Days of Men [Lost Age]

[Achesia]

Act 1: Josslyn

Goose bumps spread over her soft bare shoulders as she stood in the middle of the marble throne room. The large marble pillars that held up the ceiling forty feet above them stood lit with torches all around her. She stared at the banners that draped them, a white dragon on a black field over a sea of red blood, the sigil of House Dominicus. Goose bumps began to spread over her shoulders as the sounds of hard footsteps began to fill the room, soft whispers echoed throughout the dark hall as many of the court members trickled in for the days session. Men and women from high and low houses alike all gathered in the Dragon Tower of Fawnnorth to play the fast paced political game of the Empire. A few knights wearing the mailed fist of Warrick stood behind her eying her naked shoulders with a modest look of lust in their eyes. Across from her a few ladies who wore pins bearing the Red Horn of House Kresten looked her up and down suspiciously. She began to feel more and more like an out lander in this place, its cold interior hostile to her presence. As she turned to seek a less visible position in the throne room a warm hand rested on her shoulder.

Her uncle Prince Hector Daevues smiled to reassure his niece as they stood together in court. Josslyn's smile back lacked much of her uncle's spirit but she crossed her hands in front of her and tried to look as confident as possible. She was a long way from her home of Castle Radek, or she was at home depending on how you look at it, not in the Dragon Tower built hundreds of years ago by the first Dominicus Emperor but in Fawnnorth the first home of House Daevus back in the days that the King's of Achesia ruled over the land. The cold looks and pointed whispers they were receiving were half of malice and half of curiosity. It had been a long time since commissioners from the Kingdom of Achesia had been in the capitol of the Empire. Since the conquest of the Kingdom of Achesia by the Dominicus Emperors and the establishment of the Empire, House Daevus has stayed far away of the politics of the Empire rather keeping to their exile from Fawnnorth at their seat of Castle Radek. Princes and Princess of Achesia were not seen at court in Fawnnorth before the Emperor unless they were paying their required homage, but the intentions of Prince Hector and Princess Josslyn were clear in everyone's mind this day as they waited for the entrance of the Emperor.

Josslyn looked to her uncle who was clad in a rough spun tunic bearing the sigil of House Daevus: the green tree with branches of crowns, his rough scared faced seemed to show none of the fear or apprehension that she was feeling. She could feel the eyes of half the court on her which made her cold naked shoulders feel even more exposed. It was no phenomenon when her father had sent Uncle Hector to represent the family due to his notoriety within the Empire as a strong leader of character. He was called "The Bull" after all for his many victories in battle and notoriously clever political savvy. But it astonished her when the King command her to join him on the long trip to the capitol, she had never been to the center of the Empire nor did she have any experience in diplomacy or politics, rather she kept mostly to herself within the confines of Castle Radek, often teaching herself to read new books or riding horses through the grove. At first she had sought her father out after his announcement that she should go with her uncle and begged him to repeal his request, but her father the King did not budge but rather insisted that his daughter attend the court in Fawnnorth where she could serve her family as a representative. Princess often acted as diplomats when there were few young men to do so. Her father was busy on the western front and her brother not even old enough to leave the breast of his mother. Therefor the duty and honor of their house rested on their shoulders and the whim of a often apathetic Emperor.

The room suddenly grew an eery silent, at first Princess Josslyn thought that the Emperor had made his entrance but rather on the opposite side of the hall another group of delegates had entered pacing slowly to their position under the throne. Two knights draped in ornate cloaks and a finely dressed lady wearing silk red stared at Josslyn and her uncle with menacing smiles as they stepped to the base of the marble steps that lead to the throne. The crowned stag of House Koud was clearly sewn on the Knights cloaks as it fluttered behind them, and a opal pin shaped in the form of a white dragon sat on the breast of the woman.

"Sur Sheard Koud, heir of Judgestone, Sur Oswin Koud the brother of the Grand Duke, and Princess Johanna Koud Dominicus daughter of the Grand Duke, wife of Prince Manuel Vilen Dominicus." Uncle Hector explained to Josslyn who looked the party up and down as they did the same from the opposite end of the room. The yellow clad group exchanged glances and whispers before parting with the Princess who took up her seat a few steps up the marble steps where the members of the Royal Imperial House of Dominicus sat. No doubt they were yet planning their move against House Daevus in court today, it was because of their house that Josslyn and her uncle were this far from home. The war between their two families that had stretched back centuries was taking a new chapter as vassals of House Daevus were attacked without warrant by vassals of House Koud, no doubt at the behest of their liege who was known for his scheming. This conflict has taken a very blood turn as the entire west of the Kingdom of Achesia was in flames as mercenaries hired by House Koud ravaged the countryside. Outnumbered by these savages it was time to seek intervention by the Emperor to end this conflict, but it would be an uphill battle for a family with little political connections in the Capitol.

Soon the first signs that the Emperor was about to enter came. Several of the elite Knight Order of Summer stepped out in front of the marble steps that lead to the throne. These elite Knights were some of the best swordsmen in the kingdom, they come from great families and wield mithril blades that could sever a aurochs in half with one cut. Their faces were shrouded with black cowls and masks that covered everything but their eyes under mithril helms shaped in the image of a wyvern poised to strike. These silent sentinels stood with their swords unsheathed points to the ground leaning their hands on the hilt, poised to strike all who posed a threat to the Emperor.

"All rise for his Holiness, Emperor Martin Alexis Dominicus, the Dark Lord, Lord of all the Realms, anointed of the Summer God, blessed of the Dread Lord, and Lord of the Eastern Mountains and the Western Sea and Protector of the Empire." A man wearing the sigil of House Dominicus announced as the entirety of the throne room bent to a knee, each member of court kept their head low as the stomp of the Emperors boots echoed through the silence of the almost two hundred people in attendance. Behind him his son Prince Manuel Vilen walked to join his Koud wife under his fathers throne on smaller oaken thrones set up in a line, each specially for the Princes and Princesses in the Dominicus family. Prince Koert was not far behind him sitting just to his brothers left, the seat next to him empty for a wife that his is expected to soon take as expected of him being a man of twenty years. Rumors in the court- which were plentiful in almost every subject- however was that Prince Koert was happier bedding half of the young high-born ladies in the Empire than taking a single wife that he would then be stuck with, but rumors were not always true. A few chairs were still left open, four for the two missing Princes and the wife and future wife, and three for the Dominicus Princess the first of which to enter court: Princess Anna Birte known as the "Heart of Beauty". She was the favorite lady for knights to ask favor from during tourneys and was said to be the indirect cause of over fifty knights deaths during those same tournaments as they fought to the death to impress her when they could have easily yielded and lived. Her bright eyes and luminous demeanor did not seem to be harmed by this however as she took her seat with an elegant smile. Behind her sisters Princess Emilia and Angelien took their seats as well, looking almost as beautiful as their sister whose all encompassing wake they often were lost in.

Emperor Martin Alexis Dominicus as the last of his daughters took their seat took his magical sword Dragon-Fire from his squire and sat down keeping the bright red glowing blade in his lap. He was a course, jagged looking man who has sat on the throne of the Empire for over thirty years, and each one of those you could read on his face which spoke of tired impatience with the constant malarkey of the Imperial court. Of late he was known to not even respond to the requests of some of the court members when they plead their case before him, the shame of some of these men and women as the Emperor stared them dead in the eyes without a word was evident each time. This made Josslyn even more distressed as she counted the moments to when they would step in front of the Emperor and make their request, this all served to distract her from her knees which were shaking from holding a bow so long.

