Ch 2 Blades of Redemption

"...And then I told the Duke that Corona is hardly a place for a holiday. Don't you agree, Prince Wilhelm?" Wilhelm turned back quickly to the Earl of Andalasia and gave him a fake smile. "I've never actually been to Corona," Prince Wilhelm said, before going back to looking for an escape route.

"Take my advice prince: stay far away," the Earl said. "Suns everywhere, its as if they still pray to it. And of course there's the princess: marrying a commoner. Disgraceful!"

"Indeed," Wilhelm said, only half-listening. 'Would the Queen be too upset if I leaped out one of these windows,' he thought, running out of escape plans. "There you are," he heard someone exclaim from behind him. He turned and saw the Empress Emily Kaldwin walking towards him. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"You have?" Wilhelm asked. "Of course I have," she said, her arms wrapping around his bicep. "There is someone you have to meet," she said, pulling him away. "Excuse us, Earl." The Earl bowed respectfully as Emily lead the Prince away. "I saw you looking for a way out," Emily said. "So I thought I'd give you hand." "I didn't expect you to understand my predicament," Wilhelm said.

"I never liked formal events either," Emily confided. "Luckily I became adept at hide and seek." "I wasn't so bad at it myself," Wilhelm said with a smile. "Having twelve siblings looking for you, you had no choice but to succeed." "Try hiding from Corvo sometime," Emily retorted. "That man could find me anywhere." "I hope I never put him to the test," Wilhelm said. "Then it would mean that I've done something to you." They both chuckled before going back to socializing with the other dignitaries, this time together.

::

"Bigger turn out than last year, I think," Elsa noted. "Mhmm," Anna hummed, absentmindedly. Elsa followed her gaze and smiled, "If you keep staring at Jakob, Kristoff will get jealous."He's with Sven," Anna said. "He won't know." "Still," Elsa said. "It isn't polite to stare."

"I just don't trust him," Anna said. "He doesn't feel right." Jakob stood by himself in a dark corner of the room, away from most of the guests, his arms folded tightly across his chest and his back against a wall. He was not happy about the prospect of being surrounded by so many of the posh, upper class that he had never liked. He was even more put off by the fact that he had to leave Thorn outside (Kai's orders, not Elsa's).

"And here I thought for certain you would be weary of the Prince of the Southern Isles," Elsa said. "Instead you go after the Apprentice to the Royal Protector to the Empire of Isles." 'Does that just roll off the tongue,' Elsa thought sarcastically. "Didn't you see the way he was looking at you?" Anna asked. "It was as if he was... flirting with you." "He was just trying to get a rise out of me," Elsa said. "Like he did to you. By getting angry, you're letting him win." Anna sighed, trying to calm herself. "Sorry," Anna said, turning to Elsa. "Its just that..." she sighed again. "I don't know."

She turned away from her sister, unsure of herself. "Are you alright?" Elsa asked, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You've been acting strangely these past few days." Elsa turned Anna to face her, placing a hand on her fore head, checking for fever. "You're not coming down with something, are you?" "No," Anna said, shaking her head. "I'm just edgy because...I haven't..." Anna began to think of a way to get out of this conversation, if she couldn't tell Kristoff, she certainly can't tell Elsa. "...Eaten yet," she said suddenly. "I should go do that."

Just as Anna was about to head for the refreshments table, Kai appeared with a young man at his side. He was young looking but tall with blond hair, green eyes, and a soft smile on his lips. He was dressed in simple business attire, wearing a dark blue suit and red tie with dark shoes. "Your Highness," Kai said. "May I present Johnathan, nephew to the Duke of 'Weselton'."

"I thought for certain you were going to say Weasletown," he said, his voice betraying any hope of appearing older. "That slight had my uncle fuming all the way home and for that, I thank you. And please, call me Jack. Only my mother calls me Johnathan." "Your uncle called my sister a monster," Anna said calmly but with a trace of anger.

"Yes I know," Jack said. "And for that I apologize. I won't lie to you, your Majesty, I have come here in the hopes of reestablishing trade between Arendelle and Weselton." "I'm not sure I would be comfortable conducting trade with someone who tried to have me executed for a crime that I did not commit," Elsa said. "In truth, you wouldn't actually be conducting trade with my uncle," Jack said. "Contrary to what is believed, he is not the power in Weselton." "Then who is?" Anna asked, truly curious.

