The Library of Jorin laid in complete darkness as Francis entered the halls, the silence was almost screaming at him and he could’ve sworn to see the shadows moving in between the shelves. He heard his pulse in his ears as he tiptoed further into the main hall of the library, he’d joined the order less than a week ago, the halls were still unfamiliar and scary, but he had a mission. Master Gorus had sent him to get Master Jorin from the main hall as fast as possible.

As his shaky legs carried him further, he could hear the rustling of pages and soon the the warm light of candles around a corner. There at a table sat the man he was sent to get. For a member of the Order he looked rather intimidating, he was rather tall with broad shoulder and as he approached he could also discern the famous eyes of the royal family. His eyes were shimmering in the different colors of the rainbow as he looked up… at him. Francis froze, his gaze still caught in the fantastic sight of Master Jorins eyes.

“Well how I can help you young Apprentice? I’m sure you are not here to solely marvel at the color of my eyes.” A small smile played around the man’s mouth.

“Ahm… Well…No. Master Gorus has sent for you. You are needed in the chamber of the King.” He finally delivered the message after stuttering around.

The smile suddenly left his face leaving a cold scowl behind. “Well if the King needs to see me, who am I to defy his orders.”

Francis looked to the ground, what could anybody reply to such obvious ridicule of the kings personal orders.

“Then come along…”

“Francis, Master.”

Master Jorin strode ahead through the dark rows of books. “Why did you join the Order, young Francis. Surely there must be better things to do with your life than sitting in a dusty hall reading old books and even older tablets.”

For a while the only sound was their footsteps echoing on the stone floor.

“Well the Order is an esteemed establishment of the Kingdom. It has stood for ages, bringing long lost knowledge to the people of our country. Nothing would be more honorable than serving my country this way.” His back straightened a bit and his eyes lifted from the floor.

“Pah. What a load of rubbish. What is the real reason you are here, Apprentice Francis. Do I need to remind you that you owe nothing but the truth to your elders?”

“It… it is my father, Master. He, well he…” Master Jorin lifted his hand to signal him to stop. “There is no need to explain further, young Francis. You are one of many to have come here to escape from your family, but you are part of your family no more.” Master Jorins voice had gotten softer. “It doesn’t matter what your father thinks or did or threatened to do. You are part of the Order now and out of your fathers reach.”

They had reached the palace gates. Master Jorin stopped and turned to him. “You may join me, young Apprentice.” Without waiting for an answer he turned around and marched inside. The shock from being called to join a meeting with the King left him frozen in his step for a second before he hurried along.

Master Jorin navigated the many, long and regally adorned hallways with apparent ease, which should not have surprised him. The many paintings on the walls showed royal ancestors, battles long forgotten in the mind of the common folk and creatures he’d never even heard of. But before long Master Jorin came to a stop before a broad double door and turned to him. “Only speak when asked a question.” Then he knocked on the door. One of the Kingsguard, clad in their white armor, opened the door and they stepped inside.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

While the room was gigantic and interesting objects stood everywhere but Francis gaze could not linger as the old man in the bed commanded his attention. As fast he could he dropped down on his knees and bowed, as King Jorms gaze flickered to his guests.

“Finally made it, hmmm?” he asked with obvious spite, followed by a coughing fit.

“I’m sorry, your Highness. I came as fast as I could.” Master Jorin answered.

The King sneered. “Tell your servant to get up. No need to insist on formalities anymore.”

But Francis did not dare move a muscle until something hit his head from the back and Master Jorin voice sounded in his ear. “He meant you, get up.”

As Francis got up from the floor he finally had the time to look at the rest of the people gathered at the bedside of the King.

On one side of the bed stood the royal princes and princesses. Prince Valen, Prince Aldric, Princess Myra, Princess Elara as well as Crown Prince Orin. On the other side were the five Fingers and the Hand. From the foot of the bed to the head of the bed stood in that order: Edmund Ashfort – Master of Commerce; Baldric Vane – Master of the Sword; Vesper Draken – Master of the Web; Grandmaster Tiberius; Aldwin Flint – Chamberlain to the King and Cassian Blackstone, the Hand of the King.

Francis knees were close to giving in, his hands were shaking and his gaze lowered back the ground. He felt his knees giving in when suddenly he felt the hand of Master Jorin on his back. He closed his eyes, focusing on the hand, finding stability, as he opened his eyes again there was enough power to at least let him stand in silence.

Now that he didn’t have to fight to stand anymore, he finally noticed the deafening silence in the room as all eyes were on the King.

“The moment you’ve all been waiting for is here…” he sneered. “I am close to the last Gate, Mother Death will soon take me in her embrace. My Will is written and final. As my oldest son and heir… has foolishly decided to forgo his position, my second oldest son, Orin, shall take the throne once I passed the Last Gate.”

The reactions of the room were mixed, some faces looked grim, some gleeful and some went pale. Clearly, they had bet on different horses.

“I will leave my Crown to my son Orin, as well as my scepter. But I fear that he is not fully prepared to lead our country. He is yet too impulsive, too reckless.” Prince Orins knuckles whitened as his fists tightened. “For that reason, I will leave the sword of our forefathers to Master Jorin of the Order.” All eyes suddenly looked at Master Jorin beside him, full of shock. “For he has no Claim on the Throne, yet was raised to lead. Shall his wisdom decide when the new King is ready for war.”

Lord Flint, Chamberlain of the King, helped King Jorm out of his bed as all others made space to form a circle in the middle of the room.

Master Jorin bowed down to him and whispered. “Stay outside the circle, watch but make no noise.”

Francis did as he was told and the circle closed around Master Jorin and the King, only opening for Lord Flint who stepped to the King and passed him a sword, in a plain sheath.

The King drew the sword out of it’s sheath and pointed it at Master Jorin. He stayed like that for a second, his arms shaking heavily, then he lowered the blade and offered Master Jorin the hilt.

With solemn eyes he took it. The tip of the blade on the floor the two stared at each other, then the Chamberlain started speaking. “The dusk has come and Mother Death approaches the Last Gate with her ship, for she shall deliver a sad and dark night over our country. The brightest star in our country will join his forefathers in the heavens. But all rejoice for the same man who swings the blade that brings the dusk and shall also bring the dawn.”

As the last words echoed in the chamber, Master Jorin raised the blade with practiced ease and pierced the King in the heart and pulling it out a second later, catching the King that was now falling forward in his arms.

Francis could not hear the words that were said but the dying King whispered something in Master Jorins ear before his eyes closed for the last time.

Master Jorin, softly laid the Kings body on the ground. “Dusk has fallen and Dawn will come.” He announced and sheathed the sword. Then he stood up and strode towards the door, Francis soon following behind.