The Good Thane

[TheShammySocialist]

August Tusk pulled the reins on his steed to hold it steady, as the horse, one of magnificent stock, would grunt its disapproval of not being allowed, he would lean down to pat its neck and whisper a few calm words. The last rays of sun were escaping sight as he overlooked the Valley of the Royals, the heart of Kordon, a rich lush farmland that was filled with sleepy hamlets that were connected by simple cart roads that crisscrossed it. A rain shower could be seen in the distance, and the young man would, out of habit, clutch his traveling cloak around him in mental response, even if no drops were falling around him. Beyond the many hamlets, where wisps of smoke could be seen rising from cottages and hovels, as the common man prepared food for himself, Krachovia rose with its many spires and stone buildings.

 

The odd peacefulness that August felt as he sat there was belying why he now sat on his war horse, along the side of a road on a ridgeline that would soon drop into the valley and follow the various roads up to Krachovia. So many things were wrong in Kordon, and dark clouds had been gathering over all the lands surrounding it, few friends existed anymore amongst the world of men, and so much had been done to fray the ties with the other races. August curled the cloak against his thin, but strong frame again, his grey eyes flicking over the valley as he surveyed the route that would bear him into the Citadel of the Kings.

 

The great king Sigismund IV, now taken with old age and ailing, ruled his bed, and not his throne, and there was much talk of what would happen when the great man, who had held so much promise for Kordon, would expire. Although few ever dared to speak against the King, there was much clamor outside of the Valley of the Royals, as to who would remain loyal to Sigismund's weak son, the Crown Prince Leszek. Much respect was bestowed upon Sigismund, but it was the inability of Leszek to unite his father's great supporters, his lack of confidence, his weak will that alarmed them. Although they remained loyal for now, the great Sigismund was well aware with his gift of foresight granted by his association with the Elves. He feared what may come to his house, his people, his great lands should his son fail.

 

The messenger who had fetched August from his district, the district his father, the Prince Casimir, a loyal cousin to Sigismund, had done so at great haste, bidding him that he was to depart for Krachovia at once. Without escort, and with only his father's blessing behind him, the young August, all of seventeen, would ride into the night. Although many had said that Sigismund had always had designs for the young thane, the modest and upstanding individual that he was, August was quite blind to any from his own mind. He had always been unconcerned for court politics for some time, and had always favored riding patrol on the hinterlands of his father's district, that border the great forestlands to the west. Now he was being summoned to the greatest court in all the land.

 

August seemed to come out of his reverie when a bird chirped, and flew past him, and he would take one last look at Krachovia's massive walls in the distance, and young noble of men would nudge his horse. The horse would snort, as if to sigh that his master had finally come to his senses to let him gallop again, and took off at a steady gallop, as night fell over the winding roads into the heart of Kordon...

[Sarah Tintagyl]

And looking over those same hamlets a dark hand closed around the black leather reins of his horse....the stallion snorted and the rider turned back to the paths that led east into the mountains and wilderness. He rode hard for the next few days, stopping at small trading posts on the meandering path over the Laru Mountains. Over the mountains, the frozen tundra extended for miles. In the middle of the plain, a great stone tower spiraled into the air. This was the home of the rider's Mistress, Mayriia Torviir.

 

He jumped down from his horse upon reaching the gates. They opened slowly as two other Dark Elf guards walked out to take his horse and weapons. The Mistress forbade any weapon into the tower even those she forged with her own hands. The rider walked in, holding his helmet under his arm, his long red hair contrasting his gray skin. Grim statues lined the hallways covered with webs from the gargantuan spiders that crawled through the upper passageways. He walked the winding hallways and spiraling staircases until arriving in a large room, draped in beautiful red and purple velvet. The sounds of love making echoed out from the inner chamber. He smirked, waited, then chuckled when he heard the sound of choking. A moment later Mayriia walked out from her quarters, her body covered with light purple cloth.

 

"Mistress," said the rider, walking forward out of the shadows. "I've returned from the scouting mission."

 

"Szzdan, welcome," she said sitting down on an ivory chair. "Forgive the wait, I was conducting...diplomacy."

 

"That's what it sounded like."

 

"The northern wildmen shouldn't be a problem, now that their chief is dead. Shame too," she smirked, "He was passionate." Mayriia poured a glass of red wine and leaned back on the chair. Her white hair hung around her shoulders. White lines like webs were etched over her arms, neck, and sides, her ruby eyes followed Szzdan as he crossed the room. Her skin the same smooth gray as his own. "So what of Kordon?"

 

He sat and removed a piece of parchment from his breast plate. "I've scouted the perimeter of the kingdom. But I don't know if an invasion is even necessary, Your Grace."

 

"Why is that?"

 

"Their king is on his deathbed and the Prince is weak minded. You may be able to get him to see your way without the use of force."

 

"Well that sounds delightful." She smiled, "Bring me news when the King dies, and I will send a marriage proposal to the Prince. He'll be unable to say no."

 

"Of course, My Lady," said Szzdan as he stood up to leave her chambers.

 

"Oh, one more thing, Szzdan, return to Kordon, see if you can find a way to enter into the royal circles there. It will make my entrance easier."

[TheShammySocialist]

August didn't arrive at Krachovia until late that night, the moon was full, and the stars were laid out on the deep blue blanket of the sky above, the watchmen of the night would hail him as he arrived. The gate was open, but well guarded by a group of dedicated sergeants, who would bid the outlander welcome, and had been informed of his arrival. The inside of Krachovia's walls was a bustling city that surrounded the inner citadel, where an even more imposing gate stood between the thane and his destination. He would walk his steed through the quiet streets, passing by men who were stumbling home from a tavern, or small patrols of soldiers that were keeping a watchful eye in the cool night.

