Toric was awake, but his eyes were still shut. He was struggling to remember a dream, more of a nightmare actually, or was it? It was confusing, he remembered battle. A long terrible battle. He was wearing strange armor, of a design he had never heard of before. It consisted of a long mail suit that covered his body from shoulders to knees, and attached to the mail over his chest and back was heavy large plate pieces. On his shoulders had rested pauldrons and long gauntlets covered his forearms, from his elbow jutted sharp spikes and across his knuckles were reinforced, gleaming bumps. A heavy set of plate chausses covered his hips, and more reinforced plate covered his knees. The weighty boots with blades running out from the toes were strange and looked even stranger dripping blood. The entire ensemble was a matte black color except for a large red dragon emblazoned upon the front of the chest piece. He remembered wielding a sword in his right hand, shaped like a falchion but long and heavy enough to be a two handed weapon for most humans. In his left hand had been a warhammer, a wicked spike on the back and a ridged mallet head on the front that weighed nearly twice as much as the sword. The helmet had been the strangest part of the entire getup. He had taken it off at one point and looked down at the face of it, staring up at him was a blank black face shield surrounded by expertly crafted steel teeth. The entire thing turned on its side had seemed like a small dragon head holding a black ball within an open mouth. Something about it had resonated within him, but as to what that might have been; he had less than no idea. His apparel was easy to recall, almost perfect in his memory, but the other bits and pieces came and went with irregularity no matter how hard he tried to force it. Finally he gave up and opened his eyes.
He was in a different room, which was immediately apparent. Also easy to spot was that he was not alone, far from alone. Without moving around too much and giving away the fact that he was aware; he could spot ten different people. Four of them were familiar to him, Drax was reading in a chair next to a window, Davyd was talking to the Praetorian officer he had never gotten to actually meet, and next to his bed with his head bowed sat the man that had raised him since birth, Marrick. The other six men wore strange clothing that was obviously a uniform. It was made of leather and had pieces of steel riveted to it like shingles upon a roof. A recent memory intruded and he deduced that these were the Legion men that Vorxin had said would be coming. He wondered how long he had slept, but was thru with playing possum. Closing his eyes again he groaned and slowly rolled to the side of the bed so he could stand up.
The moment Toric groaned several things happened at once. Marrick jumped up and moved to help him stand, Drax closed his book and paid attention, Davyd and the Praetorian hopped to their feet, and the Legionnaires came abruptly to attention. Another man wearing the Legion armor stepped into view and moved purposefully toward Toric. This one’s armor was different in that his sleeves both bore thick red stripes. He spoke swiftly to Toric in a voice that was obviously used to barking orders.
“Ah, you are awake. Finally, we have been waiting for hours for you to wake up young man. Now get up and get ready, the Emperor desires to see you for court as soon as you are awake. Hop to it.”
Every face in the room turned to stare at the Tribune in shock, the Legionnaires included. The tone of voice he was using was the one they all remembered their parents using to chastise them for being naughty boys. It was disrespectful in the extreme. Toric locked his unsettlingly glowing blue eyes on the tribune and spoke with such surety it surprised him.
“You are a petty little man, and it is a wonder you ever attained the rank you hold. I seriously doubt you either read whatever information there exists on me, or listened to any briefing that was prepared. I just woke up after suffering from an injury that defies belief. My body, mind, and very soul have been ravaged and changed on a level that you have no hope to understand. The only thing on my mind at the moment is getting to a bathroom, and I have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with you.”
Turning to the oldest of the Legionnaires, and locking his spooky eyes to his, Toric spoke again.
“Legionnaire, if you have not been briefed, from my understanding I stand high in your chain of command. I am Toric Fatesblood, Heir and Blood of Devyn Fatesblood. To my right stands Devyn’s blood-brother Marrick, the man that raised me in the necessary absence of my parents. He will be covering for that officious prick standing there staring at me in impotent fury. I would thank you to do as Marrick says, please.”
With that Toric put the entire affair to the back of his mind and stumbled toward Drax, whom caught him by the arm.
“Quick Drax, get me to a bathroom.”
Toric whispered urgently to the tall elf and they both headed for one of the doors. Once they were safe in the bathroom Toric sat down on a small bench and caught his breath, not able to really believe how weak he was.