"The guilds," Jack answered simply. "While it may appear to most that Weselton is ruled by the Duke, the commerce guilds hold the true power." "Is the Duke aware of this?" Elsa asked. "He is," answered Jack. "That is why he wanted to get Arendelle's resources. Any Duke that doesn't keep the guilds happy, isn't Duke for very long." "Sounds very cutthroat," Elsa said. "It is," Jack agreed. "My uncle believes that you have to be just as cunning to survive." "Do you?" Elsa asked. "No," Jack answered, shaking his head. "I believe that two kinds of people can conduct business where the right parties benefit."

"There seems to be very little that you and the Duke have in common," Anna noted. "The main difference," Jack said. "Is that I can actually dance." "Really!?" Elsa asked, beaming. "Well you certainly have to treat Anna to make up for your uncle." "Of course," Anna said, nodding absentmindedly. Her eyes widened suddenly when she realized what she had agreed to. "Wait? What?" she stammered, glancing back and fourth between the two. "I'd be more than happy to," Jack, holding his hand out to Anna.

She reluctantly placed her hand in his but was quite surprised when he gently lead her to the dance floor. Anna looked back at her sister waving reassuringly. "Sorry," she mouthed to her. Elsa then turned back to Jakob and had found that he had changed position. His back was to her and his shoulder was against the wall. While Anna seemed displeased by Jakob's manners (or lack thereof), she had seen and heard the underlying sadness in his eyes and in his voice when Captain Curnow mentioned Morley. It was as if the mere mention of his homeland brought him pain and she couldn't help but wonder, what was the cause of it? She sighed, thinking that perhaps it would be best to leave the matter be.

::

Father Curtis walked briskly towards the docks, his charge waiting for him. After helping the Twelfth Prince's Own set up camp, as well as an area for himself to conduct mass and other sermons, he had departed to go to the docks to retrieve the one he was ordered to protect. "Father Curtis," a voice called. He turned and saw Sir Roland walking, almost jogging, to him. "Sire," Father Curtis said, bowing as Sir Roland met up with him. He waved him off and said, "You don't have do that anymore. I take it you are heading back to the ship?" "I am," Curtis answered. "I have spoken to the Bishop and he has agreed to allow him to stay in the chapel."

"I shall accompany you," Roland said. "I'm not certain that that is wise,"Curtis said honestly. "I want to see him," Roland said, a little upset that Curtis would deny him this. "It is my right as his-" "I know," Curtis said, raising his hand to interrupt. "But he is my charge, at the behest of the King himself. I hope that you will remember that." "I shall do my best," Roland said before starting down the path again with Curtis following.

"Halt!" called one of the sentinels guarding the Redemption as he and the other soldier cocked and trained their rifles on the two men. "Who goes there?" "Sir Roland and Father Curtis," answered Curtis. "We've come to claim the initiate." The soldiers uncocked and lowered their weapons. "Apologies, sirs," the second soldier said. "You may go about your business." Curtis nodded respectfully and Roland popped the collar of his coat to ward off the chill he was feeling. They moved down the pier, up the gangplank and onto the ship.

On the deck, Curtis stopped and said, "I need you to wait here, my lord." Roland didn't want to wait but he stayed on deck none the less. He was Curtis' responsibility now, no matter how much he wished to, he could not interfere. The priest descended down into the darkness of the hold, save for the small sliver of light coming from beneath the door to a cabin. Curtis approached the door and knocked softly before entering. "Come in," a voice said from behind the door.

Curtis opened the door and stepped in. The cabin was sparsely furnished, only a bed, dresser, and desk occupied the room. At the desk, sat a young man with auburn hair wearing a simple black surcoat over a black, long-sleeve shirt, black trousers, and black, leather boots; this was the code of dress of the Order. Before the young man was a large book, he finished a page, then turned to Curtis, "Father," he said, bowing out of respect. "Hans," Curtis responded while nodding in return. Hans Westerguard, Thirteenth Prince of the Southern Isles, but in the land of Arendelle, he was known as Usurper.

The previous year had not been kind to the young prince; the moment he had returned home, armed guards had detained him and had thrown him into a dungeon cell without so much as a word to him. It was four months later that he learned that it had been on the orders of his eldest brother: King Hector V. Four months he lingered, alone in the dark. At one point he had grabbed the arm of one of his jailers as he brought food in an act of crazed desperation to get any information on his situation, but he had underestimated the bailiff's strength.

