A thousand knights stood behind General Harrin, their scabbards empty, and quivers depleted. Bowstrings had snapped and the royal guard of Talocandel stood with battered armor. Fulminonimbus paladins stood amongst them, knight magi who had come to see King’s Aldric’s promise. The sovereign strode before them all, Lady Elara at his side as he inserted a key into the great armory’s outer door. The rune covered door stood twenty feet tall, large enough to drive a wagon full of booty into the palace vaults. An impenetrable barrier to keep ten thousand years of Taloc’s captured weapons safe.

The key clunked into place, knocking the dust free as Aldric turned it, then, sensing the knight’s lust, he threw the grand doors open. Holding out

“My virtuous knights, and faithful paladins. Long has this vault been sealed. But no longer! Today I, King Aldric, grant you the weapon’s of Taloc’s victory, so you might take them up in his name once more! Fight back the demons who are ravaging our countryside. But hear me! Do not take more than you have need of. Leave all that you can, so your countrymen, your brothers in arms, might take up these artifacts in protection of their own homes.”

“For Eldarion! For Taloc! For King Aldric! Yes sir!” Shouted General Harrin.

His words echoed through the palace, as knights and paladins repeated the cry. Their voices carried it through their ranks, passing on the King’s orders for every man to hear. They marched into the outermost vault, King Aldric’s cape of white tiger’s fur and gold filigree flowing behind him. His stern eyes never looked back as the paladin conscripts plundered his outermost vault.

These weapons are the least of my vaults. Let them go. He thought, knowing the enchanted blades stored in this seventh vault were the weakest and least useful armaments.

For they were the rusted adornments of kings long past, weapons more ornamental than deadly. A champaign saber of King Robert, or the brass daggers of the bronze golems. Simple things, sharper than an ordinary blade, yet they would be no true loss if demons destroyed them. As one conscript retrieved his weapon, he turned and retreated, returning to his legion to await the coming orders. Only to be replaced by another unarmed man, for the church had mustered ten thousand conscripts and Aldric had mustered eighteen thousand. All required arms and armor. Mundane armories had been exhausted, smithy’s were booked for months, and trainees required weapons to drill with. Harrin didn’t bother keeping track of these weapons, he and his knights focused on keeping people moving, arming them, and then getting the next unarmed man into the vault. Four thousand blades, bows, spears, shields, daggers, and breastplates were distributed under General Harrin’s eagle eyes. No knight took more than he needed, and no paladin hoarded weapons. All men took one item. A dagger to fill their scabbards, or ten glowing arrows to tide over their empty quivers. When each legion was armed, Harrin cycled them, sending them off to war and inviting another legion into the vault. Though he kept his most loyal knights close, always offering them first pick. Albeit few accepted. For they had heard rumors of what lay deeper within the vaults.

Aldric steeled his face, wearing a masking smile. A panel of magistrates and aids kept track of the inventory, notifying Harrin when most of the vault’s stores were depleted.

“Sire, we have armed the conscripts and three paladin legions, Yet seven more await your blessings.”

“Very well, we shall go deeper, until my kingdom bares her fangs.” Answered Aldric, opening another steel door.

As impressive as the first, yet it traded width for thickness, as if this vault was meant to keep things in.

“The sixth vault contains cursed items. Weapons of our enemies. They are mild curses, but let no man accept a cursed blade and leave without that knowledge.” Ordered Aldric.

Lady Elara’s ears perked up at his words, yet she held her tongue. Every weapon and aritfact was documented, complete with an individual space on a shelf and a description of their curse. Arrows that will seek the enemy's heart, but only if you bleed on their fletchings before you fire them. Enchanted shields that floated around the wielder, always critiquing their form in the heat of battle. Loudly insulting their footwork. Gauntlets that amplified your punches, but only if you sac-tapped a friend the day before a fight. Rings that could curse another with drunkenness at will, but would inflict you with the same handicap. The paladins avoided that ring most of all, for they had no tolerance for strong drinks. These items and more were distributed though it took half a day to empty this room of it’s contents.

Once more the ledgers were tallied, and the legions sent to war. This time a score of barons had come, reading the curses and explaining each to the prospective wielder. Many knights had departed, leading their own squads back to war, and four paladin legions were armed.

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“My lord, this room has been depleted, though you have armed ten thousand men. Must we truly delve deeper sire?” Asked Harrin.

Aldric scanned the remaining knights and paladins, beginning to recognize them as men of station. Those who were faithful enough or talented enough to be granted an audience.

