Godric was at a loss for words. A man of legendary status stood before him. He was the pride of the Citadel itself and the greatest swordsman in the history of Men. The lad shook his hand, still finding difficulty that in a mere span of months, he had found himself in this position.
"M-my name is Godric, Sir Byronard. It is truly an honor to meet a legend such as yourself." His grip was firm and warm. His hand was coarse, presumably from years of fighting. Godric bowed down out of respect for his reputation as a warrior and as the acting regent of Primera. "Come now, there's no need for that lad. You'll embarrass us both." Byronard replied as the royal guards behind him chuckled. "I've forsaken my titles and birthright long ago, and now only act as a soldier and the acting regent while our kingdom has yet decided on one. Treat me as you would any other, and you'll find that we'll get along fine."
Godric stepped back and nodded, acknowledging his request as King Ithilien took his place. "It has been a while, Sir Byronard. Have all the other houses gathered?" The elven ruler asked.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Apart from House Wintertomb, all Great Houses are accounted for. Caine Dewblossom, the eldest of his house will stand in place for House Polifio. It would be best to hurry--they're all anxiously awaiting your arrival."
After Byronard stopped speaking, a large bell echoed from Wolfsbane Keep. What immediately followed was an intense pressure of mana that burst from above. Godric described it as a cacophony of contrasting elements, jarring and painful to the senses. What is this? He asked himself as he knelt, seemingly affected by the flow of magic scattered all across the Capital. He looked toward the rest, who stood unaffected by the event. Incredible, he thought.
"Come now, Godric. You best prepare yourself for what is to come. In the face of the highborn, never show weakness." Lady Tryst grasped his arm and helped him back up to his feet. "Thank you, milady," Tryst responded to Godric's gratefulness with a smile. "There you go." She replied.
"It appears that the others have noticed your presence, my lady and Your Majesty. Let's be off now, shall we?" Sir Byronard said as he led the way up the steps. Godric and the others followed, accompanied by the rest of the royal guard.
Several hundred steps later, they then found themselves atop the cliff that overlooked the city. Godric and company walked along the palnezite path that led to the entrance to the keep where a marble statue was found. Godric took a good look at it, recognizing the figure as Unrel Wolfsbane, the founder of House Ilyn. The statue depicted the king carrying a zweihänder into battle. It looked oddly similar to the one that Sir Byronard had strapped to his back. It was a majestic piece of work and was as tall as the wielder, but the leader of the royal guards showed no difficulty carrying such a daunting weapon. Godric found himself protecting his eyes from looking at the weapon for too long as from time to time, Godric was sure that the steel was changing in color; from a dull, gray luster the blade shifted into a blinding, white glow.
"If I were you, I wouldn't stare at it for too long," Mikal whispered behind him. "Lest you prefer to be blinded, please be my guest." Godric silently nodded and caught up with Faelar, who was waiting.
The wooden doors of the keep swung open, revealing a massive, stony hall that cornered off into different sections. "We'll be okay from here. Guard the doors, men. Ensure no one enters and leaves this room except for us and the other lords and ladies." The royal guards bowed and immediately returned outside, closing the doors behind them. "We're almost there. Follow me, please." Byronard said as they all walked toward another massive set of doorways at the end of the hall being guarded by two royal guards. As they approached, the guards swung open the doors to reveal a large chamber filled with over a dozen people. It was decorated with two long tables made out of an unknown material. At the center, was a large circular piece of marble that displayed an intricately carved map of Primera and the lands beyond. The tables were also outfitted with six chairs each, with a thirteenth seat being an empty throne that was laid out in front of them.
There was also a stone table with seats representing the independent kingdoms: one for the Abussonians, or Mermen, as the common folk would call them, one for the Elves, and two for the Dwarves with two rulers at this age.
Godric looked at each of them and instantly knew that the people already in the room were no less than the heads of every Great House of Men.