"Rise." The Emperor said in a crackling bellow.

The court rose to their feet, some of the older members had to be aided by their neighbors.

The Emperors squire stepped forward to serve as the courts announcer. He held a scroll of the agenda for the session which had a list of all those delegates that had requested the honor to address the Emperor. He unraveled it and allowed the Emperor to read over the list and choose who he would speak to first. Josslyn knew that as soon as he saw the name Daevus that they would be the first called upon, and she was not wrong.

A deft chuckle came from the Emperor as he saw their names on the scroll. "It has been a long time since your house has graced us with their presence Daevus." He leaned forward on the throne which was made of hard marble and only had one small cushion to relieve the Emperors hind quarters. "Step forward Sur Hector the Bull." He spoke with a slight undertone at her uncle's title. "And Princess Josslyn, someone I do not believe I have yet met." His tone much gentler when addressing her. The delegates standing between them and the base of the throne parted as they made their way to the front, her uncle taking a knee and Josslyn curtseying. "Rise, what business does House Daevus bring to us?"

"Your holiness." Sur Hector rose to his feet and stood tall and upright. "I come at the command of my brother King Geffrey Daevus, to plead your intersession in the unwarranted hostilities brought upon our lands by the underhanded means of House Koud who seeks to defile our lands which are rightfully ours." He briefly glanced at Princess Johanna Koud Dominicus who was staring into his soul with piercing eyes. She was stroking the hand of her husband the Prince who sat with his hand on his chin studying Sur Hector as he spoke. "They use foreign sell swords to raze villages, destroy crops, loot and pillage. These unholy men rape our women and taking our men off as slaves as a part of their payment by House Koud, a detestable sin in the sight of the Dread Lord, his children in chains of foreign unbelievers." He shot a glance at the two delegates of House Koud who stood there silently with arrogant smiles, over confident and vain. "I plead with you my Emperor to intercede in this conflict and order House Koud to leave our lands for good." He bowed his head as he ended his request.

The Emperor sat examining Sur Hector for several moments after his request ended. Josslyn was worried that he was going to ignore her uncle's request as her heart seemed to stop beating, but it was jolted into rhythm as the Emperor suddenly turned to address her.

"Princess Josslyn, you are a lovely young girl, it is a shame your father has kept you locked away in his dark castle and away from Fawnnoth where you surely belong." A slight smile slipped the lip of the Emperor as he addressed Josslyn who smile as well but she thought for sure it looked as if she was going to faint when she did try to smile.

"Your holiness is kind, but my home is in Achesia, the land I love." She bowed her head.

"Spoken like a Daevus." He leaned back in the throne. "I hope you are not as stubborn as the rest of the male portion of your family, that would be such a waste." He glanced down at his son Prince Koert who was studying Josslyn in a more intimate way as the torchlight glimmered off her brown hair. Josslyn glanced about nervously as she felt hundreds of eyes on her, the heaviest of which being Prince Koert's which was so strong she could swear it weighed down on her breasts.

"My father only wishes to protect our lands, of course to honor the Empire." She responded staring up the many steps to the Emperor perched upon his throne.

He chuckled heartily. "A sweet lie my dear, your father only cares for Achesia, not so much for the Empire when it does not serve his purposes." He turned to the Koud's who stood on the fringes of the crowd. "What say you to the Daevus harsh accusations?"

Sur Sheard Koud the heir of the Grand Duke stepped forward. "Your holiness, these accusations are nothing but a sinful lie dreamt up to deface the honor of our House." He walked out beside Sur Hector to finish. "The Daevus House is simply covering up their own attack on lands which have rightfully been ours for hundreds of years but have been occupied by their minions who have raped women and girls descended from the Koud Clan in lands held by Clan Koud in the days before the formation of the first Kingdom."

"So you admit to the attacks on us?" Sur Hector responded.

"I admit to defending our honor as a clan Sur."

"Woe is the honor of those who hire foreigners to do their raping." Sur Hector stared into the young mans eyes.

"You would dare speak such untruth in the sight of our Emperor?" Sur Sheard took a step towards him.

"Enough!" The Emperor slammed the point of his blade on the marble which made a loud thud that silenced the whole court. "I grow sick of this, I care not for this conflict which has lasted for centuries of bickering over lands. I also grow sick of hearing it from some young whelp and crafty snake. You can tell your lieges I summon them both here, to Fawnnorth, to tell me themselves why either of them deserves these lands." The room grew very silent at this announcement. When a lord of one of the many lands of the Empire was summoned to court is was usually not for thanks and a warm smile, but when two were summoned at the same time it would be something the entire Empire would want to witness. The two houses of delegates bowed their heads in acknowledgment. Sur Hector's face a sign of disappointment. Josslyn stood there lost in the current happenings not sure what to think of this without her uncle's explanation. The Emperor rose to his feet. "I grow weary of all of this, the rest will wait for the morrow." He handed his blade to his squire and stepped towards the door to his private halls. "Daevus' I expect both of you to dine with me and my family tonight, I am curious to hear of the Kingdom which I own that I hear nothing from more often than not."

"It would honor us your holiness." Sur Hector bowed.

The Emperor walked from the court, and as he passed through his large door the room erupted into conversation between the many members. The rest of the Dominicus Family followed then trailed by the Knights of Summer. Sur Sheard Koud could only scoff as he walked away from the two Daevuses. Josslyn only stood even more distressed then when they began.


Characters:
Princess Josslyn Daevues
Prince Hector Daevues
Princess Johanna Koud Dominicus
Prince Manuel Vilen Dominicus
Emperor Martin Alexis Dominicu

[The knights of kings]

Volk or at least that’s what the people around the small town near Fawnnorth called him, sat slouched by the warm crackling fire in the local tavern. The tavern was lit only by the torches set up along the walls and the many candles strewn about tables between messy plates filled with gods know what. Regardless the tavern was a gathering place where one could gather their spirits and drink their wealth away all in the company of friends and easy women. With that being said it was particularly crowded on those chilly nights where the frost began to nip at one’s body which was already weak from the back breaking labor on the fields. Cheers and calls of merriment where abound and cat calls to the bar maidens didn’t disappear on this night. With mugs clattering against wooden tables and heads, pressed against lips the local patrons continued business as usual. Plates teetered precariously at the edges of the tables and ransacked by men who eagerly dug in more often than not with their bare hands. Yet with all the jokes and warmth spread about with the help of some hefty ale the area around the fire place was oddly empty except for Volk. Volk was a silver haired man in his late twenties, his toned muscles hidden just under the skin of his body forming Promethean outfit. It was as all Promethean armor very foreign. Its silver metallic color dashed with black fibers which hugged the skin as if a layer of scales hiding wyvern’s soft flesh. It allowed for great flexibility while giving all the protection of light armor. Man gawked at such an outfit and further still at his accent, yet perhaps the most impressive display about him was his blade.

The sword latched to his waist by a leather holster was long and thinner than most blades. Its speed and cutting ability though was beyond question as it shimmered a blue light as if reflecting the moon lit waters. Crafted by the ancient’s millenniums ago the ability to craft such weapons where lost to the sea of time yet those that remain are highly prized artifacts amongst even Prometheans. His long silver hair which draped past his shoulders like that of a woman was another reason his presence called attention. The people of the tavern though often pretended he wasn't there in the first place, instead continued on as if nothing was different choosing to ignore rather than conflict with this stranger. With that, the most Volk ever spoke was to ask for a place to rest his body and some drink. Though his form was wrapped in mystery it was no question on what he was here for, to kill. He had already been noticed leaving establishments in which someone or another had a problem with another local, the residents would find the one with the problem to be gutted and slain quiet brutally, curiously organs found missing. As such those who wanted someone to disappear from this mortal plane would often seek him out discreetly. Volk was a simple man, asking for coin and not questioning his employers, the reasons for his lust for gold also goes without any clues. This has made him more of an asset to people rather than a partner, a furnace which is given raw materials and spits out results.