The jailer had pulled his arm free with such force that he slammed Hans into the cell door, causing a deep gash along the left side of his face. He had bandaged it as best as he could with his sleeve but it hadn't been enough, and now he bears an ugly scar that traveled down from his temple to his cheek. Since his incarceration and release, a full beard had grown and his hair was just long enough to cover his ears. Although hair refused to cover the scar, he hoped his change in appearance would make it harder for anyone to recognize him. Four months after his imprisonment, he was brought before the entire court, his wrists and ankles shackled(he did not fight when they put them on). To this day, he can still hear the clinking of chains echoing down the expansive halls of the castle.

He had been forced to his knees when he had been brought before the King, his brothers, their advisers, Sir Roland, and Father Curtis; his head bent, his body and spirit at the brink of exhaustion. King Hector was fuming, his other brothers had more or less looks of indifference, Father Curtis looked on with pity but what hurt the most was the look of disappointment given to him by Prince Wilhelm, whom he had been closest with and the look of sadness from Sir Roland. "Do you have anything to say in your defense?" the King asked when he had brought up the charges of Hans' attempted regicide.

Hans thought for a moment, trying to come up with an explanation. Coming up with nothing, he shrugged and gave a barely audible "No". "Very well," the King said pursing his lips and blinking back tears as he rose to deliver the sentencing. "Hans Westerguard," he addressed. "I, Hector Westerguard, fifth of my name, King of the Southern Isles, and Keeper of the Hammer, sentence you to die..."

Only Sir Roland and Father Curtis' pleas had persuaded King Hector to spare Hans' life and allow him to join the Order of Paladins. Curtis walked over to the younger man and inspected what he was reading. "'The Complete Works of Saint Agustin," Curtis read aloud. "He has a lot to say on free will and original sin but very little on forgiveness," Hans said.

"' Forgiveness is the remission of sins. For it is by this that what has been lost, and was found, is saved from being lost again'," quoted the priest.

"And that's it," Hans said. "Not much else." Curtis closed the tome and said, "Forgiveness does not come from books and scrolls but from the heart." "I doubt the Queen and Princess could find in their hearts to forgive me,"Hans remarked with a shrug. "No one is beyond absolution," Curtis said, placing a comforting hand on Hans' shoulder. "Especially one who has work so hard to achieve it." Hans nodded in agreement but deep down he still did not believe the priest's words. "Come," Curtis said. "You'll be staying in the chapel for the duration of our time here."

"Will I get to see Will?" Hans asked, almost hopeful. "Only if he comes to you," Curtis answered. "Your presence here must not be known until the time is right." He nodded before he started to gather his belongings.

When the two men went back up on deck, Hans was surprised to see Sir Roland standing on the deck staring at the castle, a sheathed longsword in his hand. "I..." Hans stammered at the sight of the older man. "I didn't expect you to be here." "What you have done in the past was wrong," Sir Roland said, walking towards them. "But nothing will ever change between us." Roland then placed a comforting hand on Hans' shoulder. "Thank you," Hans whispered. "That means a lot coming from you."

Roland smiled before raising his arm, presenting the weapon to him. Hans took it into his own hands and began to inspect the weapon. The hilt, as well as the scabbard, were wrapped in dark-green leather and had a scent-topper pommel and small knife in the scabbard, just below the hilt. He unsheathed it to inspect the blade when it dawned on him.

"This is Durendal," he said, turning back to Sir Roland, wide eyed. "The Sword of Roland." "Since you are to be a Paladin," the knight said. "Then you should have the Sword of the First Paladin." Hans sheathed the blade. "You do me a great honor, sir," he said. "I am not worthy." " Strive to be better then," Sir Roland said, a stern look in his eyes. "Regain your honor and make yourself worthy of that blade." Hans nodded. Sir Roland then turned to leave but before he could, Hans called out to him, "Sir," Roland turned back to the young man. "Could you convince Will to see me?" he asked. "I will do my best," Roland said. "Thank you," Hans said. Roland nodded, then departed. "Come," Curtis said, leading Hans to his temporary home.

::

Of all the names attributed to Jakob: assassin, mercenary, murderer, and so on, the one that he's most fond of is Morley Wolf. This was, in part, due to his friendship with Thorn, but also because many had sworn they had seen his eyes glow like a wolf's. One glare from those eyes caused anyone audacious enough to try and approach him to back off immediately. He spent most of the night doing this to many of the party guests who were curious about his presence there. He had never been much of a talker and he wasn't about to start.