"I sincerely apologize for letting you wait so long, my lords and ladies. I failed to see the danger that befell Rosetown and I failed to assist Lord Mikhael in his time of need, so I am partly to blame for this incident." The elven king said as he stepped forward and apologized to the others.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Your Majesty." A man dressed in simple, yellow-colored clothing replied to the king's apology. "As the only other Great House nestled in the south apart from yours and the Polifios, I am embarrassed that we too were unable to act before it was too late." He continued.
Godric looked at his face and recognized him as Lord Augustus Hawthorne, also renowned as the Knight of Thorns. He was a prominent figure in the South. He participated in every tourney that would be held in the southern regions. The people adored him as he used to be common folk like them, but was raised to nobility after the sickly, previous head of House Hawthorne revealed his identity as his bastard and only living heir, thus legitimizing Augustus and granting him the right to rule over House Hawthorne and lower houses sworn to them.
News spread at first that he was undeserving of the title, especially since a few other leaders questioned his capabilities. However, he let his actions speak for themselves as the Hawthorne lands prospered under his guidance, his people were fiercely loyal to him, and Godric could say that they would be willing to lay down their lives if needed.
"I agree, but I cannot bring myself to say that you are innocent of guilt, Augustus." A man around Lord Hawthorne's age was seated at a window said, as he played with an oddly shaped throwing axe. He wore violet-hued leather armor and had bruised features. "If anything, you should've been more attentive. You are, after all, the head of your house. You were being lazy and inattentive if I were to be honest." He continued, mocking Augustus.
"Behave yourself, Lord Davenmere," Tryst chimed in, breaking the tension that was building up between the two. "We were all caught off-guard by this news. If anything, we should be grateful that it was not our people who fell victim to this incident, and that we should instead band together to find a solution." She explained, confident and unwavering.
She truly is Evander's cousin, Godric thought to himself. "Now, I suggest we all sit down and begin this gathering. With each fleeting moment, we only leave ourselves vulnerable to an increasing and unknown danger." She continued as Lord Davenmere responded with an annoyed grunt while Lord Hawthorne sat down, showing respect to Lady Huntingborne's words.
"What she says is true. I suggest that every one of you take this seriously. This is no laughing matter. From what I know, things will get messy moving forward. That, my friends, I promise you." A bearded man in sapphire blue armor with a pinned sigil of a trout on his chest spoke out. "Byronard, ask someone to bring food and water. We're going to be in here for quite a while." He continued as he sat down and began to pour crimson-colored wine into a cup.
"No need to worry about that, Lord Dunwick," Byronard replied. "I've prepared everything to ensure that this abrupt summons will go as smoothly as everyone wants it to be." The bearded man smiled after hearing Byronard's words.
The regent stood before the empty throne and turned to face everyone present. "I now kindly ask everyone to please take your seats and present your symbols of power." The rest followed suit and one by one, removed the rings which they wore on their fingers. King Ithilien took his place and sat beside the two emissaries from the Abussonian and Dwarven kingdoms, who carried emblems that signified their status as substitutes in place of their lieges.
"Let us begin this council. Now, the representative for House Dewblossom, please step forward."
A figure wearing steel armor and a green cloak stepped out of the shadows. "Pardon me, my lords and ladies. In place of my liege lord, I offer only my presence." He removed his helm, decorated with what Godric presumed to be a griffin's feather, and placed it on the table.
"Caine Dewblossom, was it not?" Augustus asked the man. "Yes, Lord Augustus." He responded.
"I understand you are here to represent the Polifios, and I mean no offense--but where is your father? Shouldn't he be the one participating in these proceedings?"
Caine adjusted his armor and sheath as he sat down beside Lord Davenmere. "My father is currently preoccupied with keeping the peace in our parts of the South. As luck would have it, I was closest to the Capital when I received the news, so he sent me. That way, it would also not go against my missing liege lord's orders to hunt down all runaway prisoners."
