Erik set down the copy of Rise and Fall of the March Empire with a loud sigh. He could only read the same book so many times, but there was little choice out here in the hinterlands. Border fortresses weren't renowned for their extensive library collections, so his selection was limited.

"Problem, commander?" The assigned bodyguard of the hour queried.

Erik shook his head. "No, nothing."

The prince had long given up participating in the royal farce that was his so-called commandership of this garrison. Oh yes, on paper his royal bloodline made him the ranking person here, but everybody knew it was the Count who made all the decisions.

That the man had departed with half the garrison's force a day prior did nothing to change that. The border guards were used to their duties and performed them to the letter with admirable regularity. Anything Erik had to say would only disrupt that. Even if the unlikely occurred and a skirmish broke out, any rookie here had more combat experience than a sheltered scion.

Eastmarch's Seventh Prince found little comfort in knowing that at least he was a thousand miles away from the (sometimes literal) backstabbing that plagued the House of Arvelt's all too numerous royal brood. He'd had no choice in the assignment, having no power behind him capable of pulling at the strings of government. His mother had been a nobody and he wasn't even considered worthwhile as a pawn to be picked up and used by someone in the court.

Besides, getting sent out here very well might be a stab in the back.

Looking at the book's cover, Erik could not help but miss the Count's secretary, a young man who was also the one person in the fortress who could hold a conversation on topics like history. "When was the Count planning to return, again?"

"Could be up to a week, sir," the bodyguard replied. "It's not a real exact thing, a sortie."

Erik frowned at that. Not at the timetable, no, but...

Why would one bring their *secretary* on a military expedition? Perhaps he was overthinking it, but life in the royal court required some sensitivity to details.

A knock at the chamber's door interrupted the prince's train of thought. "You can come in."

The door opened, and another guard stepped out from behind it. "Shift change, sir. And time for your evening meal."

"Oh, yes. Of course." Not only had the Count taken his secretary, but he'd also taken his cook, and so the Prince was obliged to partake of a portion of what everybody else was having.

Accompanied by both guards, the trio made their way down the tower stairs where the previous shift's guard took his leave for supper and rest. The prince collected a tray with a chunk of bread and a bowl of stew -- taking care to see that they came from a loaf and a pot that others before him had received portions from -- and returned with the new guard back up the tower steps to his quarters.

If Erik hadn't already broken past the earthly shackles and begun opening his meridians, all the stair-climbing would've been of use in his physique training.

It was just as he was about to bring spoon to mouth that the first screams from outside the fortress reached his ears. Glancing over at his guard, his spoon clattered back into the bowl as both rose. "What in blazes is going on out there? Let's go see."

And so it was that the prince and his guard again descended the tower stairs, moving at a brisk clip to the office where the ranking lieutenant was stationed. A grizzled knight bearing an eyepatch sat behind the desk there as other soldiers ran out of the chamber, no doubt bearing orders of their own.

"What's the status?" Erik asked.

The knight snorted. "Nothin' too big. Just a scouting force, an annoyance that'll maybe take an hour of cleanup so it won't interrupt Your Highness' beauty rest. It's only that annoying since half the garrison's out."

The prince frowned, considering what to say to that. "A bit of a startling annoyance."

"You get used to it, out here." The knight's eye turned to the bodyguard. "Hey you, go make yourself useful too. Ain't nobody gonna cause trouble for the *Commander* this deep in."

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The bodyguard's mouth bobbed wordlessly for a moment as he looked between prince and knight for a moment before he nodded. "Yessir."

Erik looked around the office casually as he waited, though his fingers tapped nervously on the legs of his pants. The knight didn't seem to want to engage in any talk, small or otherwise, and the prince had no inclination to fill the void and possibly make a mistake.

A couple of minutes of admiring mortar work later, another guard burst into the chamber. "Sir Gared! You're needed at the west gate! It's urgent!"

"What could possibly require me there now?"

"I-I don't know, sir, but request's from Balfour."

Sir Gared growled and hefted himself out of his chair. "Stay here and keep His Highness company, I'll be right back." He muttered incoherently and shoved the guard out of the way.

Erik turned to see the guard nervously watching the knight disappear down the corridor. "Now's the time, milord! We need to get out of here before he returns!"

The prince nodded and followed the man as they exited the office and ran deeper into the castle.

