Skull And The Fangs

A killer, a saviour.

Flashback..

1677

Patham town, Indian region.

Asia.

The sun descended to the west and casted down its orange rays.

Goats bleated and shook their butts along as they loitered around. As the arid air blew, dust swirled and did the great job of coating every single structure and existence around, in a thick layer of dirt.

Caius trudged across the dirt road that was lined on the sides by local shops. He was clothed in a red one piece, long sleeved mantua, a beaver hat was donned on his head and his feets, tucked in knee-length black boots, thumped the dust-thick road. His face was well shaved, leaving just a mustache that had the shape of a bowtie.

His eyes, gazing from under the hat he wore, riddled through the dust, stirred up by the wind, the horses rushing past and the carriages skittering along the road, scrutinizing wares and goods displayed in shops.

He had come to a nearby city for a meeting with a person of high profile and had decided to branch in this town to get something. Some