Runaway prisoners? Godric thought to himself. The knight's response cleared the question lingering in his mind after he spotted the green cloaks interrogating villagers in rather harsh manners when he attempted to return to Mistveil Forest. Hearing his statement also made Godric realize that he might be responsible for the actions coming from the soldiers, all of which had left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Caine suddenly looked in his direction by accident and noticed his presence. "Oh, and who might you be? My birds told me to expect new faces, but for you to be amongst King Ithilien's company, I'd be lying if I said I was not intrigued." He continued as the rest of the council also turned to face Godric, their gazes like daggers.
King Ithilien stood from his seat to answer the burning question. "This is Godric," he said as he approached the young man and presented him to the council.
"This young mortal entered my lands and accidentally trespassed into our sacred glade; an action which is punishable by death as written in the Codex. However, the old gods and my council saw fit to give him a near-impossible task to redeem himself, and he was successful. I've already granted him an honorary seat on my council and sanctuary in all elven lands. After all, what better reward could I give to the one who was able to retrieve our House's long-lost relic?"
"This pup was able to retrieve the tears?" The dwarven emissary asked the elven king. "Well, color me impressed. You must be a skillful warrior then." He continued.
"A skillful warrior indeed, Khandem. He is also a hidden prodigy as well. For those unaware, Godric is an awakened being."
The heads of the other houses spoke in whispers after hearing the elven king's words. Ithilien looked at him as if he were deciding on something, and then back to Byronard.
"Godric, since the other houses are here, I believe it is the perfect time and place to reveal a secret I've kept from you for so long. Sir Byronard, if I may?" The regent of Primera nodded in approval as Godric looked at Ithilien, confused while Faelar and the others listened intently.
"Thank you. For those who do not know our glade, the sacred fountain from which he drank the waters is of primordial origin and is as ancient as the old gods. No one, not even me, can survive such purity of magic. A single drop alone is enough to lose oneself to madness, or even worse, death itself."
"However, for reasons unknown, he came out of it unscathed. The mortal fell into a deep slumber, that is true but experienced no side effects after waking up, at least from our observations. After tasking my children to look after him, I instructed my son to forcefully awaken his mana through the same process all elves go through, and he did so in such unprecedented fashion, only second to my son."
Ithilien narrated the events thoroughly. As more time passed, the other heads became more curious about the young man rather than the Rosetown incident, as his case became another topic of interest.
"From what house are you from, boy? Such talent in mana can only be present in people who have the blood of the great houses coursing through their veins." A grim-faced man with deathly white hair and pale lips suited in dark and gold asked. He had fur that decorated the shoulder guards of his armor. He bore a greatsword that had serrated edges placed beside his seat.
"That would be the question we all would like to know the answer to as well, Lord Grimguard," King Ithilien replied. "From what he has told us, Godric here is an orphan. He was found by Dale Blackwood, also known as the Ironclad, and was raised by the farmhands in Rosetown." Murmurs between each leader echoed throughout the room.
"Rosetown? He must be a bastard of Mikhael's then," Lord Davenmere exclaimed. "And here I thought that the Warden of the South was the perfect example of a good person. Hah! Turns out he had dirty little secrets after all."
"I believe that your claims might be wrong, Lord Davenmere. Godric never gained any knowledge of mana until he was taught before his trial, and, according to my children, has yet to discover his foundation of magic." King Ithilien replied. "I see. Also, he does not carry the strong features present in every member of their house. You look nothing alike." Augustus chimed in.
"Well, this day has been surprise after surprise." Said Byronard as he stood, perplexed.
"Indeed, what a strange fellow you are, Godric. What should we do with him?" Lord Dunwick said as he drank his wine and stared at the young man. The room fell silent as they waited on Sir Byronard's decision.
"His case will be put on hold for now. I'll see to it personally. Let us go back to our original proceedings as we've strayed too far enough already," he exclaimed. "Are we all in agreement?" The heads of each Great House nodded in acknowledgment.
