Tenzim's sneeze echoed into the throne room, resonating off its walls. The king, with his back to the knights, said "bless you," assuming one of them had sneezed. Two of the knights left the room, and upon their return, they brought with them the three eavesdroppers.
The young boys didn't know what to say. Tenzim felt like pointing at Edgar and saying he just followed him, but it wouldn't have been of much use at the moment. They realized they had overheard matters not meant for just anyone's ears.
"What's your name?" Lockdar asked, pressing a dagger to Tenzim's throat, believing him and the others to be spies.
"Tenzim Norlaren," the frightened boy said. "Please don't cut my throat, Your Highness Lockdar."
"Alright, Tenzim Norlaren, if you want your neck to stay in place, tell me what you heard."
"I swear I heard nothing! I didn't hear anything about the triangle of death or the dead," the boy said in fear.
What Tenzim said was enough. It was clear the young boys had listened to a substantial part of their conversation. Edgar didn’t even blink, knowing that nothing would happen to them since they were just children.
Another knight, named Dragomyr, noticed that Edgar was wearing a weapon at his waist and moved to take it.
"Keep your hands to yourself, sir!" Edgar said in a threatening tone, drawing everyone's attention.
"Or what will you do?" Dragomyr challenged, surprised by the young man's courage.
"It depends. The last knight who dared to provoke me is still crying about it," Edgar replied sarcastically.
Amazed by the young man's bravery, Dragomyr drew his sword and placed it at Edgar's throat. He didn't intend to harm him, just to scare him a bit. But he didn't achieve his goal, as Edgar quickly moved away from the blade, and with a swift motion, drew his own sword. With a powerful blow from Edgar, knight Dragomyr dropped his sword, reversing their roles. All the other knights were speechless. How could Dragomyr be defeated by a child so quickly?
King Ludrol almost burst into laughter. Lockdar noticed the king's attitude but refrained from commenting.
"My dear knights, let me introduce you to Edgar Argyle," said the king, signaling the boy to lower his sword.
"Argyle?" asked Lockdar surprised. "The son of Damyen?"
"Yes."
Lockdar was utterly astonished. The young man in front of him resembled Damyen and Luna so much. Moreover, his passion for swordsmanship seemed to have been inherited from Damyen. He couldn't fathom what kind of rigorous training Edgar had undergone, but it appeared to have greatly honed his reaction speed.
The king smiled at the boys, then explained that the four knights were part of a secret order called the Circle of the Sun. Their fight against another order named the Triangle of Death had been going on for several decades. This order consisted of mad followers who worshiped Xal'Adunoss, and their boundless madness led them to live in the hope that he would once again step into the realm of the living, bringing destruction to the infidels who did not worship him.
"Were my parents part of this order?" Edgar asked.
The king nodded affirmatively, stating that his parents were key members of the order. Currently, the Triangle of Death was rumored to be led by a madman, a practitioner of black magic, Who proclaimed himself the Lord of Demons. He managed to instill hatred in the hearts of his disciples, manipulating them at will, sometimes making them kill in his name.
All who practiced this forbidden art were condemned to death by burning at the stake. It was said that only fire could liberate and cleanse their souls from the possession of forces lurking behind this dark art.
"Why are you telling us these things?" Edgar wondered. "Aren't you going to punish us for sneaking around and eavesdropping?"
Tenzim thought it would have been better if Edgar had kept quiet about punishment, swallowing nervously. Ludrol's eyes widened and his eyebrows raised, as an idea seemed to dawn on him.
"You have a choice," the king said, deepening his voice. "You can be imprisoned for breaking and entering, disobeying orders, spying, and I can probably add a few more charges, being the king and all. The second option is to join the order, since Prince Lockdar was just complaining about the declining number of members and the order needing fresh forces."
"Have you lost your mind? They are just teenagers," Lockdar retorted.
"Lockdar, just because I am allied with your father does not mean I can't throw you into a dungeon. I am the King of Tuzmad, when will you show me some respect? I'd prefer you take personal responsibility for training the new recruits."