“How long have I slept?”
Toric queried as he stood again and made his way around a partition to do his business with the chamber pot.
Drax coughed and made a strange noise that sounded a lot like a laugh.
“I am sorry Toric, I was amused by the effortless way you handled that buffoon out there. He has been trying to get rid of everyone but the Legionnaires for quite a while now. You were right, he not only did not know who you were, but he did not care. All that he cared was that he might be able to use you as a stepping block toward a position within the Imperial Court. Court positions are paid appointments that come with food and board here within the Keep. The funny part is that if he had just done his job properly and respectfully he would have done himself a much better favor. Marrick is not just the man that raised you; he is a Legate within the Legion and a sworn blood-brother of your father. The Legionnaires will be happy to follow his lead and get rid of the dead weight of the tribune. As to your original question; it has been four days since we last spoke. But please do not fret; I have good news. The healers all agree as does Vorxin, all you need now is exercise and food and soon you will be right as rain.”
It didn’t take long for Toric to finish up and make himself decent. He stepped out from the alcove and grabbed a piece of fruit sitting on a small table in a bowl. Biting into it was a happy surprise. It tasted better than anything he had ever eaten; although the fact that he had slept for nearly a week might have something to do with it. Suddenly he was ravenous and looked toward Drax with what must have been an obvious expression.
Drax laughed and helped him from the bathroom to a table in what Toric now noticed was an extravagantly large and well-appointed room. There was steaming food laid out upon the table and Toric laid into it with gusto. Glancing around he found that the pompous tribune was gone and the others were all sitting on couches near the other end of the room. All except for Marrick who nodded to Drax and sat down at the table with Toric; Drax turned to leave but Toric reached out and caught his arm in an instinctive movement.
“Please join us Drax. I am unschooled in the art of having close friends, and so I am just going to follow my gut. I know my dad looks uncomfortable and probably thinks this is going to be a difficult and awkward discussion. But he is wrong; I do not blame him for anything that has happened.”
Marrick and Drax both looked at Toric and then each other. They shrugged simultaneously and then pulled out chairs on the opposite sides of Toric and sat down.
“Thank you. Now, Dad, I need to say something to you. As I have said, I do not blame you. You were a wonderful father, and were doing your duty to your brother and commander. I will always think of you as my dad. You taught me the core values that make me what and whom I am. It is because of those very teachings that I feel as I do. Now that that little bit is out of the way; please fill me in on what is going on and what this is about the Emperor wanting to see me.”
Toric continued eating in a nearly ravenous manner, and Drax gaped at the amount of food disappearing from the scattered bowls and platters. Marrick smiled, long since having become used to Toric’s massive appetite.
“I am glad to hear that from you Toric. I had tried to steel myself against the possibility of your rejection and rebuke, but I was lying to myself. I will always think of you as my son; despite the fact that I always knew the truth of the matter. Right, let me get to the details. The tribune is gone, and two Legionnaires are escorting him to the docks under arrest to be sent to the Island for a court-martial and then probably re-education. What the Emperor actually said was that he would like to see you as soon as you are able; not the moment you awoke. We need to go over a few things before you are presented at court, and there is the matter of your attire of course as well. You have several options—.”
“Speaking of attire, I need to ask you something. I had a very strange dream, and a part of it has stuck with me. I was in a battle, or a war, it seemed to be endless. The armor and weapons I was using are stuck in my head and will not go away.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Toric interrupted Marrick and described the armor and weapons in great and exacting detail.
Marrick shook his head and smiled.
“I hate magic, it always ruins surprises. What you described is in fact the style armor the Commander and his Heir wear. The only unique pieces are the weapons and the helmet. Each Commander or Heir designs his own helmet and chooses his own weapons. It is interesting that you did not see a shield in your dream, but not completely unprecedented. You are certainly large enough and still a growing boy. It would make sense that you would focus on complete offense. However, your mother and father designed a helmet and weapons for you before you were born. They said the idea had come from a shared dream. We have everything here and a smith is waiting in another room to fit it all to you. You will wear it to the audience; that should be a relief. The Legion does not believe in court clothing; our armor is like a second skin. It is no coincidence that I trained you with a war-hammer and a bastard sword. I was unaware of the falchion, but it should not be a difficult adjustment for you. Weapons are not allowed within the court, or anywhere in the presence of the Emperor. As soon as you finish eating we will get you to a bath and then a haircut and outfitted. Then we can go meet the Emperor.”
