Erasmus Servius marched down the road carrying laurels in his hands. He couldn't see much, as his view was partially blocked by the rose petals that were being tossed from the large, stately houses on either side of him. The road was flanked with adoring peasants on both sides, all calling out his name. He tried to smile at all of them, his soft, handsome features making some young ladies swoon. And who wouldn't? He was the pride of Reich Gradkeep, the intelligent, handsome, urbane deputy captain of the guards. He could hear the crowd singing his praises.
"Did you know that he fended off two fully grown ogres to make sure his wounded men could escape safely?"
"It's true! He fought a Daenian army three times the size of his own and won handily!"
"I've never seen such a chivalrous man, either on the field or in the palace."
"I want to bear your children, Erasmus!"
He chuckled at the last one. He honestly had difficulty keeping his eyes open at this point, as the sun was so bright and radiant, as if it was also celebrating the success of his army. His troops marched in perfect unison behind him. Erasmus raised his laurels high, and all of his soldiers flourished their weapons in perfect unison. The result was a large cheer of approval from the crowd of loving commoners. But as much as he loved the commoners, his eyes had nothing but what lay before him, at the end of the road. On a large scaffold in the town square stood an elderly man wearing long purple robes. It was Lord Graddock, his lord and master, to whom he would serve as long as he drew breath. The cheering of the crowd subsided as the young Servius climbed the stairs and knelt before his lord. He had such an amazing feeling of honor and privilege to be worthy of Graddock's attention. "Erasmus Servius," the old man said as if he were addressing his own son, "You have shown great loyalty and devotion to Reich Gradkeep, above and beyond the call of duty. For that I, and my people, are eternally grateful."
The old king then clapped softly, causing the commoners to erupt in a huge outpouring of love for Erasmus. The Imperial felt himself blush. He could hardly believe such esteem from his king could possibly be given to him. "And, young Servius, for your many contributions to the welfare of our state, I have deemed it pertinent to dub you our newest and youngest Knight of the Flame!"
The crowd hushed, and Erasmus almost fainted. To be a Knight of the Flame was one of the greatest honors Reich Gradkeep could bestow upon a person. Many held them in higher regards than the Nine. Lord Graddock drew his sword and laid it upon each of Erasmus' shoulders. "Erasmus Servius, by the grace of the Nine and the laws of this most ancient and powerful state, I hereby dub thee Knight of the Flame, eternally sworn to protect the Graddocks and Reich Gradkeep."
Erasmus could hardly keep his composure. He felt dizzy. But it was real, all of it. And when Graddock's sword returned to its sheath, the crowd broke into more cheering. Somewhere church bells were tolling. All for Erasmus. He shakily stood up and bowed before his king, "M-my lord, it is truly and honor to serve…"
Lord Graddock smiled, "And it is an honor to have you in the service." If Erasmus had died right then and there, he would've been totally content. "Also, Erasmus, I would be equally honored if you were to be at my side during the signing of the Treaty of Reich Gradkeep in a tonight. If the Gods deem it, it shall be the end of the War of Betony."
"My lord, I would prefer nothing else."
And that was the truth.
Hieronymus Lex's eyes snapped open from sleep not a moment too late. Standing above him was a figure clad fully in a black robe, holding an ebony dagger up high. Lex's mind processed the situation just in time to forcefully roll himself from his bed, the descending dagger missing his face by mere inches. From the ground he sprang up, walked back a few steps, and tried to identify his mysterious assailant.
It was nearly impossible to make out the assassin's features, as they were totally hidden by his hood. His dagger looked sharper than any Lex had every seen, and his eyes hadn't even adapted to the late night darkness yet. "Stop, lawbreaker!" he barked, "You're under arrest. I'll confiscate any stolen property, take you to the dungeons, and you can pay your fine."
The hooded agent laughed. "I think not, lapdog," he hissed, "Embrace the void!"
This is yet another thing Lex hated about criminals. They could be so melodramatic sometimes. And melodramatic equaled stupid, as Lex's vision was rapidly returning, giving him another advantage. All that was left was to goad the agent into an attack. "Then pay with your blood!" the captain bellowed.
The agent twirled the dagger than the Imperial thought he could and charged. At about that time, Lex also realized that he was both unarmed and unarmored. Very unlike him, very unprofessional. The speed of the assassin proved that he was not one of the street thugs that Lex normally dealt with, as the dagger grazed the captain's stomach as he rolled to the side.
Lex gave a shuddering breath in. He felt tired all of a sudden. To make matters worse, the assassin was going to allow him no quarter. Lex was mercilessly charged at again, and barely dodged the dagger by throwing all his weight in one direction in a very sloppy dodge. The result was that he crashed into his own table, causing the remains of his mean to clatter about the floor.
