The Blindman

"Justice sees not the colour of one's skin, nor the rank of their birth.

Wealth, power, fame are trivial when one faces the Blindman."

"Wake up Artyom!"

Artyom ignored his servant Oksana, but woke up to the sharp sting of a slap. The young noble shot up from his reading divan, knocking the book that rested on his chest, and was shocked that his study room was filled with a haze and the smell of smoke surrounded him.

"Wha..what's happening Oksana," asked Artyom as the much larger woman dragged him to his feet. When he managed to get his bearings, his bodyguard threw him his rapier which he fumbled to catch.

"We're under attack, Artyom" replied Oksana as she kicked opened the servant's door.

A wisp of flame engulfed the big woman, but she forced her way through.

"My father, brother?" asked Artyom as he followed close behind her.

Oksana ignored the question as she threw some burning furniture aside, clearing the way to the stairs.

Artyom coughed as they made their way down to the manor's main level, but through the smoke and soot managed to keep pace with Oksana. As they made their way to the kitchen, Artyom stopped as an oddly familiar golden robed man suddenly appeared and barred their path.

"Sorry dear," said the man, his smirk barely visible from his hood. "No survivors."

Oksana hesitated as the man uttered several arcane syllables, before a stream of fire lashed out at him.

Artyom felt his own impending doom draw near. His life flashed before his eyes. The sadness of his mother's death. The nervousness of his father's second marriage. Racing about the manor with his brother Frederick. All the time wasted reading his swashbuckling tales. There was so much to do, so little time.

As Artyom braced for the flames, Oksana threw herself in front of him. Artyom expected to hear screams from the big woman, but Oksana simply ignored the fire, even as she spun around and charged the mage. A blue barrier crackled before her as she reached the wizard, but Oksana's shimmering blade would not be denied.

"RAAHHH!" shouted Oksana as she intoned her barritus, the war cry of the Imperial legion, as she broke through the mage's protections.

"What the..?" said the golden mage a second before Oksana slammed her enchanted sword into his chest, burying it up to the hilt.

"How?" asked Artyom stunned at the turned of events.

"Come on!" shouted Oksana, as she pushed the dead mage's chest with her boot to free her sword. Artyom didn't hesitate as he fled to her side, as they retreated through the manor's rear exit.

As Artyom fled with his bodyguard, he turned to see his family's summer manor burning brightly. The young nobleman caught the sight of a few more golden mages at the front of his burning house, with what looked like a troop of mercenaries watching the destruction. Several of his family guard were slain at their feet.

"Come on," hissed Oksana as she grabbed his shoulders. Artyom did not resist as she dragged him into the nearby trees, as the pair fled deep within the woods.

Though Artyom grew up playing in this forest, he shuddered at every shadow that barred their path. Once, he and his brother played here, pretending to be knights battling monsters and dangers. Now the dangers were real.

After ten minutes or maybe an hour, Artyom had lost count, the two stopped at a small creek. Oksana signalled Artyom to stop with an open hand. She briefly scanned the area, and after she deemed it secure to her satisfaction she waved at Artyom to approach.

"Are you alright?" asked Artyom as he struggled to catch his breath.

Oksana looked confused for a second and then shrugged. "Oh the fire, don't worry, I drank a potion of fire resist when …when the trouble started."

"Father, Frederick?" asked Artyom. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot about Kaden."

Oksana hesitated before shaking her head. "I don't know."

"What, what do we do now?" he asked hesitantly.

Oksana paused at that question before finally answering. "We go to Geselt, the guard are loyal to the House of Bancroft, they will protect you until we send word to the Emperor Thincol."

"Loyal? What do you mean loyal?" Artyom thought over her words and then it struck him. "Wait, are you saying this was an assassination attempt? They were after my father, and my brother? …and myself?"

Oksana looked stunned. "I..I didn't say that. I …I actually don't know," she admitted sheepishly.

Artyom paced around the watch tower's room. There were two guards outside, with Oksana and another half a dozen at the main entrance. It was an old wizard tower, warded by magic, and considered the most secured room in the town of Geselt. A proper place to hide the Baron's oldest son after last night's attack.

Artyom had already sent word to the capital and Count Darold but couldn't help but feel vulnerable and exposed. He was so paranoid that he jumped off his feet when the door to his room creaked open.