Turning to look at Drax, Marrick smiled again.
“You lucked out Toric, and chose a good man to be your friend. I have known the Tellis family for a long time, but did not know they were blessed with another son so near your age. His position within the imperial army is a credit to him. At only twenty years of age I think he might be the youngest elf to ever attain Adept rank as a Magi and belong to the Special Response Section of the Imperial Army at such a young age. Your father was friends with Drax’s uncle, and it unnerves me thinking about all the trouble they managed to get into together. Please watch each other’s backs.”
Drax and Toric grinned at each other in that disturbingly mischievous way that seems to be universal among boys. After a short moment Toric turned back to Marrick and reached for him; enveloping him in a stout hug he smiled and then let him go.
“Alright, let’s get this show on the road. I will go back to the bathroom and get washed up, and either you or Drax come with me and instruct me on the protocol I will need to know for the presentation to the Emperor. Then we will get my armor fitted and head for court. Don’t forget to send a messenger to the court to let them know we will be there within the next few hours.”
Marrick nodded and gestured for Drax to go with Toric and rose from his chair, wiping his eyes before turning to face the rest of the room and barking orders to several different people. Two of the Legionnaires rose and followed Toric and Drax to the bathing room, posting themselves on guard at either side of the door. One of the imperial functionaries disappeared for a short moment then re-entered the room carrying a chest that he took into the bathing room and sat on a short table.
Drax started with the instruction as soon as the functionary had left. It didn’t take long for Toric to disrobe and climb into the bathtub. It did however take him a few minutes to figure out the indoor plumbing; as he had never before seen such a contraption. Shortly however there was hot water flowing out of the spigot and he pulled down a bar of soap to begin scrubbing away all the sweat and filth that five days of unconsciousness brings to a body. Even while he bathed he paid close attention to Drax’s words.
“This should be a relatively short presentation Toric, but even in the Imperial Court, sometimes things do not go as planned. The first thing you need to know is that considering your position and who you are, not to mention the fact that it was an Imperial Mage that caused your injury; you will be allowed to approach to within the final balk line before the throne. The lines are obvious upon the stones, stretching out in front of the Emperor in long inlaid lines of precious jewels. The final line is made of diamonds and as such should be quite easy to spot. When you reach the diamond line you should bow, but not kneel. Ignore the murmuring and boos and such from the crowd. They will not yet know who you are. As a member of the Legion’s ruling family you do not need to kneel. Bow your head and salute with fist to heart; I will show you exactly how it is done shortly. Once that is done you lift your head and the Emperor will indicate what he wants to do. I think it likely he will make the presentation of your weapons and helmet right then and there; but do not draw the weapons in his presence. Once he gives you the weapons and you thank him, pass them to one of the people with you and they will bear them for you. Be cautious in whom you choose to be your weapon bearer as it is a position of great importance in this instance. Following that I would think the Emperor will ask you to join him in private for a more personal discussion, but that may not be the case. You are just going to have to adapt and go with the flow of whatever happens. Do not worry about any major mistakes of protocol. The Emperor knows that you were not raised as a noble and he is a good man. The other nobles at the court are not likely to be as forgiving, but in the end it does not really matter what they think. Your position is secure within the Legion and there is not anything they can do to harm it. There are a couple people you should know of beforehand. The Princess will likely be on the podium sitting on a smaller throne to the left of the Emperor. There will be an abundance of Praetorians in attendance as well as the First Magus. The First Magus is not a fan of the Legion, but it is very doubtful he would say or do anything against you. The Emperor was a Prince during the war and served closely with your father. He made his thoughts regarding you very clear when you were an infant and he agreed to hold your weapons and helm, as well as to permit Marrick to raise you within the Empire so you could have a more normal childhood.”
