Also side note: When I was creating the character of Gregor Dorn, I needed an inspiration who is excellent in defensive warfare. Who else but The Vigilant, Unyielding, Praetorian of Terra, Rogal Dorn from the Warhammer 40k franchise. I say franchise because the lore is so rich and stupid I immediately fell in love with it. Hence why Gregor was made.

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Gregor Dorn was a strange fellow. Not only was he adept in the art of warfare but can also be an unorthodox architect. Learning the principles of structural integrity; Gregor can build and rebuild walls with unprecedented speeds. Although, he was not the only one that can erect such a structure. Many of his men that Dorn himself personally trained were quite artisans. Although they're level of expertise wasn't as grandeur like that of Gaius Flavinus Linaris, but it was nevertheless effective.

In fact Gregor was so successful in his career in guarding the city, Oliver Cromwell promoted him to garrison commander. Hence why he was respected by the nobility to which Charles, his good friend and co-worker complimented him for his versatility in the field of defensive warfare. Just like all the high ranking officials within the city; he too also speaks a variety of languages but it is only limited to Lethin, Draconic and Anglish. Each dialect derived from the places they originated from.

For example: Lethin came from the natives that reside in the Remolan Republica, Draconic being the oldest which the Dragon Lords decreed it as the central language to all the races for better communication. Anglish was his first language to speak since he came from the Etronarchian Kingdom.

Despite earning such great deeds, his personality wasn't to everyone's liking. Gregor was seen as cold and sour in nature by his peers. Even in his private life; he has remained reserved for most of his time. But there is something that he, himself always kept a secret from anyone. He loves carving toys.

A year before John Akton's arrival to the world of Korsan. In the dead of night.

The crescent moon lit the boulevards and alley ways of Isstvan as it gleams an iridescent light. The streets were empty like a barrel of rum. Speaking of rum, the taverns are in closing hours, including the many shops and store houses. Whilst the citizens kindled their rushlights within their dwellings. The youth scurry to their homes as supper was ready.

The men returned to their families after a long day of work. It was so serene. The quiet wind blows a cold ambience in the air. It was so peaceful once the sun sets, everybody went straight inside to drink Calda or Mulsums. A type of beverage for the poor since they cannot afford any expensive drinks. Everything was fine when the sound of metal clanking in the distance.

A large man, ornate in shining armor was walking monotonously as each step became a stomp. Wearing only basic armor unlike the flashy, segmented armor worn by the knightage. Still, it was enough protection to stop a spear from piercing his belly. Dorn continues to march to his abode till a little girl came skipping bumps into him. She tilts her head then displays a yellow flower to him.

Gregor expressionlessly takes the flower and puts it on in one of the straps in his chest. Without saying a word. He advances back to his home, not stopping his pace. But the girl didn't stop pestering Gregor; she boldly runs in front of him again. He halts, staring blankly at the girl. She pouts and points to the ground with her index as she stomps her foot like the petty child she is. Gregor raises an eyebrow then rolls his eyes as he kneels.

The girl smiles. She hugs Gregor tightly, disregarding the uncomfortable armor piece that he wore as she embrace the tired Commander. Dorn, awkwardly lifts his hands to return the hug but the girl slyly lets him go swiftly. Cuddling onto his own armor. His jaw stiffens in annoyance as the girl sneers at him gleefully.

He irritably tries to stands up but the girl then came to him and gave Dorn a pat on the head. Afterwards, she left and saunters off to collect more flowers. Gregor had his eyes open like the full moon. Shaking his head to disclose the unnecessary thoughts. Strolling back to where he intended to go, as he makes his way back to his house. Standing in his front door, Gregor takes in a deep breathe then opens the hatch.

"I'm home." He coolly said. No response. Just an empty room with leftover, carved wooden chips on his workshop that littered the ground.

Closing the door behind as to separate the outside world. He removes the metal armor that he wore for protection. Gregor sometimes complained about the quality being poorly forged. But it was the cheapest the he can afford. Typical for the average citizen of Isstvan if you are not from noble blood. Putting down the few body parts of his armor.

A dome vest fro his chest, a small chain mail shirt, several harnesses to protect his limps and some simple metal boots. But nothing is as more important as the Konrad kettle Helmet that he always wears. It was not the first, neither was it the last. It was only a remembrance to when his father gave it to him on his 7th birthday.

He changed his outfit from beneath the auramite armor. Takes a short bath then prepares supper. It wasn't special but since winter is near, perhaps a warm meals is better. 2 sausages, half a loaf of bread and maybe a bit of ale.

He doesn't hesitate to cook the meal for himself. When he was finished making his meal and places it at a round table but for some reason there appear to be 3 plates ready. Each of them have a variety of different foods.

The dish in front of Gregor was the sausages and loaf of bread that he made, the one across was a plate full of vegetables with a cup of freshly crushed grapes then the one next was a small bowl of oatmeal with a miniature spoon inside. Before he could eat; Dorn then recited the rites of Dragon Lord Ommuson, the Lord of creation and order. After 3 minutes of praying, he then started munching away — leaving nothing behind.

Burping twice, Gregor then started eating the ones that were leftover. As if someone didn't finish their portion. It didn't matter; he devoured them anyway. Now full, Gregor sits back for a bit, then sees the neighbors lights go off in his open window. It was now sleeping hours.

He picks up the dishes to put them on a cylindrical wooden bucket as he washes them till their squeaky clean. When he was done with that — Gregor then started sweeping the ground, including the excess of wood chips laying on his floor. As he was closing the shutters; he sees a father that just arrived. His children came out flocking to him as his wife was standing in the front door. Dorn stares at them for a while until they vanish from his sight.

