The brave Knight marched into the throne room.
The faint moonlight filtered through the dusty black halls and reflected on his gilded armor. His footsteps broke the grim silence. The blade of his sword creaked against the stone floor. His lion-helm allowed his eyes to peer into the darkness ahead and its dreadful master.
The dark lord rested on a throne of rusted iron, his skeletal fra clad in pitch-black armor. Twin stars of ghost fire glittered beneath his horned helt. Like all the soldiers of his cursed land, his flesh had long decayed to dust. Only his longsword, which rested to his right, remained clean and sharp.
The Knights eyes wandered to the dark lords left. Princess Aleria of Olerth sat there, her hands bound by chains. She remained a fair maiden in spite of her current accommodations, her fair face unblemished by bruises, her clothes cleaned of dust. Her captor at least retained enough chivalry to treat her well. The fla of hope glittered in her purple eyes. The sword of freedom had co to rescue her at last.
I knew they would send you, the dark lord said with scornful resignation. Those rotten people, too fearful to wage their own battles
Release the girl, the Knight said, his voice booming like thunder.
Is that why you are here? The dark lord rested his head on his gauntlet. Did her father offer you her hand? A duchy mayhaps? Your weight in gold?
The Knight shook his head. Such promises did not appeal to him. I seek no other reward than her safety.
Is that so? The dark lord sounded vaguely amused. What happened to my n?
Defeated, all of them. The Knights blade had sliced through their old bones and returned them to nothingness. Their souls have found rest.
By your sword alone? Call impressed, brave Knight. The dark lords praise sounded genuine enough. Entire armies cower at the sight of the living dead. Perhaps you will be the true end of .
It shall be my pleasure, and yours as well, I suspect, the Knight replied. Is that what you have been reduced to, Ser Garland? A fallen lord ruling a castle of the dead? There was a ti when your na inspired trust rather than fear.
What is left other than fear, when the people deny you their trust? The dark lord let out a deep, scornful grunt. We have fought for the people of this land. Died protecting them. When we rose again in their hour of need, refusing the peace of the grave for the sake of the living, their fickle love turned to scorn. Instead of giving us our just reward, they cast us aside. Called us abominations bereft of the Goddess grace.
Bereft they were. The dead were not allowed to linger among the living. So said the Goddess when she departed this world and entrusted it to her chosen. The duty of returning the departed to the wheel of souls now befell to them in her absence.
Then allow to return you to Her embrace. The Knight raised his sword at the dark lord. Your long vigil has co to an end, Ser Garland.
Or yours, mayhaps. The dark lord rose from his throne, his hand seizing his swords hilt with the slow, cold movent of the living dead. If you want your prize, Ser Lion, you may co and seize it.
The Knight answered the duel request in a dash of speed, his adamantine claymore cutting through the air like steel through butter. The tal sang when it t his foes blade. Ser Garland was as slow as a glacier, but implacable in his offense. Each of his strikes carried the weight of his cursed soul. A single blow would cleave a horse in two.
But the Knight was no less determined. He deftly parried each and every blow, then countered with swings of his own. The swordsn waged a duel under the moonlight with a single witness. The winner, however, was never in doubt.
Sharp the dark lords sword might be, it was only made of steel. Each exchange with the Knights adamantine blade left it a little bit more notched. To prove it, he briefly lowered his defense and allowed the dark lord to strike at his armor. The undeads dulled blade bounced off his challengers gilded chest plate.
The Knight took a step back and lowered his sword. If you have another weapon, he said. You should go pick it up.
The dark lords hand tightened on his swords grip. Do you an to insult , Ser?
Not at all, the Knight replied. It is hardly fair for to win through equipnt rather than skills at arms.
So talented. The dark lords eyes burned with a cold blue light. So nave.
His sword surged in a flash of blinding speed, its pointed end aiming straight for the narrow spot between his foes helt and armor. A single slice to end it all.
The Knight stopped the blow with a lazy parry. His blade shattered the dark lords sword in two, one half flying across the room.
I never pressed you once. The undead lord let out a guttural laugh. How frightful.
You are beaten, Ser Garland, the Knight said as he struggled to hide his contempt for the cowardly move. You were a worthy foe.
You lie poorly, child. You had strength to spare. The dark lord mustered what dignity he had left and bent the knee in quiet surrender. And yet, to expect honor from a foe and be angered when disappointed how can a man so strong be so weak of heart?
The Knight drove his sword into the dark lords shriveled heart and returned him to the dust from which he ca. The black armor he wore collapsed on itself and fell to the ground with naught but a void occupying it.
The Knight offered one last prayer for his defeated foe, then turned to the hostage. She looked at him with stars in her eyes. Her relief was a reward enough for her savior.
Princess Aleria, your father sent to rescue you. The Knight cut off the maidens chains with his sword, freeing her. Are you safe and sound?
I am now, Ser. The girl smiled sweetly at her hero. Her long silver hair glowed in the moonlight over her flushed cheeks. If I may What is my saviors na?
Belgoroth, Princess Aleria. The knight offered her his hand. A radiant mark burned beneath his gilded glove. Though my friends call the Lion Knight.
The princess smiled like the sun and looked straight into her saviors eyes, heedless to what expression the knights helt hid underneath the gold.
A scowl.
Princess Aleria,I hope you will forgive for my sudden departure. A mber of my order inford of a dragons rampage in the south. I understand you wished to be your partner for your birthday ball, but alas, I must dance with death.I hope to return and visit you soon, if the opportunity allows it. The Kingdom of Olerth shall always remain my ho.Ser Belgoroth, Lion Knight, and Paladin of Olerth.
Once a year, the Heroes gathered at the apex of the world. The Priest called the eting early.
Belgoroth always made it a point to arrive on ti, but he wouldnt succeed today. His steed Lionheart, a great winged manticore he had tad in the southern islands beyond the sea, carried him above the sea of clouds. An endless expanse of white under a golden sun and a pure blue sky stretched before them.
Belgoroth never failed to find the sight soothing. None of the conflicts and injustices from the land below could reach him above the clouds. Though the Knight carried on his holy mission with the utmost zeal, he often found his burden heavy to bear; when it beca too much, he would retreat to the heavens above and bask in the light of a landless world.
He spent more and more ti in the sky lately.
A single blade of stone pierced the sea of clouds: Mount Erebias peak, where the Goddess originally descended upon Pangeal and then departed from. The First Temple lood at its summit, its golden pillars akin to shining spears pointing at the heavens above. A great stone platform whose floor represented the symbol of the four artifacts glowed in their midst: it was there that Belgoroth received his Class and mission many years ago.