Lex suddenly felt very heavy. One part of his mind realized that the dagger must've been poisoned, but that part was so small next to the rest of his mind, which was fuzzy and tired. The captain watched the blurry assassin take a few steps closer, savoring the killing moment. He wondered if he was going to die here, with a plate of cold vegetables on his head, his senses slowly fading away, and his thumb bloody due to being nicked by his knife…
His knife! The rational part of Lex's mind kicked into overdrive, and he summoned up all of his internal supply of willpower to make his gambit work. As the assassin started to drive his blade into Lex's heart, the captain snatched his eating knife from the ground and shifted his body. It wasn't enough to avoid the blow completely, but the dagger embedded itself in his shoulder as opposed to his heart. With white-hot pain threatening to overtake him, Lex shoved the knife into the assassin's blade hand. Not expected a disabled prey to be capable of such a strike, the assassin had not prepared himself and felt the utensil sail clean through his hand.
The black cloaked assailant howled in pain, which was all Lex needed. Moments later, the door flew open, and a worried Guilliam entered the room. He apprehended the assassin quickly, and gave a worried look to his captain. Lex, however, didn't notice. His energy was totally gone. The room grew darker around him, his hearing became fuzzy, and he slipped from consciousness.
It was early morning by the time Maro returned to his store. He was very tired, and he almost walked into a display stand. He blinked a few times before walking to his desk. The merchant opened a drawer and looked over his payment voucher, and reading it was enough to get his blood pumping. 15,000 septums. They would be all his when that Servius fellow returned to Fort Nikel, and Maro's debt fears would be permanently allayed.
Maro was about to put the voucher away in his special lockbox when he noticed something. The voucher has actually been written on the back of something else. Maro slowly turned the paper over and examined the back. He wasn't exactly sure what to make of it. There were a series of odd, runic symbols that covered the back, spaced in a way that the merchant would've guessed it was some sort of poetry. Maro didn't see much use for the odd runes and was about to put it out of his mind, until a meeting with Lady Flyte suddenly flashed into his head.
"Oh, and Mr. Rufus," she had said, batting her beautiful eyelashes, "Be sure to tell me all about Fort Nikel. I don't want to be left out on a single detail!"
He thought for a moment. The runey parchment looked useless, but then again, she was a noble. Perhaps she could make something of it. He slipped the sheet into the container and locked it up tight. Later today, he assured himself, he would show it to Lady Flyte. She was sure to love it. At least, he thought so. He personally didn't see much use to it, but for reasons he couldn't understand, sometimes other people caught things he couldn't. Lady Flyte would probably be able to do it as well.
The air in the palace of Reich Gradkeep was unimaginably tense. At the room opposite of the doors sat Lord Graddock in his throne, looking pensive over the state of affairs. Standing at his right was Auberon Flyte, his cousin, who kept his eyes moving at all times, surveying the people who had assembled. At Graddock's left was Erasmus Servius, donned in the armor befitting a Knight of the Flame, breathing slowly. He bent and whispered softly into his lord's ear, "Sire, if I may, I do not like this situation. I can feel danger. We should call this treaty off, now."
"I appreciate your counsel, Erasmus" Graddock murmured so only Erasmus could hear, "But we can by no means end it now, not when we're so close."
The eastern side of the chamber held the representatives of Sentinel, the west, Daggerfall. The animosity between them was so great that you could almost feel it radiating from the two warring nations. Standing for Sentinel was King Camoran, who was staring down King Lysandus of Daggerfall. Behind both men stood their many retainers and vassals, who all had found some counterpart across the room to hate. This didn't bode well for Erasmus. The Knights of the Flame, skilled as they may be, were horridly outnumbered. While this was a delegation of peace, he couldn't help but feel something could go wrong. And not just 'not according to plan' wrong, but apocalyptically wrong. And although Lord Graddock didn't believe him, Erasmus' intuition was absolutely correct. Lord Graddock turned to the man to his right, "Auberon, please deliver the treaties to the kings."
"Of course," came his stiff reply.
Auberon Flyte's footsteps seemed to echo into infinity in the large, dead silent great hall. Every footstep seemed like it could've just as well of been an explosion, breaking the silence of hatred, but doing nothing to loosen the stress of the scenario. Flyte gave the first copy to King Camoran, slowly crossed the great hall, and gave the second to Lysandus. His footsteps died as he returned to the side of Lord Graddock, and silence once again claimed the room. Erasmus felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. He looked to Lord Graddock, whose unblinking eyes remained locked on the two kings who read the treaties. Auberon had shaped the treaties himself, based from the agreements between the warring nations, and Graddock held his cousin's political savvy in the highest regards.
But something went wrong. King Camoran's face progressed from shock to fury as he read the treaty, slamming it against a table nearby. "Lysandus, you snake! What is the meaning of this!"
