Blade of Erogrund

By that the next afternoon the city was in a peculiar state of frenzy. Or, rather, the morning was. A scourge of women cleaned their dresses and prepared food while men polished armor or refitted tunics. The merchant district quite literally swarmed with anxious bakers, chiefs, squires, pages, and servants amid the intoxicating scents of freshly baked bread, sizzling red meat over fires, and buttery greens cooking in large vats. The women’s quarters bustled faster than running water as ladies dashing hither and fro to finish their last chores before the night of celebration. Nearly as busy, the men’s sleeping rooms were a less animated version.

However, as time drew the morning to a close, Godric found himself virtually deserted in the streets as he made his way to Ennor’s banquet party’s chambers. A young male tenant escorted him noiselessly through the eerie streets and up several flights of stairs. Not since the night of the Dragon’s attack on Iris Ithil had Godric seen the city as quiet as it was. It struck him as especially startling compared to the desperate seething mass of people that had been out that morning.

“Awfully quiet,” he murmured over the echoes of their footsteps.

“Everyone is preparing for tonight,” the tenant answered solemnly.

“Will you?”

The man shrugged. “Perhaps. My wife appreciates the pomp of celebration far more than I, but I will nonetheless try and indulge her this afternoon.”

“That’s considerate of you.”

A little smile broke the tenant’s solemn countenance. “Life is a dark place. When you find a ray of sunshine as beautiful as mine you will make many sacrifices for her.”

“What a kind sentiment,” Godric commented.

His companion grinned widely. “If you met her you would not be so surprised. Speaking of sentiment, my curiosity overcomes my manners. How, if I may, did you come to receive the honorable sentiment of being invited to the King’s banquet party?”

“I’m not sure. Well, it’s a long story, really.”

“Hm, I should very much like to here it sometime. Until then, here you are.” The man stood beside a dark wooden door that once upon a time must have had some carving on it but now just glistened at being worn smooth. “Until tonight,” the man said, bowing. Godric returned the gesture and pulled the portal open, stepping inside.

A wide, deep hall awaited him. It had huge ceilings vaulted with seamless rivers of stone that flowed from column to column. Each ash grey stone column stood tall in two rows, one row offset to either side of the room to form a long corridor to the back of the hall. Huge silver chandeliers were suspended from the tall ceilings, bathing the room in white light. The walls were polished smoother than the rough rock of the city, creating an overall regal feeling.

The people within only furthered this impression. Thirty or forty men and women stood under the care of numerous tenants all dressed in the finest robes Godric had ever laid eyes on. Glistening plates of armor, sparkling gemstone earrings, and shining rings of silver and gold met his glance. Flowing gowns in every shade of ivory, grey, green, and blue hugged the gorgeous frames of countless ladies that stood accentuated in elegant jewelry. Even the men, from which Godric had not yet seen any semblance of civility, stood tall in fine tunics beneath sophisticated sets of armor that proudly magnified their broad shoulders and muscular frames. All the lords were either clean shaven or had beards trimmed until almost threateningly regal in appearance. Their right eyes and cheekbones were, in a stroke of surprise, hidden beneath imposing steel half-masks that put the final stroke on their resplendent presences.

Cautiously stepping into the colossal hall, he was almost immediately met by Thain. The dwarf looked little different from the night before but wore a forest green tunic pinned with a golden hammer and anvil broach.

“Lad,” he said bowing stiffly.

“Thain,” Godric responded formally.

“Eh, cut the cute stuff, son.” Thain said with a mixture of disgust and humor. “These politicians will kill me yet, I’m afraid. You’re barely a young man and I’m a dwarf; let’s face it, we don’t belong here among these pretty people.”

Godric couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment. “You have an uncanny ability to hide when you’re being serious, did you know that?”

“Aye, a point of pride for me,” the dwarf answered with an enthusiastic nod. “But I can be openly serious about this: there is a good deal of work that needs to be done on you before you’re presentable. You’re partner is already as gorgeous as any of these devious witches,” he waved toward the ladies for emphasis, “and it would be a shame for you to disappoint.”