"I would like to offer my assistance as well," a voice echoed in the hall.
The boys didn't know who had spoken, but suddenly, the magician Laryus, the old man they had talked to in the castle courtyard, appeared as if by magic. He had not introduced himself when they first met, speaking of himself in the third person and saying he was the abbot of the monastery. King Ludrol and the four knights did not seem surprised by his sudden appearance, but the boys were utterly fascinated, as this seemed "magnificently awesome," Tenzim's favorite expression.
"I would like to train this young man," said Laryus, placing his hand on Turalon's shoulder. "His determination to study the art of magic surprises me."
"I'll train him," stated Knight Dragomyr, choosing Tenzim and giving Edgar a disdainful look.
"Have you all lost your minds? They're just kids," Lockdar kept objecting.
"At what age did you join this order, Lockdar?" asked Ludrol.
Lockdar replied that he joined at the age of seventeen, but only at his father's insistence as a punishment for his affection towards a servant girl in the castle. Ludrol again emphasized the order's need for new forces, stating that the best punishment for the boys, since they had discovered its existence, was to join it.
The prince still wanted to spare the boys, but the king was adamant, stressing that the youngsters were fortunate to step into this order and that their loyalty would be rewarded.
Edgar had never imagined becoming a member of a secret order when he first entered Tuzmad. The revelation that his parents had been members of this order piqued his interest in what the Circle of the Sun represented.
"I'm glad we've come to an understanding," said Ludrol, tossing a small leather pouch into Turalon's hands.
The pouch was tightly tied with a thin string. Turalon felt it and noticed something inside that made a sound Tenzim was particularly fond of. He untied it, letting its contents fall into his palms. It was twelve gold coins—a small fortune for the young boys.
Dazzled by the gleam of the gold, they were momentarily blinded. The king remarked that this was just the beginning and they should consider the pouch a modest welcome bonus.
"Then, I can train Edgar. He's already an excellent swordsman, but I can make him even better," declared Prince Lockdar.
"Perfect! This meeting is now concluded. When the order needs you, we will gather at one of the secret locations," said the king.
Shortly after the king left the room, the knights and Laryus wished the boys a warm welcome to the order and a pleasant evening. They slowly withdrew to the ongoing celebration outside, enjoying the beautiful music played by the musicians of Tuzmad.
The boys couldn't believe they had so much money, enough to live in luxury for at least a month. They could afford the finest clothes and the most delicious food.
"It's time to divide it," said Tenzim greedily. "I'll keep half, which is three-quarters, and you can have the rest."
"Always been good at math, in your favor... There are twelve coins here, and half of them belong to Edgar," said Turalon, smacking his brother on the head.
"Wait a minute! Why should he get half?" retorted Tenzim. "Thanks to my sneeze, we have this money."
"Because thanks to his curiosity, we received the gold."
"But isn't my sneeze worth at least ten coins?"
While the boys argued over the gold, King Ludrol returned to the throne room. A black dust gathered in front of him, taking the form of a rather strange-looking man. He had long, pointed ears, not a single hair on his head, a cut nose, and eyes that seemed to bulge out. He wore black armor, and on his belt were knives with black handles, each inlaid with a snake's head. His name was Casmyr, a demon summoned by someone knowledgeable in forbidden arts.
Casmyr was brought to this world to serve the less noble purposes of King Ludrol, who had control over him. The demon remained invisible throughout the meeting, listening to everything discussed among the knights of the order.
In turn, Casmyr also had demons under his command, successfully executing given missions. Despite all the good things said about Ludrol, he was not the king he claimed to be.
“Is this a joke? What's the role of those kids?”
“While they're busy with the boys' initiation, they'll be an easier target. You'll kill every member, including Prince Lockdar. I'm starting to get tired of him.”
“Given the way he speaks to you, I'm not surprised. What about the three boys, what do you want me to do with them?” asked Casmyr.
