Oaths of Dust

by Magnet-Head

Alarant de Lereyne is a knight of Calimdar, a city that used to work to protect the people of the Amber Plains. But after a calamitous winter forced their people to change into living suits of armour to survive, their national identity and chivalrous values start to decline, and as much as Alarant wishes he could stop it, plans are underway to undermine that legacy completely.

4. The New Way

The Lereyne family manor had withstood the years of the Calamity well. The garden had grown wild and unruly and vines had conquered most of the walls and a grove of birch trees had grown in the flower beds by the garden windows, breaking the cobblestones apart and smashing a window when their branches demanded the space. Alarant and Lisabelle had been pleased when that had been the extent of the damage.

Ducerain de Lereyne, Alarant's father, had chosen to live closer to the central keep to tend to his clerical work and research, and so had bequeathed the entirety of the family manor to Alarant and his family, as much as remained of it now. Their new forms made the work awkward, but Alarant and his wife had worked hard to clear the garden of weeds and replant it to be more fitting for the garden of a noble house, though after some deliberation they had decided to leave the birch trees. Instead they built a small exit to the garden there, mostly used by Lisabelle. Alarant had loved the gardens in his youth but after the Calamity, he found that his enjoyment of it had waned. Lisabelle found pleasure in it still and Alarant loved his wife, so he worked just as hard as she at restoring its splendour.

It was in the garden that he found his wife upon returning from the keep. The family manor had been constructed with its facade towards the central keep back before when Calimdar was still a growing city, so the gardens were shielded from the pale blue light. Alarant had instead had oil lanterns. He liked the life that the colours of fire imparted, rather than the cold blue that pervaded the city. This was one issue he could not lay at the feet of the Marquis; the capital used the same Dust-magic lights.

They embraced and sat in the garden together to discuss the day's events in the city and the court. The one subject they both avoided was Anna; with the return of their daughter imminent, they felt her absence that much more keenly. So they spoke of other matters, each helping the other steer away.

It was like this that Gardt found them, sitting on one of the white stone benches at the centre of the garden's many walkways, discussing the fashions and trends of balls from mere years before the Calamity.

"My Lord, my Lady." Gardt said and bowed.

"Ah, Sir Gardt, how lovely to see you." Lisabelle said and rose from her seat. Alarant noted she still held some of the posture of a noble woman in a dress, despite the armour.

"Apologies for the intrusion, Lady Lisabelle, but there has been a development at the keep."

Gardt turned to Alarant. "All captains and nobility are required to attend." He said.

The square in front of the keep was packed with people, their armoured forms shoulder to shoulder in the open space. Gardt announced his lord's arrival and the crowds parted to allow Alarant to move to the front. There he found the other captains and nobility, arranged in a wide semi-circle around the centre of the plaza. He had intended to ask what the purpose of the gathering was, but what he saw within the cordon of captains stilled his tongue.

4 guards surrounded the massive necrophage his men had captured. It was chained to the ground with hooks embedded in its flesh, the wounds still oozing what served as the creature's blood and the chains were so taut that it could barely stand without the hooks pulling at its flesh. It faced away from the crowd towards a raised podium where the Marquis stood. The Marquis was still dressed in the green robe that Alarant had seen in the audience hall but now he also wore a circlet on his helmet, one that shone with a golden light. The sight of it exhilarated his body, but his soul recoiled from it. The dissonance made him feel ill. Jace de Kirgaan stood behind the Marquis, the only captain not part of the semicircle. Alarant also spied the mysterious crimson-hued individual he had seen in the shadows of the Marquis' throne.

The Marquis stepped forward to the edge of the podium and looked over the assembled crowd. "Before the Cataclysm, before it changed our bodies forever, we protected these lands from the enemies and creatures that would befoul it."

"We fought and fought, and in return we accepted the gifts that the land would give us." The Marquis reached up and tapped at the circlet. The light grew stronger.

His voice carried easily across the square. "We need wait for those gifts no longer. With our new forms, we can take what we need and what we wish."

The Marquis held his hand out towards the creature and closed his eyes. Alarant expected the guards to attack with their halberds but they held their ground. A ribbon of blue light extended from the Marquis' hand until it connected with the creature's skin. The creature roared and tried to tear against its constraints but only succeeded in tearing its wounds, splattering more of its blood onto the tiles of the square. The ribbon pulsed and jerked, and the creature staggered down onto one of its knees. The Marquis changed, though Alarant would have found it difficult to express how. Grains of some golden material began to drift along the ribbon, floating up from the skin of the Necrophage and into the Marquis' hand. Alarant recognised the grains; they looked eerily like the Dust in his daughter's plinth. As the ribbon pulsed, larger and larger quantities of Dust were pulled out and the Necrophage grew weaker and weaker.

Alarant felt sick to his stomach. The Necrophages were the enemy, had been long before the faintest rumblings of the Cataclysm, but this was not a simple beast. Both during the battle and its subsequent capture, Alarant had become certain that it had some degree of sapience.

Alarant stepped out of the semicircle into the plaza. Faces all around him turned to look at him and he could feel their questioning eyes upon him, even though their faces did not change.

"What is this, Your Grace?" He roared at the man still standing elevated above the rest of the city.

"What is this heinous behaviour?," With a sweeping hand he indicated the Necrophage that was now barely moving, "This is a prisoner of the city, not some common animal. This is unbecoming!" His fists were clenched at his side and he was glad he was not carrying a weapon, or he would surely have drawn it in his anger.

