The coach that arrived to take Caleb Niite to the school he would be attending was small, just large enough for him and his small amount of luggage to fit. It arrived at 8:30 that morning, but Caleb had been sitting outside the manor since 5:00. He stared pensively out from the porch, sitting on the railing that bordered hit, his icy blue eyes and a matching colored tie the only things visible in the dark. His elder brother Charles had picked out the outfit, wanting to send his usually unstylishly dressed brother off looking cool, for once. Caleb had not argued, merely accepted it, and this early morning he had sat on the porch in a black silk shirt and ice blue tie, and some black pants tight around the waist that poofed out as the reached his feet. His dark skin blended in quite well in the dark, and so did his hair, which he had colored black as to appear more normal.
Caleb Niite, the heir to the Salamander family, was being sent to a special school to hone his chosen skill set as an Assasin. As most of his half brothers had chosen more powerful things, from Berserkers to Combat mages, the fact that Drake Ares Salamander's true son chose something considered weak and cowardly was frowned down upon even more than usual. But then, Caleb had always been an odd one.
Since his birth 15 years ago, it was suspected Caleb would be unique even among his already odd and unique family. With naturally white hair to begin with, that had eventually evolved into a bright blue, and eyes the frosty icey gray/blue color that marked his cold demeanor, quiet Caleb Leon Niite had been an interesting switch up from the hyperactive and boisterous children that usually were sired by his War Herald father. To be able to sit on a porch railing, silent and patient, for hours on end, was unheard of in his family, and that demeanor had marked him for life. Shunned by both his peers out of fear, and his family out of disgust and disapointment, Caleb had withdrawn into the peaceful cold of ice that seemed to represent him. Yet another oddity to mark him, as Salamander's children usually preferred fire and earth, with the occaisonal wind. The older ones had mastered the art of controlling lightning after decades of practice, and would have screamed bloody murder if they learned Caleb had mastered that aspect of it at ten years of age.
Despite his seeming disinterest, Caleb was quite excited to go off to school. To be away from this place, where he had known so much pain as a child for no other reason than his birth, living with a family who was constantly disapointed in him, and where he was constantly prodded unsuccesfully to anger, to fight, to prove himself as Drake's son, to just leave without running away, it was both relieving and refreshing. Especially going to a school where not talking about yourself was the norm, where secrets were not only kept but were expected and endoresed, where being silent and calm and deadly, where being born of ice was an asset, not a liability. For Caleb's world was one of ice and wind, of silent falling snow, of things quickly appearing and just as quickly gone. It was where he belonged, and where he was finally, after 15 years of being misplaced and lost, going.
-End Prelude part 1-
Well, that is the first part of my Prelude. I eagerly await critiscism and opinions.
