LXXIX. The Buram horde had rid north, away from the Gap and the lands beyond. They were no longer much of a threat, since the allied armies had conquered on that morrow and their victory was so swift and terrible, it reduced the invading army to a mere third of its original number. However, over one and a half thousand men were enough to still cause some struggle and bother in the northern regions of Thindur—which is to say the vale of Helixy, near the Pass of Hel. The allied could have chased them then and finish them off, but there was some trouble among their own, for the arrival of the Armies of Fyore, though it saved them from their demise—posed the threat of another foe, this once one closer to home. Lord Carathuel, the Black Griffin, was the chief-commander of the Sovarós host and he saw Edwald with loathing eyes.
It had not been little less than over two moons ago that Edwald, Sir Frann and his mentor had come to Fyore and accused his lordly host of crimes and plots, which none had known anything from. Back then, they had managed to flee from Fyore. Yet, once again the odds were on his side, he headed an army, over many-folds the size of his own. So were Edwald to speak against him now, his foe could certainly have his enemies slain.
Strife in the leadership was inevitable.
-“We must chase the Buram Horde, my lord. If we catch the wind now, we might slaughter them all.” Sir Estewan said unto the ‘Lord of Fyore’.
-“Their armies triple and their strengths are failing, sir.” Lord Carathuel said, “Furthermore, there are traitors among our own. We ought to deal with them first ere we chase them on.” He turned his eyes to Edwald.
-“Lord Elbracht…” he said, “Or is it ‘The Wielder of Truth’, as you have called yourself? It seems odd and quaint that you have found your way hither when the hour is so dire and late, and that you ride among outcasts and one of my own regiments as well.”
-“I’ve fought and will fight still alongside my brother and Lord Tyén.” Edwald replied.
-“Lord Tyén… I have almost forgotten about you.” Lord Carathuel said, turning now to him, “You did not answer my call when I bade you and your regiment come to Fyore. Now, I see you standing next to those, who have declared themselves our foes. Why wouldn’t you answer your lord and master’s summons, has the most faithful servant of the Gods turned against his own, his ways turned awry and gone himself rogue?”
-“Your sly, cunning words will not deceive me, cousin.” Lord Tyén said unto his kinsman, “I will not follow the orders of spiders, snakes and murders such as you.”
-“I see you have bought into Lord Elbracht’s stories.” Lord Carathuel said, “It seems the fabled free-making Wielder of Truth can do little more than spread lies. How quaint!”
Oakenjawb glowed red like fire and burnt Edwald on his side. The amount of lies the Black Griffin spat in one blow were enough to wake the sword's powers up.
-“You are the deceiver here, Lord of Lies.” Edwald shouted at him, with brows so frowned, they hid his eyes in shadows. “I can tell no lies, only truths, and I stand still to what I said back in Fyore.”
Lord Tyén was notably annoyed, for he had told Edwald back in Myrlost that now was not the time to deal with the Black Griffin, not while the kingdom was in the middle of a war.
-“We need not discuss this matter here,” Lord Tyén said, “Sir Estewan is right we must hunt down the eastern foes.”
-“Nay, my Lord Tyén, I have had enough of the Buram today, now it is the time to set matters straight. But we will not do it out here in the snow. We shall ride to Ronnos, and hold council there. If any one of you should ride away, and not face trial for their crimes, note, would that the King learns from me that neither my own Sovarós men, nor the Black Cloths that fled or even the Knights of Neldor, who claim to fight in his name, have obeyed a High Lord's request. I will tell him that they have all gone astray and have not come to my calling, thereby becoming enemies of your king and country.”
The Armies of Fyore rode at the front and soon they went all inside Ronnos' walls. Edwald was tempted to go away, yet trusting again that he was the master of his own fate, he chose to stay and face a rigged trial even as he had done so long ago back in his home of Ceor, during the Court of Truths. He had thrived against Ealdormann Corgan’s deceits, why should this case not be the same?