“They're just kids, not a threat. What's the matter, Casmyr, are you afraid of them?”
“The fact that they sneaked past your guards so easily should be a concern. The capabilities of your men have proven to be quite lacking, given the ease with which they infiltrated the castle. As for that young Edgar, I don't know what to say. Dragomyr didn't even know what hit him.”
“If they start causing problems, I'll let you know. Now go and deal with the knights of the Sun Circle!”
Casmyr disappeared, leaving the king alone. What were his plans? To have a secret army to protect his lands without involving human lives? Unfortunately, over time Ludrol forgot his noble goals, using his powers for dishonorable purposes. The Tuzmad army was meant to defend the kingdom and maintain order, but his secret army was much more powerful and willing to do anything.
It was past midnight, and the three new members of the order were sound asleep. Each of them was richer by four gold coins, distributed by Edgar despite Tenzim's insistence on receiving at least six coins, believing his sneeze to be a divine gift.
The following day, Edgar and his Uncle Falo were to make shields and swords for the king's men, but his uncle had an additional task. He received a new ore to forge a special sword for one of the participants in the tournament of the ten knights.
Young Edgar didn't have a peaceful sleep, as the dream that tormented his nights reappeared, disturbing his rest. The same dream, where he was in the middle of a battle. The night quickly passed for Edgar, who slept until late, waking up at ten, having not slept this much in a while. He went outside and headed to the forge where about six blacksmiths, including his uncle, were working.
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As Edgar stepped into the forge, the familiar sight of his Uncle Falo, laboring intently over a peculiar, gleaming ore, greeted him. The air was thick with the smell of burning coal and heated metal, the walls echoing with the rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil. Falo, with his skilled and weathered hands, carefully extracted the ore from a nondescript bag, its appearance mystifying and unlike any common metal.
"Start melting this," Falo instructed with a hint of urgency in his voice, signaling Edgar to stoke the forge's flames to a roaring intensity. Patience was essential, Falo reminded him, as this ore was not like the common iron or steel they frequently worked with. It possessed a strange, almost ethereal shimmer, hinting at hidden properties yet to be revealed.
The boy watched with keen eyes as the ore slowly surrendered to the forge's fiery will, transforming into a molten, radiant mass. His uncle, with the precision of a master craftsman, carefully poured the glowing metal into a waiting mold. As the metal cooled and took shape, Edgar could sense the birth of something extraordinary. The resulting ingot, once freed from its wooden confines, was a raw piece of unrefined steel, its potential as a formidable blade palpable even in its nascent form.
Suddenly, the tranquility of the forge was broken by the sound of a horse's neigh and the crunch of gravel underfoot. Someone was approaching. From the doorway, Edgar caught a glimpse of a figure dismounting—a knight, no less. The silhouette was imposing, yet distant and unrecognizable. Edgar's curiosity peaked as the figure approached the forge's entrance.
With a fluid motion, the knight lifted his helmet, unveiling the face beneath the shining metal. It was Prince Lockdar, his visage etched with lines of worry and urgency. The sudden appearance of the prince within the humble walls of the forge was startling, yet it spoke of a need, a purpose that only the skilled hands of his uncle could fulfill. Edgar watched, anticipation and curiosity mingling in his heart, as the prince stepped into their world of fire and metal.
"Blacksmith Falo! Is my sword ready yet?" asked Prince Lockdar.
"It will take at least two more hours. Forging such a weapon takes time, Your Highness," replied Falo.
"Alright! Edgar, would you come with me?" Lockdar asked.
Edgar followed him out of the forge, to his Uncle Falo's surprise that the two knew each other. Edgar had no idea what this could be about.
To Edgar's astonishment, Lockdar asked how he was doing and feeling. He then warned Edgar not to trust the king, describing him as untrustworthy and deceitful. This baffled Edgar, as the king hadn't made a bad impression on him, quite the contrary.
"I have reasons to believe that he's behind the deaths of three knights from the Circle of the Sun," Lockdar revealed.