Ten years ago, the Goddess Arcane, in her infinite wisdom, entrusted mankind with their own fate as she departed to the stars. She bestowed the Seven Great Classes on the exemplars of their ti as a final boon and testant to mortals achievents. Belgoroth would forever rember that mont, and the words they exchanged that day.
Raise your head, Belgoroth the Lion Knight, the Goddess had said, her mask a golden mirror. To you, bravest among the just, I bestow the Knight Class, master of combat. The battlefield shall be your realm and justice your sword. Always wield it well in the defense of others.
I swear to raise my sword in righteousness na alone, Belgoroth had vowed. I shall not rest until I have purged Pangeal of evil.
Very well. Henceforth you shall strike down those who would despoil my creation. Let no sin go unanswered. She had then put her marble hand on his shoulder, like a mother with her son. Know that I shall return to Pangeal one day. I look forward to seeing the miracles you will accomplish in my absence.
Belgoroth had held true to his vow to that day and he would die on that hill.
But as the years passed, he was starting to wonder how to best live up to his promise.
Belgoroth landed his mount at the platforms edge and climbed down from its back. It was forbidden for n to sit in the Goddess abode, so the Heroes stood in a circle. His closest friend, Pazuzo the Bard, welcod him with a bright smile. As usual, he was trying on a whole new set of clothes and hairstylea red and black doublet that shed well with his silver haircutwhich helped showcase his effeminate, handso features. The eccentric Pazuzo always moved on from one flight of fancy to the next, even his own appearance, though Belgoroth could always count on him to look dashing.
Bel, Bel, Bel, whats happening to you? Pazuzo asked with a slight chuckle. His voice at least remained as lodious as ever. Dont you know Im the one who should be fashionably late?
It is rare for you to arrive last, Daltia ntioned, her elegant figure draped in golden robes. Whereas Pazuzo never settled on a wardrobe, the rchant always dressed lavishly. She had traded her black hair for silver and refined her face with creased cheeks. Belgoroth wondered whom she brought those features from.
She hasnt aged a day. Belgoroth glanced at his allies and realized most of them remained as full of youth and vigor as the day the Goddess entrusted them with their marks. Only His Eminence and I bear the brunt of a decade.
Belgoroth pondered his words, as he always did. His power always suggested barbs and witty remarks when his friends teased him. It took him a mont to separate his Class proposals from his own thoughts.
My apologies, my friends, Belgoroth replied with a slight bow. A forest fire delayed . I had to stop to rescue people trapped by the flas.
His Eminence Cipar let out a warm chuckle. No harm done, Ser Belgoroth. No one ought to arrive early by sacrificing innocent lives.
Belgoroth respected all his fellow Heroes, but even he admitted he was closer to so than others. He got along well with Pazuzowith whom he had traveled with on many adventuresand Daltia, remained cordial to Belsara, hardly knew Shamshir the Rogue, and sowhat disliked Lahmia the Mage, whose obsession with witchcrafting often led her astray. Creating flying cities wouldnt ease the lives of peasants.
Of all his colleagues, he admired His Eminence Cipar the Priest the most. The man had aged decades since he first anointed Belgoroth as a paladin twenty years ago, his trimd raven beard and hair having long grayed into a silver mane. His sunken cheeks and dignified face bore the marks of ti. The mans stormy gray eyes had lost none of their wisdom, however. As befitting of the Goddess own prophet, he wore a majestic white garb adorned with golden embroidery and gilded leaves.
However regal his old ntor looked, Belgoroth imdiately sensed his unease. His power let him detect the sublest shifts in the mans body language; the faint furrowing of eyebrows, the slight tension in the wrinkled hands, the shape of a spine too straight
Belgoroth had always known His Eminence as an unflappable and benevolent man, who understood the Goddess will best among all of mankind. What could weigh on such an enlightened mind?
Whatever it was, he would learn it soon. Lord Cipar swiftly opened the gathering with a question.
Thank you all for coming today, my friends, he said with the strong voice of one used for sermons. I have called this eting to ask you all a question. His gray eyes appraised each of the Heroes in turn. Are we doing enough?
A short silence followed, which Belgoroth broke first. No, he admitted. At least, not in my case. I endeavor to do my best, but I see injustices wherever I go.
If we heard you, my friend, we would sacrifice sleep and hunt for orphans to save each day of the week, Pazuzu replied with a mirthless smile. He examined his nails with his purple eyes. Alas, I confess a certain unease myself.
Unease? Daltia coughed. You?
I have lost none of my debonair charm, my dear, but I admit I am struggling with inspiration lately, Pazuzo replied. Since my beautiful muse departed this world, my new performances do not quite match my expectations anymore. I have tried to find new models, but none can match a Goddess grace. Except our dear Belsara, who keeps growling at whenever I approach her.
I would gladly pose for you, Daltia suggested lightly, while Belsara sneered in disdain at Pazuzo. You will have to pay extra for the nudes.
I will keep that in mind, Pazuzo replied with a shrug. A polite way to say he didnt find Daltia inspiring. I fear I am becoming insipid. Sothing is not right in this world.
The world is not right, Belsara said gruffly. The Rangers voice was a whisper in the wind and a rustle in the leaves, the baubles and trinkets adorning her wild auburn hair jingling softly as she spoke. Her leaf-shaped erald eyes sparkled with annoyance as her slim hands tightened tightly on her oaken staff. The northern n cut down groves to raise houses, starve rivers to build dams, and infringe on holy grounds.
Daltia let out a shrug. Isnt it mans duty to bring civilization to the wilds, Belsara?
Should n steal lands they never owned? Belsara countered with an annoyed scowl. Being one head taller than Daltia, she positively towered over the rchant. The Goddess asked to represent her other children before the assemblies of man, but one side does not play fair. The dragons and beasts of the earth complain to daily of human incursions into their territories. The Goddess awarded them with woods in which to live, but n keep cutting them down to fuel their forges fires. If this continues, I will have to retaliate.
Belsara alone among the Heroes eschewed the company of her kind, except for the few druids and outlanders who lived by her example. Instead, she preferred to walk among beasts and befriend them. So great was her disdain for civilization that she wore a dress of flowers and leaves rather than silk and leather. The Goddess had tasked her with helping n find an equilibrium with her other creations, but Belsaras bitterness had only grown year after year.
It is true that blasphemous incursions into sacred lands have increased since the Goddess departure, among other troubling developnts, Lord Cipar confird with a saddened sigh. As I speak these words, the realms of Ugallu and Nisroch have declared war on one another over so trivial border matter. I have done my best to convince both sides to reconsider for months and offered them a peaceful solution, which they both spit upon.
You want our help in settling the dispute? Is that why you gathered us? Pazuzo asked with a shrug. I suppose it would break my monotony, but my voice was made for greater deeds than reasoning with fools.