So Edwald’s allied forces did not go astray, they followed the Armies of Fyore into the the castle’s bailey and submitted to the trials of his foe. The layout of the fortress was not unlike that of any other burg in the Realm, yet Ronnos was thrice larger than any common stronghold. It had room for twice as many men as all the victors’ armies put together. There were two large wards, in the outer of which the main army set their camp, while in the inner courtyard a standing and a fire had been arranged for a trial.
The fellowship met there, none was disarmed, yet they were watched over and threatened by a throng of heavy-armed guards loyal to Lord Tyén only. Other lords and marshals were there too, they bore the hues of various houses, yet no flag was flown higher than that of Lord Carathuel; a black griffin on a scarlet field. It waved and fluttered above the towers and spires of the fortress a sign to warn of who was in charge in those lands. On the scaffolding, there was a gold-gilded chair that looked like a throne, upon which wrongfully sat the pretender 'Lord f Fyore'.
-“My lords, we have many traitors and oath-breakers among us today.” Lord Carathuel began. “The question is what to do with them? They did help us against the Buram threat. Yet even without their help, we could have managed to sweep the Buram away. Let us not forget the crimes and transgressions of these men.
“First and foremost we have a liar here today. Lord Elbracht of Keor, has spat and spread ugly accusations about my name, caring little for what consequences they would bring. Then there is his mentor, the freed-made slave, who shares with him an equal blame. Brother Carédock has broken his sacred vows as a monk and has until very recently waved his sword, tainting his blade with the blood of many. Lord Tyén must stand trial as well, for he joined their side without proof of their claim. And most disappointingly, we see a Knight of Neldor allied with them. Your masters back in the White Tower must surely wish to know what has led you astray. Mayhaps you will get a Stone-head, yourself, if there is any guilt to spare for you, since you also joined the side of these rogue men, without a second doubt or thought.”
-“They were shooting arrows down on us; we had to do something to defeat the Buram host.” Sir Estewan tried to excuse himself and his men.
-“You will make your case when comes your turn.” Lord Carathuel said, “For now, let us hear the Lord Elbracht. He may step forth and make his claim.” And he did so, the Black Griffin then noticed the shield he bore. “That shield, I remember well. It was a token of our friendship ere you lost your ways. Does it not pain you to bear in mind, that shield was given in remembrance of our mutual amity, which you so shortly threw away? Does it not weigh in your heart that you have been dishonest and false?”
-“I need not repeat what I have many times already spoken.” Edwald said, coming fully forwards. “What is said is said, and you, my lord, have not deserved that chair. You sit without prerogative on that chair, which neither by the plots, you arranged to aquire it, nor the birthright of the blood in your veins is yours to claim. The blood of the late Lord Hadril is still in your hands, and with crimes and sins of the worst kind, it is you who should stand trial, not I.”
-“You have said enough!” Lord Carathuel hushed him with his yelling, “Your case has been made. Now step backwards; we will hear the next. Master Asadue, step forwards! You may do the same.”
The Hazagodian did as he was told, his garbs were stained with bloody snow and his hands were purple from the cold.
-“I am Lord Elbracht’s trusted tutor and chamberlain.” He began, “I have followed my lord and master whither the Gods wished to take him. And so hither my path has led thus far, and I always loyal to this man. You will not tell of his prowess or gracious deeds in this kingdom, like the freeing of the slaves and the finding of the heir, yet whatever crimes you will impose upon my lord, then sign my name to the blame as well.”
-“That will be enough for the slave,” Lord Carathuel dismiss him scornfully. “Next, we will hear Brother Carédock.”
The one-limbed former knight stepped forth. The Rogue Monk was clad in iron, from head to toe, his black habit hung from the holes, like the dark rags of a homeless or the robes of a ghost. His helmet was strange, for it did not end in a crest, but was a cone of silver top, fashioned after the capirote-hoods of the monks. He took it off and revealed the scar on his eye. His hairs were chestnut brown, and his brows were strangely blond, safe the full-grown beard he had bequeathed from his father, like him his was umber-brown and there was a powerful look in his eyes that mirrored the deep blue of the skies.