The Marquis lowered his hand and the ribbon faded away, the last of the Dust-motes flowing into his form. He seemed taller than before, and the blue glow that emanated from within his body was brighter. "What it is, Lord de Lereyne, is us claiming our rightful gift." The Marquis removed the circlet from his brow and lifted it. The glow did not diminish at all from the absence of its wearer and Alarant's conflicting emotions only grew stronger.

"We fought tirelessly for Auriga, fought to keep its people safe from the terrors of baser regions." The Marquis' voice had a charisma to it that even the Emperor Jessari de Mezante found hard to match. Alarant had served under the Emperor for many years both before and after the Cataclysm, however, and knew well that the Marquis was only ever as knightly and honourable as the man's goals required.

"And what were we given in return? How did the world show its appreciation?," The Marquis held up a gloved hand and turned it about. He was too far away from the crowd for them to see any details, but the message was clear, "It ravaged us, devastated our lands. We were forced to resort to ancient magic, unchivalrous rituals, to sustain us and our culture and to survive a winter that would have frozen our very souls!"

"We toiled and fought, and in return we were given a great injustice." He returned the circlet to his brow where it shone brightly, the light seeming even crueller to Alarant now.

"But now we can take our just rewards. No longer will we wait for them." The Marquis' hand shot forward again, and the ribbon of energy whipped forward like a hungry snake and latched onto the Necrophage in the centre of the square. Golden Dust flowed and the creature bucked and roared in a burst of energy that faded quickly. Before Alarant had even crossed the short distance to the armed guards and the chains, it had stilled. No more Dust flowed, and the Marquis seemed to exhale before ascending the steps back to the podium and turning to the crowd. The man seemed taller than he had been when Alarant arrived in the square, possessed of a cruel energy. He stood there for a long moment, overlooking the crowd before speaking.

"Gone are the days of submissive servitude. Now we have the power to take what we wish and when we wish to do so!" The Marquis shouted, his voice carrying easily past Alarant to the crowd beyond, to wild cheering. He turned about and looked at his fellow captains, silently urging them to protest. Only Unwin Weybridge met his eyes, but the commander of the garrison merely shook his head. Like Alarant, Unwin had been told by the Emperor to follow the Marquis on his expedition, and so shared Alarant's view of the madly ambitious nobleman. Disgusted by his countrymen, Alarant left the square, pushing past through the crowd when they did not move aside on their own.

When he arrived at the Lereyene estate, isabelle was sat where he had left her, enjoying what they had managed to restore of the estate gardens. The smells of the flowers and the feeling of sunlight on their skin was beyond them now, but the sights brought back the memories. He did not wish to taint his wife's enjoyment of the grounds with his tale of the event he had just witnessed, and so he held on to his story until they retreated inside once the light began to wane.

The manor had an expansive study that had only suffered mild damage from the years of neglect. When the birch trees had broken through a window that threatened to stunt their growth, they had opened a path for wind and rain to devastate the Lereyne book collection. Alarant and Lisabelle had considered it a minor miracle that their collection was as intact as it was. Rows and rows of books described customs or events from a bygone age, one that would likely never return. One book in particular, A Treatise on Chivalry, reminded Alarant of the stark differences that the Transformation had brought. The name of the author did bring forth a brief chuckle; Henrietta de Kirgaan. Clearly that knave Jace had nobler ancestors than one might imagine from his conduct.

"You appear troubled." Lisabelle said and put her book aside. On the cover was a faded picture of carefully cultivated grounds.

"What gives you that impression, Lisabelle?" Alarant said, although he knew well enough what she would say.

With a wave of her hand, Lisabelle indicated the bookcases he had passed in his meandering. "You can never make up your mind in such times. You have practically patrolled the entire study by now."

Alarant would have smiled if he could. His wife knew him well, as she should after a decade in each other's company. Instead he went over and sat next to her so they could hold hands. Their armoured form's sensation of touch differed from those of mortal bodies but they still found it reassuring.

"What have you heard of the gathering that the Marquis called?" He asked. Their estate was a little removed from the main body of the city, and not many passed it by chance.

"Nothing, save what Gardt said when he came to fetch you."

So Alarant relayed what had happened, along with every detail that he could remember. Lisabelle listened in silence, though Alarant noticed a tenseness creeping into her posture when he told of what had happened to the Necrophage prisoner.

"Now that I think about it," Alarant said after mentioning the crimson-hued stranger that had stood in silence behind the Marquis, "I saw that person at court today as well."

"When you went to report on the prisoner?" Lisabelle asked.

Alarant nodded, and Lisabelle rose from her seat and replaced the book on ground cultivation in its place on the shelves. "I trust you have heard about Ser de Kirgaan's recent expedition?"

The expedition was practically an open secret in the city, but the Lereynes habitually did not discuss rumours of state in their own home.

Alarant nodded again. "I do. The story goes that he followed a guide to some ruin west of the city, returned with some ancient tomes from around the Calamity."

Lisabelle spoke while browsing the bookshelves with the tips of her gloved fingers. "I have heard some additional entries to that very story. First that, unsurprisingly, the Marquis ordered the expedition, and that his direct involvement be kept a secret."

Alarant motioned to speak, not wishing to interrupt his wife. When she paused, he asked. "I do not find it difficult to believe, but where did you hear of this?"