“Agatha is here already? Where?” A queer excitement rose in his chest at the prospect of seeing the quiet girl he had only met two days before.

Thain’s scruffy eyebrows drew together aporetically. “You know, there’s hope for you yet, lad. But no time. Come with me.”

An iron grip clamped around Godric’s arm and steered him none too gently down the long hall past many lords and ladies who conversed in gentle tones, broken by the occasional polite laugh. His eyes wondered and found Ennor who stood toward the opposite hall beside a radiant woman he did not recognize.

Suddenly Thain pushed into a small room off the hall that was separated by a heavy maroon curtain. From inside he heard the dwarf bark something, likely to a servant, before tossing in a bundle of clothes.

“Put these on and be quick about it.”

Doing as he was told, Godric unwound the coarse chord that tied the bundle together and unfolded the clothes. Inside rested a sapphire-blue tunic with silver threading around the collar and fine brass dowels that went from the chest to the throat. Putting this on, he discovered a fine, newly polished black leather vest and long, dark breeches complete with a silver-buckled leather belt. After he had donned the outfit and readjusted everything several times, he stepped out.

“For the sake of Niron, could that have taken you any longer?” Thain muttered.

“You gave me clothes with dowls,” Godric accused adding a hint of humor. “That's what you get when you give someone a shirt with dowels.”

The dwarf grunted. “Fair enough, I s’pose. Ideally we’d get you a bath or something, but we haven’t got all night. For all that time you spent at least you succeeded in not looking like a complete clod, except for your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Beside that fact that it looks like you’ve been on duty at the walls for the last two days, nothing. But we might want to change it all the same,” Thain replied with a wink. “Timar! If you please.”

A middle-aged, motherly looking female servant rushed over and smiled. “Of course, Master Thain, I was wondering when you would ask. We might start with your beard, though I’m not certain I have a strong enough comb.”

Thain rolled his eyes while Godric stifled a grin. “Not me, woman, him!”

Her face blushed. “A thousand apologies, sir.” From her garb she drew out a small flask and statuesque comb carved to resemble the mouth of a dragon set with two emeralds as its eyes.

Setting the comb on the ground, she poured the small contents of the flask in her hands and spread it around until they were both well covered. From the glistening appearance and strong minty fragrance, Godric assumed it was some kind of scented oil.

She ran her hands vigorously through his hair until it practically stood on end before grabbing the comb and expertly divided it along the part before further shaping it. It did not take long for Thain to be satisfied and thank the woman with a small bronze coin.

“Now you’re just about ready,” he concluded. “Just a few more things.” From inside his tunic he drew out two daggers Godric recognized to be his own though fitted in new sheaths that were studded with fine brass emblems. “You’ll want these.”

“My daggers!” Godric exclaimed. “How did you find them?”

“I recalled them from that day in Dunn when you nearly stuck me with one and figured they’d be in your lockbox. Then I rightly assumed you would be ill-prepared enough to come here without a weapon, so it was arranged that they should be finagled out and given to me. Those mouse-wrappings that held them simply wouldn’t do, so I had new sheaths made. Here, take ’em.”

He did just that, gingerly receiving the silvery weapons from the dwarf and attaching them to the belt he wore.

“Thank you,” Godric murmured. The familiar weight of the knives on his belt was reassuring. His father may have been a very different man than the one he knew in Dunn, but now it felt almost like the kindhearted, field worker that he had grown up with was with him now.

Thain nodded decidedly. “Good. Last thing.” He pulled out a dark steel half-mask like the ones the other lords wore. “Put this on.”

“Why?”

“Must you always inquire into why I tell you things or how stuff works?”

“Said by the dwarf who inquires why I must ask why.”

The dwarf let out a hefty laugh. “Well said, my young friend. It’s a tradition for the lords to wear a mask so bad luck will not be able to find them yet still show half his face so that his allies can know and protect him.”