-“Brother Carédock, you stand accused of oathbreaking, forswearing your vows, raiding various monasteries and villages north of the River Dúnk, and allying with the traitors, here forth-brought. Do you deny these charges?”
-“To hell with your charges, I am in no mood for trials.” Brother Carédock said and then he returned to his previous place looking as his old self, who for matters such as this could not care less.
-“Guilty, we shall say.” Lord Carathuel said. “Lord Tyén, you may be next.”
Lord Tyén came forwards. His short hair waved like gold in the wind, and his short beard was silver-blond, his brow was wise and broad, his brows were frowned but soft, with eyes beneath as grey as smoke. His face cried ‘Sovarós!’, for he was pure of Griffin Stock*(1), yet in the eyes of most it seemed as if he had fallen from grace, since he had joined Edwald’s side and fought alongside outcast and heretics as well—they very same people, he was known to detest.
-“We shall, now, here your case.” Lord Carathuel said respectfully onto his kinsman.
-“I did not wish to partake in any of this.” Lord Tyén said to his defence. “And yet the fates have seen to it that I get involved in Lord Elbracht’s quest. Aye, he has freed a couple of slaves, and cast shame upon your name, but all he has done has come from the heart, this is a man of noble blood and nobler soul. And when he calls you wrongful and your reign unlawful, he is right to do so.
“Your quarrels with your wife are not unheard of across the kingdom. It is widely known you do not fare well with your lady-wife, our cousin, Aléndra.” As Lord Tyén said this, the other lords shared half-laughs among them. “And just as she had been told the news of the slaughter of her beloved brother, Lord Hadril and his kin; she knew your hand was involved in it.
“Lord Elbracht came to Fyore upon the New Year, and sent by fate and the aid of a truthful blade, he uncovered the truth about their murders. Lady Aléndra knew this and his heart and the beating of another from afar gave her hope that one of her siblings might still be alive. So she came to Lord Elbracht seeking his aid, and to her he swore a pledge, to find the last heir of Lord Hadril’s kin and keep them safe from your plots and designs.
“Through much peril and struggle, Lord Elbracht did find Lord Hadril’s last heir, Sir Antuel Sovarós, of Fyore the rightful lord. He kept his word to Lady Aléndra and delivered him to the safety of my halls where he knew, he would remain unharmed. He has proven his worth, just by keeping his honour and oath. That alone should suffice to follow him. But the fact that Sir Antuel is, indeed, alive, gives air to his claims about the Sovarós’ demise. Thus you are a murderer, Lord Carathuel, a kinslayer and a pretender.”
-“I see you have bought into the lies of the Wielder of Truth.” Lord Carathuel said smirking. “So many holidays at Nalas, I thought you would be on my side in this. It saddens me to see that you've become half the man I used to know. If any of this is true, where is the proof? Where is Sir Antuel, Lord Hadril’s heir? Is he not also dead? or have the Gods brought him back from the grave?”
Just as he said this, a horn was made rung outside beyond the walls. A small company had come, which leader seemed so virtuous and brave as his face was fair and young. The sentries at the gates opened the gates without questioning, for they waved the Griffin’s blazon, and all his men wore the scarlet of the Sovarós. In the outer ward, not many noticed the captain. Yet once inside the inner bailey, where the lords and marshals were gathered, all looked in wonder and awe at the young man who came in riding at the fore. The boy was none other than Sir Antuel Sovarós, the very man Lord Carathuel had just spoken of and had proclaimed dead over two months ago.
Like a daughter-star of the sun, the light that was set upon the face of Sir Antuel was like a foresight of the righteous, as if Lord Hadril himself had come uninvited from beyond the Abyss of Death*(2) and shone alive again through the semblance Sir Antuel bore of him. In his mind, he must have felt content, for now he could feel that only in breathing on—keeping alive one’s own soul—he could honour his dead family, and carry the legacy of their name.
-“What is the meaning of this?” Sir Antuel asked estranged to see his friends and allies standing in line as if about to punish. “These men are my friends, my blood and allies, Lord Carathuel. I demand you set them free, or am I not the rightful lord here?”