"I have heard rumblings of it in places and amongst some of the sentries that man the walls, but Lorelei Gimdren confirmed my suspicions. Her husband was one of the soldiers on the expedition. Jace de Kirgaan brought more than his own regiment on the trip."

Alarant motioned for Lisabelle to continue and she obliged. "The Marquis ordered the expedition because of a story he heard concerning the ruin that de Kirgaan was to investigate, as well as a possible relation to the ritualistic magicks that propelled the Transformation."

That unnerved Alarant, but he made no motion to interrupt. Lisabelle paused in her speech for a moment to open a small drawer beneath the central bookshelf, from which she withdrew a clasped sheaf of papers. After the Transformation, dexterity was a rare trait amongst the armoured forms of their people, so the binding of books and research papers had become a rarity. Hammered strips of metal, usually clasped with the signature or heraldry of the author, had become much more common.

This particular clasp bore the heraldry of Ducerain de Lereyne, Alarant's father. "Jace de Kirgaan did not simply return with tomes; he returned with something else as well."

Lisabelle put the papers on the small desk between the two of them. "Or should I say, someone else."

"I still stand that you would have done well in theatre, my love." Alarant said as he picked up the paper. Lisabelle chuckled at his comment while Alarant read the title.

Samhane Haligtide: The Facts in the Fiction. The Lereyne family crest was repeated in stencil on the cover.

"Ah yes I remember my father talking about this subject before he took up a residence in his tower." Ducerain had offered to follow along with his son on his relocation to Calimdar, but had not stayed long in the Lereyne estate. Now he lived and worked in one of the many tall spires that had been constructed in the city since the Marquis' arrival.

"Have you read it?" Lisabelle said.

"I haven't," Alarant replied and flipped the first page, "If I recall, Ducerain was still working on it when I went to the Zinga valley. That took a while to resolve."

"I remember. I could barely rest, I was so worried." Lisabelle said. Her voice carried the pain of the memory, even if her expression was unchanged.

His wife waited a moment before speaking further. "I'll leave you to read it yourself if you wish, but the text concerns a woman who rose to prominence shortly after the Transformation."

"Samhane Haligtide. I've heard of her, before reading the front," Alarant said and looked at his wife, "But I thought she was just a myth."

"What have you heard?" Lisabelle asked.

Alarant leaned back in his chair and thought back to those tumultuous years. Society and individuals had been in upheaval and the military had been the closest to a sense of normalcy. Even with their people's limited numbers, factions quickly broke out in the interim between the Transformation and the return of the royalty. The Lereyne family had pledged its loyalty to Emperor Jessari, and Alarant kept the oaths of his family and had helped the Emperor quell the factions, by force if absolutely necessary. One faction in particular had had to be eradicated completely when its followers completely denied reintegration. No scholar had yet found a way to create wholly new members of their race, so every single member was precious.

"The Adherents called her immortal and inevitable," Alarant said, starting slowly, "Said she would create a new paradise for our people where we would have all the Dust we could ever wish and none need ever die."

"They said she could drain the essence, the life, from a creature just by looking at it." He stumbled over his own words as he realised the portents of what he was saying.

Lisabelle had stood in front of him as he pondered. "That is what the text concerns. Read it through. Your father would be a better recipient to questions than I ever could, I'll leave you to it." Lisabelle said and bent down, touching foreheads with her husband before retiring from the study.

The sheaf of papers was not thick, for while the stories and myths of the woman were many, mostly spread by the Adherents and their surprising number of internal factions, the facts were few. By all accounts, Samhane Haligtide had been a regular scholar before the Transformation, studying Dust, that most mysterious and miraculous of substances. Then the Cataclysm came and went, and like for everyone else, she was irrevocably changed. Records in the immediate aftermath are sketchy, both in number and veracity, but she would be discovered by a patrol of ryders in a village that has since been stricken from the map. Here the report goes to some lengths to assure the reader that some information comes from the archives of the royal house and has been released to the general public.

The village had been destroyed by the time the ryders arrived, but no signs of battle or plague could be found. A single woman, of the same armoured form as the ryders, stood alone in the village centre. The ryders reported that the glow from her form was not blue like their own, but blood-red. What had happened to the village was not clear at the time, but later revelations have rendered the events somewhat clearer. The woman had gained an ability to drain the life-essence from living creatures through proximity alone, thus giving credence to a few of the myths the Adherents had been spreading. The method is unclear to this day, but Ducerain ponders if her research into the properties and origins of Dust, coupled with their new form's affinity for the stuff, brought about some revelation that Haligtide never shared. Samhane Haligtide returned to the capital with the ryders, where her activities are mostly a mystery. One event that was recorded with some clarity was an audience with the Emperor. Samhane appeared before the court, at the time just one in a long line of daily supplicants, to entreat the Emperor. Samhane believed that their new form was a gift and that they should make full use of their new abilities to stake their rightful claim as rulers of all of Auriga, a proposal that supposedly won over some of the courtiers with its fervour. Emperor Jessari refused, both on the grounds that it would take many years before they had the military strength to even consider that, and that conquest by force would fly in the face of their ideals of knighthood. When Samhane refused to cede to the Emperor's words, she was removed by force by the royal guard. After that, there is little evidence of her movements. Her affiliation with the Adherents is assumed but unknown. Her behaviour was not described as cowardly or cruel, but rather obsessed with the possibilities of his new form and what could be teased from our new existence, how it could be used, as well as disdainful of any existence not of their own people. She disappeared a few years after the Transformation and has not been seen or recorded anywhere since the re-establishment of the rule of the royal house.