Cipar answered the Bards cockiness with a faint smile. Mayhaps you are right, Pazuzo, he said. Maybe we were made for better things.
Sothing in the old mans tone bothered Belgoroth. What do you an, Your Eminence?
A thought has crossed my mind lately, Ser Belgoroth. His Eminence looked up to the heavens above. The Goddess chose us to enforce her providence in her absence. To shepherd the world towards a brighter future. She endowed us with her trust and great powers so that we would carry out that holy task.
Thank you for the history lesson, Pazuzo replied with heavy sarcasm, which drew a glare from Belgoroth. But does your rambling have a point?
Lord Cipars gaze hardened like steel. Why must we suffer the will of fools?
The sheer contempt in the holy mans voice, so unlike his usually boundless patience, took Belgoroth aback. Even the likes of Shamshir the Rogue and Lahmia the Mage, who barely bothered to attend these etings, turned their heads to listen.
The king of Nisroch owes his authority to his bloodline, and the princes of Ugallu to the wealth of their aristocracy, His Eminence said. We derive our authority from the Goddess Herself. Hence I ask you, my fellow Heroes: why are they allowed to rule over the many and lead them astray, when people ought to follow our wisdom?
Are you suggesting we overthrow these nations rulers, Your Eminence? Belgoroth asked, utterly flabbergasted.
If necessary, yes. Lord Cipars jaw tightened in resignation. If rulers will not listen to reason, Ser Belgoroth, what other option do we have other than force?
Shamshir the Rogue raised a gloved hand to their throat and mimicked a slashing motion. Even after all this ti, Belgoroth couldnt tell whether that black hood hid a womans face or a mans; his own power kept sending him confusing signals when it analyzed their movents, and they never spoke. He hardly knew anything about the Rogue besides the basics either. They were one of the few people bold enough to steal from the Goddess, and the only one cunning enough to get away with it. Belgoroth never learned what they had taken exactly, except that they eventually returned it. Apparently, they had stolen from the Goddess to prove that they could. Their moxie impressed their divine patron enough for her to grant them a mark.
Shamshir Blackfingers, you have reminded of my own frailty, he recalled the Goddess saying. To honor your bravery and cunning, I bestow the Rogue Class upon you, master of secrets. You shall teach the powerful the sting of loss, so they may never grow overly proud.
Belgoroth doubted the wisdom of empowering a thief with a Heros duties, even a talented one, but it wasnt his place to question the Goddess wisdom.
However Perhaps the current situation warranted their services. Belgoroth found the thought of an assassination dishonorable, but so careless rulers ought to be punished for their cris. When they blundered, thousands suffered.
I can think of a nation in need of a leadership change, Daltia mused, her eyes sharp and calculating. A coup or assassination might be a bridge too far, however.
Commoners besiege my groves, not kings, Belsara added. I do agree we arent doing enough. I will have to make them stop if they wont.
His Eminence appraised his colleagues one by one. What of you, Lahmia?
I do not care for petty politics, the Mage said. She was the most petite of the Heroes, a thin woman with crimson hair and pinkish eyes swirling with essence. Her wealth of runestones and the power suffusing her robes belied the strength hidden inside her frail fra. However, you may count on my magic if you request my help.
I see, His Eminence said before turning to the last of the Heroes. Ser Belgoroth? Do you have anything to comnt on?
You shall take no lover and father no children, Belgoroth recited without hesitation. You shall treat all fairly. You shall wear no crown and rule no land. You shall oppose evil great and small. You shall ask for no reward and accept none. You shall not compromise on your duties. You shall be the first to fight injustice and never shall you retreat.
He knew these oaths by heart.
I have sworn never to reign, Your Eminence, Belgoroth reminded Lord Cipar. While I agree these foolhardy rulers ought to be punished for their greed, it is not my place to sit on their thrones. I fight with swords, not with laws.
His Eminence smiled warmly. I understand your position, and I do not wish for you to act against your conscience. However, I fear that in standing idle we encourage n to sin. To do nothing in the face of evil is no different than enabling it. Rember that, Ser Knight.
Belgoroth pondered the wise mans words, then offered him a nod. I shall.
I will not push the subject further, Lord Cipar said to the gathered Heroes. Not until we all agree on a common course of action. I simply ask you all to consider my proposal. Until then, I ask for your support in preventing pointless bloodshed.
Pazuzo and I should be more than enough to make these foolhardy kings see reason, Daltia said. None among the Heroes doubted that these two could persuade anyone of anything. I have another matter to report to you, Cipar. My experints on the soul have yielded interesting results.
Oh? His Eminence stroked his beard. I am all ears.
Daltia went into technical explanations about the nature of souls and perception, which Belgoroth quickly lost interest in. While he understood how to work essence, he left high-end taphysical concepts to witchcrafters. Understanding the true depths of the Goddess work never appealed to him; learning which way the essence blew wouldnt prevent peasants from starving or forbid criminals from thieving. Lord Cipar and Lahmia appeared highly interested at least, so at least soone listened.
Pazuzo appeared equally disinterested in the conversation. Oh, that reminds , he said while searching under his coat and bringing out a letter. Bel, I have a letter for you.
Is that so? Belgoroth asked. He imdiately recognized the pink seal and rose sll on the docunt. It made him nauseous for a reason that escaped him. Princess Aleria sent it to ?
She couldnt find you, since you keep hopping around, so decided to make her ssenger, Pazuzo replied. I tried to charm her, to no avail. think she wants your sword, and not the biggest one.
The princess is too well-behaved for such foolishness, Belgoroth replied. He had grown used to his friends attempts at flustering him. Moreover, I have no interest in romance.
Whereas his friend Pazuzo delighted in sharing a bed with n and won alike, the pleasures of the flesh never appealed to Belgoroth. Countless maidens had thrown themselves at his feet, offering their hands and more. He had politely denied each of them. Of all the oaths Belgoroth swore, his vow of celibacy had been the easiest to keep.
It was for the best. Romantic love would distract him from his duties. A true knight ought to cherish all human lives equally.
However, sothing about Princess Aleria rubbed Belgoroth the wrong way. He couldnt explain why. She was the fairest maiden he had ever saved and a kind, generous soul. His holand of Olerth would grow prosperous under her care.
But the way she had smiled at him that day, with eyes full of hope and childish admiration the mory sickened him.
Ah, Bel. Why sweat so much to save the garden if you wont even sll the roses? Pazuzo shook his head. Listen to your friend: you should stop answering her letters if you do not wish that one to grow thorns.
Thorns? Belgoroth squinted at his friend. Are you saying that my response might sohow offend the princess?