"Pay close attention, Godric. We will be here for quite some time. Also, looking at the individuals in the room, who knows what will happen next." Faelar whispered in his ear as he pulled him back into a corner of the room, with ears locked into the council meeting.
"Good. Let us begin. Our first topic focuses on House Polifio. I called you here because of the disappearance of Rosetown, its citizens, and the members of the great house. That much is true. However, I've received troubling news that complicates things, implying that there is more to this than what meets the eye. As it turns out, if you recall, a ransacking of the ancestral seat occurred many moons ago. Based on what Lord Browgan had told me, nature magic was used to quell the chaos and escapees." Byronard explained, garnering an array of reactions from the gathered lords and ladies.
"Impossible! Has Mikhael gone mad?! After what we and his father did years ago, is he that stupid as to ruin our hard work in keeping the peace?" A plump, yet pompous woman exclaimed, shocked and angry.
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"It is hard to believe, Lady Alderth, but after an investigation conducted by the royal guards, and statements from witnesses, we can confirm that nature magic was indeed used. Traces of Polifio mana still linger in the now-smoldering ruins of Rosetown." Byronard replied. "We have no choice but to put him on trial for this. The sacred vow was made here in these very halls twenty-three years ago, and no one is above the rules--especially a member of a great house."
"What about the magic responsible for Rosetown's disappearance, Sir Byronard? Have we determined what foundation of magic was used?" A tall man dressed in a greyish-white robe asked calmly. Godric compared his voice to that of silk, smooth and clear.
"The guards looked into that as well, Lord Silverkind. However, they were unable to discern its foundations. I sent one of the academy's finest students to Raven's Nest with a sample, hoping that the Grand Scholar could look into this matter. I've yet to receive any word since then." Byronard said as the lord let out a sigh.
"What makes things worse, is that we were unable to determine the foundation of magic used. We all know that each Great House specializes in a specific foundation of magic that can branch off into a related form. Every leader in this room knows each other's capabilities. We've come to two possible conclusions: one, that this might be a declaration of war from another kingdom, or, that Lord Mikhael and his vassal houses are proactively starting a rebellion."
Caine stood up in defiance after hearing Sir Byronard's words. "This is madness! Lord Mikhael would never do such an act of treason! I saw him personally in the aftermath of the ransack. I received orders to hunt down all the escapees from the chaos that ensued, I did and I will continue to do so after this meeting is concluded. On that, you have my word as a knight." He exclaimed, defending his liege lord in front of the other heads who looked at him and were unsure of what to think.
"He indeed used magic, for I could feel the traces of mana. However, for him to start a rebellion? I cannot and will not accept such accusations against my liege lord, good sir." Caine said as a stout man with a bronze-colored beard seated beside Lord Silverkind stood up on the table.
"Shut 'yer trap and behave yourself, boy! Vows are vows, and he broke one of the most important ones in all of Primera's history. Once we find him, we will put him on trial. If the court finds him innocent, then no harm shall come to him or his house, simple as that." He continued.
"And tell me, Lord Coppermouth, why should I trust the words of a man who I heard had tucked his tail between his legs and hid like a coward when the infighting arrived on his shores? You swore to lead, however you let your people die during the war, and what did you do? Nothing, I presume." Caine shot back at the head of the coastal house, who had now raised his trident in anger.
"Remember your place, brat! You have no idea what happened in those days, the agony I went through!" He looked at Byronard, who was observing the ensuing commotion. "Permit me to gut this spoiled boy like a fish, Byronard! To remind him who he's talking to!" He screamed as he pointed his weapon at the eldest son of House Dewblossom.
"Come now! I've yet to face your people. Let us see if Coppermouths truly are as lucky as history claims them to be. " He stood as he drew his rapier. Caine then gave a devious smile, turning him into a completely different person from earlier, and pointed it at the head of the great house.
"Oh dear," Tryst whispered to herself. Augustus looked concerned at the growing tension in the room as Lord Davenmere cackled. "Gyahahahaha! This should be fun! I guess the trip was worth it after all."