Some of the facts certainly lined up with what Alarant had witnessed at the plaza earlier. His thoughts kept returning to the circlet that the Marquis had worn so prominently. He skimmed the paper a second time, and there was no mention of a circlet. If this Haligtide's abilities had been enabled by the circlet, none had noticed it at the time.

Night had fallen outside the study. After the Transformation they needed no sleep, not like Mortals did, but a resting period was still a balm for a mind tired from a long day. Alarant would have to go and talk to his father, but in the morning. As it was, he went to bed. Beds made no factual difference for them now and they would not feel the difference if they slept on the floor. But the Lereyne's insisted on some degree of connection to their former selves, and so they had a reinforced four-poster bed constructed specifically, for normal beds would creak and break under the strain of their new forms. Lisabelle did not seem to notice his arrival, so he simply went to sleep, as if that word still fit.

Their bedroom had been built to admit the morning sun and Alarant awoke with the coming of dawn. Alarant and Lisabelle said their goodbyes for the day and went on their business. Lisabelle was riding out on a patrol with her unit, and Alarant intended to meet with Gardt, followed by seeing his father. He carried 'Samhane Haligtide: The Facts in the Fiction' in a bag over his shoulder.

His second-in-command lived in the keep, as did most of the knights and soldiers without prior history in the city. Gardt might be of common birth, same as Jace de Kirgaan, but where Jace was a man without a touch of honour and decency, Gardt had never put Alarant in any doubt as to his decision to recommend the man for knighthood. If the Cataclysm had not begun mere weeks after the man's knighting, Alarant believed that the house of Sireyl could have enjoyed a long and honourable legacy. As it was, the man was a reliable second-in-command and a proficient warrior. Alarant found him in the training hall, in the middle of instructing a group of Stalwarts in fighting on the walls. Waves of volunteer soldiers served as mock opponents, bowing out if they were struck. Even though the defenders were instructed similarly, the 'casualties' of the mock attackers piled up significantly faster than the defenders. When the defenders were finally defeated, Gardt made them do it over.

"And this time," Gardt shouted, his voice easily carrying through the hall, "Attackers only bow out by two strikes! Defenders, remember your shields. They are not just defence; they can be a stronger weapon than your halberd. Set to it!" The soldiers roared back, and the lines began to reform.

Alarant stepped up beside Gardt. "If Calimdar is ever attacked, our attackers will pay dearly for every step. Good work, ser Sireyl."

Gardt turned in his direction. "Thank you, ser," Gardt raised his voice again, "If they would just put their backs into it, those enemies would not even gain that step."

The men roared again, and the second mock battle commenced.

"What brings you to the barracks, ser?" Gardt asked.

"Matters concerning yesterday's events." Alarant said while keeping his voice low. The Marquis had ears everywhere, and Alarant could not be sure how far the man was willing to go in pursuit of his goals. Alarant might think the man was too ambitious for his station, but he still held a hope that he would not press too far and make an enemy of the Emperor and his followers. A return to the faction wars of the early post-Transformation years would help no-one but their enemies.

Gardt sensed the intention in Alarant's tone and lowered his own accordingly. "That was grim business. I asked at the keep what they had learned from our prisoner and was told that we would know in due time."

"I would be very surprised if they even learned anything of substance. No, I do not believe the prisoner's actions led to that gruesome display yesterday." Alarant said.

"What then?"

"That is what I intend to look into today, I will send word of my findings tonight." Alarant looked at the mock battle. The attackers fared better than at the last attempt, though not nearly as much as the permitted doubled-strikes would have implied. The line of the defenders was shrinking, but every soldier there was fighting with more ferocity than one would expect from a training exercise. "Keep going as you were, it would be best if we do not draw too much attention to my inquiries, I believe."

Gardt banged a fist on his chest. "As you say, my lord. If I might ask a favour, just be careful. You know better than I how many eyes and ears the Marquis has in the city."

Alarant permitted himself a laugh and clapped Gardt on the shoulder. The clang of metal on metal echoed throughout the large training hall. "Have no fear, Gardt. If you would join me at the estate tonight, perhaps that will be better than a letter.. If you would bring as many of our regiment as you would trust, we will make an evening of it. Oh, and if you make sure that these people are invited as well." Alarant placed two letters on a table at their side.

That business concluded, Alarant left the training hall and the soldiers in Gardt's care and made his way towards one of the tall spires that dominated the skyline of Calimdar. The central keep had been the tallest and most impressive structure in the city before the Cataclysm, but the discoveries made in the aftermath, coupled with the changed capabilities of their forms, saw new constructions rise over the city. Tall towers rose up, constructed with new techniques and metallic alloys. Compared with the masonry of the old city, they represented a stark difference, but to the researchers that did their work there, the remoteness and view of the night sky was a great boon. His father Ducerain had moved his lodgings to the first tower soon after its construction, and the man had not been seen on the city streets for nearly a week after. Citizens were not denied entry, but the guards at the entrance were tasked with inquiring and lodging all that entered and to note their intended purpose. Being a recognised knight-commander, Alarant was under no such demands but insisted on the formality, believing that living excessively apart from the demands placed on commoners would make him too aloof.