Volk's golden eyes where cast down as he stood up pushing the chair aside with a creek, his long spidery fingers pulling up a flagon which sat on the table beside him. As he did so many eyes where cast upon him curious if not frightened by his every move. The singing and the laughter died down as he approached the bar tender who shivered as several silver pieces fell into his hand and Volk turned towards the door. His lower jaw which though in appearance was human was clearly crafted of some metal alloy kept a straight face as if his life knew only that of a stone cold traveler. His boots crunched along the dirt outside the tavern as the rain came down in an orchestra of nature. His eyes swooping side to side like a predator before making his way down the road, a flash of lightening revealing the sign which pointed in the direction of Fawnnorth. The large castle in the distance only reassuring that this was the correct road. With a shroud wrapped about him his movements where swift and determined, without question. As the eyes followed him out of sight he never said a word, the people of the village pitied any man or woman which crossed paths with his silent blade.

As Volk traveled silently down the dirt and cobble stone road a young woman appeared at his side. She was a beautiful girl with hair just barely touching her shoulders yet any simpleton could tell she was not human. Her bare skin was a light blue and transparent as if she was a ghost flickering in and out of existence, though her presence brought no malice with it like many other demonic ghosts of the night. Instead it brought with it a beautiful smile and gentle demeanor, her eyes staring longingly into Volk's who seemed to not acknowledge her.

So what is the plan in Fawnnorth, Volk? Her voice was smooth and pleasant to hear, yet Volk made no indication if it was to him. He simply kept his eyes on the road as if that was the reason he was being propelled forward. A metallic click came from his jaw as it loosened for him to speak.

"Work Yuna." was the one word he uttered from his mouth which hastily shut again. Yuna looked down as if both annoyed and disappointed by his answer; slowly she brushed her hair back behind her ear. Quietly keeping pace with him in the rain, her feet not making any splashes in the mud or prints for that matter. Her arm slowly reached around his and she tenderly pressed herself against him. Still Volk made no notion of feeling her against him and did not change his speed.

You know that we could simply leave this country? Go into the wilds find what we need there. This...this place is just filled with pain and you know quiet well this political squabble is going to suck us right into it. She sounded hurt as if asking a lover not to abandon her. Her eyes reflected this opening only slightly as if holding back tears. This time Volk slowed and gazed at her his eyes saying all she needed to know, a small smile pressed against her lips as Volk placed his hand over hers though it simply went right through.

"I promise once this is over we will turn back. We only need to find a wealthy employer and do what we were both designed to do." Again simple and sweet, the same Volk she had known since her reawakening.

Alright Volk, I trust you. With that they continued to Fawnnorth in silence.

[Achesia]

Act 2: Amery

"The Dread Lord, Lazy One, God of Summer, will keep you his holy swords as you seek to do justice in the Dark Lord the Emperor's name..."

The jagged rocks and soil were as hazardous to your knees as any sword, specially when you were subject to a long winded Praetor giving Summer's Blessings before battle. Chain mail didn't do much to cushion the joints so ones best bet was the prop themselves up by leaning on your blade a trick Amery Avondale learned fast from the Imperial Knights around him during his time as a squire in the Imperial Multitudes. Being a part of one of the great houses of the Empire did not exclude him from the required service as a squire in the Imperial Multitudes before he may be knighted. All boys who wished to but the prefix "Sur" before their names had to do it, which gave the Imperial Multitudes plenty of new recruits to fill their ranks. While some lordlings dreaded the time they would serve in far off lands with thousands of bloody peasants instead of being at home living in rich castles, Amery instead appreciate the experience. It was an adventure every day as they traveled further south expanding the boundaries of the Empire. There was never a dull moment and plenty of chances to make a name for yourself, specially for the second son of a lord who stands to inherit nothing but a name. Amery almost wished he could stay in the Multitudes as an Imperial Knight for a few seasons, but his father would never allow it. There was a need for men in House Avondale as the Lord of the Avonhold only had two sons compared to his five daughters.

The Praetor name Madison was known for his long sermons, Amery was just thankful he was not a knight who must kneel in full plate armor. It wasn't uncommon to see one or two keel over and faint if it was hotter out. The best part of that was seeing the knight splashed with water and coming to consciousness only to make the excuse he was having a vision. As he leaned hard on his steel blade that his father had gotten for him before he left to serve in the Multitudes he looked around at the other Squires and Knights. To his left and right knelt his friends Mason Ryker the son of a Knight in the service of House Dominicus, and Dashiell Oisín the son of a rich merchant who paid his way to become a squire. Mason was half asleep with his head resting on the hilt of his sword, Amery had to nudge him sometimes to keep him from snoring in the middle of rights. Dashiell was trembling from the long time kneeling, his arms and legs barely able to hold himself up, it was only his second month of his twenty-four month service so he was new to the experience. Faintly behind him he could hear the muffled whispers of three Squires that come from the service of House Warrick: Clarence, Keefe, and Marshall. They were not the most pious of squires which seemed to be a theme of those who came from the Eastlands. The rumors of the witchcraft and black magic that is preformed in the Eastlands is widespread but a positive link between these accounts at the ruling house of Warrick is never made so nothing is ever done about it. The three fellow squires however were mischievous and brutish often picking fights with smaller squires and levys that were barely old enough to hold a spear. Amery and his friends had come to contention with them many times before, sometimes even ending in brawls which were quickly broken up. All of the boys were given warnings but it seemed to always come back to conflict each time, something about them didn't settle right with Amery.

"And to you his warriors shall be given great strength to fend off the evil that lurks in the depths. Blessings to all of you in his name." The Praetor waved his staff over the congregation of a few hundred Knights and Squires. As he ended they came to their feet, squires helping some of the older knights up as their plate armor made it a large task to move up and down. Several horns began to blow at this time as the VII Multitude began to form up for march. Over three thousand men would march south to claim further land for the Empire. Today their target was a village of Gnomes not three miles from here. Their scouts had reported a few hours earlier that the Gnomes were alert to their presence and were trying to form some sort of a defense. Gnomes however were not a warlike people, the tallest of their kind only stood twenty inches off the ground. They gardened and farmed what little land they occupied and kept to themselves. The Dread Lord however has no love for "creatures" which by standards of the Empire were anything that wasn't a man or Dragon. The Emperor therefor shared the same distaste for creatures and thus his armies in their march south would put an end to the occupation of these creatures by either enslaving them or exterminating them. Today would be a slaughter by any standards, the Gnomes would stand no chance against three thousand armed men.

A horn sounded and just as Amery mounted his horse they were on the move. He rode aside the Knight he squired for a Sur Randell Judd, a man of forty years near retirement but with great tenacity still going strong within the ranks. It had been fifteen months since Amery was assigned to serve Sur Judd, and since then he had been a great mentor to the boy teaching him almost all of the things he knew about war, from tactics to swordplay. It never ended with Sur Judd, everything was a lesson.