"Master Jakob?" a voice asked from behind. 'Very good,' he thought. 'I almost didn't hear you approach.' He turned and was surprised to see the Snow Queen herself, but then again she was the only one who didn't try to glower him to death, even with everything he did to provoke her. "Queen Elsa," he said. "You seem surprised," Elsa noted. "Your sister doesn't seem to like me," Jakob said. "I figured you wouldn't either." "I know you only sought to provoke me," Elsa said. "While you succeeded with Anna, I have no intention of letting you get the better of me."

"And yet here you are," Jakob noted. "Speaking with me." "I have questions," Elsa said. "About?" Jakob asked. "Morley," Elsa said. And there it was. That quick yet intense sadness just behind those brown eyes. A pang of guilt stabbed at Elsa's heart and she considered dropping the matter entirely. "What do you want to know?" Jakob asked. "What is it like?" she asked. "Drab, damp, and gloomy," he answered with a shrug. "But the Inn on the Rock does boast, rightfully so, the best mutton stew in all the Isles." "I'll have to try it one day," Elsa said.

"If you have to try any food from Morley," Jakob said. "Let it be the apples." "Why the apples?" asked Elsa. "Imagine the sweetest apple you've ever tasted," Jakob said. "Then imagine an endless supply of it." "Perfect texture," Jakob continued, more to himself than Elsa. "Never too hard or too soft and the juice..." he paused for a moment with sentimentality. "The juice would make the finest cider you've ever tasted." Elsa stared at him for a moment, realization dawning on her, "You grew them, didn't you?" "I did," answered Jakob. "Is that difficult to imagine?" "A little," admitted Elsa. "You do not seem the farming sort."

"And what sort would you say that I am?" asked Jakob, crossing his arms. Elsa pondered this for a moment, taking the question into careful consideration. She stroked her chin in thought, before giving her answer, "A knight." Jakob smirked at her answer, "A knight, you say?" He chuckled and shook his head. "I've been called many things but 'knight' was not one of them."

"You disagree with me?" Elsa asked. Jakob's smile grew, 'You're baiting me,' he thought. 'You do have some wit, don't you?' "I was a soldier once," he said. "3rd Battalion, 88th Mounted Infantry out of Caulkenny, more commonly known as the Morley Rangers." "We were trained to fight on both horseback and on foot," he continued. "But we were nowhere near knights."

Jakob's appearance reinforced this notion: his hair was unkempt and his face bore a scraggly mustache and goatee combination. His uniform was of the same make as the Lord Protector's but in greater disrepair (there was still mud from this morning on his sleeve). "Your sword says different," Elsa said, indicating to the blade on his hip. Jakob glanced down at the weapon before returning his gaze to Elsa. "And what does my sword tell you?" he asked. "That a hand-and-a-half sword was a weapon of choice to the knights and Heroes of Old," she answered. "You may not be a knight now but in time, I think you will eventually grow into the role." "Will you be the one to give me the title?" asked Jakob. "Should I take a knee?" He knelt down in front of her for emphasis, his head bent. "I don't have the necessary tools to knight you with," Elsa said, shaking her head with a smile.

"And what tools would that be?" Jakob asked. "A sword," Elsa answered. "And sacred oil to anoint you." "I have no oil," Jakob said, standing. "But I do have this..." He then reached for his blade and drew it from it's scabbard as quietly as possible so as not to alert the guests or startle Elsa. The last thing he needed was to fight the Royal Guards. He held it out towards her, his right hand holding the hilt and his left hand supporting the blade. The blade, itself, measured close to four feet with a wide fuller that ran nearly the length of the blade. It shinned even in the artificial light of candles and Elsa found herself reluctant to take it. Jakob moved the hilt towards her, silently asking her to take it and at last she reached for it.

She took the weapon into her hands and was surprised to find how light it was. "Its not as heavy as I expected," she noted, holding it upright. "That's the fuller," Jakob said. "Or perhaps you just don't know your own strength." "Does it have a name?" she asked. "Why would it have a name?" Jakob asked. "The legendary swords of the Heroes had names," Elsa said, resting the blade against her palm.

"Beowulf the Geat had the dragon-forged Hrunting and Roland the Paladin had the ever faithful Durendal." "Those swords have names because of their heroic deeds," Jakob said. "It will too," Elsa said, handing the sword back to Jakob. "As surly as you will be a knight one day." "Are you certain of these things?" he asked. "I am," Elsa said looked away from her and faced the wall, unable to look at her any longer. He had lied to her. He had been called 'knight' before, by one who had meant the world to him. He closed his eyes and his free hand balled into a shaking fist, as another memory assaulted him.

