A clink could be heard three times when the king of Raldea’s crown fell down the throne’s steps, Clink clink clink. One of the rubies got loose from the crown and Pearce picked it up greedily before anyone else had time to react. So pathetic, thought Denvar. They were the soldiers of House Silver. Couldn’t they be better than this?

Denvar was a man in his mid-twenties with short black hair, standing in a corner with his arms crossed. He didn’t really like what was going on but was too scared to speak up or do anything about it. The king whimpered on the floor while Sardos sat down on the now empty throne seat with his legs crossed. Sardos was clad in a dark-blue coat with a hood that hid his face in pitch black darkness. On his right shoulder were there golden stars that were going down in a straight line until it reached his foot. When Gods descended their glowing eyes betrayed them immediately, so Gothmor the god of light had given the other gods magical cloaks to hide themselves in. Denvar was glad that Sardos had the hood on so they couldn’t see his new pair of eyes. They had been red and full of hate and the veins on his skull had been so visible, like they were about to pop any second. Denvar wanted to pray to the gods that he never would see Sardos’s eyes again, but which gods? They were at war with them.

Before his father had died he had made him swore to bring back the glory to the House. Was that what they were doing now? He wasn’t so sure himself. It was true that House Gold hadn’t always treated them right, but they had treated the commoners and nobles better than this. Sardos had asked from Hector Waramyr for a short leave and when he had returned two weeks ago he had been a changed man. He had claimed that the Gold’s oppression was over and it was time for the Silvers to rule. They had laughed at him both Gold and Silver alike, but not for long. His strength had been nothing to laugh at. Denvar had no idea where Sardos had gotten his new pair. During that time the red moon hadn’t been seen in the night sky for almost a fortnight and no comment had been seen either. Sardos claimed that the eyes originated from Nagrom, the god of night and Denvar had laughed secretly at that but now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

On the other side of the room stood the shapeshifter and alternating his appearance to look like the men in the room one by one. He did it with ease like someone who played with a knife or a coin. It was still unnerving to see your own face to smile back at you. He had no idea where Sardos had found the creature, but he had been told in confidence that the creature could only alternate to look like someone he had touched. That was also frightening because he couldn’t remember when the shapeshifter had ever been near him. Now he tried to stay as far away from him as possible. He didn’t like him, but he could see how a shapeshifter could be useful to their cause.

At the entrance laid the king’s best soldiers dead in a pile, Sardos had killed them all by himself. Denvar couldn’t blame the king for being afraid, he would be too. Better to follow the man than to have his body and soul destroyed by him.

Pearce was truly scum, now when Sardos had shown what he could do he was glad to follow him. He looked forward to put the Golds in their place and getting his purse fatter by the same time. He wasn’t here because he believed in some grand ideal, he was here to make himself a little bit more powerful than he had been previously. Pearce was busy at the moment to loot the corpses at the door, every time he found something of value he made a loud exclamation, that had felt old already after the second time. The fact that Pearce called him friend was truly gut wrenching. If this was his company, what did that say about him?

It felt weird that they did stand in the castle of Alden, the place where Gandon had exclaimed the country’s independence from Feorn. It wasn’t of course the same castle as then, a new castle had been built on top of the old ruins but they were in fact standing on the same ground as Gandon had done all those years ago. Gandon had believed that the intelligent should rule, while Ilmur his friend had believed that the kind should rule. Sardos’s policy seemed to be that the strong should rule. Maybe he was right, intelligence and kindness were worthy concepts on paper but what did all that mean if someone stronger came and took everything away from you that you had built?

There was no going back now. Most of the Silvers had joined Nagrom, and those who hadn’t had run or been slain. He agreed with Sardos that the Golden’s rule over the whole continent didn’t work and something had to be done. But the Golden weren’t defeated so they weren’t out of the woods yet. Denvar didn’t dare to imagine what would happen to them if the Gold won and Hector Waramyr’s power restored to him. He could be a cruel man when angered or humiliated. It didn’t help that he was locked up in a dungeon somewhere. If Waramyr ever got free from it, he wouldn’t just kill them. No… he would torture them for years. Denvar wouldn’t let them take him alive if they lost, but he tried to not think about it. So far they were winning.

The King continued to whimper on the floor. “I don’t understand, I did everything that the Gold asked of me, to keep the peace,” he finally managed to say.

Sardos laughed, then resting his head in his hand in an almost bored manner. “That’s the problem my dear king. Do those silver armors that they wear look like gold to you?”

“But you are the Gold’s dogs!” the king spat and blood landed on the stone floor. Denvar couldn’t help but wonder where the king suddenly got air from, perhaps there was more to this man than first glance suggested?

“Not any longer, we will wipe them out, all of them.”

“You will never manage to do that! You will doom us all! The Gold’s wrath will be terrible.!”

The king’s words echoed Denvar’s own thoughts and he looked away, to not show his fear to his companions.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

One of the messengers entered the throne room. He must have run for quite a bit because his breath was heavy. The messengers were easily distinguished from their silver boots. The messenger knelt a few steps from the stairs that lead to the throne.

“My lord, according to the Golden spy most of the Golden generals when to the Azure ruins, it seems the information was trustworthy.”

“Good, then we can go there and wipe them all out, I never wanted an outdrawn war to begin with.”

The messenger still knelt. “I’m afraid that it’s no longer possible. All sins Jack was there and tried to apprehend them. They have all fled by now, I’m afraid.”

