'No, absolutely not.' said Dedrick. He had repeated those words enough times since he became the Lord of Murstvig, and they had become a chore to say, but such was life as a ruler, if only locally. He watched through his emotionless dark eyes as the armoured form, on bended knee before him, struggled with his answer.
Dedrick had known this man for years, and he had served the Empire as one of her finest knights of the realm, but even requests from his closest friends could not be accepted outright. What he had asked for was outside of Dedrick's power to even consider granting, nevermind accept. Had it been something material, a new sword, a new suit of armour, perhaps even a new warhorse, he would have granted it in a heartbeat. But this was far too complex of a matter to put in a simple request.
Inside, Dedrick knew of the consequences, and how it would affect his reputation, but few outside the stresses of power understood just how little was possible. To a common citizen, everything was simple. They made demands that they, outside the rules and regulations of rulership, saw as easily fulfilled, but were, in actual fact, impossible or actively detrimental. No doubt the public would see it differently if they were asked, but then again, since when did the public ever think of rulers as doing anything less than harm them and their ways of living? They were, of course, only too happy for the shelter of Murstvig's wall during times of war, though.
Although this time, Murstvig's walls had no space left for shelter.
'My lord, I plead for you to reconsider. They have nowhere to go, and with the increasing disappearances. …' The armoured man openly wept. Although the man kept his head low, his short brown hair masking his face from view, Dedrick heard the sorrow in his voice, and saw the damp patch in the deep green carpet, where the man's tears threw themselves from his face and plummeted to the floor below.
Dedrick kept his composure. Seeing a knight openly weep only made it harder to deny him. Dedrick wished that what he knew as true, was false. He prayed silently to Sigmar that what he knew as true, was false. But Sigmar seemed deaf to his pleas. Deaf, or unwilling to help. He sighed inwardly. The weight of the land that rested upon his shoulders only got heavier with each passing day, but his body got older and weaker.
'You know I can't grant you this, Rieger. I am truly sorry, believe me, I am.'
Dedrick watched Rieger stand. His face was young, rugged and clean-shaven, yet belied the man's age. His brown eyes were now puffy and bloodshot, but the gaze he fixed upon Dedrick was all the more powerful for it. Tears still glistened upon his skin. The emotion this man felt was real, and he would not be easily appeased, if at all. Dedrick only hoped that he would not harbour a grudge. His ascension to lord of Murstvig had cost him a great many friends-or those he thought of as friends. Rieger was one of the few who still stood by him. He could not lose him too.
'My lord, I implore you, please listen to reason in this. The raids have been taking their toll on Hadza. The people there refuse to step out of their homes for fear of being caught up in the assaults of the beastmen. The fields have been burned and salted. The river has been poisoned. It is only a matter of time before the houses are burned and the people are slaughtered. You must offer them shelter behind our walls. They can fit. They will hold.'
They can fit. They will hold. Dedrick knew that Rieger hoped, rather than knew, that this was the case. He could see the pain in the eyes of his friend. The silent agony that racked his being, pained his soul and sapped his spirit. Dedrick knew the walls could contain no more. It was likely that Rieger knew it, too. But Rieger was not listening to reason right now. He was blind to the truth of the situation. It was only to be expected, but it made it harder. Much harder.
'Why do you care, Rieger?' It was not asked of callousness. Dedrick hoped that Rieger would hear that.
'Why do I care.' Rieger muttered to nobody in particular. 'My lord, you are familiar with the emotion of love, are you not?' Dedrick finally understood, but it was the answer that he had least wanted to hear. At least he had not caused offence with the question. He nodded and gestured for Rieger to continue, 'I am originally from Hadza, my lord, but of course, you already know that.' He did not. A pit was slowly forming in Dedrick's stomach. Had he truly forgotten so much about his friend in so little time? 'Well, a woman there-I mean, she was a girl when we were growing up-has held my heart for years, and I hers. But again, you know that, too.' No. Please, Rieger, Dedrick thought; don't do this.
'I courted her when I came of age, when I was still a member of the local militia, and continued until I was called to war against the dark forces of Calve. When I returned, we were to finally be wed, but time was not on my side, and she eventually found someone else in my stead.' It all came back to Dedrick. Rieger fought to see her again, and for nothing more, unbeknownst to him was that it was all in vain.
'Do you remember her name, Dedrick?'
'Malianna.' He surprised himself when he spoke her name on command. Rieger looked almost as shocked that he had remembered.
'So you do remember.'
That was it. The condemnation of Dedrick's actions by his closest friend. A friend he had neglected. What good had it done?
'If not as her husband, then as a Preceptor of the Murstvig Guard of Ostermark, I will not see her taken by these vile beasts.' Rage had replaced the sorrow in his eyes. They burned with a fiery passion, and that heat was directed as Dedrick, 'Whether by your orders or against them, I will lead my knights in defence of Hadza, and I will bring them to your doorstep, here, at Murstvig, where you can look them each in the eye and reject them, as you have done me.' Rieger turned and stormed out of the room, his armour clanking with footfalls so heavy that even the thick carpet beneath them struggled to muffle the sound. The solid stone walls caused it to reverberate endlessly around the keep, like a bell tolling to signal the fall of Dedrick, lord of Murstvig.
Dedrick slowly turned and staggered lifelessly to his throne. The guards on either side had been dismissed for Rieger's request, and Dedrick craved the luxury of slouching. Craved the time where he could pretend he was not who he was. Craved the time where he could imagine that he had got it all right. But even the soft green velvet, bordered in brown with gold tassels, of his throne could offer him a comfortable seat. Nothing could remove the thorn in his heart. Had he actually earned his reputation? Was he, in fact, the one blind to the needs of his people? He could not be sure anymore. He could not be sure the world was real. He could be sure of nothing, save the pain of losing his closest friend, and the fact that it had been avoidable.
In the rare silence and solitude of his majestic throne room, he threw himself against the arm of his seat, and wept.