Erasmus saw Graddock tense up, but Auberon didn't seem to find anything odd. Kind Lysandus, of course, took offence to the accusation. "Excuse me, Camoran? How dare you use that tone on me! After I went to all this effort to be lenient in victory-"
"Lenient!? You promised the island of Betony was to be shared. Those were the terms I came here for."
"Camoran, perhaps you are going blind, but that is indeed what I promised to you. We share the island, you controlling the southern waterways and the-"
The king of Sentinal would have none of it, "Look at your own treaty, snake!" he yelled, refusing to listen to any sort of reason. "The devil take you!" he finished, slamming his fist into the table once more.
The men on either side started to stir. This wasn't going according to plan. Graddock stood and attempted to speak, but Lysandus cut in before the words could be spoken. "Why, I didn't write this!" he declared, looking over the document with a frown, "Someone must've changed this-"
Lysandus quickly turned his head to a priest who was standing near him. His eyes had a flash of comprehension, and the king pointed at the robed man. "It was you, wasn't it? All that talk about-"
And at that very moment one of those odd events in history happened. Sometimes the tides of history are controlled by the valiant actions of kings or generals, and sometimes it is charted by vast, uncontrollable forces. But once in a while the face of the world is changed because of a stupid accident. And that is exactly what happened at the signing of the Treaty of Reich Gradkeep. A young, inexperienced Sentinel soldier had a slight twitch, and accidentally shot off a blot from his crossbow. It sailed across the room and lodged into the shoulder of an elderly councilor from Daggerfall. There was a mass intake of breath, and soon enough everyone was upon each other.
The Kings both retreated into the core of their forces. Concealed weapons were revealed from all sides, and the warring nations charged at each other. Erasmus drew his shortsword, eyeing the start of what looked to be a bloody, close quarters combat, "Protect Lord Graddock!" he hollered, drawing as many of the Knights of the Flame as he could to the liege's side.
Lord Graddock was shocked. "This wasn't supposed to happen, I had their word-", but the king was silenced by another crossbow bolt that passed perilously close to his head.
Erasmus looked behind him. The king was unharmed, but startled. Erasmus scanned the great hall. He had never seen combat like this before. Normally it was all on the field. But here, it was different. The soldiers of Sentinel and Daggerfall started to slaughter each other indiscriminately, as they had for as long as the war had been waged. A knight ran through an elderly statesman with sadistic glee, while the fleeing priest was shot in the back of the head with a fire spell. He collapsed onto the ground and didn't stand back up. Nothing was sacred.
And then Erasmus realized a detachment of Daggerfall troops had broken off from the main force. There were five of them, all clad in heavy armor wielding large swords. They eyed Lord Graddock's jewels and crown hungrily. Erasmus knew he couldn't fend all five off, but he was determined to try.
While the other Knights of the Flame tried to hack their way to Graddock, Erasmus charged into the detachment. The eldest of the five, a bearded man, smirked, not assuming the young Erasmus hadn't much fight in him. He was proven totally wrong when the young knight's charge ended with the tip of his sword expertly striking the gap in the elder's armor, right at the armpit. The elder screamed, Erasmus ripped out the sword and kicked the man squarely in the chest. He toppled helplessly to the ground and started about the process of bleeding to death.
Without sparing a moment to watch the man fall, Erasmus ducked the sword of one of the remaining four, and allowed his flame resistant shield to absorb an incoming fireball. There were too many. Another soldier tried his luck, lunging at the young guard. It cut through Erasmus' light armor like butter, tearing through his shoulder. He yelped in pain, feeling an icy enchantment freeze his wound to the bone. With a cry of rage, Erasmus counterattacked, his shortsword clipping the man's temple. He collapsed into a pile on the ground without another action.
One of the five said something taunting. Erasmus couldn't make it out after an especially loud howl of pain from a few feet away. The taunter lunged with is sword, narrowly missing the young knight. In retaliation, he slammed his shield into to taunter's fist, causing the large sword to clatter onto the ground. A split second later, though, Erasmus' upper hand was negated by a blunt object to the head, obviously the work of one of the five. Suddenly light headed, Erasmus stumbled about. His last coherent moments involved two attacks of opportunity launched against him- one slashing bitterly into his cheek. The other was an image of a sharp point gliding directly towards his eye. He could actually feel his eyeball break and rupture, the feeling of all sorts of fluids running down his face, and he collapsed.
But he did not faint, not immediately. In the last moments of conciseness, ordering his body in vain to act, he witnessed a scene that would be replayed in his mind for the rest of his life. Lord Graddock, the man he swore to protect until death overtook him, was struck down, his blood staining his beautiful throne and robes. And for what? The remaining three grabbed the crown and jewels and attempted to flee. Now, we know in hindsight that they were killed trying to escape the great hall. But Erasmus Servius didn't. Before the void overtook him, all he knew was that his lord and master had died on his watch.
It was only to go worse from there.