The Squire

If Dillon hadn't been present at the birth of his nephew, the Crown Prince of Hahr and future ruler after his sister's death, Dillon wouldn't have believed it. Yes, the boy looked like he was related. Dillon even thought his nephew's looks favored him. Yet, there was something else about the child, something so incredibly weird and strange, that merely by his presence Dillon became unnerved. Was it the boy's telepathic and telekinetic powers? Could it be related to that strange light that would flash suddenly from his eyes,? Or was it his ability to transform energy or rearrange molecules without restrictive dimensional confines, and regardless of time and space? Incidentally, that meant he could turn nothing into fire, or will someone dead simply by thought.

"Delightful young man," Dillon told his brother-in-law and current Regent of Hahr, not to mention, the self-styled Saint of the New Religion. "I'm certain you'll enjoy his company, as long as you do exactly as he says."

His brother-in-law paled and nervously cleared his throat. "What about you, Dillon? Are you not afraid?"

"No," Dillon scoffed, for surely, the boy would never turn his murderous rage upon his uncle. Would he?