"Silas! Behave yourself!" Lady Alderth responded. "No, no. Let them blow off some steam, Lady Alderth," A lady who was near Godric and Tryst's age spoke. She wore midnight, glassy black armor that was outfitted with ebony and her expression was passive, along with her tone. Godric described her to be similar to a doll; fragile and lifeless. "It's not worth meddling with such barbaric affairs."
"With all due respect, Lady Blackstone, perhaps that was not the best response." The Abusonnian emissary said as the room slowly descended into a chaotic mess. Lords Silvermere and Grimguard had now held back Lord Coppermouth from taking another step closer, while Augustus attempted to calm Caine down through words.
Godric turned to Faelar who only focused his attention toward his king who sat in silence. From how things looked, it appeared as though he was already used to such affairs. "Is it always this..." He asked. "Messy? Yes. You're lucky you were not alive during the first age of Men. Things were so much more hectic than this." Faelar responded, leaving Godric at a loss for words.
He then looked at Lord Browgan, who had completely disregarded his cup and was now chugging down wine straight from the bottle. It didn't take long before it was completely dried out. After wiping his mouth, he then called for Sir Byronard's attention.
"Byronard, my friend. At least do something." He pleaded, somewhat annoyed by the ongoing argument on the opposite side of the room. "All right then," Byronard replied. "Give me one moment." He then stepped in the center of the room where he could see everyone perfectly.
"Gentlemen!" He shouted in a loud, commanding manner after he raised his large sword and slammed it downward, piercing the marble floor and causing cracks in the walls as well. His voice echoed throughout the hall and possibly outside of the doors as they too, shook at the sheer force released by a single shout.
The other lords fighting just seconds ago looked at him and slowly sat down to compose themselves out of respect for Sir Byronard's authority. By the Divines, Godric thought to himself. What am I witnessing? Faelar chuckled after looking at his face. "You'll get used to it. " He quipped.
Byronard then looked at Lords Caine and Coppermouth. "I trust you both have gotten everything out of your system?" He asked. Godric could feel a surge of heat emanating from the regent's body as the royal guard demanded an answer from the two. Caine gulped and bowed. "Forgive me for my actions, good sir. Perhaps I went too far." His lips were visibly cracked from the heat, and sweat was building up on his forehead.
"And you, Lord Barnabus?" Byronard asked. "Aye, I apologize as well. Please, let's get on with the proceedings." He responded, somewhat shaken. "Good. Let us continue, my lords and ladies." The intense heat then disappeared, and shifted into a nice, embracing feeling of warmth as the entire council drowned themselves in a deep conversation.
"What incredible display of power--Faelar, what form of magic does Sir Byronard use?" Godric asked the ranger-general in a hushed tone, a few minutes later while everyone else was discussing the ongoing issue.
"Byronard's foundation of magic is of flame. In terms of skill and mastery in both swordsmanship and magic, I can say he is on par with King Ithilien. His title, The Sword of the Morning is not just a moniker, for it is the actual truth. I've seen him fight, but yet to see him go all out. However, I can genuinely say that the person we see before us is the embodiment of the sun itself, merely walking in a vessel of a man." Faelar exclaimed with a sense of respect in his voice. They then went back into silence and listened to the council meeting.
"Are the rumors true? Have you still not found your foundation of magic?" Faelar asked after a few hours into the talks. Godric responded with a nod. "Yes, they are. I've only known how to sense mana and find hidden passageways."
"Clairvoyance? Well, that must be it then. That's a nice foundation of magic Godric, as the interconnected branches of Clairvoyance are useful for people with a spirit of adventure, such as yours." Faelar said. "Hone it, and you could become a renowned traveler."
"Really? Well, that's great." Godric leaned back against the wall in silence. Suddenly, he remembered something when he fought against Evander. "Hold on, back in the caves--something weird happened. Maybe you can answer this? I forgot to share it with Anarórë." The ranger-general looked at him, curious. "And what might that be?"