If you keep responding, she will believe that your relationship is deeper than it seems, and no one can stand to see their false hopes crushed, Pazuzo explained. Ti and forgetfulness dulls pain, but closeness encourages fantasies. You know what they say: a snake has no venom like a woman scorned.
Belsara, who had overheard the discussion, hastily mocked Pazuzo. Perhaps I should bite you and silence your wily tongue forever.
You may bite anyti, my lovely Ranger, Pazuzo replied shalessly. Hopefully atop a bed of leaves and roses.
Unfortunately for you, unlike Daltia, I do not buy used goods, Belsara taunted him back.
Has soone spoken my na? Daltia asked, interrupting her conversation with His Eminence. She cackled upon seeing Alerias letter. Another one?
Belgoroth died a little inside. Another?
Alas, His Eminence replied with a sigh. He teleported away with an apology, and then reappeared just as quickly in a puff of golden smoke. A small chest sat at his feet. Ser Belgoroth, your correspondence.
Belgoroth carefully opened the chest and squinted at its content. Hundreds, if not thousands of letters spilled out of the container. A paper testant to all the lives he had saved.
I have taken the liberty of separating the letters from those you had saved from lesser admirers, His Eminence said. However, I would suggest hiring a scribe to answer them.
There were more? Belgoroth asked in disbelief. He hadnt checked his correspondence in months.
Countless, Daltia said with a laugh. All the won in the realm want to bed you, and half the n want to be you.
Belgoroth suppressed a surge of anger. Why dont they beco then?
Daltia tilted her head to the side in confusion. What does that an?
Nothing, Belgoroth replied as he searched through the letters. He noticed that Pazuzo sent him a quizzical look, but ignored it. Nothing
Belgoroth had helped countless people across the last two decades; first as a wandering knight, and then as the Knight. He always endeavored to keep in touch with these lives he had touched. He usually looked forward to answering their ssages.
Now though Now that task brought him little joy.
Why do you insist on answering letters yourself, my friend? Pazuzo asked Belgoroth. If I spent my own ti answering my countless admirers, I wouldnt have hours left for anything more productive.
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To ensure they live happy and worthy lives, Belgoroth replied calmly.
Your generosity honors you, Ser Belgoroth, His Eminence said with a hint of compassion. Alas, no man can stay in contact with so many thoughts at once. You ought to learn to be selective.
While he would have usually brushed His Eminences concern, Belgoroth wondered if he should heed the advice. He gave the letters a cursory read. Each new word felt like a dagger in the back.
A woman he had saved from her abusive husband now complained of the new one.
A village he protected from bandits now struggled with a dreadwolf.
A family in Nisroch asked for his help in striking down Ugallu.
He had left each of them devoid of problems, yet more kept cropping up.
Do they have nothing else to do than write letters and call for help? Belgoroth shook his head and put the letters back in the chest. I need to return to the field. Such vile thoughts are unbecoming of a Hero.
I shall take the chest with , Belgoroth said. He would do his best to write responses, if he had any ti.
You should take so of my years and youth with you too, Daltia said. She joined her hands together, clearly considering her next words carefully. You will reach forty soon, Bel. n slow down at that age, and youve been clearly burning the midnight oil. You need either a good rest or new vigor.
Lord Cipar, the only other Hero to have denied Daltias offer out of moral concern, looked at her in disapproval. We will die when the Goddess wishes us to, my friend.
I appreciate your concern, Daltia, but I am well, Belgoroth lied.
A good rchant can sll deceit, Bel, and I am better than most. Daltia shook her head. You are breaking down.
Breaking down? Belgoroth found the idea absurd. His body was a weapon refined by his Class. He wielded the strength of a hundred n and the speed of the wind. What pressure could hope to shatter him?
You know what, old friend? Pazuzo patted Belgoroth on the back. How about we leave the mountain together? The sight of the sky will help my inspiration, and you certainly do need a friend.
Your presence is always welco, my friend, Belgoroth replied graciously. He had missed Pazuzos lighthearted attitude as much as it annoyed him.
The eting concluded soon after, with Daltia offering Cipar her assistance in handling the border crisis and Lahmia promising to support Belsaras lands with new enchantnts. Lionheart carried the chest of letters in his mouth while Belgoroth and Pazuzo climbed on his back.
Now that we are alone, my friend, will you tell what bothers you? Pazuzo asked the mont they took flight. Daltia is not the only one to worry about you.
Is it so obvious? Belgoroth let out a sigh. He hadnt dared to breach the subject at the eting for fear of disappointing His Eminence, but he had indeed been struggling with a problem lately. Over the past year, anger has threatened to overwhelm many tis.
Pazuzo coughed in amusent. My beautiful Knight, I would be surprised if you felt no disdain for the countless villains weve encountered.
I am not angry at them. No more than usual at least. I feel anger at the victims.
His confession echoed across the clouds, the silence of the sky hardly broken by the flap of Lionhearts wings. Pazuzos arms closed around Belgoroths waist, his friend listening with rapt attention.
I know I should not, and I cannot explain it, Belgoroth admitted. I do not regret saving maidens from bandits or n from fires, but wherever they looked at I found myself overco with loathing.
It first began with Princess Aleria. He couldnt escape whatever curse she had cast on him.
You know what artists fear most? Pazuzo asked after a monts consideration.
Being ignored? Belgoroth guessed.
Being misunderstood. When he realized Belgoroth did not understand his point, Pazuzo provided an example. Do you rember my play, The Lovebirds? That one with two scions of feuding families falling in love and dying a pointless death?
Yes, I do. Belgoroth had witnessed its early rehearsals. A beautiful tragedy.
Indeed, it is a tragedy! I wrote the scions romance as a foolhardy, irresponsible act of rebellion that ended up causing the death of innocents! Pazuzo let out a roar of annoyance. You cant fathom the number of admirers who mistook it for a love story!
His friends reaction brought a smile to Belgoroth's lips, though he remained confused. What does it have to do with my situation?
These so-called admirers watched , but they did not see . Instead, they saw what they wanted to see, and then expected my work to conform to their expectations. There is nothing more insulting, more constraining, more dehumanizing! Pazuzo glanced at the distant sun once he finished his tirade. You, my friend, are chafing under others expectations and yours too, I suspect.
Belgoroth mulled over his friends words. He sensed the wily Bard had hit a nerve, but he couldnt vocalize the problem clearly. Others expectations?
You no longer help your fellow man because you want to, but because they want you to. Pazuzo pointed at the chest in Lionhearts mouth. You carry those letters like a burden rather than a badge of honor. So let those prayers go. You cant fulfill them all.
I have sworn an oath to deliver Pangeals people from evil, Belgoroth insisted. If I do not save them, who will?
They will save themselves, Pazuzo replied with a snort. If they dare.
