The Kindom of Byzaen was in celebration. Their war for independance from the Holy Empire of Tranult had just ended in absolute victory. What had begun as a simple slave rebellion in a single kingdom within the empire had blossomed into a war for the freedom of all peoples of all races and religions.
Their forces, supported by the Adventurer's Guild, had not only captured their capitol city but also breached the Grand Cathedral and captured the Patriarch and the entire College of Cardinals! Luckily, the strongest group of adventurers managed to interrupt them during a Hero Summoning ritual and the backlash allowed them all to be captured. The Adventurers responsible where not only were allowed to keep whatever they managed to loot from the Cathedral, but also had a feast held in their honor by the Byzaen Royal Family!
The Seat of Honor at the feast, at the right hand of the High King himself, was granted to the powerful mage responsible for interrupting the Hero Summoning, as even a newly summoned Hero might have been able to buy enough time for the Patriarch to escape and begin a guerilla war.
When the king asked his guest of honor about the odds of the Patriarch escaping if the ritual had succeded, the response he recieved was a single word, "Unlikely."
The king, suprised and curious at the simple, and even slightly disrespectful, response examined his guest closely for the first time that evening.
The man, rumored to be the most powerful mage in the Adventurer's Guild, was dressed simply in a long black overcoat over a comfortable looking dark red silk tunic with black trousers, also silk, and a belt and boots of black leather. The King of Byzaen noticed the apparel first because unlike every other person in attendance, or even the commoners celebrating in the city, nothing the man wore was enchanted in the slightest.
The second oddity in the man's appearance was his eyes. They were a dark almost metallic silver and seemed to glow when a servant momentarily blocked the light from a nearby brazier to refill the king's wine goblet. The Adventurer Mage looked the king in the eye and tucked a loose strand of his unusually long night-black hair behind his ear, while cocking an eyebrow as if saying, "Well? Get on with it."
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The King spoke, "Why do you believe his success and escape would have been unlikely? By all accounts Heroes, even 'fresh' ones, are exceedingly dangerous due to the unique abilites and divine protection the ritual bestows upon them."
"Because even if the fool succeeded I would have easily cut down the Hero. It wouldn't be the first time I've killed one."
King Leopold Bizaen's brows lowered in anger at the percieved idiotic response, "I would expect a man of your learning to also be a student of history! Even the lowliest citizen of the meanest village in this kingdom knows that the last time any Hero had been summoned in this world was during the Age of the Damned over three thousand years ago! If you weren't obviously human I may be able to believe you were an Elf or Dragon who faced a Corrupted Hero during that time, but your ears and eyes make your race obvious..."
The King paused his rant to lift his goblet and the Adventurer responded, smirking, "They call it the 'Age of the Damned' now? I suppose it's not surprising, I did some fairly horrific things during that time. Eating the hearts of Dragons, Bathing in the blood of Elves, feeding the spare Elf Hearts to captured Heroes during a dark ritual...Ah, and we can't forget my becoming Immortal and thus inadvertantly ensuring the cycle of death and destruction caused by constant rebellions and 'Exalted Crusades' would continue..."
With each word King Byzaen felt his blood curdle with horror. Looking again at the adventurer, he remembered reading several separate accounts of nobles in service to the Lord of Blood, Thorn and Bone. Every account of his appearance was the same, and every account matched the man sitting before him. Yet every account ended with his destruction!
"But you were put down by Saint-" Byzaen's words were cut short by a flick of the Blood Lord's fingers.
"I'd rather not hear you speak her name. In fact, let me return your little lecture on the apprecation of history with a lesson of my own. Listen carefully and you may learn something useful... You should stop looking to your guards for help. That little wave of my hand didn't simply stop you from speaking, it also paused spacetime outside of my chosen area. We have all the time in the universe to correct your mistaken view of history.
For example, I was far FAR more terrible than you could ever understand...
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***********To be Continued**************