By this time Toric was rinsing off and rising from the tub. Drax handed him a towel and in a short time he was dry. Tucking the towel around his hips he walked over to the now open chest and pulled out the black tanned leather pants lying on top. Dropping the towel the leathers went on, followed by a tight leather vest. Toric sat on a stool and then continued, pulling on thick woolen socks and the boots that matched the pants and vest. Next came a thick padded gambeson around his torso and padded chaps that covered his legs. He reached next for the mail and as soon as he touched the heavily enchanted links he could feel all the many defensive spells that had been worked into the steel even as it was being forged. This mail alone would stop a spear thrust by a troll. (Sorry, couldnt't help myself but give a little shout out for LOTR) Drax helped him into the mail so that it fell correctly across his shoulders and down to his knees. The mail leg piece was more difficult to get on, first a belt constructed of leather and overlapping steel plates went around his waist and hooked into the gambeson; then the mail chausses went on, hooking to the belt and to embedded buckles on the chaps. Sitting back down the greaves and boots went on next, covering the leather boots in steel armor and toe blades. Articulated knee and elbow armor followed, along with the plate that hooked into the belt and went around his hips, falling down to cover the front, back, and sides of his upper thighs and groin. Opening the hinged metal chest and back piece, Toric slid it on like a jacket and then Drax buckled it shut. Drax reached into the back of the neck and attached the arming cap so that it hung down behind his head along with the mail coif that could be easily pulled up and over his head before the helmet was donned. After that the gauntlets were simple. First came the thin flexible leather gloves that were skin tight, and then the heavy enchanted leather and plate steel reinforced gauntlets that buckled into the sleeves of the armor, making it all seem like one continuous piece. Last was the weapons harness, a mass of steel and leather that rode on his shoulders and around his waist, with buckles ready and waiting for the sword to strap in across his back and the hammer to rest on his left hip. At the bottom of the chest was a knife in a plain sheath. Toric drew it and looked it over; a clenching of his chest resulted. This was a knife constructed from the tooth of a dragon and he immediately knew it to be his mothers. It was a simple act to strap the knife to his right hip, and right then he named it Fang.
Toric lifted his head and looked into the expensive full length mirror in the bathroom. It was eerie, but he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that this armor was going to become more familiar to him than his own skin. Shaking the thought away he turned to look at Drax.
“Well? How do I look?”
Drax was astounded, again. He was having real trouble thinking of Toric as fifteen. He was wearing nearly a hundred pounds of armor and it didn’t seem to bother him. Not to mention the fact that he had put it on like a veteran campaigner and Drax knew for a fact this was the first time he had ever seen it. The matte black armor coupled with his tan complexion and glowing blue eyes made him seem like a demon come to life. At the moment Drax looked at Toric in the armor he felt like he was at the beginning of some epic journey. A path that would change his new found friend and forge him into something the world would need. Drax frowned, his family was known for having brought many gifted seers into the world, but he had never been strong in that trait before. However the thought stayed with him and would not go away. This was a beginning of something powerful, and he could either help it or get out of its way, but he could not hinder it. Recalling the question Drax grinned and nodded.
“You look like something out of a story book my friend.”
Toric smiled inwardly at being addressed in such a way. He had never had any close friends, and he was determined that Drax would be the first. Remembering they had somewhere to be; he spun on his heel and stepped out of the bathing chamber.
Marrick was on the other side of the room and spun around when he heard the distinctive clanking of armor. The moment that he saw Toric he knelt and put his fist to heart. All around the room the action was repeated by every Legionnaire in presence, excepting the two that had been at guard on the door and were now flanking Toric.
Toric was startled for a moment and then did the only thing he could think of. Saluting back he spoke.
“Please rise, I don’t know how the protocol is structured, but anytime we are in private there is no need to kneel. I am honored beyond words, but I am not a vain man. Now get up and let us get this bloody show on the road.”
Marrick laughed loudly and stood.
“You have no idea how much you sound like your father Toric. I could have sworn that you were him just now. He hated all the kneeling and pageantry.”
Several of the older Legionnaires nodded and smiled.
Marrick gestured to the squad of Legionnaires and gave a few orders. Then they moved out of the room and into the hall. For this presentation to the Imperial Court and Emperor the group was cut down a bit. Toric was in the center, two Legionnaires flanked him, one led and one trailed. Behind Toric and in front of the trailing Legionnaire walked Marrick and Drax and out in front of the leading Legionnaire was the Praetorian Arnolds. That was it for this occasion, leaving Davyd and the functionaries in the room, along with two of the younger Legionnaires.