For the first ti in a decade, Belgoroths power offered no barbed retort. The Knight inside him had beco silent as a tomb. No lie could withstand the truth.
They watch, but they do not see. Belgoroth considered these words carefully. Why did he beco a paladin? What ssage did he hope to send the world? I beca a knight because I wanted to inspire others. To see more follow my path.
What was wrong with that?
Its a beautiful sight, Pazuzo comnted as they sailed the sea of clouds. With no man to despoil it.
Yes, Belgoroth conceded. Yes, it is.
My fair Knight,Your absence was forgiven. How could I bla you? Words of your glorious deeds have already reached us. You are the pride and joy of this country.Still, the sight of your fair face and gilded smile lingers in my heart. I hope you think of too. I have added a handkerchief which I have embroidered myself with this letter. Let it keep you warm at night, and remind you of ho.Yours always,Princess Aleria of Olerth.
The night was dark, its air choked with the foul sll of death.
The inns wooden door split open with a single kick. Its fra fell onto the timbered hall with a loud noise strong enough to wake the dead. Belgoroth heard grunts and shouts from the upper floor. The owner no doubt. According to travelers, the place could hardly welco more than a dozen or so journeyn at once; and most avoided the trail with the recent disappearances.
An unassuming man climbed down the crampy, narrow staircase in his nightclothes. He held an arbalet in hand; a pointless defense in the face of judgnt.
Whos there?! he snarled, his eyes widening upon seeing the intruders sword. Back down! Or Ill sho
Belgoroth closed the gap between them in an instant, cutting the arbalet with a swing of his sword, his armored glove closing on the mans throat and lifting him above the ground.
Where is he? the Knight asked, his prisoners legs dangling over the floor. When he received no answer, he slamd the man against the nearest wall. Where is he?
I dont The man rasped, his cheeks growing red. I dont under stand
Julian Rochette, a horse-peddler, vanished around these parts, Belgoroth replied angrily. The mans guilt showed on his terrified face the mont he uttered the na. From what I heard, he wasnt the only one.
Belgoroth hadnt given the report much credit until he arrived on the scene. Rumors of missing travelers were common in the countryside, but this inn was built on blood. Any witchcrafter could have noticed the foul shroud of corrupted essence stinking of pain and fear hovering off its roof.
Dark things happened here.
Belgoroth heard steps coming from the stairs above. A pale, thin woman in her forties climbed down the stairs with a candle in hand; the landlady no doubt. She looked at Belgoroth with eyes full of resignation, as if she had prepared herself for such an eventuality many years ago.
In the kitchen, Mlord, she said with a tired expression. The ruckus probably woke her up in the middle of her sleep. Theyre in the kitchen.
They. Belgoroth did not like the implications.
Show , he ordered after throwing the innkeeper to the ground and keeping him at swordspoint. Do not dare to run. My blade will be quicker.
The man massaged his throat and moved to the back of the hall, to a door near the chimney. Belgoroth and the landlady followed after him until they entered a rusty kitchen of old wood and cracked stones. A set of at pies lay near the oven, ready to be put to the fire co morning.
I see nothing, Belgoroth said. Where is the victim?
The landlady chewed her lips and pointed at the oven.
Belgoroths hand tightened on his swords hilt. An oven was a horrendous, if effective, way to dispose of the corpses. He was starting to wonder what at these people put in their pies. The very thought made him nauseous.
What of the others? he asked, his patience running thin. Show their remains.
He watched on as the foul couple searched the kitchen. They had hidden quite the vile bounty under the planks and stones: jewels, full purses, golden teeth, boots taken from honorable citizens and bones. So many cleaned bones, and the clothes the victims used to wear.
These sandals Belgoroth suppressed a shiver of disgust. They are too small for an adult.
It was her fault! the innkeeper said, his voice dripping with fear and cowardice. Her father wouldnt tell us where he hid his money, so she started crying and biting and
He spat blood instead of words. A slash split his gullet open and silenced him forever.
His wife let out a scream of fear and dropped the candle. Belgoroth caught it with one hand before it could set the kitchen on fire; he did not show the sa care for the innkeepers corpse, who fell thrashing and squirming among its victims. The woman crawled back at his approach, her back hitting a wall.
I swear to the Goddess, she said, crying. I did nothing. Nothing!
Nothing, you say? Belgoroth repeated. He observed the womans terrified face, his power failing to pick up on hints of a lie. All this pain and suffering, and you simply watched?
The woman fearfully removed the sleeves of her gown. Belgoroth half expected her to draw a knife; instead, she revealed a set of fresh bruises.
The Knight would have felt a pang of pity for her once. But he felt greater sorrow for the dozen or so victims whose remains this foul couple stashed under their ho.
You slept in his bed, he said. You could have bound him with ropes, or warned travelers. Gone to the nearest village or reported to your lord. Instead, you did nothing.
He he would have beat if I did. The woman crawled at the Knights feet and embraced his armored ankle. Please, MLord
What were you waiting for? Belgoroth snarled, implacable and unmoving. A miracle?
She looked at him. She looked up at him with those eyes, which he had grown to loathe with every fiber of his being, and then she opened her dirty mouth to poison his mind.
Soone like you, the wench whimpered.
Her words hit Belgoroth like a curse.
Sothing broke inside him. He felt it deep within his soul. A bowstring stretched thin snapped in half. A truth he had tried to bury beca impossible to ignore. The flas of anger burned within his heart, stronger than ever.
Soone like ? A bitter laugh erupted from Belgoroths throat. You were waiting for to solve your problems?
His hands trembled with rage. The fury he had tried to suppress for so long surged to the surface. This ti, he did not ignore it.
You are guilty of moral weakness and of closing your eyes on injustice, Belgoroth said, the fla of the candle flickering in the dark. Henceforth, I shall take them from you.
She looked up at him in confusion.
In response, he poured the molten beeswax onto her face.
Her shrieks and screams filled the inn for hours, but Belgoroth did not relent until he ensured she would see no evil anymore.
He almost envied her.
Belgoroth left the inn short of an innkeeper and its landlady short of two eyes. Lionheart obediently awaited him outside, a paw on the letter chest. Belgoroth hadnt found ti to pen a single answer. When he looked at them, he realized all that paper would serve a much better purpose.
Spill them over the ground, he told Lionheart. Those letters will make for a good campfire.
He would carry that burden no longer.
My fair Knight,Worriso rumors have reached my ears. About howNo, I will not sully this paper with malicious slander. The acts they say you have perpetrated they cannot be yours. It must be another villain trying to sully your na.I will do my best to clear your na. I, and the good people of Olerth, believe in you.Yours always,Princess Aleria of Olerth.
The Knights mark burned on his skin. His blade hungered for blood.