"What do you mean?" asked Edgar. "Who was killed? I hope it's not anyone I met last night."
"Yes, it is. Now only Dragomyr and I are left alive. He even tried to kill me, but fortune was on my side, as my sword pierced his heart. He tried to take me down with a dagger. Fool! Never bring a knife to a sword fight," said Lockdar, pulling out a black-handled knife with a snake's head engraved on it.
The only ones aware of the last members of the order were the three young boys, five knights, and King Ludrol. Edgar grasped Lockdar's implications. He suspected the king, believing he might have ordered the assassination of the knights.
Edgar had his doubts, unable to fathom why the king would want the Circle of the Sun to vanish.
"You and Dragomyr are still alive," Edgar remarked, casting a wary glance at Lockdar.
Lockdar understood the insinuation. The young man suspected both him and Dragomyr. Lockdar smiled, appreciating that Edgar was just like his father, Damyen - not ruling out anyone, treating all as potential suspects in any wrongdoing.
In Edgar, Lockdar saw Damyen and his wife, Luna. The young man had entirely inherited their features. Lockdar still deeply missed them; even after thirteen years since their death, he hadn't reconciled with the fact that he would never see them again.
They were his closest friends, the only ones who saw him as an ordinary person, as a friend. Others saw him as the son of King Menums and regarded him with fear.
"You're just like your father! If I could earn their trust, I don't see why I can't earn yours," Lockdar said.
"But you don't have the slightest proof that the king would do such a thing. I suspect you because you're quick to lay everything at the king's feet. Being a prince doesn't mean I should automatically trust you," Edgar countered.
"No one has spoken to me like that in a while. You remind me more and more of your parents..."
The knight stated he hadn't come to prove his innocence but merely advised Edgar to follow him. Someone wanted to speak with them. Lockdar didn't reveal who, making Edgar suspect a trap.
Lockdar noticed the boy's reaction, almost reading his thoughts, then one of the prince's attendants brought a beautiful white horse. Lockdar instructed Edgar to mount and follow him.
Despite his distrust, Edgar decided to follow. He climbed into the saddle and set off. The prince rode a black horse named Arrow.
Arrow, the prince's steed, was more than just a horse; he was a swift ally in times of danger, a creature of remarkable speed and loyalty. In comparison, Edgar's mount, Lightning, was but a young horse, yet possessed a swiftness that was rivaled only by Arrow himself.
As they left the castle's shadow, Edgar and Lockdar rode through the town, heading eastward, toward the unfamiliar trails beyond the city's limits. The prince nudged Arrow with a gentle touch of his heels, signaling the beginning of their journey. Edgar, inexperienced but determined, urged Lightning to follow.
The sensation of riding at such an incredible pace was new and exhilarating for Edgar. The landscape seemed to blur into streaks of color as they sped along the path. It felt almost like flying, the wind rushing past him, filling him with a mix of excitement and apprehension.
Soon, they arrived at the fringe of a vast forest, where ancient trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches weaving a thick canopy above. Here, Lockdar dismounted with practiced ease, and Edgar clumsily followed, ensuring his horse was securely tethered to one of the sturdy trees. The knots he tied were meticulous, reflecting his desire to leave nothing to chance.
As they ventured deeper into the woods, Edgar couldn't shake off a growing sense of unease. The forest, with its dense foliage and quiet ambiance, seemed an ideal setting for an ambush. Despite this, Edgar resolved to face whatever challenges lay ahead, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword for reassurance.
Lockdar moved through the forest with a purposeful silence, his steps sure and calculated. Edgar, trailing behind, speculated about the prince's intentions. Perhaps this was where Lockdar planned to confront him. They continued until they reached an exceptionally large tree, its girth so substantial that it could easily conceal a small chamber within its wooden embrace.
In this secluded part of the forest, under the watchful eyes of ancient trees, Edgar prepared himself for whatever might come next, his trust in the prince mingling with the instinct to defend himself if needed.
