Chapter One: Yearning for the Hand of Freedom <iframe width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/IZuAzJGTTOM" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe> I've lost track of how many days I've spent in this castle. It might have been a week, it might have been a month. Either way, I feel like I've been trapped here for years. I didn't know where I was going; I wasn't headed anywhere in particular. The moment I stepped foot on this territory, I knew I should have turned back. Something told me to keep going, though. I could hear the cries of troubled souls; the mourns of those in need. Before I could investigate further, I was greeted by an old aged man. I was too confused to hear what it was he said, but I believe it was something religious. Seconds later, I was forced into a cart, trapped by barred walls. My sword was confiscated, too. There was nothing I could do to escape in such a limited amount of space. There's insanity in this castle. Killers, sinners, schizophrenics... They're everywhere. I've done my share of killing, but it was all deserved. I'm a server of justice; a protector of the good. I've been betrayed and left for dead by my closest allies, whom also deserve to die. God will banish them to Hell when their day of death arrives. He won't accept back stabbers into his paradise. I now sit in this plain prison of a room. My bed is surprisingly comfortable and is made for me every morning. Otherwise, I hate it here. There's no window in my room because I'm not allowed to see the outside world. The walls are dense so I can't hear anyone speak outside of my room. People seem paranoid that I'll somehow tear a hole in my room and get genocidal. That is foolish... I'd bruise my knuckles attempting such a thing. I've no strength of a brute. Some of the male Doctors look at me like they've never seen a woman before. I suppose that's not surprising... Some of the captives must have lost their charm since coming here. Others look at me suspiciously, though. It's rumoured that I'm crazy; that I don't understand what's going on. They call me dangerous. Well, that's one thing they have right. I'm not a warrior to be trifled with. I proved this one day when I punched one of the Doctors in the eye for touching me where I did not wish to be touched. Since then, some enter wearing masks with angry expressions, hoping to defend themselves from my wrath. They say I need to "keep the monster under control". Goddammit, I'm not insane. I do not belong here. I'm... I'm not a monster. Am I? No. It can't be. I'll free myself from this place, with the rest of the prisoners following me, if they wish to escape as well. Locking a person like this is madness. It's unfair. So I will be these peoples' saviour. Even if that means if I see them again in the future, I will strike them with my righteous blade.