"Alright boy, today you'll learn just how big you are. Have you ever seen a gnome before?" He had taken off his helmet as it was warmer today and he expected no need for it in such lands.

"No Sur I have not." Amery was watching the heavy cavalry form up to their left, their dark red drapes of their horses flattering behind them as they road with large thumps of their hooves under the weight of all of the armor they wore, their lances striped in many colors.

"Not surprised." Nothing really did surprise Sur Judd. "They are a dying species, too small to survive in such a big world."

"What honor does it do for us to kill them then?" Amerys finally looked towards his mentor.

The older man scoffed and with a faint grin responded. "The same honor you get from killing a small animal."

"So none?"

Sur Judd only tilted his head and smiled. Amerys knew that by the right of the Dread Lord the killing and enslaving was part of their duty, but he still saw no point to slaughtering creatures that stood shorter than his knee, a waste of time, no glory to be had.

It would be a short ride over the crest of the hill as the multitude came to formation, the lead would be taken by the ranks of Imperial Knights and Squires who by right of rank and privileged would form the vanguard which would give them opportunity at most of the glory. Behind them were ranks of archers and crossbowmen to cover their advance as they charged into what awaited them. The left and right elements were a mix of Men-At-Arms bearing swords, spears and banners of the Emperor: the white dragon on a black field over a sea of blood. Off on the far right flank the heavy cavalry awaited to charge in if needed and at the privy of the Rector who flew above the battle atop his Wyvern.

As Amery and Sur Judd approached the crest a series of battle horns sounded to make tight formations for battle, a strange order for an assault on an enemy so defenseless.

"Form the line four ranks!" Sur Corbin the knight leader of the vanguard yelled out hoisting his sword in the air in the direction of travel. The formation lined up knight-squire-knight-squire as their normal battle formation, horses cantered slowly forward as the began to crest the hill. As they could just begin to see the gnome village another horn sounded but in a much more irregular resonance.

"Elves" Sur Judd said as he lowered the visor on his helmet. Bellow in the town an entire formation of elves awaited them clad in golden armor. They wielded some of the finest weapons, gilded cleavers, oaken bows, mithril lances... They were also known for being some of the fiercest warriors the Empire has ever faced and they were hated enemies of the Dread Lord. The Elven Dominion had not dared to defy the Empire since their defeat during the Death Wars by the old Kings of Achesia, their great realm reduced to a fraction of what it once was. Now one of their Armies was far north trying to stop the Imperial Advance into the native gnome lands. Most of the warriors, knights, and squires have never seen an elf, much less fought against one. Only knights that strayed far away from the Empire on a quest of adventure would ever had a chance to. With the Empires spurn of everything non-human most creatures stayed away from the proximity of the great civilization of man.

The foreign sounding horn sounded again as the elves bellow in the village began to form tight ranks to counter the cavalry. Volleys of arrows began to fly over the vanguard's heads towards the elves as the Imperial Archers attempted to soften the targets up before the Knights made their way in. However; Their armor was very thick. Above them the screech of a wyvern could be heard as the rector surveyed the scene bellow him, his cold eyes looking down on the Dread Lord's enemies. The rectors of the Achari Cult were a old methodical order that were chosen from amongst the praetors and fraters for their enhanced ability in the Dread Arts (supernatural powers gifted from the God of Summer).

"Their numbers are few brothers, Summer's wrath is in our veins. Down with these beasts." The Praetor that was riding next to Sur Corbin stated as he was telepathically communicated to by the rector to have the vanguard charge.

"Au plus dru!" The Knight commander cried as he reared his horse forward. The VII Legion's battle cry in the old tongue literally translated to "in the thickest, a fitting cry for a vanguard. The hundred plus knights charged down the hill at full speed, swords, axes, and maces brought to bare on the elves before them. The Sea Elves stood their ground and prepared for the assault, their horns blared more in an eery tone that fell mystifying on the ears. Amery's heart pounded as he raised his blade forward prepared to arch in around in a clean slashing movement on a creatures head as they cut through their ranks. He and Sur Judd were the third rank back from the front but it would only take seconds to reach their first target. With only a few hundred yards away from the elf lines a volley of elven arrows shot through them. Amery could feel the fletching of one graze his ear but his resolve was still strong. They were so close he could hear the shouts of the elves in their foreign tongue, commands to prepare. Long bright silver blades were being held fourth to welcome them.

It all happened in a moment, a sudden crash as the two lines met. Horses jeered and men and elf both screamed. There was no different in the screams, all men and creatures seemed to die the same way. Amery found his first target an archer before him attempting to notch and arrow, but his steel blade met the unguarded part of his neck first a stream of blood pouring out on the ground. Sur Judd was next to him fighting two elves off while still mounted, his horse had taken a beating in the first parts of the battle. Amery road towards him and cut one elf that was holding a lance down before he could take Sur Judd off his horse, but as he did two arrows struck his steed and threw him from the saddle. It was a hard landing but he was lucky to not be caught under his horse. He regained his senses after knocking his head against a slain elf's helm. Standing upright he raised his shield in defense against an elf and his long-blade. Countering his thrust low under his defending shield striking the elf in the gut. Two more were on to him, though he dispatched one with a slash of his sword backwards. The sweat and heat of his body began to build, he could see nothing but what was in front of him, his own heart beating faster then the distance Imperial War Drums. He tried to regain control of himself, breathing steadily before making his next advance. An arrow flew towards him but with quick reaction he guarded with his shield the point of the shaft sticking through his wooden kite. Horns blew behind him which meant one of the flanks of men-at-arms were moving in, most of the elves lay dead on the ground, some still moving as squires and knights alike finished them. He even saw his friend Dashiell Oisín slicing the neck of an elf warrior with his dirk before running to the side of his knight. Thats when Amery realized he needed to find Sur Judd.

He scrambled to look for the old knight but he seemed to have disappeared into thin air, he ran to where he last saw him his horse clear in his memory rearing as Sur Judd fought off two elves. Nothing remained standing there however, as he approached he found Sur Judd on the ground, cut in half by an elvish blade, it seemed however the old man had got his dying revenge as his hand still gripped his dagger which was wedged in the gut of the elf warrior who was grasping the blade. All around Amery now men-at-arms raced to push the elvish lines back, but most of the surviving elves were routing, their defeat apparent. The battle was over for Amery who knelt next to his mentors body. It was a solemn moment but he knew the old man would not have wanted to die any other way.

It would be a few hours before the dust settled and the reclaiming of the bodies and all of those items still of value could be made. Soldiers set the gnome village to torch, they found no inhabitants, fled south once the word that the Imperial Legion was moving there most likely. Amery scavenged through the debris a bit, almost nothing could be found that he already didn't have but it meant something to him to see the aftermath of the slaughter, a way to gain sense of it all. Later that day in the camp they set not a mile from the now burnt village the Rector called all of his remaining Praetor's, knights, and squires together. He said a few inspiring words that he usually would after a battle but Amery rarely paid attention preferring to watch the sky above him, he got away with it most times as he had such a pondering look. As he was dazing off he suddenly heard his name.

"Amery Avondale, kneel." A knight next to him said as most in the group were staring at him, apparently they had been saying his name a few times, other squires were kneeling as well.

"Those kneeling have proven themselves worthy in the eyes of the Dread Lord, when they rise they rise a knight of their houses and of the Empire."

The former squires then rose feeling a new sense of existence befallen them. Knights all around gave them pats on the shoulders, Amery only felt the success and the sudden realization, he could finally go home.