"Elizabeth..."

Even though he had whispered her name, Elsa had managed to catch it. 'Who was she?' Elsa wondered. 'And what had happen to make him hurt this much?' When his eyes opened again, there was so much pain in them, that she felt compelled to comfort him. She reached out for him but before she could touch him, he suddenly shoved her aside. She stumbled backwards before losing her balance and fell to the floor, just in time to see a man dressed as one of her Royal Guards cut through the air with a dagger in the very spot she had been standing just a moment ago. The would-be assassin stumbled before quickly recovering, dropping the dagger, then drawing a longsword while Jakob took a fighting stance, "Let's hope that your skills with a blade outmatches your lack of wits..."

::

"Stay behind me!" the prince commanded. "Wilhelm, you're bleeding," Emily said from behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glanced down at the wound on his shoulder before returning his gaze at the assailant in front of him, sword at the ready. The wound was only superficial but had he not acted, much worse would have befallen the Empress. Had he not seen him in time, she would be dead, of that, he was certain. "I'm fine, Empress," Wilhelm said, giving her a quick glance. "Its only a scratch." Unfortunately that 'scratch' prevented him from drawing his pistol and ending this confrontation quickly.

His eyes darted around the Music Room looking for both an exit as well as any other potential threat. Wilhelm and Emily had left the party to better get to know one another, when they had found the castle's Music Room. A spacious room filled with all sorts of instruments, including a grand piano. When the Prince mentioned that he played, Emily had asked him to play something. But as he sat down, Wilhelm had spied the assassin in the reflection of a window. He had shoved Emily aside and taken the assassin's strike himself. "Leave her, prince," the assassin said. "My quarrel is not with you." "On my honor, I will defend her!" answered back the Prince. "So be it!" the assassin said before lunging...

::

After sharing a dance, Anna and Jack had gone to the stables to visit Kristoff and Sven. Jack was certainly more amiable then his uncle, so much so that Anna invited Jack to meet her betrothed and, unexpectedly, Olaf the Snowman. Jack had heard the stories of Elsa's abilities, so we wasn't too surprised by Olaf's presence; what truly caught his attention was Sven. Ever the businessman, began to ask Kristoff all sorts of questions about Sven's use as beast of burden compared to horses and about breeding stock when events took a turn into darkness...

Suddenly three armed men entered the stables, their faces obscured by the hoods of their cloaks. "Who are you," Jack asked. "We are no concern of yours." the one in the middle spoke, obviously the leader of the three. "Hi, 'no concern of yours'," Olaf said, waving. "See how it offends with its very presence," the assassin on the left said. "Is there no greater reason to be then to end these blasphemies?"

"We are not here because of differing philosophies," the one in the middle said. "We are here because justice demands it." "And what justice is that?" Anna asked. The other man on the right drew a cutlass and said, "The one at the end of our blades, Usurper." "Usurper!?" exclaimed Anna, offended. "I have stolen a thing!" "Not by choice," the leader said. "But that does not excuse your crimes." He then turned his attention to Jack and Kristoff. "Leave now," he said. "And you will live. Stay and you will die." "I'm not going anywhere," Kristoff said, grabbing a pitchfork for a weapon then moving to stand in front of Anna. "Nor I," Jack said, standing beside Kristoff. "Me neither," Olaf said, moving in front of all three. "So be it," the leader said, nodding.

He waved his hand and the two at his side began to advance towards the group, cutlasses at the ready, when all of a sudden they heard a voice behind them shout, "Halt!" The three assassins turned to see who called to them. What they saw was a young man with auburn hair and matching beard, dressed all in black with a longsword in hand. "Who are you?" asked the leader. "Hans," Anna breathed, recognizing the newcomer.

"Hans?" one of the assassins asked. "The disgraced Westerguard prince?" "Prince no more," answered Hans. "I am an initiate to the Order of Paladins now and as such, it is my duty to defend those in need."The assassin leader gave Hans a respectful nod before waving his hand, signaling his subordinates to charge their new foe. As they did, Hans readied himself by taking a battle stance and reciting the oath of the Paladins:

"Bound by Virtue,

Sworn to Duty,

Pledge against Evil,

Strength through Courage,

Justice through Honor,

Redemption through Blood.