"Milord! There's a plot afoot! Sir Gared--"

"No need to explain," Erik interrupted the man. "I may not have battle experience, but I've opened about half my meridians. I can see what's going on out there and that it doesn't mesh."

The pieces started falling together even before the prince had made it into the office. Why would the Count bring along his cook and his bloody damn secretary on an operation? Because he was leaving danger, not entering it. Most of the men here were sacrificial pawns, although Sir Gared was certainly in on the plan.

"That's good. There's a way out of here they don't have covered. It's an old stone tunnel, hard to scry even if you know it's there, and they don't."

"And who are you to know about it? And why help me?"

The man shook his head. "Long story, no time right now."

"And what about everybody else here? The ones who have no idea they're about to get chopped up just to get at me?"

The man grunted as they reached a cabinet. Bracing himself, he kicked it and it jolted over to reveal an opening into a stone tunnel that looked naturally formed. "Milord! You must flee! Your royal father must hear of the Count's treachery this day, else all our lives will have been lost in vain."

Erik coughed, almost choking on his own spit. "But what manner of commander would I be to leave you all to this fate?" He realized too late that he'd given too much away before, but couldn't help but make an attempt to tug at the man's heartstrings for any scrap of data.

"You aren't! You're a bloody prince, and we're all caught in the web meant to be your snare!" The man grabbed the prince by his collar. "But we all swore oaths, even if some of us now betray them. There's no more time to argue! Now go!"

Erik was then tossed into the tunnel opening, stumbling as he tried to come up with something that might get the man to tell him something. "I'll remember you and your sacrifice!"

The man didn't bite the hook even at that sentimentally lame pronouncement, though. Instead, he turned and left, muttering something incoherent as he disappeared.

Erik sighed and groped his way through the tunnel. He regretted not having taken the time to learn an illumination spell as he made his way through the darkness, as it would've been handy right about now. As it was, he was just as in the dark in the tunnel as he was outside of it.

Several minutes of blind groping later, the tunnel opened up into a cavern. A shaft of moonlight illuminated a floor strewn with bone shards and refuse. The smell was dusty and there was no sign of recent habitation, but it was clear something had once made this its den.

Erik stopped to catch his breath for a moment, straining to use his limited divine sense to scout ahead and behind. As the man had warned him, the tunnel was difficult to scry, but there didn't seem to be any surprises yet.

"Ow!" The prince's toes slammed into something as he was heading to the exit. Looking down, he saw a black metal bar etched with swirling patterns. It was then that he realized he'd fled without grabbing any kind of weapon.

"Take..." a voice whispered.

The prince jumped, almost hitting his head on part of the cave ceiling. "What the--?"

"Take... me..." the whisper came again, clearer.

Erik looked around the cave with both eyes and mind but could see nobody else. He glanced again at the metal bar. "Take what? This?" He bent down for a closer look at it.

"Take me..." the bar whispered. "Weapon... you need..."

Erik grabbed the bar and hefted it, seeing now that it was some kind of handle or hilt. "I guess I can hit someone over the head with this in a pinch-- wait, why am I talking to a piece of metal?"

"Bind... with blood... and I... will show..."

"Oh hell, with how everything else is going today, why not?" The prince picked up a sharp-looking bone shard from the ground and pricked his thumb, dripping his blood on the metal bar. He watched with fascination as the blood flowed into the swirling patterns and disappeared. The patterns gave off a faint purple glow as they drank.

"Ah... much better," the metal bar announced in a clear, masculine, metallic tone. "Godweapon Onyx is now yours, master."

"Uh, hi... Onyx. I'm flattered to be your master and all, but what I am supposed to do with a heavy but short stick?"

Onyx emitted a steely cackle. "I am a weapon. Your weapon. I can pierce your foes or slice them to ribbons."

"I don't mean to be impudent, but you're kind of missing a blade."

"Nonsense! He who carries his blade in his heart -- and me -- shall never want for an edge. Inject your essence and behold!"

Erik shrugged. "If you say so." He injected some essence into Onyx. A three-foot blade of blue light shot out of the end of the bar facing upward, humming softly as the prince's flippancy melted into shock.

"A passing start, master," the weapon announced. "But this is only the beginning. There's more, so very much more we will accomplish together."