Characters:
Amery Avondale

[Achesia]

Act 3: Varlaam

He liked to sit on the outskirts of things, the shadow of the events happening around him. Not apart of any conversation, not noticed by those participating, but certainly not absent when needed. Black haired and dark green eyes he certainly fit the part of a shadow as well, his blank look gave nothing away and his eyes told no tale. He only stood behind his King a violet robed man that seemed to be more skeleton than human. King Oriyan was always a sickly looking man, some said it was a blight brought on when he was a young man while others whispered of something darker, regardless the man seemed enveloped by his robes which he wore in excess to make up for his lack of bulk. As his squire and ward Varlaam was much trusted by the King with many matters as the King knew the quiet boy would speak none of it. The boy just listened and observed, sometimes the King wondered if the boy of sixteen even had much of his own mind or if he was just a zombie. But Varlaam would take him by surprise many times during his service as squire to prove his worth.

It had been eight years since Varlaam appeared in Perisagade the great city and capital of the Kingdom of Kalrush. The boy had appeared with a Knight-Errant, a woman servant, and a chest full of jewels at the gate of the keep. The Knight had produced a scroll from a nobleman who requested that the King take the boy on as a page in hopes of a knighthood in exchange for the jewels. The King graciously accepted as the need for money in the Kingdom was dire in those times. So the boy grew up as the King's ward amongst his children, Teodor his eldest son who was just a year older than Varlaam, and Aileen a girl the same age as Varlaam, and Derek a boy a year younger than Varlaam. For the next eight years they trained, learned, and grew together, all during this time Varlaam served the King faithfully.

"If only your grace you could spare us a few hundred man to stop the brigands from ravaging our land." A lesser noble begged the king in a hallway of the keep near the throne room. This had been the third time this particular noble has asked the king for assistance in driving brigands off his land, and he was not the only noble to be requesting such. But time and time again the King denied them, he simply had no troops to spare these nobles, the royal coffers spent.

"The answer is still no." The King moved to pass the nobleman on the way to his chambers, but the man stepped in front of the King which seemed to anger him as his nostrils flared.

"My lord why do you deny your own people." A stricter tone came from the noble which took even Varlaam aback who was just behind the King, it is improper to agrees your liege in such a way. "Where is the royal money to help us?" He heard the noble say, but that seemed to be the last words to come out of his mouth as the king slapped him across the face. It was a hit that didn't not strike hard physically but in many other ways it did. The kings bloodshot eyes seemed to rise from his deep eye sockets. He stormed past the man who was still grabbing his cheek and forced his way into his chambers, the guards on either side of the door snapping to attention as the King passed, with Varlaam right on his heels.

The King plopped down on a sofa in the middle of his chambers and threw off one of his many robes. He looked over to Varlaam and sighed a deep sigh as all the weight seemed to crush his small frame.

"Varlaam please." He motioned to a box on his desk. Varlaam walked slowly to the box and brought it to the king. Without hesitation the King grabbed it from the boy and opened in. Inside a white powdery substance filled the box and the king took some by his finger and snorted it into his nostrils. A deep sigh left his body as he sat the box down and slouched back onto the sofa. Varlaam knew very well where most of the money in the Royal coffers was going, it was going to the King's habit of narcotics which has stuck with him since his younger days. It was no blight and it visibly was taking its toll on the King. "Leave me." he finally managed to whisper as he was in his state. Varlaam simply bowed his head and left the King's chambers. As he left the room and closed the door behind him he turned around but almost ran straight into a pair of green eyes. Princess Aileen was standing nose to nose with Varlaam as he turned around to leave. She was a beautiful maiden with red hair and fair skin, her and Varlaam had been close friends growing up together and shared most things, except Varlaam who never told her of the true nature of her father the King.

"Hey Varl." She used her nickname that she had given him many years ago as children. "Is my father asleep?"

"He is." Varlaam answered quickly looking back towards the door and then to the girl. "Sorry, he just went to bed."

"I'll speak with him in the morning then." The young lady looked disappointed as she flicked back her hair and gave a half grimace.

"You look tired Aileen." Varlaam looked at the sags in her eyes as she eyed the floor.

"Just a long day. Walk with me." Aileen headed down the hallway towards the throne room and Varlaam followed. "Sur Svend called on me again today." She sat on the steps that lead to the throne.

"A really long day." Varlaam joined her.

"He doesn't quiet get I have no interest in him, his father keeps begging mine to marry us, and I'm afraid that father will do it for the dowry that they are offering, you know how much we need that coin." She rubbed her knee as if to massage it.

"I don't think he will." Varlaam listened as he had many times to what Aileen had to say.

"I wish I had your faith, but I feel my days are numbered as a maiden. Svend said his father wishes to ask again tomorrow at court."

"Do you have no other suitors?"

"None of my liking."

"Maybe its time to find one that is just better than Sur Svend, not to risk ending as his bride."

Aileen rose to her feet at that suggestion. She huffed and puffed. "Why do I need to marry now anyways, I am barely sixteen and my father wishes to give me away. I want someone that loves me and is great, and heroic, not someone with lands and money. Someone that has your qualities Varl."

"My qualities?"

Aileen just looked at him in the eye she turned around to face him her hand reaching towards his.

"Princess." A third voice came from across the throne room. It was Derby the Princesses lady servant, the very woman that Varlaam had come to Perisagade with. "It is time for your bath and bed." She pursed her lips with a grin like she always did.

Aileen looked towards her lady maid as she retracted her hand. "Goodnight Varl." She said as she strutted off with her head hung.

"A good night to you Varlaam." Derby smiled at the boy who was left dumbfounded on the steps of the throne room. He did not know what to make of what had just happened, but Derby was right, its time for bed.

Characters:
Varlaam
Princess Aileen Oriyan
King Oriyan

[Itailian Maifias]

Act 4: Dhelthas

It was just two hours after sunrise in the northwestern region of Avalon, nicknamed the Divide by it's inhabitants, it was a largerly forested region, the tall multidozen feet high pine and spruce tree's dominating the landscape, accompanied by occasional escorts of various other types of bark and make. The tree's were packed tightly together and as such, their large canopies prevented large amounts of the sun's glorious rays from reaching the forest floor, resulting in the typical Divide ground terrain of soft dirt with little or small amounts of grass, and large amounts of leaves and pine needles.

Tucked away in the forest near the border with the Empire of Man was the decently sized settlement of Kineallen. Like almost every town, village or hamlet in the Divide, it was tucked away into the forest, the land it was raised on carefully carved away from the forest and then re-enveloped years later. Faded grey masonry composed the eighteen feet high walls that encircled the village, green forest vinery already beginning to reclaim parts of the wall near lesser traveled areas of the village. On top of the wall at either gate, north and south, was a wooden walkway which was covered with a trigangular roof and simple railing. A simple wooden gate also existed, but it was hardly ever closed or used and rust had formed heavily on it's hinges as it lay wide open. Twin banners of solid white, standing in stark contrast with the rest of the town due to their heavy upkeep and cleanliness, with a single black stag on each, representing the colors of House Valery who controlled the Divide. It's Lord was an aging man in his sixties by the name of Adare, but his city of Arkaley was many miles away more closer to the center of the region. Kineallen was ruled over by a cousin of Adare, a man in his fifties who was most promienent for his tendency to keep to himself and rarely took any callers or visitors that weren't known to him. Despite that, Lord Baledd Valery was a highly respected man of the community and most let him be.

