Chronicles of the Reaper: Chapter 1
It was an uneventful summer that welcomed the season of a peaceful, quiet fall; birds of various species stretched their wings in preparation for the annual mass exodus down south to escape the coming cold winter. Branches of trees held close to the shoulders of the moving eastern air, letting their leaves slide and drifted along to the rushing wind though the hollow stumps and into the open air. Packs of wild bears were seen more frequently alongside the rivers in anticipation of the vast quantities of fish journeying upstream. The untouched Northern wilderness moved and swayed in unison and gently to the slow inevitable seasonal change.
For Halifaz, it was a new beginning of a new chapter. Though he never really enjoyed the grey mood of autumn, a certain favorable event changed his disposition towards the season, or rather, that favorable event managed to keep him distracted from his seasonal peevishness.
Brown, wavy short haired with crescent eyes, the freckled young man has recently acquired a newfound achievement to brag about to his peers and clique. The dreamy lad had become the carriage driver for the Wilkinsbane family, shortly after the former coachman, in a drunken stupor, attempted to sexually assault the young lady of the family.
He would never endeavor to mistreat Lady Velayn, he concluded, although admittedly, he had certain fantasies of his own and that was about as far as he gets.
Working for a ministerial family has certainly has changed Halifaz's reputation, lifestyle and the prospects for his future. In Veldyia, such highly regarded opportunities do not come by often. The driver of the carriage must be presentable, punctual and able to handle the horse well under strenuous weather. Save for being presentable, the country boy was well suited for the job.
As a man, he was already too old to be conscripted as a page for the kingdom, nor did he have the charms, good looks or attitude to wholehearted adopt the teachings of Sune's Clergy. The arduous studies of sorcery too, was not his destiny to pursue, he lacked the necessary talent and will. He blamed his freckles, he blamed his commoner parents, he blamed his intellect, and indirectly, the ambitious young man blamed his kingdom for his sorry state.
It was not until his mother managed to pull some strings within her network of housewives and domestic servants, and the day finally arrived when he packed his belongings in the lonely, isolated farms west of Veldyia City, and moved to the promise of his parents. With a glimmer of hope in his eyes, he would find a new life within the vast economic structure of the city, climb the social ladder and provide better lives for his siblings and generations that are yet to come.
Autumn had not sullied his mood thus far; on the contrary, driving along the yellowing forest brought him into a poetic mood. The trip to High Castle Valace was the defining moment since he started working for the family. Never before had he laid eyes on the strikingly beautiful Castle of royalty, or be treated like one. Situated on a climbing, green-covered mountain, and by a large blue lake that shimmers like a field of diamonds under the midday's sun, the ornate, spiraling turret, walls, chambers and halls, in all of its magnificent glory brought tears to him.
Being ever so hopeful, he wanted to lay eyes on the High Lord himself, but to his utter disappointment, the High Lord could not participate in the monthly reception for the Wilkinsbane family. Nevertheless, he was awestruck by the level of generosity of their host. Feast, music and exotic dancers entertained the family and the entourage of guards and servants until late night.
Being there made him aware of the endless possibilities.
Velayn, with her family, sat quietly in the carriage while her bored eyes scanned the familiar forest on the side of the all too familiar path. Once again, the High Lord remained within his chambers, of what condition or intent, no one knew. In her head, she silently began to question whether these monthly trips were necessary at all; the routine was becoming redundant, tiresome without yield or purpose.
The High Lord does not seem to care anymore.
The visit was defined by the fiery performance by muscular, tribal brown skinned fire dancers from Chult. For that, she did not regard the trip as a complete waste of time, but she did for the entire long and boring journey. She leaned her elbow gently on the window and spied on her sleeping parents and giggled at the saliva that is leaking out from the corner of her father's lips, wetting his dense, well trimmed beard. She leaned over with a handkerchief to wipe it off but cheekily decided not to. She smiled adoringly at her father.
Sir Lex Remington rode casually at the head of the entourage, his brunette hair fluttered wildly in the gust of wind, unfazed, his job was to lead the entourage as well his two squires that was securing the rear end the carriage. The young paladin had been service to the family for well over two years, shortly after his siring; he was quickly made the guard captain of the family. It came to no surprise, as few have been so fortunate due to the strict restraint of the Order's hierarchical structure. Sir Lex was, however, different from the others, even when he was squire, he displayed unusual bravado and valor.
During a cold winter night, grasping a mace longer than his arm, without fear or hesitation in his eyes, the young lad with all strength and courage, smashed an ambushing pack of ravenous wolves during a mock patrol exercise with several other helpless squires. When the wolves lay dead by his feet and his own blood trickled down his head, in the eyes of many, he instantly became a legend.