All the marshals and noblemen there gathered recognised the young man, for most had seen him before, either in the Gryphnest of Fyore or in his many progresses across the kingdom. They bent the knee to Sir Antuel’s horse and acknowledged his claim to the Grayth-throne, since he was the eldest and most senior heir in the line of succession to the House Sovarós. None was above him in standing, but the King. And all the Armies of Fyore were loyal only to him by right of blood and birth, depriving Lord Carathuel of his rank and title without any words but his presence alone.
All of a sudden, the Black Griffin was Lord of Fyore no more; he was once again just Lord Carathuel of Beardt and if he followed the norm, he was yet to pay obeisance to his rightful master and overlord. He stood up from his chair-throne and gazed at Sir Antuel with a thrilling shock.
-“My most high and rightful lord!” The spider began to drawl her flattery. “How it gladdens my heart and soul to see you sound and safe once more!” He raced to embrace his brother-in-law, even though Sir Antuel remained sat on his horse. Lord Carathuel then bent the knee to him, and raised his hands open above his head, which he bowed before him.
-“Here and now, I pledge my fealty to you, Son of Elorio III, heir of the brave Griffin, Lord Antuel Sovarós of Fyore, Prince-Elector of Thindur!” Lord Carathuel before the eyes of all—mayhaps just as a trick to gain the trust of his fellow lords—pledged his allegiance to the blond boy.
-“I should have no love nor regard for you, cousin.” Lord Antuel said, “As I have been told, you were behind the slaughter of mine own kin, my brothers and sisters and niece. I escaped from your steel grip almost an hour too late, for had I not managed to flee, I would have been slain as well. Who else but you could benefit most from our deaths? You have lied your way up the ladders steps; had you reached even the Crown of Men, the whole Realm would have fallen to your greed and power-thirst.”
-“Forgive me, my High-Lord.” Lord Carathuel said, “I have been too blind to not believe my wife when she shared with me her hopes that you still may be alive. Yet to cast such blame upon me without a second thought is unbecoming of your noble post. Are there proofs to attest to these claims? If there are none, then you too could have been misled by the deceit and cunning of the men you call ‘friends’.”
-“These men who I call friends, have brought me out of the dark, have fought and struggled and even some have died to deliver me safely to my kinsman’s halls, the only place, where I could be safe from your claws. These men have done all what their might and nature has to offer for my sake. You hid in my castle all the while, as the north was being torn apart. It is you who should stand trial, not them.”
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-“My lord speaks wisely as befits his grace. Just like your brother you are, and twice as merciful if I may imply.” Lord Carathuel began to weave his web. “Nevertheless, my lord, if I should face trial, then some proofs must be brought forth, and if none can be found the men who lie to your ear are truly traitors and not the heroes they claim to be. We should have them slain here and now, for their sins against the Gods and their offences against our house.”
Edwald knew that though filled with deceit and cunning, Lord Carathuel was right. For a lord to be put to trial must needs there be either evidence of their wrongdoing or a formal confession, which seemed unlikely, but not to Edwald. He knew they could only claim the things they said and the witnesses were all dead. Nevertheless, there was a way, Lord Carathuel could admit his blame, if only he could get a hold of his Dwarven blade.
-“I wish to confess!” Edwald said stepping forth again. “I will confess to my crimes and if he deems them to be true, Lord Carathuel can execute me himself.”
Lord Carathuel gained an evil hope, which was mirrored in his eyes, they glowed green with malice and behind in his mouth there was a smirk.
-“Are you certain of this, Edwald?” Lord Antuel asked his friend.
-“I am, my lord.” he replied, “I have but one request. If found guilty, I wish to be slain with my own blade, Lord Carathuel may be the headsman. But if I am guiltless, I will question the Lord of Beardt, myself, and if he is to blame, I ask for the right to execute him instead.”
-“Your wish is granted, my Lord Elbracht.” Lord Antuel said, knowing very well what it was that he meant.