On this gloriously shining morning, Kineallen got a rather heavy wakeup call when five riders approached the village, the heavy clankering of the mountain steed's sounding out heavy strikes against the beaten pavestone road. The steeds were heavy in the lanks, due to the rocky and hilly terrain of the Divide, and the men riding them were lean, yet heavily fit. The front four were clad in the attire of the guards of Kineallen, form fitting chainmail hauberks with leather riding pants and a soiled white surcoat with Valery colors on the front. Two wore simple open faced iron helms while the others bore no helm. All of them were armed with a simple iron arming sword, worn on their right hips in a simple leather sheath with a wooden shield on their left arm. However, the fifth member stood in stark contrast to the others. Forgoing his entire firstly, the man cast a large shadow off of the horse and one could estimate he probably stood some six and a half feet tall with a lean weight of around two hundred and twenty. He wore no chainmail, rather the crimson red plate with gold trimming. The torso segment connected seamlessly with it's leg and foot segments. His helmet was tied onto the saddle, as was his large diamond shaped shield. A impressive steel longsword in a red sheath with gold inlays spelling out the words of House Valery, and in addition, a riding spear strapped to left side of his saddle. His impressive armor and physical attributes won him the attenion of every townsfolk outside, who were left helplessly and obviously boring holes into him with their eyes, typical looks he often grown accustomed to when he was ordered to the various towns and hamlets paying homage to his lord Adare. This man was here in Kineallen on special purpose, and the guards who he had run into on his journey here were fully aware of it. His name was Knight-Lieutenant Dhelthas Corbon, of House Corbon which was a minor House sworn as vassals to House Valery. Somewhere up the food chain in his line, a great uncle perhaps, was granted a small fiefdom of a lumber camp and small hamlet of twenty people. Nothing compared to the easy one thousand population here.

The company rode through town to a small stone keep at the heart of the hamlet, it's portcullis and gateway guarded by two young guards, their faces as staunch as a wall of rock and their spears and shields held attentively. Dhelthas had to hand it to these woodsman, they were impressive guards, which was an interesting find concerning his mission here. Dhelthas was no noble or bannerman, no he was a member of Lord Adare's court, specifically a member of his personal Guard and had been ordered to Kineallen after several disturbing reports had made their way to Adare's courts. If needed, he could call up the levy that the village was supposed to maintain, a force of around four hundred fyrd and he even heard rumors of some retired soldiers from the 5th Standard lived here, so he wasn't totally on his own.

The convoy made their way to the keep's stables and on their way, passed by several members of the fyrd drilling. A unique element of Avalon was the fyrd, a group of soldiers each town was required to upkeep. The town's liege would pay for the armor and equipment and in return, each town would maintain a fyrd in addition to the settlement's guards in case times of war. Several areas, especially in the south, had fyrd that were above the level of the soldiers of the Avalonian Army, and then you could also get fyrd's of ten men who were either sixty or ten and couldn't hold a spear let alone use it.

The group by now had dismounted, the guards travelling in varying directions, most likely heading off to the barracks to obtain some sleep or to grab a tankard of cold ale. Dhelthas made his way into the Lord's Hall, which was surprisingly empty but not entirely shocking, sometimes he forgot not everyone had the large bustling court like one of a city or Highlord. The center of the room was dominated by a massive firepit which contained a albiet moderately sized fire which was surrounded by four tables arranged in a square U fashion. Behind the bottom of the U was a raised tier which held three thrones, one designed to seat a man as large of Dhelthas and then two smaller ones whose backs were no higher then five feet and looked as if they couldn't fit a young man. All three were occupied, and going off of typical Avalonian court standards, Dhelthas took the center to be one Lord Baledd,Baron of Kineallen and the two flanking him to be his personal bodyguard and steward. The entire court, a gathering of no more then ten, soon was imitating the townfolk in the street, giving Dhelthas open, long stares as he approached the dais and then gave a crisp bow before speaking. " Earl Baledd, greetings from your cousin Highlord Adare."

Baledd gave his two advisers quick looks before addressing the armored knight with a small grin on his face " Bear back to him my thanks, but somehow I don't think one of the King's Knights traveled all the way here to our small seclusion to tell me hello. I take it you are here on the matters reported earlier this month?"

" Aye I am m'lord. My name is Knight-Lieutenant Dhelthas Corbon of Lord Adare's personal guard attache."

" Not even thirty five and already a ranking member of a Highlord's escort. Not to shabby" Baledd besmused as he took a long gulp from his tankard, the hot mead pouring over his lips and down his throat, taking a long pause, allowing Dhelthas the chance to speak

" I was ordered to report to the fief of Kineallen and investigate the numerous reported sightings of a gathered host from the Empire of Man on our northern borders and then to take approperiate actions. I was sent alone, but I have two additional Knights awaiting for me at Windshere Keep just two leagues from the border. Have you any contact with the border outpost?"

" Aye, twas them that did the reporting. They have four men-at-arms stationed there and one officer from the 5th Standard, an adventerous man. Said he was stalking a pack of elks when he noticed their campfires. Climbed up in ol' Harle Keep's towers to get a better look and said he saw hundreds if not thousands."

" Harle Keep? How is the garrison there?"

" Good, in so much as the fact it doesn't exist. We abandoned the Keep a decade ago, the coin coming from capital just wasn't enough to maintain the four score fyrd that I had to keep there. I advised Lord Adare to station members of the 5th Standard there, but apparently they're needed elsewhere."

" Most discouraging. What is the status of the fyrd here?"

" Enough to hold their own. Five and a half hundred strong, bolstered a bit without me needing Harle. Four hundred and forty are your typical fyrd while I also have one hundred and ten trained as above decent archers. In addition to that, we have ten veterans of the 5th that retired here but I could call up. Good men, most veterans of goblin raids that have become more common the last two years so they've all seen battle."

" That's slightly better news. Since I've reported in with you m'lord, I'll be heading towards Windshere and hopefully reach it before the evening. I'll take the two Knights and investigate these rumors. If they are indeed true, I'll send a falcon asking for you to send the fyrd to the border and a runner back to Arkaley asking for the 5th Standard. Last thing we need is that mad Emperor of there's getting his hands on these forests."

" He'd have to do it over our bodies good knight, our cold, bloodless bodies."

[Achesia]

Act 5: Kirk

It was such an alien place to Kirk, the poor bowed to the rich who lived off the poor, or maybe it wasn't so different from his home far away. Nothing new under the sun. It had been a long day, finally he was closer than he ever was before. Roeland had said he would find them here, the Dead End, a small tavern in the village of Escatya. He wondered how he could find anyone in this mess though. Thousands of refugees have fled southeast to Escatya from Starfade, and the slaughter. Rebels to the Empire had risen up and killed the garrison, however these freedom fighters didnt include many others in their plan. Soon the had resorted to killing others that resisted their rule, or those who just got in the way. Rape, murder, theft, cannibalism, those were the stories Kirk had overhead on the road south from the countless refugees he had seen. They seek the protection of their Lord who resides in Deadfell an old run down castle. Lord Vassilis however was likely to turn a deaf hear to their cries, even though it was his own brother who was killed when the rebels rose up. A sell sword that was going south to The Peak had told him that Lord Vassilis was too old, fat, and lazy to do anything. It was rumored he only gorged on food and listened to his singers all day while planning failed matches for his daughter and heir. She was said to be a pretty girl but the Deadlands as they were called were too poor and broken for anyone to want them.