He looks back and all he saw was a small room with the living room attach to the kitchen. Then sways his head and closed the shutter. Lighting up a candle to brighten the room around him. Gregor puts on his workshop apron as he proceeds to carve an unfinished knight riding a horse.

Twas the night before the first day of winter.

The snowfall season is near and it gets colder each day that pass. During the first week of the winter months, there was little snowfall but tonight was special. Normally, it was sleeping hours as there were quite a few guards out on patrol. Some of whom were lower class knights but they are a minority compared to the rest of the normal men that came from poorer environments.

Gregor wakes up as he gets out of bed and puts on a hooded cloak with a bandanna to cover his mouth. He grabs a large sack then hurries outside. Before he could leave, Dorn takes one last look at a small painted portrait of himself standing next to a women. Then waves his hand.

"I'll be back soon. Tonight will be special dear." Dorn mutters.

He quickly went out and climb a ladder that was conveniently place.

He runs and jumps to the roofs of dwelling after dwelling as he throws the wooden toys in one of the Culina that ventilate smog. To make sure they didn't burn it, Gregor wrapped them in colorful cloth bags. Some of whom were stripes, while the others were plain single colors. Nevertheless, he continues to drop these gifts to every house that he bumps into. Sometimes he tosses them at an open window or an unlock door.

Coincidentally, he appeared on the house of the girl that he met earlier. So, Gregor uninvitingly went inside and place the gift at their dining table. He can see the whole family sleeping in one of the rooms — lying on the cold floor with nothing but a mat and blanket to keep them warm from the elements. Dorn instead left a specially wrap gift.

It was a wooden flower, painted in purple. As for the rest of the family; he just gave them 5 candles that could last for 3 hours. Right when he was about leave, Gregor noticed some leftover flat almond bread that was shaped like a plated disc. Dorn hates leftovers so he decides to take some of them in a small bag and drank the whole goat milk. It tasted somewhat bad but at least it wasn't expired. Then he left with the door shut closed.

Gregor kept on running, jumping on to the dwellings of his neighborhood. Until he made it to the poorer sections of the city. Unlike the insulae homes where he had to fling the gifts on the open windows and front doors of each dwelling. But this one was going to be simple since the homes are actually house build by scraps of wood and roofs were hay. Hence why giving gifts would go smoothly. When his large bag was nearly half empty, Gregor wasted no time and hurries to deliver the final batch of gifts.

An hour later.

The bag was finally empty. It went smoothly than he'd imgained. Gregor calculated that he might finish till dusk but it was still midnight and the patrol guards are still present. Dorn thought it was time to leave and head before he gets caught by anyone that might recognize him. Then, he spotted an extremely skinny old man, who was blind judging from the blood-stained cloth wrapped around his skull. Covering his eyes and sitting in front of an abandoned home that was torned apart. Likely by the elements or must have been burned down.

He nonetheless went to the man despite the risk of him being noticed. Gregor jumps right beside him but the man wasn't shock nor did he flinched a little. Dorn then sat next to the blind man. The old man in return smiled at Gregor, though it was on the wrong direction but still appreciated his company. The two of them even began chatting to one another. Gregor was even surprise that the blind man spoke fluent Anglish.

He introduce himself as Dalton and that he came from the land of Etronarchia. Then started complaining about how he's life was all but a misfortune of terrible mistakes. He even began blabbering how he could have prevented those aberrations. Gregor stayed silent as he was too awkward in conversations like this. Still, he kept on listening.

Dalton then inquired Gregor what he loves doing. Gregor didn't respond and yet gave in. He told Dalton he likes crafting things and did it for someone special and that he was only upholding his promise. He gave Gregor a pat on the back for being so loyal. Dorn said nothing and let the man continue to prattle.

An hour has passed. Dalton was already out of breath as he slowly deteriorates from his feeble body. Then, he started sobbing. Tears appeared flowing on his cheeks as the cloth that covered his eyes was now soaked. He lamented and begs to have the house behind be restored to its former self and be buried under it till death takes him away. He ask Gregor to bring him inside the battered shack. He complies and carried him in.

"Sir, Dorn. Would you do the honours of putting this feeble old man to rest? I am ready to see them." Dalton spoke in a raspy tone. His voice dry and cold yet gentle in nature. Something Gregor doesn't have.

"If that is what you wish, then I shall gladly grant it." Dorn said emotionlessly. This was not something out of the ordinary. He knows this man has reached the end of his prime. There is no need for him to suffer more. The only mercy he can give is what he requested.

"I thank thee for no one who I consider is worthy of taking this task... but you... You are Anglish... Be proud of who you are Gregor. Never let these horrid wankers make the better of you." Dalton gave his last words and Gregor takes out a bottle of poison in his pocket. Then handed it to the old man. He instantly knew what it meant and drank it immediately without hesitation. Then a gush of wind blows violently within the room.

When morning rises

Gregor, decked out in his regular suit of amor, was walking towards the gates for inspection as he subsequently pass by to Dalton's house. He saw a young Dalton waving a smile at him. Behind him was a full grown women in her late 20s and 6 children flocking around her. She too fluttered back to him.

Gregor though dismissively turned around and never looked back as the house of the once blind old man manifested to its worn out state. Dalton, along with the woman and children vanished as if they were part of the wind. Inside the house, lay multiple purple flowers like a bouquet.

In the middle was one miniature wooden home.