Concealed within the ancient bark of the great tree was a door, so well hidden it seemed to be a part of the tree itself. Prince Lockdar pushed it open, revealing a narrow, wooden staircase winding upwards. Edgar, filled with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, followed closely behind. As they ascended, the staircase spiraled upwards, seemingly defying the laws of space and nature. Edgar's head spun slightly with the dizzying height they seemed to be reaching, a puzzling feat considering the tree's outward appearance.
The climb was both lengthy and mysterious, prompting Edgar to question the very nature of this hidden structure. Eventually, they arrived at a wooden door at the top of the staircase. Lockdar opened it with ease, stepping through into a space that defied Edgar's understanding. They found themselves in a cave, an impossibility that baffled Edgar. How could a tree house such a vast, hidden cavern?
Lockdar, undeterred by Edgar's evident confusion, lit a torch and led the way deeper into the cave. The flickering light of the torch cast eerie shadows on the walls as they walked. They soon arrived at a chamber housing three statues of knights, each one meticulously carved and standing in silent vigil.
With a sense of purpose, Lockdar approached the statues. He tapped the middle statue thrice, then the last one twice, and finally the first statue once. A series of mechanical sounds echoed through the chamber, followed by a sudden shift in the ground beneath them. Without warning, the floor opened, and they plunged into the darkness below.
As they fell, Edgar experienced an uncanny sensation of gentle floating, as if the laws of gravity had been momentarily suspended. Opening his eyes to the new reality, he found himself on a vast, endless plain, stretching as far as the eye could see. The transition was so sudden and surreal that Edgar momentarily doubted his own senses. Where were they? How had they arrived at this place from within the depths of a tree? The answers to these questions, he suspected, lay with Prince Lockdar.
Lockdar lay relaxed on the grass, with the old Laryus, the magician from the Tuzmad Monastery, beside him.
"How? Where?" Edgar managed to utter.
He couldn't fathom how they had arrived here, but Lockdar appeared nonchalant, accustomed to such occurrences. Laryus smiled at Edgar's bewildered attempts to make sense of the situation.
"You've passed through a magical portal," Lockdar explained as he got up.
"Why have you brought me here?"
"We don't have time for lengthy explanations," Laryus interjected. "Listen to what we have to say, and you will understand."
"Fifteen years ago, a madman emerged, powerful and with unforeseen abilities. Many believe he is Xal'Adunoss's chosen, the god of evil. It's said he's trying to bring Xal'Adunoss into our world. I don't believe in gods, but I do believe in the power of good and evil," Lockdar declared.
Lockdar revealed to Edgar that this man called himself the Lord of Demons and possessed the power to summon demons. As if that wasn't enough, he had acquired knowledge enabling him to resurrect the dead and enslave them. The individual was determined to amass an army capable of obliterating everything in its path.
"So, we're talking about a sorcerer who practices forbidden arts, right?" Edgar inquired. "No matter how powerful he might be, it will take a significant amount of time to gather an army that poses a real threat."
"Our estimates suggest at least ten years. If we fail to stop him in that time, our world will plunge into chaos," Lockdar responded.
"There was a man who could have easily tracked him down. A man who believed in Xal'Nagus and fought proudly in his name. Your father, Edgar. He was highly skilled and became the most agile fighter. When he was named a wandering knight, his prowess doubled," Laryus added.
"Why do you need me?" Edgar asked.
Lockdar explained that the Lord of Demons had feared Damyen, and their plan was to instill fear in him once again. They intended to transform Edgar into a true warrior.
Edgar understood. The two men intended to use him to lure this dangerous individual. After some thought, he accepted, seeing an opportunity to avenge his parents.
"Who are you, really?" Edgar asked Laryus. "You're not just a mere magician, are you?"
"I am also an oracle, capable of seeing glimpses of the future. I knew your father and warned him, but he chose not to listen to me."
"Why wouldn't he listen to you?" Edgar asked Laryus.