Denvar knew about the infamous Jack. The former Red battlelord that had been the first sword of their order. The man had been a force to recon with even though he didn’t have an eye himself. Something had affected the man deeply, he claimed that he had been on the red moon and seen its secrets. Afterward he had come back a changed man, he had left his former order and treated the whole world as a huge joke that only he understood. It wasn’t good that he had interfered with the meeting, all of their plans ruined. But all sins Jack wasn’t a man you could reason with. No gold or power would persuade him to one side or the other. The man’s skill with the blade was said to be as good as Ilmur’s. So long they were near Sardos they probably had nothing to fear, but what if Jack started to pick them off one by one?

“What if he comes here next?” asked Denvar.

“It seems his beef is with the Golden, we probably have nothing to worry about”, said Sardos and waved with his hand to indicate that he didn’t want to discuss the matter further.”

That was the problem with Sardos, he was powerful but the power had also made him careless. He hadn’t always been like this, before the change. Sardos had been a man of caution that always considered his options carefully. It had taken him a long time to even ask for a short absence.

Even though Jack was powerful he would have survived a meeting with the gifted. Those who had made a verbal contract with the descendants. Especially if the three had been there.

“How come none of the gifted was there to defend their lords?” asked Denvar. The thought puzzled him.

The messenger chuckled. “It appears that the traitor gave them the wrong location.” The laughter faded and he got stone faced again. “Ilyan Waramyr have appeared again after one year of absence.”

Now all of the Silvers cursed, not even bothering to be afraid of Sardo’s reaction. If he was back that meant that the Golden generals would all unite under one leader once again. They had hoped that with the Hectors Waramyr’s kidnapping the generals would squabble amongst themselves like the power hungry bastards they were. However, if Waramyr’s heir was back, things would change drastically.

Sardos leaned forward, suddenly not looking so bored any longer. “This is grim news,” said Sardos simply.

“We could hire a red battlelord, to deal with him,” suggested Pierce and eyed them suspiciously like he was afraid that he would be the one to pay for it since he suggested the idea in the first place. The battlelords weren’t famous for being cheap, even a rich noble needed to think twice before hiring one.

Sardos nodded. “Our path is clear now. Ilyan Waramyr must never acquire any eyes of his own. Hire three battlelords to deal with him once and for all.”

Denvar almost gasped, hiring three for one murder was unheard of. The news of Ilyan’s return had shaken Sardos, even if he did his best to hide it. With three red battlelords after Ilyan, he was as good as dead.

“Ilyan is forcing our hand. We must siege the red observatory immediately, we must squeeze the Golden’s information network, no one but us must know in advance where the next landing will be. You will take care of this Denvar.”

The red observatory was built for only one purpose. To study the red moon and its secrets and trying to predict when the next descendant would come and where he would land. According to legend it was Ilmur who had funded the project to begin with. After Ilmur’s victory over Gandon, had he returned to the kingdom as a changed man. Not bothering any more about wars but living the rest of his life as a scholar and not a soldier. The scholar’s always liked this part of the story because it showed that a man could change for the better and see the errors of their ways as they saw it. Even if both Gandon and Ilmur had been gone a long time their deeds still echoed in history. Could Denvar manage the same feat? Bring back the glory, son. His father’s voice was still in the back of his head.

“How many men will I get?” asked Denvar.

“Will fifty be enough?”

Depends if the Golden interferes or not, thought Denvar, but he only nodded.

A tall fellow emerged from another room. It was Seimer, beside him followed a blonde woman naked, beaten and bloody. Seimer had at least given her his cloak, he was glad that someone had given her an ounce of chivalry. Compared to the likes of Pearce, the man was alright. The woman’s eyes were glowing brightly green. She was one of the fallen.

“My dear king, why didn’t you tell me you had such a treasure in your dungeon. Surely you were just waiting for the right moment to present her to me?” said Sardos.

The fallen spat at Sardos. “The king didn’t manage to break me, so why would you succeed where others have failed?” The fallen started to laugh. “If ever my sister gets to Elnyr you will be in so much trouble. My powers are nothing compared to hers.”

“I think I already know who this is, but check the book just to be sure,” said Sardos.

One of the men browsed through a big black book. “Lady Hannela, the goddess of love and nature.”

“According to legend Nagrom fancied you,” said Sardos in thought. “I want you to show you something.” Sardos removed his hood, and Denvar looked away once more.

Hannela started to whimper. They could hear that tears were near to erupt. “That’s not possible, if he had been slain I would have known about it. The whole world would have known about it. When it comes to power no one is equal to Nagrom, except Gothmor the lord of light himself.”

“Maybe we can acquire his eyes in time as well.”

“You are mad, who do you think you are? Do you honestly believe that you are above the gods?”

“Yes, I am what came after. In times of war we don’t have much need of love. Does anyone want her power?” asked Sardos.

Denvar thought about his love for his old man. What would it be to be one of the gifted? “I’ll take her powers.”

Sardos put back his hood and his face was yet again hidden from sight. “Very well, but you know our customs, first you must prove yourself worthy.”

All the Silvers in the throne room drew their swords, except Pearce. They wouldn’t kill him, Sardos wouldn’t have given him his task otherwise. His life wouldn’t be in danger, only his honor, but to him that wasn’t much of a difference. His father’s words gave him strength once more. Bring back the glory, son.