The castles lord crawled on the ground, his mace broken and the severed hand that held it bleeding nearby. His throne room was drenched in blood. Most of the mans guards had fought to the last to defend their wicked lord, and Belgoroth struck down those who tried to flee nonetheless. All of them deserved to die for ever serving the criminal.
Lord Mulciber, you stand accused of raping twelve won on their wedding night and murdering five brave n who dared to stand up to you, Belgoroth recounted the mans cris. The scum appeared to be in no shape to listen, but Belgoroth did not care. He ca to kill, not to speak. The punishnt for rape is castration. For murder, it is death.
Wait, wait, the worm pleaded. Youre a knight of Olerth, you cant
Belgoroth drove his sword through the mans skull, smashing bones and staining the throne with his brains. The adamantine edge drank the blood of the dead. Belgoroth could feel its hunger, its desire for death and destruction.
The last weapon exorcist Belgoroth encountered had urged him to destroy it, as all the wicked blood he shed with it had borne a curse. Belgoroth had ignored the warning. He was the Knight, master of weapons. The power within was his to command, and his burden to shoulder.
Once Castle Mulciber fell silent at last, Belgoroth walked out of its throne room. Corpses littered the entrance halls floor. Maids, servants, cooks, squires no matter their station, all humans looked the sa in death.
Belgoroth felt no pity as he stepped over their remains. They had made their choice.
You served your lords food for years, he recalled telling them. You must have bore witness to his cris. Why did you not report him earlier? Or better yet, poison his food so that he would never hurt anyone again?
Instead, these cowards had closed their eyes and enabled their masters evil ways. A man alone could not go far without the complicity of others. That was why injustice continued to prosper; because mankind tolerated it.
If Belgoroth didnt hold everyone accountable, then how could he do it with anyone?
You shall treat all fairly. Lords or peasants, all would face judgnt.
You shall oppose evil great and small. Closing ones eyes on a cri was no different than covering it up.
You shall not compromise on your duties. He would not let his doubts weaken his hand.
You shall be the first to fight injustice and never shall you retreat. If none would make the hardest decisions, then he would.
His mind was unclouded, his heart was pure, and his hand was steady.
The foul essence of death pervaded the air and twisted the walls into faces. The entrails of the dead shifted, their remains gathering into stuffed, squirming masses of flesh. Belgoroth would have to burn the place on his way out. Ensure these wicked spirits would not give birth to a Blight.
He stepped through the bloody gates and found an army waiting for him.
Hundreds of riders encircled Castle Mulciber, backed by ten tis as many n-at-arms. A tide of steel surrounded this tomb of stone. Spears, bows, swords, arbalets n had found so many ways to kill one another, and all of them had gathered in this cursed place. Belgoroth even noticed a few witchcrafters among them with a wealth of offensive runestones. Their dragon heraldry identified them as the knights of Olerth. Had they finally co to execute the felon Mulciber?
Better late than never, Belgoroth supposed. This gathering failed to impress him. His power sensed their terror, their disquiet, their shaking knees, and fearful stares. He had cleaned this castle of its sinners, and yet they still trembled at the sight of it. Despicable.
The armys leader, a paladin in gilded armor riding atop a white horse, stared at Belgoroth with what could pass for disbelief. By the Goddess, he said, his blue eyes squinting behind his helt. Ser Belgoroth, is that you?
It is I, Ser, Belgoroth replied politely. Did you co to help purge this den of iniquity? I did not need such a large force. In fact, I need no help at all.
None could match him. Whether armies or dragons, he could slaughter them. The Knight had never known defeat.
I had hoped the reports were wrong, the gilded general said. He appraised Belgoroth for a mont, a hand on his sheathed swords hilt. I am not here to assist you, Ser Knight.
You were too late for it anyway, Belgoroth replied with a shrug. He took a step forward, only to imdiately sense danger. His power detected the archers drawing their bows before their hands even reached the strings.
What Why were they pointing their weapons at him? Why were they all looking at him with such frightened eyes?
Their leader unfolded a docunt bearing a familiar pink sigil.
Ser Belgoroth, the gilded knight said atop his white horse. By orders of His Majesty, you are under arrest for murder, arson, and sedition.
What? Belgoroth mistook it for a jest at first, but the twitching fingers of the n around him felt real enough. It wasnt the castle that they feared.
This order is a forgery, Belgoroth replied, incensed. You were deceived. The king and princess
The order ca from her.
The lieit had to be a liestruck Belgoroth like a slap to the face. The mounted knight tossed him the scroll with the ssage, which he read. He imdiately recognized the handwriting.
I saved her life. No matter how many tis Belgoroth read the accusations, or the gentle prayers to surrender peacefully, he could not find the strength to believe in them. I saved her life.
You shall ask for no reward and accept none. Had it been too much to expect a little gratitude?
Ser Belgoroth, we have been asked to peacefully escort you back to the capital, the mounted knight said, his voice shaking but resolute nonetheless. You stand accused of murdering hundreds across the Kingdom of Olerth.
Criminals, all of them! Why couldnt they see? Why could nobody see? I have acted within the bounds of my duties!
The princess convinced the king to give you a fair trial, and you will have the opportunity to prove your innocence, the lesser knight replied.
Trial? Belgoroths hand clutched the scroll in his fury. ?! His roaring voice caused a dozen n to step back in fear. The Knight chosen by the Goddess Herself?! Which n would dare judge ?!
The mounted knight reeled back in fear, but did not flee. Ser, please take a look at yourself! he said. You are unwell! You need to let go of your sword! Its curse is poisoning your mind!
Not well? Nonsense. Belgoroth had never been more in tune with his mark. He no longer fought its instincts. He embraced them. Wielded them. Take a good look at himself? Belgoroth looked at his hands who had slain so many foes.
He froze in place.
When
When did his golden armor turn crimson?
His gilded gauntlets were covered in rust and drenched in blood, old and fresh. A stain of dark red filth covered his tal hide. Pushed by an instinct stronger than his reason, he started scrubbing. He scrubbed with all his strength under the srized eyes of Olerths knights, furiously trying to get the filth off him.
He knew there was gold sowhere there, beneath the blood and the screams and the pain
What have I Belgoroth mumbled in shock and disbelief. He ignored the soldiers whispers, who called him mad and feral. What have I
But it wouldnt co off.
It wouldnt co off.
It would never co off.
What have they done? The Knight stared at his crimson, rusted hands. His fingers trembled with impotent rage at his lost purity. They have stained with their filth their stench their corruption
He let out a roar of rage and anguish, a wail of absolute fury and despair. The archers fired their bowswhether out of fear or shock, he would never knowand rained arrows upon him. He deflected them all with his sword on instinct. The Knights of Olerth roared and charged on their horses; those brave enough to die at least. More fled, but none would run fast enough.