Lord Carathuel was oblivious to their unspoken plot. He was thrilled in joy that he could have his foe slain and with him dead, all his sins would be washed away. He met with Edwald in the middle of the courtyard, and Lord Antuel took his kinsman chair, and sitting there from above he headed the council and bore witness to this challenge. The Lord of Ceor drew out his sword; he took its hilt and point in both hands and gave it over to Lord Carathuel.
With Oakenjaw in his hands, the Black Griffin felt a surge of might. To the touch, the steel was so cold it burned, for the hands that wielded ‘Sooth’ were wet of lies, deceit, guile, falsehoods, half-truths and many more evil wrongs better left unnamed. The grip of the sword loathed the hands that bore it. Whatever the pain of gripping the sword, Lord Carathuel would not let go so easily of his chance to kill his foe. He took up the brand aloft as Edwald knelt gracefully before his headsman. With him so willing to die, Lord Carathuel wished to leave the questions unasked and slay him right there and then. Were he to do so, however, it could play out the wrong way for him. Killing a lord paramount is no lesser offence; it could cause a whole kingdom to rage and hate, if he were killed in an unlawful manner. Therefore the Black Griffin played it safe and asked the first question, his hands tainting the hilt with his blood.
-“Lord Elbracht, when you arrived in Fyore, you accused your host of the most heinous charges.” Lord Carathuel said. “You claimed I was behind the murder of mine own kindred, which insults me deeply. Whom did you hear this gossip from?”
-“I was told by a monk on our way to Fyore.” Edwald lied purposefully.
-“You lie!” Lord Carathuel could not retrain himself from saying. “You were told these truths by this sword; it whispered to you the secrets of the things that had passed as it does to me now!”
Though we know he spoke only the truth, he could not help but be seen as a madman by his noble peers. And this was only the beginning; the more he spoke, the more prestige and standing he lost.
-“How did you confirm this premise?” Lord Carathuel asked.
-“Your wife came to me in the night and told me herself.” Edwald said wittily, for the lords of Thindur had all laughed at his joke. All the charisma the Black Griffin had was picked up by his foe, who used it against him. “Is that not true, my lord?”
-“It is!” Lord Carathuel said in shame, he was not sure why he said it, it just seemed the right thing to do, and with the sword in his hand, he could simply not avoid it.
-“Ask me more, my lord, do you not wish to see my head roll?” Edwald dared him and Lord Carathuel took the bait.
-“Did you not say that I had my late lord Hadril murdered?” Lord Carathuel asked lifting further up the sword.
-“I did, and I stand by what I said!” Edwald said, his voice getting louder in tone. “Can you deny, you had any part in their slaughter? Did you not play in the shadows and plotted for the murder of your own kin?”
The question broke Lord Carathuel’s mind in two. He could not say what was not true, and though he had not realised this by then, he had rather had cut off his tongue than say the things he said, thereupon.
-“I cannot! I cannot deny it!” Lord Carathuel yelled in distress. It was as if his own mouth had betrayed him. All the lies had vanished and now only truth he could speak, a concept to which he was not very keen.
-“It is truth, it is truth, all of it is true!” Lord Carathuel whined in despair.
Edwald, standing once more, took back his sword from the ice-burnt hands of his foe—its hilt still wrapped with some strains of skin and frozen blood. He grapped Lord Carathuel by the shoulder and forced him onto his knees before him.
Edwald wore the face and name of Lord Elbracht again, and wielding his sword of truth by the hilt as if praying he said in subtle words Lord Carathuel last sentencing.
-“In the name of His Grace, Medrios second of the name, King of the High and Lesser Men, rightful heir to the Crown of Adein, Master of the Order and Sword of the Faith, I, Lord Elbracht Clasthaur of Keor, Prince-Elector of Harador, sentence you, Lord Carathuel Sovarós of Beardt, to die for your lies and sins, against the Gods and the Throne. May the Gods have mercy on your soul. Have you any last words, my lord?”
-“Truths are not absolute.” Were Lord Carathuel’s last words, after which he bowed down his head, shutting his eyes; they would open no more.