The stairway that ran up the interior of the tower was narrow and winding so as to allow for maximum space for the laboratories and studies that lined it. Alarant was glad of his body's ceaseless endurance, for a regular body would have been exhausted by the time he arrived at the 12th landing and the door that carried the heraldry of his father, Ducerain de Lereyne, noting that the heraldic emblem was notably larger than the other personal emblems that decorated the doors. Alarant knocked on the door and waited while acknowledging the greetings of passing researchers. When a long moment had passed with no answer, he knocked again.

With a sigh, Alarant pushed on the door to the study and stepped inside. The entrance was unlit and only the Dust inlay in the walls provided a scant illumination. The door to the right was closed but on the left Alarant could see a faint light around the corner of the study. Ducerain de Lereyne was sitting at a table with just the illumination of a single lamp to read the massive tome on his bookstand. The window that looked out over the waking city had been closed off with a curtain and only a few spots of light penetrated.

"I believe it is rude to keep a knight waiting at your door, even if it is your own son." Alarant said and walked into the study. The shelves were orderly but the immediate space around Ducerain was a mess of open books and scrolls.

Ducerain did not move his eyes from the tome as he spoke. "I believe knights are also expected to have infinite patience. Have a seat somewhere, I will finish this page then I'll be right with you."

Alarant sat down in one of the other chairs in the study and whiled away the wait examining the tomes and scrolls that surrounded Ducerain. Old historical accounts, maps and other notes from around the pre-Transformation empire. Alarant recognised a few of them but could not glean the overall correlation between them all. After a long moment, his father marked his place, closed the tome and rose from his seat. Alarant tried to read the name of the tome but was interrupted when his father asked him to rise then embraced him. They did not touch foreheads, but embraces had become a rarity in their society.

"It has been too long, my son." Ducerain said. His father's tone communicated all the warmth that their bodies could not.

"The estate feels your absence with every day that passes, father." Alarant replied and firmly returned the embrace.

"How is Lisabelle?" Ducerain asked and took a seat.

"Lisabelle is well. We have restored some more of the garden grounds and are planning to restore the greenhouse next." Alarant said, thinking back to the splendid all-year flower arrangements that had been on display in the Lereyne greenhouse, open for all to see at the asking. He hoped that could be again.

"Ah, very good. I believe Ranald up in the 17th has been looking into a blend of glass that utilises Dust. Marvellous stuff." Ducerain arranged some of the tomes and scrolls around him as he talked, following a logic or pattern that Alarant found hard to discern.

"We are trying to keep it in authentic materials, father."

"Ah, very well, I understand." Ducerain said, then leaned back and was silent for a moment.

"How is Anna?"

At the question, images of his smiling daughter clashed with the Dust-filled globe in the cathedral and Alarant had to look away from his father. "She is recovering, but the bishops tell me it will still take months."

Ducerain rose and moved the curtains aside. The light of the day streamed into the study and showed the city of Calimdar in its daytime glory. The pale blue light that lit the city at night could still be sensed, but at this hour it was but a spectre. Beyond the city walls and the grey wastes that surrounded the city, greenery could still be seen in the forests and plains of the Amber Plains. Only the keep could provide such a splendid view. The scene drove the thoughts from Alarant's mind for a moment.

"My apologies, Alarant, I was only curious." His father said, he too looking out over the city.

"As you have a right to be, father. She is your granddaughter. There is nothing to apologise for." Alarant replied and looked back to his father.

"She will be with us in time. It is simply up to us to ensure that she will have space to find her own place in our new world."

Ducerain nodded slowly. "Well said, my son, well said." His tone beaming with pride.

Father and son enjoyed the quiet for a moment before Ducerain broke the silence again. "So, what brings you here today?"

Alarant took out the sheaf of papers concerning Samhane Haligtide and placed it on the table. "You wrote this, correct?"

Ducerain turned around and picked up the sheaf. "I did, though it has been a few years." Ducerain said while skimming through the papers.

"Have you heard of what happened yesterday at the Heinzel Plaza?"

Ducerain scoffed and put the papers back on the table. "I might spend most of my time cooped up in here but I am not ignorant of major events. Aye, I have heard of it."

"Horrible affair. Unbecoming of one of our people, let alone someone of the Marquis' stature." Alarant said.

"I think you will find it is precisely because Suluzzo is the Marquis that he would dare attempt it." Ducerain said.

"I cannot be sure it was his own invention, father. The reason I brought this paper," Alarant tapped on the sheaf with his finger, "Was that I saw someone at the gathering who I have not seen before."

Ducerain looked at his son, but did not speak.

"It was someone standing a distance behind the Marquis, not openly in front of the gathering. Their form was like us, but they had a crimson glow about them."

Ducerain steepled his fingers. "What did her face-mask look like?"

Alarant thought back. His focus had been on the Marquis, so the man was hazy in his memory, but he had been at the court earlier the same day. "I cannot be entirely sure, but it resembled a skull and most of it was hidden behind a hood."

Ducerain picked up the sheaf of papers. "It does indeed match the reports of Samhane Haligtide's appearance. What was she doing when you saw her?"

"Simply observing the proceedings. I saw no particular motions, comments or discussions with anyone else present." Alarant said.

When Ducerain seemed to lapse into thought and did not reply, Alarant continued. "There was another thing I noticed, and I am sure that many present at the gathering could testify to it as well."

"Oh?" Ducerain mumbled and looked up.

Alarant did his best to remember every detail of what he had seen on the Marquis' brow. "Suluzzo was wearing a circlet I have not seen on him before. It is possible it is simply some new piece of paraphernalia, but it seemed to react to what was happening and what he was doing. It had an eerie glow about it." The feelings the sight of the circlet had brought up in him he kept to himself.