“But I’m not a lord,” Godric protested, not that he was opposed to wearing the metal piece. It nevertheless seemed a strange formality to him.

“I don’t know, lad.” Thain sighed again. “It’s a bloody foolish human tradition to me, but for the sake of formalities can you at least tolerate it for the night?”

It was Godric’s turn to laugh. “Yes sir.” He took the mask and fitted it over his head, the smooth leather strap binding the cold steel to his face. “How do I look?”

“Surprisingly good, as a matter of fact. You might pull this off after all. Unfortunately that means, as much as it gouges my ball-and-chains to say, we’d better make a presence among these bureaucrats.”

“‘Unfortunate’ for sure. At least I have a partner to find. Say, where’s your partner, Thain?”

His tattooed brow furrowed at the question. “Have you never seen a dwarf woman?” Godric shook his head. “Bloody ugly devils. Can’t hardly tell ’em from men, save that they can’t grow beards. I mean, if you take away a dwarf’s beard, there ain’t much worth looking at except our chiseled features, and they don’t look so good on a member of the opposite sex. That, with the consideration that no human woman would be caught dead with dwarf, leaves me without many options.”

A question formed in Godric’s mind but quickly decided that the conversation could only go downhill as Thain guided through the hall.

Ennor greeted them both as they came into the main part of the hall.

“Sir Godric, an honor.” He bowed deeply.

Godric returned the gesture. “King Ennor, likewise.” He could feel his heart beat nervously as he realized he had little knowledge of the city’s etiquette or how he should address the King.

Up close Ennor looked like a true king of Niron. He stood at full height, particularly imposing in comparison to Thain, and wore a dark blue tunic that brought out the navy blue of his eyes. Or the one eye that could seen. The other was largely hidden behind the most magnificent silver mask Godric had ever seen. It started as a narrow diadem of twisted silver bands that morphed into two dragons, one over each eye, facing a single diamond set above Ennor’s forehead. The right dragon’s tale tangled into the bands of the diadem, but the left’s scaly body dangled down over his cheek that, combined with a silver wing, formed the half-mask.

A polished silver breastplate adorned his chest and shoulders that shone like moonlight. At the top right of the armor it met with a corner of Ennor’s black cape and anchored to flow down his back, pooling slightly at his feet. A matching black belt clasped around his waist from which a sword hung.

His partner was equally handsome while less monarchical than ethereal. She wore a flowing silver gown that held her slender frame closely. Her wrists were bejeweled with narrow golden bands matching the necklace that sparkled on her pale throat. Even her earings shined with the glimmer of silver beside her beautiful chestnut brown hair that hung coiled in enchanting braids.

“You clean up nicely, Ennor,” grumbled Thain.

“Thank you, Master Dwarf.”

“Ugh, must you be so formal?” The dwarf muttered with disgust.

“Tish, Thain,” argued Ennor’s partner. “Must you be so informal? It is only one night, all things considered.”

Thain shrugged carelessly. “You have me there, Saraycir.”

“Sarah?” Godric asked incredulously. He had not recognized the elf at first but now saw it was indeed her.

She allowed a small smile and bowed her head. “Indeed, Sir Godric. Though, pray, do not call me Sarah tonight. On this night I have no interested in acting as a human woman.”

“My apologies, my lady.” A wave of her hand dismissed the apology as unnecessary.

During this exchange a lord and lady joined their conversation to stand beside Ennor and Saraycir. The king took the moment to introduce them.

“Godric, might I have the pleasure of introducing sir Matthias and lady Hilthwen.”

“You may,” he replied with a bow. “It is a honor to make your acquaintance.”

The two responded in like form. Both appeared to be similar to him in age and height, though they were quite different in all other aspects.

Matthias had an impressive countenance with dark eyes that seemed to bore deeply into all he saw under his dark brown hair. He was tall and exuded power while lacking the bulk that Ennor carried. His armor was far less decorative, instead decorated only with the marks of battle like the simple sword that hung from his belt.