 

After clearing the gates of the inner citadel, the young thane would be met by Sigismund's advisers, a Lord by the name of Bizier, who would also bid him welcome, and usher him inside at a relatively quick pace. August would slide his cloak hood back as he let a stable boy take the reins from him, and lead his horse into a nearby stable, where neighs and grunts could be heard every so often from other stabled beasts. The halls of the castle were dank and cool, but well lit by several torches and chandeliers, tapestries of all sorts, sculptures and reliefs of great kings past stood silent watch over the inner armored doors.

 

They would climb a number of stairs, passing by a few guards as they went, many of them somber looking, whether that was their duty to do so, or their mood, August did not know. Several people, including a few maidens and men dressed in fine livery stood outside of a door in the hallway that they entered, some of them sat on benches, sleeping against the wall. A few of them watched silently as August passed by, some who knew him to an extent, would nod respectfully as the young man passed by, his dark hair falling behind his head in long strands, unkempt from his long ride to Krachovia. Voices could be heard inside the room, August knew to be the king's residences, and the voices didn't sound all that positive, to August's ears.

 

Bizier would throw open the door, interrupting the conversation that the old king was having, the old man tucked into a shrouded four-posted bed, the man who turned to look at the door, August recognized as the fresh-faced, golden haired Leszek. "Father, I was not aware that you were receiving visitors this late, the doctors-," started Leszek, turning back Sigismund, his form very faintly visible through the shifts around his bed.

 

"Told me what they think I should be doing, but a King decides what happens with his life, leave us, both of you," growled Sigismund, interrupting his son and his hand raising up to lazily dismiss both Leszek and Bizier.

 

Leszek seemed to be hesitant to leave, his eyes not on his father, but on August, watching him closely, but he would relent, when Sigismund cleared his throat. Bizier was already at the door, holding it for Leszek, who would continue to stare at August while he departed, not saying a word to the young man. As the door swung closed, August looking back at it, he turned back to see Sigismund slowly sitting up higher, the king would raise his hand and beckon him forward.

 

"Come August, Son of Casimir, throw a log on the fire, we have much to discuss, you and I," said Sigismund, his tone much more calm and relaxed now that his son had departed the room.

[Sarah Tintagyl]

Through the night and many mornings, Szzdan rode back across winding roads over the mountains until descending upon Krachovia. He rode with five other Dark Elves to the city gates and hailed for an entrance.

 

"We bring tidings from the realm of Mayriia Torviir and great propositions to Leszek, Prince of this land." He reached into his cloak, made with thick wool and dyed black and crimson. "My mistress wishes to bring great wealth to the prince and great prosperity to this land."

 

...As Szzdan spoke, Mayriia watched the meeting between her agent and the guards through a glass orb in her hands. She smiled and ran her fingers over the guards. "You will let my servants in, they bring you great tidings." She let the orb float in the air for a moment. "And if you don't," the witch reached over to a series of jars on her table. Dipping her fingers in one filled with human blood she ran it in lines over her cheeks. "My servants will come in and plague your city. Behind them lay horrors unseen."

 

The witch smiled and heard the echoes of spider screams in the distance.

[TheShammySocialist]

"What would the kingdom say, if I accepted this? Your son is the rightful heir to the throne, and he has the right to choose who shall be the Valley Guardian," said August, looking seriously at Sigismund. "I will help rally the kingdom to the throne once again, I will be a loyal servant to your house, but I cannot accept a title that the future king will eventually give me." It had been a number of hours that he and Sigismund had spoken back and forth over the state of the kingdom, and the world at large. It had been some of the longest hours of his life, as Sigismund had immediately revealed his will for bringing him to Krachovia; the ascendance to Valley Guardian, the most coveted place in the court aside that of King.

 

"You can, and you will be Valley Guardian, as sure as my name is Sigismund, August, heir of House Tusk, your energy and spirit are much respected here at court, much more than you know. There are those that would be jealous of this post, and if it is your life that you fear for I-."

 

"It is not my life, Your Grace, it is the fact that I am hardly but a man, and I have not seen major command yet, not even at the hands of my father," said August, hissing at the monarch. "How should I be expected to oversee a Kingdom, even if Leszek was to accept me?"

 

"You are not tainted by the politics of the court, and you will learn them in good time, my friend," said Sigismund, in a soft tone. His eyes looked seriously at August, "But before you take up the post of Valley Guardian," he started, and continued before August could interject, "You will go to the House of the Golden Sun, and you will receive what you will need to become the Valley Guardian. We will not speak of this anymore, you will go there, and return here immediately, Bizier is already informed of my decision."

 

August would look at the frail old Sigismund, his older face bearded, and shrouded by hood, but he saw the energy still there, Sigismund was fighting for his life. August quietly stood up, his sword clanking in its sheath, as he bowed his head, "Your will, be done my lord."

 

"Go now, before its too late," said Sigismund, who began a fit of coughs, as August would walk out swiftly, a squire that had been left for him, was ready to guide him to the House of the Golden Sun, although August already knew the path.

 

---

 

The guards seemed to be entranced by the arrival of the Dark Elves, and Szzdan would notice a lack of character amongst all of them, his master working her black magic to gain influence under the weaker, more malleable souls. This would go on until one Sergeant, one of the more veteran of the lot growled at the men, snapping them out of their trance.

 

"I was unaware that we had guests coming from the land of Mariia Torviir," spoke the veteran Sergeant in a firm tone. "But as emissaries of your mistress, it is the policy of Sigismund that you are welcome here. You will not be able to see the king, however, he is indisposed."