Fuck the Deadlands and their Lord, that's not why Krik was here. He sat alone at his table in the corner watching the spectacle. The inn keep had already thrown out ten refugees who loitered in his inn without purchasing anything. Krik watched as the people came and went, all night it seemed, he was waiting for a certain someone, someone Roeland said knew where his family was. It had been fifteen years since he had seen his family. He was sold as a young child by his father so that they could feed the rest of the family. He was the least favorite of the bunch, his father always reminded him of that. He had a sister however-Krystina- they were very close as children. His other two siblings were babes when he was sold so he did not know them- a boy and a girl- Kameran and Kathleen.

For fifteen years he worked as a servant to a warlord one of the most feared in the north. Or so they called him a warlord, he preferred General Sameer Rais Salman, the commander of the Wandering Legion. The Wanderers as they were also called were a company of sell swords that wandered the northern wilds working job to job. They were one of the most respected companies out there and won the most battles. Those who were enemies to the company called General Sameer a warlord out of spite, Kirk looked at him as a mentor. At first it was cruel as a boy, he was put to work as a stable boy. He soon rose to the horse tender at the age of 10 and that is where he came to tend to the General's horse. He would see the General on most days and through his work ethic and good character was noticed by the shrewd man. At first Kirk feared him, his rough scowl's and wordless leers. But as time went along and he did his job correctly the General would greet him, smile even. It was not until the Wanderers were attacked in the midst of their camp did Kirk earn his place. The General was caught in the midst of the fighting against heavy infantry, the type one would face on horseback, but General Sameer was no where near the stables. Kirk however rode to the rescue on top of a spare horse with the General's horse in tow. With his mount the General was able to defeat his enemies, and Kirk's valiant efforts were not forgotten, he was soon raised to General Sameer's personnel servant, and would be mentored in the ways of war. For the next ten years he studied under the General, learned the ways of war, and became a fierce warrior at his side. At twenty Kirk became one of the General's lieutenants and given mean to lead.

One day the Wanderers came upon the very town that Kirk was born, and as they stopped he decided to ride in to town to see his family and show them what had become of him. Not all was as was expected however, his family was gone. The priest Roeland sadly told Kirk of his fathers death a year ago, and his mother taking the rest of the family south with a band of traders, he even had another sister named Caleigh who was now 10. When Kirk asked where south he was not happy with the answer: The Empire. Kirk knew there was only one thing he could do, he had to find his family. As he returned to the camp of the Wanderers he fell at the feet of the General and begged him release from his service to find his family. The other lieutenants and captains laughed at him and called him a coward, soft hearted, and a woman. General Sameer however nodded and said "A true man would still feel a love for his family, no matter how many years or difficulty removed him from them, go." And so Kirk headed south to find his loved ones.

The Dead End Inn was just the start, he had only tasted a bit of the Empire and already didn't like it. He had to wait here however, for someone who Roeland said would meet him, the merchant he was called in his home village.

There was no mistaking him when he walked in, a foreigner without any doubt in the Empire, ebony skinned wearing brightly colored robes, numerous golden rings pierced into his body and a silk cap to top it all off, not to mention the two guards that followed him, both foreign looking as well. The merchant was supposed to know Kirk, told to look for the many wearing the golden badge, a token of General Sameer and a mark of a true warrior. It was a golden fist clenching the broken blade of a sword, and Kirk wore it without fail, his good luck charm. Soon the Merchant caught sight of him and wandered over.

"May I sit?" The man said in a squeaky accent.

"Please." Kirk sat upright in his chair. "Do you know where my family is?" He rushed to the point.

"I have seen many families in my travels to which do you speak of?"

"My family, an older woman my mother, three sisters, one a woman grown, the other two girls, and a brother just a boy. They traveled south a year ago." He leaned over the table to make his plea.

"This seems important to you, what then I would ask would be the price on such important information." The merchant man grinned as the clattered his many gold rings together.

Kirk gave him a disgusted look, but he could not expect anything else from a man who lives for money. He took out his coin purse and threw it across the table. The Merchant untied the laces and inspected the gold coins from within.

"Ah yes I do recall a family traveling south with my caravan last year, they came as far as Deadfell where they left my party, or should I say three of them left my party."

"What is your meaning?" Kirk perked up.

"Why there was of course a price for the safe travel from the north all the way to Deadfell, my price was two of the children, the oldest girl and the boy in fact."

Kirk now was nursing the hilt of his bastard sword, another gift of the General given to him when he became a lieutenant. Steel in layed with red color. "Where are they now then."

"I'm afraid that my receipts of sale are not privy to you." he gave another large smile. "In fact I think our business is over."

"You sold them?!" Kirk had wiped out his dirk and buried it into the wooden table with a fierce yell that drew the attention of the entire in.

"You mean to threaten me?" The merchant clapped his hands and his two guards stepped forward.

The merchant had made a grave mistake however admitting to him what he had done. Slavery was forbidden in the Empire and slavers, outlaws. He would get no help from anyone else in the inn. His two guards stepped forward wielding large sabers, Kirk unsheathed his bastard sword and removed the dirk from the table. This is how he was trained to fight, two blades, one offhand dirk to slash and defend and his bastard sword for reaching attacks. The first of the guards approached him with and underhanded sweep, but Kirk parried and got in close to the guard slashing his throat with his dirk. The man spilled over a nearby table as its occupants rushed out of the way. The second guard moved in with an uppercut but Kirk easily deflected it with his bastard sword and then with his own uppercut caught the guard in the chest and knocked him onto and threw another table. One finishing blow was required a thrust downward which drove Kirk's blade through the guards heart. With both his foes dead he looked up half expecting to have to run after the merchant, such was not the case however.

"This man has no honor, and has sinned in the sight of god." These words seemed to roll of the tongue as if practiced every day in his chambers. The merchant squirmed in the grasp of the knight before Krik, clad in mail with a tunic over top which bore a sigil of a bumble bee the knight had stopped the merchant from fleeing after his first guard fell. The rest of the in now watched for what would happen next.

"He sold my siblings." Kirk appealed to the Knight hoping that this 'man of god' didn't think to hand him over to some priest for some vague sense of justice.

"I have heard, he is yours then, just as your siblings were his." The knight threw the merchant at Kirk's feet.

Kirk grabbed the man by the robe and dragged him outside the inn into the crowded street, but he made a quick turn into an alleyway as to not attract attention. Throwing him against the wall of the inn he put his dirk to the ebony mans throat.

"Who did you sell them too?" He pressed the blade softly.

"Jack Saif-al-Din, Jack Saif-al-Din." He squeaked.

"Who is he?" Kirk held him by the shoulder pressing him hard into the stone.

"He's a sell sword, was passing threw Deadfell looking for a young girl to warm his bed, and another boy to put a sword into his hand."

Kirk grew angrier with every word he said. "You little cunt, you sold my sister to be a bed warmer?"

"It was only business, I swear." The merchant struggled.

"Business huh, where is this Jack now?" He didn't even bother to pronounce his full name.

"I don't know." The merchant squirmed.

Kirk pressed his blade down on his soft skin, enough for him to feel and draw a little blood. "Don't know aye?"

"Please, I don't, I don't know. Hes a vagabond, he doesn't stay in once place long.

"We'll it seems you are of little use to be then." Kirk moved to press his dirk into the mans throat before he heard a voice behind him.

"Do you mean to kill him?" It was the knight from the inn, the one who had caught him.

