Menethil Oathsworn

Chapter Two: A Question of Faith

"Blessed by thy ancestors, I grant thee protection," whispered Loghain as he hovered his hand over the trusty tome of a paladin. The book began to glow with a radiant white light, but it quickly died down. Loghain closed his eyes tight and focused. "Blessed by thy ancestors, I grant thee protection," he whispered again and, though the book shone brighter, it yielded the same result.

"Strange…" Arthas muttered as he watched his friend attempt to call the Light. "The Blessing of Kings is one of the most basic abilities of the paladin. It shouldn't be this difficult, especially for one a trainee as old as you."

"Gee, thanks," Loghain grunted as he closed the tome. "My trial is in a matter of hours, Arthas. How am I going to pass if I can't even cast the Blessing of Kings?"

"I'm sure Uther has a solution to this, Loghain. He knows more about the Light than both of us," Arthas offered helpfully. Loghain nodded slowly. "It's worth a shot, at least, right?"

"I suppose," Loghain said thoughtfully. "I'll go see him now. Maybe there's just some link I'm missing or something." Arthas nodded and returned to his studies as Loghain got up and made his way towards the exit. As he traversed the ornate halls of the home of House Menethil, Loghain couldn't believe that he had gotten this far. Sure, his father had helped him, but the old man was more of a drunk these days than a sparring partner. And if he could take Uther on, he had no doubt that his father wouldn't be able to stop him.

He walked out of the castle keep and saw a familiar face. "Captain Falric!" Loghain shouted while flailing his hand in the air.

"Hey, kid," the ever vigilant captain replied, pulling off his helmet. "You on your way to your evaluation? I saw Uther join Faol and Gavinrad at the Cathedral moments ago."

"Not quite yet, I just have a few last minute questions for Uther," Loghain answered as he walked past Falric. "If I can figure it out, I'll be a member of the Silver Hand before the end of the day!"

"Well, good luck, lad. I'm sure you'll do fine. Give the folks my regards, and tell Ajilahd to stay out of trouble," Falric said with a grin. Loghain shook his head; Ajilahd was his younger brother who, unlike Loghain, did not receive the same treatment from his father. Loghain was slightly jealous of him, for some reason. He envied his brother's ability to choose what to do with his life. But Loghain couldn't complain; the life of a paladin certainly was exciting, that much is certain.


"The boy isn't paladin material," Faol grunted as the two paladins looked at him with annoyance. "He can't use the Light! It is as if the Light has deemed him unworthy!"

"Nonsense," Gavinrad interjected. "Alonsus, hear me out. A paladin is measured by his faith, is he not?"

"Of course. It is one of our central tenants," Faol replied offhandedly.

"Loghain is not lacking in faith, Archbishop. His faith is merely misplaced," Gavinrad continued, but he quickly stopped. "I would even argue that it isn't even misplaced, but that is a discussion for another day."

"Get on with it, Gavinrad," Uther sighed. He wasn't happy with the whole affair; for years, he trained Loghain to the best of his ability to be the best warrior of the light he could possibly become. He got the warrior part down. The Light? Not so much.

"Loghain places his faith not in the Light, but rather in his own ability to protect the innocent," Gavinrad explained carefully. "I believe that he cannot wield the Light because he does not need the Light, if that makes any sense."

"A Paladin is not defined by their prowess in combat, Gavinrad, but rather by the unrelenting faith that burns in their heart. The sense of justice and retribution that flows through their veins guides them along the path of good. This sense is achieved through affinity with the Light," Faol interrupted, appearing bored. It seemed as if he has had this discussion before.

"But what if he has been instilled with that sense of justice and retribution since birth?" Gavinrad argued pointedly. "What if this is a different manifestation of the Light? Something that we cannot comprehend, but no less viable?"

"That would open the floodgates to our order, Gavinrad," Uther interjected. "We cannot confirm what you say of Loghain. I've worked for the boy for years, and even I cannot make a claim such as that."

"And why is that?"

"Because war changes people, Gavinrad. It warps your concept of reality and twists your thoughts. The Light counteracts this. It keeps us pure. Without it, there's no saying what would happen to Loghain without it to keep him in check," Uther replied earnestly. "I care for the lad, I truly do. And he is a very capable fighter. But that is not all paladins are."

"I see I am outnumbered, then," Gavinrad said with a resigned sigh. "Believe me when I say that we are letting go of a valuable asset. I would hate to see it squandered by Darren." With that, Gavinrad stormed out of the Cathedral, brushing past a rather frantic looking Loghain. "Oh, boy. What are you doing here? Your trial is not for several more hours."

"Sir Gavinrad!" Loghain exclaimed as he jumped to a salute. "I… I had some last minute questions for Uther before my trial."

"Of course," Gavinrad, trying to conceal his anger. "He is right through there, discussing matters with the Archbishop. I'm sure he'd be glad to talk things over with you." And with that, Gavinrad departed. Loghain was slightly confused, but approached Uther nonetheless.

"Uther, sir. Do you have a moment?" Loghain asked as he flipped through some of the pages of his tome.

"Loghain! Your trial isn't for several more hours. What can I do for you, lad?"

"I have some questions about the Blessing of Kings. I'm afraid I can't make it work, and I was wondering if there was something I was missing." Uther looked at Faol with a rather dreadful expression. "Is something wrong, Uther?"

"...sit down, Loghain. We have much to discuss."


"He has failed," Zarion whispered to Harbinger, who sat casually behind the Archbishop on his ornate throne. "This is the champion you foretold? A reject from the Silver Hand?"

"Hardly a reject, Zarion," Harbinger said as she watched the three humans talk. The small boy was slowly losing his composure as they discussed matters, but he was holding on tightly. It was… admirable. "Merely misunderstood. The Timeways are tossing him to and fro, unable to determine where to put him. Soon, things will settle down. And our hero will emerge."

"Harbinger, the human is sobbing," Zarion said almost gleefully. "Are you certain that he is the one you have predicted?"

"No. I feel like I'm repeating myself. Murozond was a fool to believe that he could manipulate the Timeways with brute force and achieve exact results," Harbinger explained as she got out of the chair. "Time ebbs and flows, Zarion. The main timestream is defined and can therefore be predicted. But changes to that timestream? It introduces unknowns."

"Then why do you have our Timewalkers writing out the future if you don't know what it will hold?" Zarion asked.

"Because having a prediction is far better than nothing at all," Harbinger replied as she walked around the three humans that were oblivious to their presence. "If they get a single thing right, that's one less unknown."

"Interesting…" Zarion muttered as she watched the smaller human break down.

"Quite." As she said this, Harbinger once again faded into the shadows, followed shortly by Zarion.