"A circlet? I cannot say that rings any bells. Describe it, what made it catch your attention?" Ducerain rose to grab a quill and ink from his workstation.

As Alarant began to describe what he had seen, Ducerain noted everything down on the back of the Samhane Haligtide bundle in a deft hand.

"It was a metallic circlet placed around his brow. I was some distance away, but it seemed to fit him as if made specifically for him, a delicate thing around the sides but made more solid in the front. The metal looked to be gold or some alloy with Dust, but as to the specifics I believe you would have to have it examined by a proper metallurgist. The front was a more solid piece decorated with curving patterns, but most importantly it had a shining gem of some sort, which is what caught my attention. The gem was already glowing when I arrived and fluctuated throughout the proceedings. The light grew more intense when the Marquis began the ritual, or whatever one should call it. He removed it briefly, and the glow did not abate in the slightest. I cannot say if this circlet is simply a decoration, if Samhane brought it with her to Calimdar and presented it to the Marquis, or if it is some third influence in this whole affair, but it stuck with me."

Ducerain had been taking notes of Alarant's observations and put the quill aside. The backside of the bundle was now a jumble of notes in drying ink.

"I'll check with my sources, see if I missed anything back then." Ducerain said and leaned back in his seat.

"Thank you, father. I hope it will not disturb your work too much." Alarant said, eyeing the piles of tomes and scrolls, as well as the one his father had been reading when he entered.

"Oh, this?" Ducerain said and motioned in the general direction of the materials and documents, "It's simply research, and nothing on a commission. I can put it off for a few days."

"What is the topic, if I might ask?"

"The winters of the past." Ducerain said and rose from his seat, pulled several scrolls from a nearby pile and rolled them out on the table between the two of them. The Samhane Haligtide bundle was pulled to the side, for the ink was still drying.

The maps detailed several areas of the old Empire before the Transformation, with one map being ancient enough to predate the dynasty of Emperor Jessari. A closer inspection showed that they were skilful copies of those ancient maps, rather than the original. The reason for the copying, aside from simple preservation, was quickly obvious; additions had been made in red ink.

Ducerain pointed to one map that depicted Calimdar of half a century ago. Wavy red lines advanced on the city walls in stages. "The red lines depict the advances of the snow blanket at such years as I can find data, which alas is not always a possibility. As you can see, they get closer and closer with each year, and this was 20 years or more before the first hints of the Calamity's approach."

Ducerain explained similar features of the other maps, demonstrating what his data indicated. Next, he put the pre-Dynasty map in front of Alarant. "See if you spot what makes this one stand out."

Alarant glanced at his father then bent down to examine the map closer. He did not recognise the name of the city, but the topography that the map depicted resembled that of the old capital of Valion. The wavy lines descended past the city in a large jumble. Alarant was about to give in when he noticed the years assigned to the lines. The data had clearly not been year-to-year and 7 separate lines on the map accounted for 30 years. One line almost at the very top of the picture, and thus miles from the city walls, was a later year than a line at the very bottom of the map. If the dates could be trusted, the snow lines had advanced for years until a sudden retreat.

Ducerain sat reclined in his chair with an expectant air about him when Alarant rose from his examination.

Alarant turned the map around and indicated the timeline of the winter-lines. "If I'm reading it correctly then the snow-line advanced then retreated back past where the data started."

Ducerain nodded. "Just so. I'm researching whether the Calamity could be a recurring event."

"You think it could come back?" Alarant asked.

"My research is still progressing, so I cannot yet draw any conclusions," Ducerain said and began gathering up the various maps he had shown to Alarant, "But I believe that it has happened before and, yes, it will happen again."

"I would say it will not happen within our lifetimes, but those lifetimes are now an unknown quantity." Ducerain added with a humorous tone.

Ducerain rose and returned the maps to his study-table. "Of course, this time we are far better prepared as a people, if we do not deny the unfolding events as impossible. It will, however, still impact Auriga and my data indicates that none of these calamitous winters have been consistent in length and ferocity. They happen, and one can only prepare and survive as best they can till warmer times come again."

Alarant leaned back in his seat as his father spoke. To survive the most recent Calamity, their people had been forced to undergo a hideous change, one that Alarant often worried would destroy their culture. But the Necrophages, those bestial creatures they had fought before, had survived the same Calamity. The ones he had met outside that human village had been different from what he remembered before, but not as drastically as his own people had changed. Had the Necrophages, in their vile and bestial ways, found some other way to survive that calamitous winter? Have their changes been in other, more subtle ways? His thoughts returned to the quadrupedal creature that his men had brought back to the city. If the Marquis had not used it in some mad display of power and hedonism, what could it have told them?

"Alarant?" Ducerain was sat at his work-desk again, much like Alarant had found him when he entered.

"My apologies, father, I was caught in my own thoughts." Alarant said and rose from his seat. He tried to shake his head to bring his focus back to the present time, but the dying Necrophage's expression lingered. Alarant had seen something there he had seen many times in his duties as a knight of the Amber Plains, too many times. Fear, the fear of death.

"I was saying, I can provide you with my drafts of the Samhane text. I cut some parts out for the final version, for a variety of reasons, and perhaps you can find clues to more answers there. I will do my best to reach back to my initial sources, but that is all I can do for now." His father said and fished out 3 bundles of papers from the depths of his desk. When Alarant accepted them, he saw that the title on the front of the first bundle was "The Truth of Haligtide".