"What would you have me do, turn him in to the praetor?" At least he thought that was the name of the priests down here. "Some sense of honor in my gut that I did the right thing?" His voice was horse with rage. "He sold my sister to be a bed warmer for some sell sword and sold my brother to be a foot soldier.

"The Summer God does not deny your right in this, but surely there are other uses for him, more information?"

"You heard him he doesn't know."

"I have heard that the Lord of the Deadlands will give a hundred cold Imperials for a slaver. Fifty for a slavers head. Surely you are not so rich as you could pass up such an offer." The Knight appealed.

"Look at you, a Knight who would persuade me with coin." Krik spit on the mans robes. "Maybe you are right, perhaps there are better uses for him." He threw him on the ground. He then produced some robe from the back of his belt and tied the mans hands.

"I think you have made the smart decisions."

"Piss on smarts, I've heard that Lord's in the Empire do nasty things to slavers, nasty things I don't have patience or the time for right now, and a little coin can't hurt, I'll need it to find my family."

"I heard of your troubles with our family."

"Good you have two ears, what luck." Kirk was inpatient with all the small talk he had to get to Deadfell. "Why would a Knight like you defend and help me anyways? I'm a foreigner and I don't worship your god." Kirk sheathed his dirk.

"I do not know what you do not tell me." The knight scoffed. "I am a Knight Errant, sword to no lord but the Dark Lord."

"Strange name for a God." Kird chuckled.

"And strange our his ways. Stranger his ways that he should command those leal knights in his service to help those in need. You are in need as I can see."

"So what?"

"So I shall help those in need, protect the innocent, defend the helpless, all of those I have vowed."

"So what then, you will help me find my family? Whats in it for your?" Kirk was skeptical.

"The Summer's blessings."

"Piss on the summer's blessings."

"You may, but some day you will find need for them, until then, I am Sur Gunnar Kipling." The knight presented his un-mailed hand.

"Kirk, Kirk Harley." Kirk decided he might as well, he shook the Knights hand.

"It is pleasant to join your company Kirk Harley. And I would sooner be rid of his." He motioned to the merchant still crying in the mud." It's two days ride to Deadfell we best get going.

Characters:
Kirk Galahad
Sur Gunnar Kipling

[Achesia]

Act 6: Varlaam

While the night was dark Varlaam dreamed of fire, all around him. The ashes filled the air and the flames rose to lick his skin but he did not burn. In his proximity he could see the bodies of others who were wailing in pain from the flames which surrounded them, they cried out for the mercy of the gods but none came, the skin from their flesh melted and their bodies withered to dust, all of this as he watched. He could do nothing for the as they died, he could not move. Then the hairs on the back of his neck rose just as his skin rose in mounds, the cry of a dark beast came from behind him. Eyes he could see dark and red staring at him, not human eyes but eyes of a beast slanted and angry, they studied him as he looked on from his fiery prison. Then the eyes came at him, with teeth bared.

Varlaam woke in a panic the sweat dripping from his brow as if he really was in a fire. As he took a deep breath and listened for the sounds of the morning birds he could hear none, nothing but steel on steel. A battle, in the city. He rushed out of his bed and threw on what small cloaks he could before dawning some mail, grabbing his sword he rushed from his quarters to the King's chambers, he was met with unfamiliar faces. Three men, clad in black, their faces rough not someone who you would see in court bu rather a dark cave somewhere. The brigands he thought, they have gotten into the city somehow. He drew his long sword as they rushed at him the first opponent came with a small axe that he swung overhead, but Varlaam was able to cut his axe holding hand away and then bring his long sword down across his neck. It was difficult for him to coil back for his next defense as he was not wearing his mailed gloves as to use the full ability of his long sword but regardless he stooped low and thrust his blade through the stomach of his next attacker. The third however was on him before he could bring his sword out of the bowels of the second man. The third brutish man knocked him to the ground and drew his double sided axe above his head to strike down on Varlaam but before he could a blade thrust through his stomach and he sank to the ground.

Behind him stood Derby the plump servant of the Princess. Varlaam shot to his feet and grabbed his long sword from the corpse.

"Derby what are you doing here you should be with the Princess." he stated as he began to job towards the King's chambers. Derby caught his arm however and tugged him back.

"You must get out of the city Varlaam, now before its too late." She pleaded.

"I cannot flee my duty is to the King and I must find him." He pulled away and started jogging.

"Your no good to them dead Varlaam!"

"What good am I fleeing to them?"

"Hope." She said in a soft tone.

Varlaam ignored her and ran to the throne room, he could hear voices coming from the throne room. As he crept up to the entrance he could see many figures, the most distinct he knew by name, Sur Otmar Svend a large brute of a knight. He was wearing dark iron plate armor holding his clay-more tip rested to the marble floor. Around him stood more of the ragged cave men that Varlaam had fought in the halls.

"Where are the Princes." Sur Otmar Svend grunted as he held a Knight by the name of Koloman by the neck a foot off the ground. The man kicked and squirmed in his small cloaks but Sur Otmar's grip just tightened.

"The Princes are away, in the hills Sur, I swear." The knight tried to grip at Sur Otmar's mailed hand but his captor just shook him. Finally Sur Otmar grew tired of his squirming and threw him to the ground, one of his brigands buried an axe in his head to the cry of several of the maidens who lived at court. One of them Varlaam could make out was Princess Aileen, he wanted to call to her or to jump into the fray by Derby's words kept coming to him, you are no good to them dead. He did not feel good to them at all right now, even in life.

"Where are your brothers my sweet." Sur Otmar clenched his hand around Aileen's jaw. She just stared at him wordless, she knew he could not harm her or his coup would be worthless. He grunted and pushed her back a few paces. "No matter we will find them soon enough." He paced around the hall.

It was then that Princess Aileen spotted Varlaam at the entrance of the door. When he knew that she had seen him he moved to make an attack but he saw her shake her head. She looked him dead in the eye and said no, he even could tell she was mouthing a silent word for him to go. Varlaam was torn, he couldn't leave the family that had raised him, where would he go. Soon his attention went to five of the brigands clamoring into the hall.

"My lord!" The called to Sur Otmar who was hardly a lord. the drug behind them two large sacks, the marble floor beneath them trailed in blood. Varlaams heart sank as he saw the bags and the looks on the men's faces. Sur Otmar turned to them as they dropped the bags in front of them. He smiled an evil cruel grin as he watch them undo the sacks, in them were the bloodied and dismembered bodies of both Prince Teodor and Prince Derek, they had died fighting in their attempt to defend their city from the inside attack. Sur Otmar just laughed as he kicked around the head of Prince Derek.

"Well it seems my princess that you are now your fathers heir." He smiled at Aileen who had fallen to the floor in tears over the death of her brothers. "Go and bring the King to me so that he may see his boys one last time. The city is ours!" He let out a cheer as he raised his giant sword above his head, the rest of his men echoed.

"Please, come." Derby was tugging on his arm again.

Reluctantly he followed her through the halls, down a flight of stone stairs almost to the dungeons of the castle. There bellow the entire world Derby lead him through a grate. Soon the light of the son was beating down on their faces and they had emerged on the outside of the wall. Varlaam looked up over the towers of the castle where many cries were emanating from withing, the slaughter had not stopped since Sur Otmar had taken the city.

"What now, that I have abandoned my family?" Varlaam stopped while Derby continued to walk.

"We must go south." She looked back at him.

"What is there for me south?" Varlaam was confused as Derby kept walking. She paid the last question no mind. "It will all be answered soon."

Characters:
Sur Otmar Svend
Derby