In contrast, Hilthwen stood a noticeable amount shorter than her companions. She lacked the dominating presence but instead radiated a calm kindness from her pale blue eyes. Her blond hair hung in golden ringlets to her shoulders beside the smile offered to those assembled.

“It may interest you, Godric, that both Matthias and Hilthwen are veterans of the West Patrols. As it happens, they will also be accompanying you tomorrow on patrol to Draeknol. Matthias is lacking no skill with a spear and Hilthwen has proven herself time and time again in the skills of archery. It would perhaps do you good to stay with them throughout the night.” Ennor’s tone was kind, but his eyes hinted that the comment was more than a suggestion.

“Is that right?” Inquired Godric with interest.

Matthias nodded curtly. “It is. And you? Do you think you will make it back from such a place as the Draeknol?”

Godric was forced to hesitate at the challenge in Matthias’s eyes. “I have more trust in the companions that will be travelling with me than in my own ability. But, if the Fates are willing, I think I will make it.”

The young man shook his head. “The Fates are fickle masters. Cowardice has not place in the wild.”

“Nonsense,” Hilthwen chimed in with a soft voice. “From what I hear from Aeis you are more than adept with a sword. Besides, ‘cowardice’ should not be confused with humility.”

“You know Aeis?” Godric inquired.

The girl nodded. “Yes, only a little. He has spoken of you on several occasions.” Matthias smiled pretentiously.

Their conversation was interrupted, much to Godric’s appreciation, by Agatha joining them at his side. Much to her chagrin, their attention was immediately diverted to her grace.

Her dark hair was wrapped in coils that pinned to the back of her head with diamond-studded gold pins in a lovely knot. The gems sparkled as brightly as her eyes at the prospect of standing among the the Lords and Ladies while they fluttered from the faces around her to the stones at her feet. She wore a simple molted blue dress that swirled enchantingly with each step.

“Agatha, you look positively charming,” Thain commented with a smile.

The girl smiled, nervously brushing a strand of hair off her cheek. “Thank you, sir.”

Just as Godric searched for a similar complement, a herald entered the hall, cleared his throat surprisingly resoundingly, and declared, “Attention Lords and Ladies! If you would follow me, the festivities will begin shortly in the Great Hall.”

Ennor nodded decidedly at the announcement. “It’s that time, my friends.” Taking Saraycir’s arm he waved his other hand grandly toward the door. “After you, my lady.”

With a delicate smile she covered his hand with hers and lead them both toward the growing crowd of lords and ladies that began to trickle out of the great hall. Matthias made a similar gesture that Hilthwen reciprocated politely, though, Godric noticed, without particular enthusiasm.

Thain glanced to Godric with a message that lacked none of his usual mystery. Are you ready for this?

“Might I pardon myself from the pleasure of your company for a moment, Thain?”

The dwarf’s eyebrows drew together, clearly puzzled. What are you doing?

“It’ll only be a moment. Thank you,” Godric said, firmly nudging Thain toward the crowd. “I will meet with you in Rae-Oiron.”

Thain hesitated. “See to it that you do,” the lord finally said sternly. He muttered something else as he sauntered away, but it was lost in the din of the gathering.

Godric waited for the murmurs of conversation to fade before turning to Agatha, who stood patiently, still looking uncertain.

“You look wonderful. Thank you for doing this with me and please trust I had no intention of pressuring you into it.”

She shrugged her narrow shoulders and smiled. “Thank you, you look rather dashing yourself. It’s my pleasure to come. After all,” she added, smile growing, “how else does one get such a nice dress and diamond pins except for being in the company of the King?”

“I will do my best to repay you more than that, but either way, it means a lot that you came.”

She finally looked him in the eye. “We will see how the course of the night goes. And, to use your expression, ‘either way’ you’re welcome.”

“In that case,” he offered her his arm which she took happily.