However, Sir Lex remained an enigma to his colleagues and the people that surrounded him, seldom he spoke of ambition, love or life. It was probably the discipline and duty instilled to him by his father and training, people guessed. But years have past and in everybody's mind, he is still known to be the fierce, vigilant, wounded lad. Wordlessly, he inspired security and valor.
The Wilkinsbane could not be any happier when he was sent to replace the old craggy Guard Captain, especially to the heart of young maidens. The maid and servant girls were wrought with excitement when the legend stepped through the gates; his heavy plate mail carried his broad shoulders across the courtyard with grace and medieval heroism. His sharp defined face and calm eyes would place any girl before his feet, but he shunned them away, closed his heart and his voice remained quieter still.
Two years have passed and he remains an enigma.
He approached the usual set of trees where, one in particular, dwarfed the rest with its massive trunk and crawling branches that seemed to touch the skies. It naturally marked the mid-way point of the Northern Pass to Vetropol City and usually is a sight for relief.
Not this time.
The white horse that carried the young Paladin neighed in restlessness as they approached closer to the tree; the wide splitting branches dipped so low it almost touched the earth, blocking their path and as if it has lost its will to live. The crawling web of blackened branches reached out like the skeletal hands of the crawling dead, the sight disturbed even his brave heart.
He stopped the entourage immediately, jumped off from his mount and unsheathed a sword from his saddle. He dutifully but cautiously moved closer to the branches and chopped them in one single strike.
But another evil surprised him, instead of the crackling sound of snapping braches; his strike only echoed a soft thud and ruffles of darkening leaves, emitting a putrid stench. Maggots and worms leached themselves onto his sword and many more dropped off to the ground and scurried away. The dark, gruesome ominous signs moved him to drop his sword and backed away.
"Is there something amiss Sir Lex?" Halifaz howled from the edge of the carriage. Velayn, in response, poked her head out to examine the commotion. One of the rear guard moved to the front.
Sir Lex studied the tree grimly, unmoving. The trees around seemed to be withering as the bark started to rot and fall off. "By Sune's nameā¦" the female squire gasped at the grisly sight. The woods further beyond the hulking tree seemed to be covered in an unnatural hue of purple and black. "What caused this devilry?"
"A dying forest," Sir Lex breathed to himself, intrigued. "I'm going to investigate further, something lurks in the forest." He turned to his disturbed squire, "Elweena, stay with the family and make them safe."
"Be careful sir," she nodded and scurried off to the carriage.
For Sir Lex, investigating strange occurrences was his second nature. But this 'devilry' as Elweena suggested, almost had Sir Lex thinking twice before stepping into the alien realm. He spoke a prayer and lifted his leg towards the bed of decaying leaves.
His first step had his left leg sunk sickly into a bloating bed of decaying leaves, crushing their crusty shells that spewed out murky liquids. Unfazed, he continued marching forward into the dark forest with his mace in hand. In his mind, he thought it was foolish to attempt such evil alone, but his duty told him otherwise.
The large expanse of the forest was deserted with occasional echoes of caws and squishing sounds set by his feet. The deeper part of the forest was darkening by the dense black-purplish canopy webbed together by closely clustered trees. Soon, it became exceedingly difficult for him to search the light whence he came from. As he progressed, the forest became much deader and ominous, dead veins hung down like a noose, damp rotting branches broke off and fell from trees, the air became much thinner and it became even harder to breathe. Every step he took wet the earth, turning the once green forest more into a lumpy swamp.
For once, he can feel a sickening fear crawling at the back of his head as he trod in the endless dead forest. The darkness was becoming too unbearable and his lungs were crying out for air. Reaching out his left hand, he chanted a string of words to create a ball of white light. He moved his hand over his mace, and illuminated the head of the mace in brightness.
Holding out the make shift torch, the light shone forward and saw no end, only what seems to be a chain of illusions. He decided that it was hopeless to go further, he did not know what he was searching for and vowed to report these unusual findings to the Inquisition as soon as he returned. But as he turned around, the entire path turned pitch black, as if he were staring into a void of nothingness. Even his enchanted light could not penetrate the choking blackness that was starting to gnaw on his courage.
He turned towards his original destination and eerily found that it was not as dark as the path behind. He paused for a second in contemplation before he smiled to himself, now even more certain that the truth lays forward, his conscience and valor rested easier and secretly thanked the darkness for swaying his cowardly decisions.
To none of his surprise, the path became brighter as he progressed with courage. Not long, he saw a white glimmer shining through the purple ambience between the trees. Lowering his mace, he quickened his pace forward to uncover the truth.
Author's notes: R&R Please!