"It was Dowen that suggested the change of title, said it was too pretentious." Ducerain commented.

"Thank you, father, for the talk and for these. You have given me some things to ponder." Alarant said and put the drafts in his satchel.

"It is no problem, Alarant. If you will, what thoughts held you so captive that you did not even hear what I said at first?"

Alarant looked out the window towards the distant sight of his family estate. "I have called for a gathering of friends and allies tonight, father. I would like to see you there, I can tell you then. For now, I have other tasks to handle today." Alarant said.

Father and son embraced again and Alarant departed, making his way down the steps of the tower to return to the street.

Alarant's next port of call was the palace library. By imperial decree the libraries of all cities were open to all citizens so as to assist in the betterment of the public and the preservation of their culture. Private collections such as the one in the Lereyne estate were to be held open to scholars recognised by the Crown if need be. The palace library in Calimdar had only recently been re-established and still lacked many tomes that one could expect to find in the capital, but such a journey could not be undertaken at this time. As Knight-Commander, Alarant had duties to the city. Additionally, Samhain's return indicated to Alarant that something was afoot. He knew not what, but he found the thought difficult to shake. And if there were events underway, he knew not what or how long they would take. Staying in Calimdar offered him the best opportunity to counter the Marquis' schemes.

The clerk at the front desk directed him to the section he was looking for, namely the one concerning expeditions to ruins and excavations. Even before the Calamity, the scholars of their people had been interested in the ruins left behind by the legendary beings that had lived on Auriga before even the ancient forebears that would found Vallaris and Calimdar and other such cities. Scholars called them the Endless, a title that Alarant had always found ironic if not amusing. To the best of his knowledge, no living Endless had ever been recorded. Either their End had come at last or they had abandoned Auriga for other worlds. According to legend, the Dust that had changed Alarant's people and world forever was a remnant of the knowledge and wonders of the Endless, as had the device that had 'saved' Alarant's people. Considering that, the possibility that the circlet he had seen on the Marquis' brow was a relic of the Endless gained an ominous air. Laugh as he might about their ill-fitting moniker, he could not laugh about the power of their remains.

Expeditions carried out before the Calamity were well-documented but largely fruitless for his focus. Many articles of their long-gone culture had been discovered in the forms of murals, carvings and statues. One journal concerned an expedition to the underground clans that lived in the mountains and talked about Endless ruins and installations found deep beneath the earth. But precious little was found of an active nature. But as the time of the Calamity approached, functional relics began to appear. One could attribute it to a greater understanding of the Endless and thus a better understanding of where to look, but Alarant had another idea. If extreme winters like the Calamity were a recurring event in Auriga's history, the Endless would have encountered them too. Assuming their civilization had survived the first encounter, they would have constructed means to weather the storm. Perhaps the remnants of the Endless had been activating in anticipation of the winters. But for all his connections and revelations, Alarant made no conclusive discoveries concerning his subject. As the weather had grown colder and stormier, artifacts of the Endless had begun being found in the ruins. As if to confirm Alarant's theory, expeditions were launched to ruins that had already been explored and those too contained new discoveries. Most were simply trinkets or items of scholarly interest, but a few contained power. The scholars of the time, less well-versed in Dust than the scholars of modern times, had evidently not made the connection between Dust and the extraordinary abilities of the artifacts. But Alarant had seen the circlet's Dust-powers with his own eyes; Dust had flowed from the creature to the Marquis and the circlet had reacted. But none of the items mentioned in the papers he could find matched the circlet he had seen. Perhaps he had the lack of Dust-knowledge to blame, or perhaps it had been found after the Calamity. He considered for a moment if this Samhane Haligtide could have made it, but Alarant knew not if such craftsmanship was within the realm of feasibility. The act of drawing dust was not unique to the Marquis; all of their people could, if they had the inclination. Drawing it from living, breathing beings, however, was uncommon. And so was the speed and the force by which the Marquis had wrested the very life from the prisoner.

Alarant put down the bundle in his hands and leaned back. The Marquis, this Samhane Haligtide and the mysterious circlet. Pieces had been moved into place before the show at the central square, but Alarant did not know what the destination was for those pieces. To be frank, he did not even know which pieces were involved. Jace de Kirgaan was a safe bet, the man was an honourless scoundrel in the Marquis's pocket. But who else? The empire was rife with knights looking to raise their station and with those who saw the new abilities of their people as a gift, not a curse. The Marquis could have a network of spies and toadies throughout all of Calimdar. Alarant could at least hope that the majority of Martin de Suluzzo's followers had come with him to Calimdar, thus leaving Vallaris relatively free of his influence. Alarant must inform the Emperor. He had no evidence of the Marquis's plans, but the events on the square would prove well enough that the man was treading a dangerous path. Alarant would send a messenger tonight; He could not let Gardt go, it would be too obvious and Alarant would lose one of his closest allies. But the meeting would provide another to do the task.

Satisfied with his findings and his decisions, Alarant replaced the papers and books where he had found them and left the library. It was well past mid-day and the citizens of Calimdar were continuing about their business as he walked into the street. For a moment he could imagine it was a summer's day before the Calamity, but the daydream did not last.

Alarant had not yet told his wife of the evening's gathering, and so he had preparations to make before then. But there was one more thing he felt he could investigate before he must return to the estate. It was close by, and it was not long before he stood before the lock-up where Gardt would have delivered their prisoner. Built before the Cataclysm and refurbished after the Marquis's arrival, it had originally been created to house soldiers that broke the law as well as heretics to the word of the Throne. These days it mostly stood empty.