Edwald took his blade aloft without regret or pity, and he let it fall upon his foe. The bone was broken, the flesh was gashed, and the head of a liar went rolling across the yard, leaving a trail of blood on its path. Lord Antuel’s face twisted as the head of his cousin stopped before his chair, and lying bodiless upon the snow, Lord Carathuel’s dead eyes starred at him one last time, and then they were closed. And so ended the brief and wrongful rule of the Black Griffin: betrayed by his own tongue.
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LXXX. The pretender’s blood had made a mess of mud and red blood in the courtyard of Ronnos. His remains were laid on a chapel, as a mercy so the Gods might forgive his sins in life, yet with so much pain and death brought about by his hand, it was hard for most to believe he had deserved any kindness. The banners of the Black Griffin were brought down and burnt. In their stead other standards were hoisted of the proud, rampant, Golden Griffin of the Sovarós on a scarlet field.
The morrow had past, the skies had cleared out, and the song of the vale was heard in the wintry wind. It had been half a day since the trial; time was of the essence. So, the Leadership of the armies convened in council, which now consisted not only of Edwald and his fellowship, but also of all the vassal-lords and generals that headed the Armies of Fyore. Lord Antuel outranked them all, since he was the lord paramount in the kingdom of Thindur and to Brother Carédock, Edwald and Asadue, he was also the host. Though by his high authority and pure nobility Lord Antuel was expected to speak first, he took Edwald in his hand and both men embraced in brotherly love before the eyes of everyone. This came as a shock for most, and yet some laughed in approval. The laughter turned to mirth, the jokes became blessings, and soon all noblemen, knights and their retinues began to cheer, and hailed both lords and the ties of amity they had bound with a hug.
He ordered a chair to be fetched and they set it just beside his own, conveying—as they had done before—that they were no longer wanted men nor outcast in the run, but rather two right and lawful High Lords of the Realm, beneath them were the armies, wealth, resources, peoples and lands of two of the mightiest kingdoms in Hilyum, together they had command over the two largest and strongest armies of Menn’*(3), if they so willed they could win a war against all the other Great Houses on their own and claim for either of them the both all their riches or the Throne. All of this, they were now capable of, for with this humble sign of friendship, the ancient league of their two houses had been restored. Without knowing whither his path would lead, with this embrace Edwald gained that, which, as a ruler, he wanted the most: the amity with his neighbours to the north.
He looked at the heavens and sensed that all this time the fates had favoured him after all. He sat on the chair beside his friend and ally and commenced the council.
-“My lords, pray be seated.” Edwald said, and all sat on their stone chairs, in a lordly chamber within the keep of Ronnos. Then he went on to say, “Though the death of Lord Carathuel the Sly must have come as a rude awakening to you all, we must not forget that there are still some among us to whom ties were very strong. So before we can start with the business of war, we must first get rid of those who along with the late ‘prentender’ were involved in dark plots and are therefore not to be trusted.”
Not all commanders were pleased with the idea, yet since Edwald’s fellow captains—Brother Carédock, Lord Tyén, and Sir Estewan—were so hasty to agree to this, all of the other lords agreed too to prove none of them had been complaisant with the former Lord of Fyore. Some of them, however, were fretting in their knees as they saw what Lord Elbracht intended.
-“Bring forth my sword!” Edwald ordered his retinue. “Each and every single one of you, shall put your hand on the hilt of my sword, we shall see, who among you, are men of their word.”
As he had instructed it was done. Each and every single one of those lords put their hands on the sword. Luckily for them, only about a third of them had had dark dealings with Lord Carathuel. Their cases would later be examined, for the time being though they were thrown in a dungeon, while the loyal men of the war council deliberated.
-“Now that we are all here, we must first hear reports about our forces.” Edwald said, “What are our numbers?”
-“Before the rescue of the armies of Fyore, we had lost almost half of our forces and the Buram only less a third of theirs.” Master Asadue said, "Notwithstanding, since all of our forces are now one. Our armies are near the sixteen thousand men strong. Though infantry is comprised of both seasoned warriors and newly come recruits, the cavalry force is quite formidable. Five thousand riders we have among the regiments.”