I was pure gold! Belgoroth snarled at the brave fools charging at their doom. Shining like the sun!
He leaped into battle, and he did not retreat.
Bel,About your question, Soulforged Adamantine requires forging adamantine in a place sacred to the Goddess and tying it to a key concept of the world.However, for my plan to work, I will have to tie your soul to a concept with which it resonates. A cowardly soul cant exactly co to embody the concept of courage, you understand? According to early experints, the soul bound to the object will naturally resonate with a concept by itself, which will then be tied to the Soulforged Adamantine.In your case, I would bet on valor.Your true friend,Daltia Eris Belarra.
Olerth burned like the heart of the sun.
He was fire. He was anger. He was hatred, whose heart shone with a berserk fla and whose sword had cut short countless lives. He was a tornado that slew all that stood in his path, the blaze that consud life.
They first called him Bel the rciless, then Bel the Mad, and finally, the Lord of Wrath, who took no sides, reigned over death, and wore a crown of blood. He had murdered those who besmirched his na, and those who did not. He had slain kings and peasants, the old and the young, knights and villains, the fair and the foul. Humans were equal in one thing only, and that was death.
He was the god of fury who heard all the worlds curses, all demands of pain and retribution, all promises of revenge, all insults spoken in anger, all calls to murder and extermination, all acts of violence. To these myriad prayers, he would answer with one gift alone.
Death.
Death to all.
Death to the last believer.
He walked through a corridor of burning flas paved with maid corpses. His crimson boots echoed on the cracking floor and then shattered the last door with a kick. A smile crept up on his face, full of bloodthirst and hateful joy.
Princess Aleria hid behind the wood, her lovely dress covered in the ashes of her kingdom. She crawled up to her feet and knelt before him with a face full of tears. She wept and begged in words Belgoroths clouded mind could no longer understand. He had heard a thousand prayers for rcy and answered none.
And yet, his smile faded away when he looked at her fair face. Instead of crushing her skull, his hand stroked her cheek. Her tears turned to steam on the crimson gauntlet. Sohow, the sight filled his heart with sothing else than anger: joy, sadness and pity.
Pity for that relic of what he had lost and would never regain.
The sorrow almost soothed the berserk fla in his heart. Almost.
Lord Belgoroth, please The princess hands moved to his legs, imploring his rcy with those eyes. All I have done was out of love
The fury returned in a flash of blood, stronger than ever.
He hacked her skull open with his sword. He roared as his adamantine cut her down and spread the flas over her smooth flesh. She was dead alreadyso rcifully quicklybut he couldnt stop. The fire inside him fueled a thousand more strokes. He hit and snarled and sliced, until nothing remained but charred pounds of flesh and bones. His sword gorged itself on the blood, until at last, Belgoroth had nothing left to slice. He washed his face with his bloodsoaked fingers, basking in the sll of death and roses.
For a brief instant, he felt pure again.
Theyre all dead now Belgoroth muttered to himself as he looked through the royal bedchambers windows, staring at the city he had once helped protect and then set ablaze. The traitors, the betrayers, the fools and the wicked all dead
The kingdom which had turned its back on himand adored himwas gone. Its towerswhich he used to admireburned like candles, and its castleswhich he once protectedhad been reduced to dust. Darkened skies rained ashes on bloody rivers; streets where thousands ca to acclaim him.
At long last everyone is dead, dead, dead
But his smile did not last long. The satisfaction he felt at this grueso spectacle was soon swept away by the tides of sha and loathing. He had tried to bury these old mories, but when he dug their graves, he could feel pain, raw and eternal.
Grotesque, is it not? Belgoroth straightened up, the fires of his youth dimd by age. She said she acted out of love, but she never truly knew . She loved my shadow. What she wanted to see in what she hoped to be.
He peeked over his shoulder and looked at the observer. Much like you loved your squire.
Silence answered him. But he knew. He sensed the foreign presence here, in the heart of his chaotic mories.
For a long ti, I wondered what about her eyes infuriated so deeply. Belgoroth glanced at the stain of blood that used to be Aleria. She wasnt special. I had t countless maidens, so fairer and wiser. So why did I loathe her in particular? That night at the inn, I finally understood.
A truth he had despised from the bottom of his soul.
It wasnt the eyes I hated, but what I saw in them: my own reflection, twisted by her hopes and expectations. The failure. His mouth twisted into a sneer of hatred and disgust. I beca a paladin to drive evil from the realm and inspire the people of the world to do good. And when Aleria looked at with those eyes, I knew, deep within myself, that I had failed. That my acts would not inspire these cowards and weaklings to beco brave.
Instead, n had co to rely on him to solve their problems instead of holding themselves accountable. They had enslaved him with their prayers and chained him to their diocrity, and when he disappointed their false expectations, they turned on him just as swiftly.
I understood that n would never live up to the standards to which I held myself. That Pangeal would never beco the paradise the Goddess tasked to create. That I had dedicated my life to a lie.
And it drove him mad with rage and bitterness.
I loved the mirage of humanity too, Belgoroth confessed. What I hoped it would beco; and when I finally accepted that n would never live up to my ideal, only hate remained.
Belgoroths hands tightened on his bloody sword, the vessel of his blackened, ash-tainted soul, his mark burning with all the worlds wrath and fury.
Are you content, Roland? Has this journey into my past given you the answers you sought deep inside yourself? Belgoroth turned back to stare at the observer. Do you feel the call of our Classes, who so ardently wish to fight one another? Knight to Knight, sword to sword?
Yellow flas spread around the Lord of Wrath, swallowing remorse and mories.
Ready your weapon, false Hero, he said with burning resolve. For the true Knight cos for you.
The flas burned the dream away, and Roland woke up sweating.
A terrible pain surged in his hand. His Knights mark burned on his skin so much it stained his fingers with blood.
Roland? Therese woke up on the other side of the bed. Her eyes widened in alarm at the sight of his bleeding hand. She imdiately reached for a poultice and set of bandages on the bed table.
She was used to these traumatic awakenings.
Though he had tried, Roland couldnt bear to touch her the way a man ought to with his future wife. Still, he found the warmth of his fiancs hands comforting as she treated his wound. The poultice stead at the contact of his mark, but it held nonetheless. Colmar had brewed it himself.
This is getting worse, Therese warned him after she finished bandaging his hand.
His power interpreted her worry as a reproach and suggested a thousand barbs: your sister banished you, Alaire resents you, and worse of all I will never love you like I loved Sebastian. The sa bloodthirst that led Belgoroth down the path of madness inhabited his own mark.