Alarant's station brought him before the jail's overseer with little trouble. A woman with a passionless mask and a new-looking green robe, her voice was the only indicator of her gender, if such a thing meant anything in their new world.

"Sir Lereyne, I am Casca Goeffels, the overseer of Bachoix Prison. It is an honour to meet you." She said and rose from her workdesk.

"Likewise, Lady Goeffels. I hope I am not disturbing your work." Alarant had been asked to leave his satchel with the clerk, which he abided by happily enough. As useful as it was, it did detract from his lordly appearance.

"Please, Sir Lereyene, calling me Goeffels will suffice," the overseer said and walked out from behind her desk to shake his hand, "I have no noble station beyond that provided by my work here, graciously delegated to me by the Marquis de Suluzzo. I assure you, it is no disturbance. Bachoix is a quiet place these days, thank Auriga."

Alarant mentally noted the Marquis's involvement in this office, but said nothing of it. "Indeed. For all our troubles, the law is upheld."

Goffels nodded and put her hands behind her back. "And a good thing that is. Now, what can a humble prison overseer do to help a Knight-Commander?"

"I won't take up much of your time and get right to it. A little over a day ago, one of my men came to this prison with an unusual prisoner in tow."

Goeffels moved back to the table and opened a ledger bound in blue-dyed leather. "I take it your man has a name?"

"Gardt Sireyl. He's a knight in my company, very dependable. But I am mostly concerned as to the fate of the prisoner."

"Describe the prisoner, if you would." Goeffels opened another ledger.

"Belligerent, armoured. We captured it on a patrol of the plains," Alarant said, then added, "it's a Necrophage of some sort with four legs."

Alarant took great pleasure in Goeffels' surprise at the addition. A moment later, the overseer placed a cloth bookmark on a spot in the ledger.

"Ah yes, I remember it well. Easily the most remarkable prisoner we have had at Bachoix, even considering the time before my tenure," Goeffels looked up at Alarant, "I trust you know of its eventual fate."

"I do, my concern is what happened in the interim. Where was it housed, was anything done to it, who came to pick it up on the Marquis's behalf."

"Very well, my lord." Goeffels said and sat back down. The overseer took her ledges before her.

"Your man, Gardt Sireyl, arrived with it just after midday. After some deliberation and consideration for both its size and supposed intelligence, we made use of one of the large cells on the ground floor. They were originally intended for groups, so they are more easily accessible and have stronger bars. We posted an armed guard of double the usual number and Sir Sireyl went back to his business."

Alarant nodded. That much seemed according to regular protocol, as far as it extended towards unusual or extraordinary prisoners. "What next? Did the Marquis request its release personally or did he entrust the task to a retainer?" He had to keep himself from saying underling. He doubted that Casca Goeffels would take well to that word.

Casca consulted her ledger, though Alarant suspected she remembered the answer easily enough. "Jace de Kirgaan arrived some two hours later with some Stalwarts in tow. He had a signed document from the Marquis asking for the monster's release into his retainer's custody. I checked the signature personally."

Alarant would have smirked if he could. "Do you not trust Sir Kirgaan's word?"

"I trust in the Marquis's choice of retainer," Goeffels glanced up at Alarant and replied, "but the signature of the Marquis is no place for uncertainty."

Not answering my question directly, I see, Alarant thought.

"Do you still have the document?"

The overseer opened a drawer and withdrew a scroll. A small cloth pennant was attached to it and carried the seal of the Marquis. The man had not been subtle in this matter. Casca handed it towards Alarant who received it with great care. It did not say much more than the overseer had already explained and the signature was indeed genuine. Goeffels seemed more at ease when the scroll had been handed back and placed back in its drawer.

"I know not the full details of where the prisoner was taken after that." Casca confessed.

"That is alright, I was mostly concerned with the procedure here." Alarant replied.

"Very well, Sir Lereyne. Any other matters I can help you with?"

Alarant nearly declined, but another question rose in his mind. "Was there anything unusual about the group that de Kirgaan brought here?"

"Something unusual?" Casca said. When Alarant simply nodded, the overseer leaned back in her chair and seemed to think it over.

"There was something, or rather, someone." She started a moment later.

"One of the members of de Kirgaan's cohorts had a curious colouration to their 'essence'. Their essence was red rather than blue. I must confess that it gave me the distinct impression of fresh blood."

"How did they carry themselves?" Alarant asked.

"Hard to say," Casca said, "They said not a word and stood apart from the rest. But when I was examining the document from the Marquis, I spied them looking intently at the creature in the cell, like they were sizing up a haunch of meat."

From the description, Alarant took it to be Samhane Haligtide or someone of similar status. Bold of them to walk about in the open, but the Marquis's retainers were rarely bothered, and none knew of the figure by appearance alone.

"Did they do anything else?" Alarant asked when Goeffels quietened down.

The overseer shook her head. "No. We released the prisoner into their custody shortly afterwards and they left Bachoix."

And the poor creature was then taken to be executed at the central square. Alarant mulled it over for a moment then turned to Casca Goeffels and bowed. "Thank you for your time, Lady Goeffels. You have been most helpful. I shall leave you to your work."

Casca Goeffels rose from her desk and returned the bow. "Think nothing of it, Lord de Lereyne. I exist to serve."