-“It’d be a waste not to use these numbers against the Buram Horde,” Lord Antuel said, “We should march at once to the north.”
-“They’re already out of our reach.” Sir Estewan said crossed. “Had it not been for Lord Carathuel’s games and plots, by now we could have had finished them off.”
-“It’ll do us no good to cast faults now, Sir.” Edwald said, “We may still have the advantage. Your men ride the strongest mount there is, no common hack can outpace the Neldor cob in speed. You must take your brothers in arms with you and hinder their march ere the cross the River Dúnk.”
-“But, we do not have enough men to engage in battle against the Buram.” Sir Estewan said, “Is another company with us?”
-“No, you and your fellow knights will be riding on your own.” Edwald said, rather coldly, “Yet, we do not want you to battle them, only raid them on their way north. You will slow them down as best you can until our armies are near enough the Buram Host.”
-“That could work. I shall leave at once!” Sir Estewan said, but even as he was leaving the chamber, Lord Antuel bid him stop.
-“Sir Estewan, You may wish to take your company to the northwest.” He said, “Your horses do well on high terrain, and the skirts of the mountains are not so sheer up there. Take that course and it will save you time to reach the Buram Host.”
-“Gods’ speed, Sir Estewan,” Lord Antuel bid farewell.
-“My High-lords,” the knight said bowing his head to both men.
Sir Estewan left the chamber and with him also went three other knights of his order.
-“The War council grows smaller, Mentor.” Brother Carédock said unto the Tutor Asadue on his right, “At the end it’ll be only us three, Elbracht you and me making the choices. Keep it in the family, the say it.”
-“I don’t think your brother would like to start an alliance only with his blood and kin,” Asadue argued, “There are a fifteen thousand Sovarós Soldiers outside these walls, they do not follow us, young Master Carédock, rather they serve the Lord of Fyore.”
-“And? What’s the point? He only must needs shape his words, and he can sway all this lords like dogs to do his bidding. Brother knows how to play the game, mentor.” Carédock said half-smiling, “You forget your pupil was born and raised to be a lord, one must know the rules of the game to deal with these sort men.”
-“What game do you mean, Master Carédock,” Asadue asked, “This is not a child’s play, this is the talk of full grown men.”
-“And yet, all of these ‘full-grown’ men all play it every day.” Carédock said, “Just watch and hear, mentor, you will notice it on your own.”
Edwald and Antuel’s chairs were the same height, and still the former’s seemed taller, but it wasn’t the seat that a greater size, it was the air and look of Edwald that outstaged even the noble features of a Sovarós lord. In the games of sway—to which Brother Carédock had just referred—the wealthy and strong often either bought or fought their way to higher ranks and prestige. It was mostly a game of wits, in which the clever were the best players and the slow and loath were easy to outsmart.
-“This Buram horde you mention, my lord. How are we not certain they were not sent by a neighbouring state or else an enemy of closer to home? It could be that the Nyensore*(4) tried to subdue us as they had done hundreds of years ago.”
-“The whole Realm knows that Lord Senthaig the Plain is too busy building boats to bother sending forces to Thindur.” Edwald said. “Neither was it the Rumiel, the Mountain-men take too long to travel to a joust, I bet it’ll take them twice as long just to flow down the River Dúnk. The enemy we’ve all fought were all of the Buram Folk; you saw this with your own eyes, did you not? You saw their curved blades, their twisted iron gear, and their foreign colours. They were five thousand strong before most of you came, yet even now that they are not half as strong, they pose still quite threat in the north.”
-“With them on their leash they might take and raid the cities and towns of the northern vale.” Lord Antuel said, “If Sir Estewan succeeds in delaying their march, we might be hasty enough to reach them by the Pass of Hel.”
Edwald heard those words echo in his ears. The Pass of Hel was the last place all his visions led to. There his fate turns grey and uncertain; he did not even know whether he’d live past the duel that would take place there. His path was at long last leading him towards the Pass, and whatever the Fathers had prepared for him up there, Edwald had fear, he could not see beyond that event, it was all he knew could come, to that mirage fast was his grip. Yet the plan was clear and all lords agreed. So, he put away his sorrows and left the hall with his fellow lord and peer.