No, it is worse with mine. Belgoroths mark possessed the power of the Monk, whose understanding of motion let him tell a threat from an objection. Rolands weakened class failed to notice such subtleties and interpreted almost everything as a threat. Which makes his fall all the more sadder.
He was never worthy, Roland muttered under his breath. Too pure by half.
Who? Therese squinted at him. Belgoroth?
Roland nodded slightly. His future queen was sharp. So sharp that she had all but taken over the administrative duties of the kingdom since he retook the capital. Not that he minded. He never had a mind for politics, beyond what he had to do to secure his life and throne. He was happy to fight at his ns side in the mud while Therese handled the velvet diplomacy.
I saw his mories, Roland said while gathering his breath. Parts of them at least. Blurs of his past.
Roland started having nightmares since the battle with Sebastianmay he rot in whatever golden hell he gave himself tobut they had grown more vivid over the last few nights. He suspected the attack on Walbourg broke a dam of so sort. Now that Belgoroth had gotten out, however briefly, his malice poured between their connected Classes.
Therese stared at him with a worried expression, then left the kingly bed. Her white nightgown shimred as she opened the windows and let the light in. Dawn was rising on the capital of Whitethrone.
How did he look? Therese asked once her fianc had recovered.
I dont know. I only saw through his eyes. Roland wiped the sweat off his brow. His hands were drenched in blood.
I would expect a Knight to wash them often, Therese replied with a sarcastic smile. Roland once again squashed a thousand hurtful jabs. Did you gather anything that could help us stop him?
I dont know, Roland confessed. The dreams were a chaotic ss.
Then write it all down. It will help you put your thoughts in order. Therese moved to the bedside and served him a cup of honeyed milk. As will the sugar.
Roland accepted the cup with hesitation. Why do you prepare our drinks in advance without consulting the staff?
His fianc raised an eyebrow as she returned to the bed with a cup of her own. Why dont you call the servants, my lord?
Safety, Roland replied as he sipped the drink. It was cold, yet pleasing to his lips. I almost died from a poisoned cup when I was nine.
And here I was told Archfrosts politics were less fierce than in my holand. Therese stared at the cup with curiosity. You did not test that one.
Perhaps I should have, Roland replied, slightly amused. Indeed, he hadnt even considered checking the cup. His fianc had grown on him. Ive heard an Everbright Empress murdered three of her husbands.
Therese smiled in amusent. We arent married yet, my lord.
The pain in Rolands mark returned in a flash. The poultice soothed it slightly, but it had been made to cure his flesh and not his soul. The Knight Class urged him to counter the joke with an insult, a slap, a punch, anything. Words were weapons, and Therese used them expertly. Each conversation was a challenge to overco.
Maybe that was why Roland was starting to appreciate her. She forced him to practice his self-control, to stay on the narrow path of discipline. His fianc did not hesitate to speak her mind in his presence, unlike many sycophants and loyal knights.
Roland didnt think he had the strength in him to love her the way he loved Sebastian, but he respected her. Nay, he trusted her. They could overco the issue of the heir in ti. With all the Heroes in their entourage, Roland strongly believed they could find a novel solution.
A cloud of white smoke erupted in the bedchambers. Therese hastily pulled the sheet closer to hide her modesty while Rolands hand reached for the sword hidden under the mattress; he never went to sleep without a weapon.
Oh my, am I interrupting sothing? Eris smiled in amusent at Therese. Alaire will be jealous.
Roland let go of the sword, but he did not relax. He rembered the words signed on that cursed letter inside Belgoroths dream: Daltia Eris Belarra. The Wanderer did not look exactly like the Devil of Greed, but now that he looked at her, Eris bore a remarkable resemblance to that woman
Roland did not trust dreams, let alone a Demon Ancestors mories. For all he knew, Belgoroth could have altered them to deceive them and sow distrust.
So he kept his mouth shut for now. Staying on his guard around friends and foes had beco second nature to him. Robin had taught him the value of corroborating information. He would wait for his comrades return to share his intel.
Comrades. The thought made him smile. A king has no friends, or so I was told, but can a Hero?
Should we get dressed? Therese asked with a sigh. These visits of yours always manage to catch us at the wrong ti, Lady Eris.
I bear good news this ti, Eris promised. She presented the royal couple with a scroll. Walbourg signed the treaty.
They did? Therese forgot her modesty and all but snatched the docunt out of the Wanderers hands. Finally.
He did it. Robin did it. While his future queen read the docunt, Roland did not bother to take a look. He trusted the wily rchant to have negotiated favorable terms. I hoped he would succeed while still expecting him to fail. Yet again, he proved wrong.
Peace. Peace had co to Archfrost.
This is great news, Therese said upon folding the scroll. Archfrost can finally heal its scars.
Yes, it could. Roland should rejoice. No one would lose their father to their fellow countryn as he did.
So why did this news leave him feeling empty?
His Class had urged him to take the field to Walbourg, to shatter their walls and bring them back into the fold the knightly way. Roland had hoped for that outco since his childhood. He had dread of dragging Griselda out of her duchy and carrying her back in chains to the capital, to stand trial for the death of his late father.
For the sake of peace, he had to abandon those fantasies. To welco back rebels, and forgive many cris. That compromise left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.
But Roland felt no anger. He had seen the alternative last night and witnessed where it led Belgoroth: nowhere.
Once you refused to compromise, the only path was war; a sterile battle that ended with annihilation, either for oneself or the other side. And war could not build a future.
There is still work to do before Archfrost can rest, Roland said. The coronation, the beastn His gaze turned to his bandaged hand and the mark underneath. And him.
About that Eris straightened up. I have been running from one Hero to another. Weve been discussing ways to neutralize Belgoroth, either temporarily or permanently.
Rolands head snapped in her direction, as did his future wifes. Both had been taught since infancy that the Demon Ancestors could only be sealed away and never destroyed.
Permanently? Roland asked in disbelief. Is such a thing possible?
I do not know. So of the ideas Robin and the others suggested sound technically possible if flawed and extrely risky. Eris squinted at Roland. Especially for you.
For ? Roland scowled. Am I to play a key part in your sches?
Eris nodded sharply. I wont lie, Roland, our next battle might cost you greatly, she warned him. Only the Knight can defeat the Knight, and even if any of our plans work, we will have to adapt on the fly. We wont proceed with so of the suggested strategies without your approval.
Another man would have hesitated, but the thought of refusing never crossed Rolands mind. He didnt even need to be told the risks. If there was the slightest chance to end the Lord of Wrath and secure his kingdoms future, then he would gladly pay any price. His power rejoiced within him, and for once Roland found himself fully in tune with his mark.
Then let the Lord of Wrath know, Roland declared, That the true Knight cos for him.
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