“Pandora will hold nothing back, nor will I. My excess has been shared, as have my party favors, but now tis time to summon our true strength. Do not allow these weapons to fall into untalented hands.” Said Aldric, opening the fifth door, and entering the fifth outermost vault.

This room was half the size of the previous, and was narrow. Weapon racks lined both walls, but strangely only contained a single weapon. Stranger still, was the soft glow that illuminated every item. Radiant green spears, glowing blue swords, and more magical arrows than any knew what to do with. Bows that possessed no string, but fed off your mana and formed bolts of energy that ignored armor. Daggers that floated and watched your back or daggers that seemed to be made of volcanic glass, and were perpetually slick with poison. These were distributed with care, champions sheathed them like a precious son, and Barons took the weapons that called to them, soon departing. Often clutching the blades to their chests with both hands.

Now, with the third of seven vaults depleted, came Aldric’s next order.

“No man may enter the next vault, not unless he is of noble blood. Be it a Baron as your father or as your grandfather, but no weaker bloodlines can endure the next room. Leave now, or your life is forfeit.” Said Aldric.

Harrin passed the order through the ranks, sending all conscripts back to pick over the previous vaults. Many paladins followed them, not daring to gamble. The inner door was of standard size yet made of thick steel, with three portuculs that needed to be raised. Chains were pulled, and barriers lifted until Aldric inserted his key. Once more opening a thin room of weapon racks.

“In this hour of need,” Aldric began, his voice resonating through the stone walls, “the kingdom must draw upon the power that has not seen the light of day for a thousand years. May these slumbering weapons light your way. Take up arms my paladins!” Shouted Aldric.

Doors were thrown open, ancient staves of bottomless power were distributed. Wands that could store a spell or two, armor that repelled all magic, or captured it. Shields that reflected spells on their caster, and shields that could come to life and impale their foes. Or bite with the sculpted wolves head that covered their fronts. All were taken, with the nobles and knights having no intention of returning them.

The sight of his wealth walking away made Aldric’s hair turn gray. He wanted to scream, to kick and thrash at the thieves. But a King was composed at all times.

So he remained silent. Watching as the last remaining knights and paladins filtered out of the room. Until only fifty people remained within. Then he opened the next door, unlike the others this door was a simple steel setup, but it led into an empty hall with another, identical steel door at the other end. This was repeated two more times, a trap that Aldric had already diffused. Not that he trusted Harrin or Elara with that golden nugget, no, they ought to think this vault was only locked with keys. They entered the third innermost vault, and Aldric held up a hand.

“The items in this room represent the most potent magical equipment of the kingdom, the two deeper vaults contain no weapons, nor magic. Find your weapons here, Lady Elara, you have first choice. Read the inscriptions and do not touch without asking, for everything within this room is cursed or beholden to a trap laid by my forefathers.” Warned Aldric.

Several knights stepped back, retreating from the shelves and chests with rare caution. These were Aldric’s Praetorian guards, and General Harrin’s most veteran commanders. Baron was the lowest rank amongst them. While Elara had seven retainers left.

“I’ve claimed thirty two artifacts thus far, leaving the balance of your payment as sixteen items.”

Aldric looked towards Harrin, and the general nodded in affirmation.

“Very well, your task is crucial to Eldarion’s survival. What is it you desire?”

A smile spread across Lady Elara’s face, and she retrieved a folded parchment from her bodice. It was passed to Aldric’s appraising fingers, who found the token unpleasantly warm. Upon reading the list, his kingly demeanor faltered.

Someone knew the contents of his vault. Someone had betrayed his trust. He would have to have all archivists questioned, no! He would send them all on a trip, one that saw none of them return alive. Greenwood was most violent this time of year, yes, he would send them on a voyage up the Yrendel river, let them count beans in Sintra, then onto Blackwood Castle.

“You are well informed Lady Elara, all these artifacts are of the highest quality, and uniquely suited to your tasks. They are in the back, this way.” Said Aldric, heading towards a portion of the vault he’d hoped to never visit.

A shiver of terror fled down his spine, and he was suddenly thankful for the rich fur cape that concealed his mortal terror.

How did Elara know? He thought, taking her to the rearmost corner and pressing on the stones. They shifted slightly, each stone sinking as he pushed until the wall folded inwards.

Revealing terrors that made demon’s look like kittens.

Lady Elara smiled, eagerly grasping the weapons that had once wounded Taloc himself.

“These will do.” She said, vanishing from sight and reappearing a foot behind Aldric.

“Yes, these will do nicely.” She whispered.