The rain was no longer striking the earth, but rather rolling gently off of the clouds, and collecting in small puddles. The sun was pale, still shrouded by the murky fog above and below, which cast an eerie light from the heavens. Not a great distance away, church bells knolled and solemn voices drifted along in forlorn song, telling of yet another soul's ascension skyward; for those who had witnessed the brutality of warfare in the name of God, this daily event stirred an assortment of feelings within, typically of surrealism. The waves of plague had done well to annihilate entire families, ending miserable lives already marred by the barbarism of the Crusades. The corpses had been piled in front of homes, street corners, and wherever else they could be placed until gloomy chariots pulled by ebony horses came to retrieve them. The stench was always the worst part of a plague city; one could avert their eyes from blackening, bloated bodies, but it was difficult to escape that unrelenting odor of decay. And remarkably, amidst this rampant death, the people sang the holy praises without hesitation. Their God was a wise one, and a strange one indeed. He could command such profound respect and sacrifice from His men in arms, His knights, and yet has allowed for His subjects to become hopelessly wretched by the death around them. But the blatant idiosyncrasies were not on the minds of the former. It was not in their place to question; Lord have mercy on those that should ever dare to, while the Devil dances in admiration.
The northern wind blew cold on fair skin, compelling violet eyes to narrow; gloved hands gripped the reins of a snow white mare. The rider, visibly anxious as he sighed heavily, turned to listen to the familiar bells. And so it goes, he sighed again.
"Sir Armster, Lord Bernhard awaits your presence in the Great Hall." The stocky attendant lowered his balding head, and stepped aside. The lean rider nodded and dismounted, holding a steady gaze upon the castle ahead of him. Black cloth crests adorning the towers fluttered in the damp breeze, the golden griffins twisting within the folds. He was quite thankful to be out of the cities; his lord's castle was nestled just inside of an immense forest, the endless miles of trees surrounding it offering relief from the filthy urban atmosphere. However, something in the damp air was foul this day, reeking not quite of death or disease. Sword and armor clinking as he stepped, he passed underneath the archway, eying the gargoyles hunched atop each side; though he had passed under this archway many times before, their macabre grins now seemed particularly unsettling. Pleasant memories of food, women, and song flooded his mind as he tried to repel his apprehension. In spite of all these more jovial times, it was never truly a place of comfort for him, the castle that is. As a gifted squire at an early age, and as the handsome eldest son of the Armster family, an illustrious clan of talented and wealthy sword makers, he was certainly predestined for this life; but, it was a life of separation, of blind fealty. So many weeks had gone by since last seeing his family that he finally had given up counting; the life of a holy soldier, as grand as it all was, was unkind to the soul, to the heart. Secretly, he wished it all away; he did not wish to die in battle, but he longed for an escape. His body was tired of fighting, for both God and his lord, two who seemed to take all of his sacrifices for granted.
The young knight stopped to salute as he approached the great hall, forcing a nervous smile. As he entered the room, a lone figure stirred in the dim firelight; a tall man sat at the head of a long oak table, sipping from a goblet of red wine and flipping through texts. He glanced upwards briefly to greet his new company.
"Ah, is that you, Joachim?"
"Yes, sir." I will see my family tomorrow, he thought. I just have to entertain him now.
"Ah, well come in! Have a seat. I've much to tell, and I suspect you can claim the same." The knight nodded, locks of his ashen hair falling into his face. This man possessed an uncommon beauty, a serene beauty not usually seen amongst men. Delicate features and a slight, almost cat-like frame made him an alluring figure; rare lavender eyes, and silvery hair barely brushing his shouldersadded to his ethereality. The castle's wily lord was also keen on this fact, and happily watched as he pushed the stray strands away gently.
"Still lovely as ever I see, not a scratch on that fine face of yours. With that, I trust the day's engagements went well." Walter ran a hand through his own long crimson tresses, the ends twisting into small silky curls that hung loosely down his back and broad shoulders. His motions were mildly hypnotic, and Joachim was temporarily lost in them.
"Yes...for the most part. We did lose some good men"
"And they can be replaced. Really, no need for details. I just need to know that my land is being protected from heathens. And after all, why should I have reason to fear? I have the best knights in the land securing my domain." He smiled, making sure he caught Joachim's gaze with his own as he spoke.
"You have my sincerest thanks." Joachim suppressed a chill; looking Walter Bernhard in his fiery eyes made most men swear they were facing off with Lucifer himself. There was something about his entire demeanor that even his closest friends found unnerving; it was something indescribably dark.
"Well, I've lately been entertaining myself with a rather curious notion." By this point, he had released his left hand from his hair and leaned back in his chair, his big boots propped up on the table.
"My lord...?" Joachim was becoming more uneasy; he had been anxious all day about returning here, and now he expected the worst to fly from those devious lips.
"You've heard of the Philosopher's Stone, have you not? I know you too are rather familiar with alchemy, like myself." The Forbidden Arts? A bit surprised, Joachim leaned in sharply to whisper.
"Indeed, but with all due respect my lord, might we speak of this elsewhere, where it might be more private? You know what would happen if..."
"Yes, yes, I know. But I am not worried. I am the lord of this castle; I can call day night, and no man would have a say otherwise. Besides, who do you suppose I have around me here in this castle other than my friends and most trusted allies? Little to fear from that lot, one should hope."
"I understand. Please do continue."
"Now, since you and I both know you are knowledgeable regarding its background, I will spare you the historic details. However, I would assume that you've not heard of the Crimson and Ebony Stones."
"You would be correct. What are they?"
"I am so very glad you asked. I've been conducting some research lately, and have come across word of a pair of stones imbued with extraordinary power." Joachim's genuine curiosity quickly turned to suspicion, and he did not bother to mask it in his voice.
"What kind of power?" Still, Walter was not at all discouraged, and grinned smugly as he placed a hand on Joachim's shoulder.
"How would you like to be immortal, my son?"
"Immortal..."
"Yes."
"That's impossible."
"No, indeed it isn't."
"How then? Through the stone's power I take it?"
"Precisely. We could be timeless, you and I." Joachim shook himself from Walter's grasp and frowned.
"Any stone that claims to offer the wielder immortality is a vile stone, a stone certainly not of God! Why does it interest you so!"
"Oh, but you've not allowed me to explain. Please, try to understand. With this stone, one could exist eternally, witness every century from now until the End-Times! As you fight in the name of Christianity, your own name will become legendary! Surely God could not disagree with that."
"I was summoned from the battlefield to be offered immortality? Begging your pardon my lord, but I've no interest in something so...luxurious." Walter suddenly left his chair and leaned over the table, clearly agitated at his rejection.
"So, you'd rather die like a dog out there, your corpse rotting on some heathen battlefield, and history forgetting your name forever?"
"If all of that means I do not wish to become 'timeless', to live out an eternity without those I care most about around me, then yes. At least dying 'out there' would be honorable." Walter smirked, and slowly sunk back into his chair.
"You know, I do not have the stones, nor have I actually seen them. They may be...a work of fiction. Please do not let my...eccentricities disturb you."
"I disagree with the things in principle; whether they exist or not is irrelevant to me. May I ask you, my lord, what makes you so inclined to use them? Don't you have a family"
"Such a faithful servant like yourself deserves...something more." He raised one of his large hands, and proceeded to touch the youthful knight's face, enjoying the warmth and softness of his skin. A light moan escaped from his lips as the flames in the hearth flared behind them.
"If I ever were to lose you, it would destroy me. You know this, do you not?"
"Lord Bernhard..."
"Hush..."