Godric failed to ask him as Byronard raised his hand and abruptly halted the discussion amongst the council. Both he and Faelor looked at the gathered Houses to determine what happened.
"You can't be serious, Byronard. They're here? Out of all places?" Lord Browgan asked him as he pounded his fist onto the table, creating a dent in the surface. "I'm afraid so, Lord Dunwick," Byronard replied. "In an unlikely turn of events, they surrendered themselves to the Capital. Not willingly, of course, as they put up quite a fight based on what I've heard. Lady Tryst played a huge role in their capture. Not to worry--despite their status, I've given them sanctuary for the time being." He reassured the warden.
"Tryst, why'd you do it gal?" Dunwick asked with an exasperated look. "Forgive me Lord Browgan, but I only did my duty. I never knew of their true identities until I pieced everything together." She responded.
"I'm sorry," Godric stepped in to disrupt the conversation. "But who's here?" Byronard wasted no time as he let out a simple whistle, signaling the guards outside to open the doors. A few seconds later, a familiar face walked into the halls.
"Coraline!" Godric exclaimed. "You're here!" He approached the young lady and gave her a tight hug, which Coraline was happy to accept.
"You dumb oaf, it's nice to see you too," she replied, smiling. "What brings you here?" She asked, curious.
"I'm a part of King Ithilien's council." Coraline looked at the elven king, who greeted her from afar by waving his hand. "I knew you were more than just a random traveler."
"W-well, enough about me! What brings you here? I thought Lord Caine was representative in place of House Polifio." He asked her. At this time, Coraline's face turned from a happy expression into a concerned one.
"It's a long story, but--" The heir to House Applewood was never able to explain to Godric what happened as sounds of rattling chains echoed throughout the room from outside the hall, followed by grunting and complaining from a group of men.
"Let us out of these chains! I thought we were given sanctuary!" A man shouted. "Calm down. Shouting is not going to help us in this situation." Another voice responded. Godric noticed that he had a foreign accent, which only piqued his curiosity even more. "True, and don't even try to fight back. These are the royal guards we're talking about; the best of what Primera has to offer. You would be an idiot to try." Another voice chimed in.
Eventually, the voices marched into the room with their hands shackled. Who on earth are these people? Godric thought as he studied their faces. He then stopped and stared at one of the three people who entered the room.
"Say, weren't you one of the old doctor's students back in Rosetown?" He asked the man in the middle. "Who, me? Uhh...yes, before I was wrongfully thrown in due to false accusations--I'm sorry, who are you?" The man asked.
"The name's Godric. Nice to meet you all, I guess." The medical practitioner and the foreigner's expressions changed.
"You're joking, right? He's joking, right?" He turned to his partners.
"I'm afraid this is not a joke, Cassian. This really must be him." The foreigner said as the man with an eyepatch tilted his head.
"So this is the guy?" He looked up and down as if he were studying Godric.
"Hold on--do I know you people?" The young man asked, confused as to what was going on. Coraline shared the same expression. Not long after, Godric heard another set of chains and steps echo from the hall. Eventually, the figure in the hall was now finally in sight.
"No, it can't be--" Godric's voice failed him. He thought he was seeing a ghost. A tear began to flow in one eye, and he buckled as Coraline quickly moved to help him.
"Godric? By the Divines, is that you?" The figure asked him. Godric responded by getting up on his feet, walking past the three strangers, and immediately hugged a person he long thought was dead.
"You have no idea how great it is to see you again, Wyatt." Godric felt like a heavy load was lifted off his shoulders. The others in the room stared in silence, as everyone was in a state of confusion.
"Okay, can anybody tell me what in blazes is going on?!" Lord Davenmere asked.
"To put it simply, Lord Silas, what we are witnessing now is the start of either a series of miracles or a catastrophe of unparalleled proportions." Lord Byronard responded as he looked at the scenario unfolding. Everything felt so surreal, and everyone in the room now had more questions in their heads rather than answers.