The massive form of Kaden blocked the door's frame. The grizzled man at arms, one of his father's most trusted retainers nodded at Artyom before his eyes surveyed the sparse room. Satisfied that it was secure, the big man stepped back into the corridor.

"Artyom! " beamed Frederick. His brother hesitated briefly scanning the door before he finally entered.

Artyom's heart shot to his throat at the sight of his older brother. The young nobleman jumped off his cot as he gave Frederick a hug. "The fire…the mages…the brigands. I..I thought you were dead. "

"Fortunately for me I was out….with one my various lady friends. I should have been there during the attack, but…I fear my bravado is misplaced. If I would have been there, I would have likely ended up dead."

"Dead….like father?"

Frederick's face frowned as he nodded his head slowly. " My men searched the burned out shell of the manor. The attackers had long fled, and father… father did not make it. There's no sign of his body. It's probably been burned beyond the point of any divination magic at our disposal. "

The two brother's lowered their eyes as the reality of the death of Baron Bancroft sunk in.

"How did you survive Arty?" asked Frederick in a tired voice. "Oksana said the pair of you fled into the woods?"

"Something like that," shrugged Artyom. "Who did this Frederick? "

"Bandits perhaps? Ambitious adventurers? Alphatian rebels? I told father to increase the guard, and hire some more mages and clerics, but it did little good. They get more brazen every year, especially with that incompetent Count Darold's policies. If we had a proper liege like Count Petyr…"

"I..I think Count Petyr is responsible for this," interrupted Artyom. The young nobleman was shocked that he uttered those words."I saw several mages with golden robes. Those are those Yellow Lord Cultists right? Didn't Count Petyr hire a couple of them last year to torch a brigand tower on the outskirts of his domain? It makes sense if you think about it, Petyr never did like father for speaking out against him, and siding with Count Darold. Also, Father's taxation policies favors…"

"Whoa..whoa there Artyom," said Frederick. "Watch what you are saying. Count Petyr is nobility, he's third in line to the throne. You can't toss about those accusations. What's your proof? A man in a gold robe. Someone with a tacky sense of fashion? That could be anyone. And even if they're one of these…what did you call them…. Yellow lord Cultists, that doesn't mean Petyr's responsible. I mean you just said he hired them, that means they could have been hired by anyone else…"

"…but father has no enemies! Count Petyr hated him, he had motive.."

"Silence brother. Look, I'm well aware of your….over active imagination. I think you've read way too many of those trashy swashbuckling stories," admonished Frederick. "Tales of Warmaster Fetch, the devil hero Zax, the Mistress of the Lionblade, and the Blindman are fun when you're a kid, but now's not the time."

Artyom took a step back, hurt at the accusation. "They aren't trashy. They're real accounts from writers in Grom."

Frederick sighed. "Listen Arty. Father's gone. It's just you and I now. We're all that's left of the House Bancroft. I need you to keep it together until the baronies' defenses are fortified. The Emperor might send token aid, but we are too out of the way for him to care about us. I've already requested aid from our neighbours, and it's not going to work if you accuse one of them of murder. "

"But…Petyr has the resources, and the motive..he…"

"Artyom!" said Frederick sternly, silencing his brother. "Look, no more talk of this. I'll hire a cleric, an oracle, whatever it takes to find our father's killer. Trust me on this. Justice will prevail, but for now we have a duty to keep the Barony together. The people look up to us, and it will not look good if we are squabbling."

Artyom turned red but held his tongue. For the rest of the conversation he glumly nodded at his brother. Though he was overjoyed by his brother's survival, Artyom knew his brother was wrong on this. Artyom already knew that the mages that had killed his father had covered their tracks. They would be warded against any divination. Didn't they mention something about orders? It couldn't have been a random attack. Count Petyr would be immune to any accusations due to his rank and bloodline, but that didn't mean justice would not be done.

Frederick was right though. He was in no condition to spout off accusations. Artyom knew his reputation around the Barony, and probably the kingdom in general was not very good. He was considered a dreamer at best, and a fool by the rest, but he had one thing going for him. Even though he would not be named baron, he was the oldest son of the house Bancroft. Not the most influential house in the Empire of Thyatis, but one of the richest.