Laryus replied that it was a long story, and if Edgar followed the same path, he would meet the same fate as his parents. It was evident that Laryus knew more than he was willing to reveal. He urged them to close their eyes for a few moments, and they heeded his advice. When they reopened their eyes, they found themselves at the edge of the forest, right where they had left their horses. Edgar was astonished. With such power, Laryus could have ruled the world. Yet, it seemed the Lord of Demons was even more formidable since Laryus feared him.
Lockdar and Edgar mounted their horses and galloped towards the smithy with incredible speed. In less than half an hour, they arrived at the smithy, where Uncle Falo awaited them, holding a massive sword. The sword had a blade with teeth on both edges, and when sunlight reflected off it, the sword was blinding. Edgar had never seen such a weapon in his life.
He wondered how such swords were forged, as only a truly skilled blacksmith could craft such wonders. Why hadn't Uncle Falo taught him to create such marvels?
What Edgar didn't know was that the sword was magical, forged with incomprehensible powers. Lockdar took the sword and strapped it to his back. It was twice as long as the Phoenix. The prince thanked Falo and handed him a pouch containing about twenty gold coins. That was a considerable sum, as his uncle usually received no more than thirty silver coins for a sword.
Lockdar couldn't contain his impatience to try out the newly acquired sword. He swiftly unstrapped it from his back, eager to test its mettle. Challenging Edgar, the young man didn't hesitate for a moment.
Edgar wanted to see what the sword could do, but he stood no chance against its might. With a single strike, the Phoenix sword was knocked from the boy's hand.
Satisfied with the sword's performance, Prince Lockdar strapped it back onto his back. With such a weapon, he could slay even a dragon, though sadly, dragons no longer roamed, the last one having been hunted and killed a decade ago.
Lockdar once again expressed his gratitude to the blacksmith Falo. However, soon after, Falo collapsed, losing consciousness and falling to the ground. Edgar and the prince rushed to the blacksmith's aid. Falo regained consciousness but appeared extremely weakened.
"Uncle! Are you alright?" Edgar asked in concern.
"Edgar, forgive me! I've been ill for a long time. I'm sorry I kept this from you," Falo said, his eyes meeting Lockdar's.
"You'll get better, Uncle! You'll see, we'll forge the finest swords in all of Tuzmad together," Edgar reassured, with a mix of concern and determination in his voice.
"My time has passed... But now, your time has come... Be careful whom you trust, Edgar."
Uncle Falo's breaths grew fainter, each one a dwindling echo of life. His final words, whispered with a tender, fading strength, lingered in the air as he exhaled for the last time, cradled in the arms of his nephew, Edgar. The boy's grip tightened, a desperate plea for his uncle to defy the inescapable clutches of death. But as silence claimed the room, Edgar's pleas gave way to a cascade of tears, each drop a testament to the unspoken bond they shared.
The loss hollowed out a part of Edgar's soul. Uncle Falo had been his mentor, guardian, and the solitary beacon in his life. Now, with his passing, Edgar faced a world rendered void and unfamiliar. The reality of his solitude weighed heavily upon his young heart.
The townsfolk of Tuzmad, led by King Ludrol himself, gathered to bid farewell to Falo. Even the king, a figure of stoic strength, could not hide his sorrow, a solitary tear betraying his composed facade as it traced a path down his cheek, hastily wiped away as if to erase any evidence of his grief.
As Falo's coffin was lowered into the earth, a symbol of finality that Edgar could scarcely bear, he collapsed in despair upon the freshly turned soil. It was then that Prince Lockdar, understanding the depths of loss, stepped forward. He lifted Edgar with a compassionate embrace, his words a gentle allowance for grief. "Let the tears flow, young Edgar. They are the eyes' lament when words fail to capture the heart's torment." His voice, imbued with empathy, offered a small solace in the vast sea of Edgar's grief. In this moment of shared sorrow, Edgar felt a faint glimmer of kinship in the midst of his consuming loneliness.