Whereof they spoke alone, much is guessed and deduced, since nowhere in Master Asadue’s copious tellings is there any reference to this conversation ever taking place. Ender the Bard claims they shared “…songs of legends, tunes of friendship…”, yet also his prose fails to convey anything about that which they spoke. Lord Tyén made his made the claim that they talked about the question of Brother Carédock and his offences against the realm, for though he did his best to defend the kingdom of Thindur from the invading force, his raids and exploits prior the battle were very well-known as well, so since it was hard to avoid these matters, they must have discussed about how to deal with him, or so Lord Tyén thought. Alas, there is too little weight to this premise. Asadue’s account attest that it was never unclear in Edwald’s mind that he would not take his brother back to the Culgarost, instead he would take him home with him back to Ceor, even as he had sworn to his lady mother. Thus, it is unlikely they talked about Lord Tyén’s concerns behind those doors.
Whatever the secrets attached to this meeting, therein the fate of both their kingdoms was decided; it was then that Lord Elbracht and Lord Antuel seeded the tree of their rekindled league, and all the fruits that it would spring, and many times in the coming years there would be references back to this instance.
Although Lord Antuel was not known to trust onto paper any meaningful thoughts or memories of his life, there are some scrolls that have survived the cruel pass of time even to this day. Among the few accounts that remain from him, there were some passages found, which told of Edwald sharing his mind and advice with him, regarding the value of a freedom. Given the detailed rendering of some of these stories, we may build upon them to rough out how their conversion could have played out.
-“Has the weight of your new post already begun to take its toll?” Edwald might have asked, “You will be playing this game all life long.”
-“I was born in Fyore and raised in Culgarost, my lord.” Antuel said, “I’ve known the game since I was very young. I am no stranger to the vultures’ feast and the lords’ secret plots. I am a victim of one of my own kin and blood, I should know rather a fair share of them.”
-“Aye, there is much darkness and shadow at the top,” Edwald replied, “And yet those who suffer the most are not often above, on the mountain’s summit, but down bellow where the storm hits hardest. If all our time together since we left the Pass of the Elves, and all the perils and foes we struggled against in our journey hither, if any of what we’ve been through together should be of some worth to you, I would beg you to remember the lives and folks you came to know. Remember their names, Sir Hans, The Old Warden of the Tomb, Alen the Tar, and the goodwife Eridda all of who helped us in our hour of need; they are all but only a few of the thousand lives who are now under your rule. Do not lead them astray; offer them rather the hope of brighter days. Where so many before you have failed, try your best to deliver on your duties. May just and righteous be your reign.”
-“The Goodwife Eridda, I shall never forget,” Antuel said with tearful eyes, “He gave so much for us, though she was bereft of all love and respect, she held on to the hope of better days, and to the end she kept her faith.”
-“Though chains bound her hands and neck, in soul and heart, hardly any woman has been freer than her.” Edwald said, proud to remember her this way. “Still some of her pain should not have been hers in the first place. She was born a slave, and all her life she struggled with her chains. Her family too, all were born the same, and her master was cruel to both her lot and her; she persevered, nonetheless. Is this not proof enough of her worth, she did not deserve the iron around her neck, and neither have the many folks that just like her, have struggled and struggle still in places like Hebrom, the Chain Exchange.
“Many lives there are in this realm, which have suffered and will suffer the same fate as her, if none of these things is changed. You said you will honour the legacy of your kindred and your forefathers by taking on the role you have assumed, but will their faults and mistakes go unchecked for the sake of their bequest? Will you keep on the legacy of half-truths and half-peace you fore-bearers forged, or will you else change the norm and be the first of many lords to break the bonds of the thrall?”
The outcome of this last talk would be of distinct significance in the years to come, and the rekindling of this league of old, meant the beginning of a new age for both Ceor and Fyore, in kingdoms where slaves would be no more.