Rae-Oiron was a magnificent spectacle. Above the gate to Naevir a mammoth banquet table of Blackwood had been arranged. The entire front sported an enormous dragon, the head of which was arranged before Ennor’s throne-like chair. The front of the lectern exhibited massive wings carved with vividly lifelike detail that were held above structured legs crafted in the likeness of impressive draconic forelimbs. All along the spectacular display were the grimly familiar faces of the Council of Lords. At Ennor’s right hand sat a solemn Caeros who, without a partner, sat beside Theronin.

Above them massive banners hung in streams of green and blue. The blue was nothing but royal fields adorning the walls, but embroidered atop the green was an elegant golden lion appearing both intimidating and majestic. Bright light dazzled across these in an overwhelming display from a fleet of black-iron chandeliers that hung from the immensely high ceilings, flooding the tremendous hall.

Similar tables to the one that seated Ennor and his company were arranged on each edge of Rae-Oiron while still allowing for a huge space that could easily allow room for several hundred to dance at a time. At every gate in the Hall were towering wooden doors bound in iron, but the most noticeable part of the room was the coffin placed at its center.

Made of dull, slate-like stone, the coffin rose some four feet off the ground in a mundane box before leveling off into a carved lid. This was etched in the likeness of a man wearing a warrior’s garb and two stone hands that clasped a metal sword set into the lid. Two polished brass rings on either side of the sarcophagus held coarse wooden rods, presumably used to carry it if the bearers should have enough strength to do so.

Godric and Agatha made their way with the last of the nobles to the table where Thain stood. They perhaps would have missed him should two additional fully armored dwarves not have stood behind him and beckoned them over. The dwarf sat beside Saracyir with two vacant seats to his right that they thankfully accepted. To their right Hilthwen and Matthias spoke with an unfamiliar woman.

“What the devil was that?” Thain breathed from beneath his beard as they sat.

“I just wanted to talk to her alone, that’s all,” Godric answered defensively.

“Burn, boy, if you ‘just talk to’ the wrong person alone you could end up dead, especially tonight.”

“Calm your beard down,” Godric growled. “I can judge people well enough for myself.”

“Is that right?” Thain hissed. “Not a day ago you said you would keep your head down so we could keep it on your shoulders until morning; so far you aren’t doing very well.”

Godric sighed, resisting the urge to respond. Perhaps he’s right. Instead he changed the subject. “What’s with the pillars in your shadow?” The dwarf shrugged the question off with a quick glance at the guards flanking his chair. The boy shook his head and turned to Agatha.

“Have you been to many of these? ”

She raised a slender eyebrow while sipping from her goblet. “Um, is that a joke?”

“No, it wasn’t mean to be,” he said uncomfortably.

Agatha laughed kindly, offering a beautiful smile. ”Everyone has been to many of these. Though I confess never from this seat. Or,” she added after a second, “with such handsome company.”

“Good,” he replied happily, “because your handsome company could use an explanation of what is going to happen tonight. I don’t think I can take many more surprises unless they are as good as getting a beautiful young woman as my companion tonight.”

“Well, as far as I know Matthias is quite familiar with the schedule for tonight,” Agatha replied, winking, “but I’m sure the beautiful young woman would be happy to explain it to you.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Thain doesn’t really seem in the talking mood.”

They were interrupted by an sudden silence that filled the vast chamber. Ennor stood, the Council of Lords doing the same a moment after.

“Men, if you would.”

His voice was clear and firm, eliciting an affirmative nod from the soldiers that stood beside each door leading out of the huge room. Without hesitation the stony-faced soldiers grabbed the handles to the gates and drew them outward, revealing rank upon rank of fine-dressed men and women waiting in two lines behind each door.

“It is my great honor,” the king continued in a booming voice, “to invite the People of Niron to sit at my tables.” The first couple standing at each door bowed deeply and entered, taking a seat at one of the tables arranged around the edges of Rae-Oiron. Once they had stepped into the chamber the next couple performed the same ceremony and took their places.

“Surely Ennor doesn’t mean to sit the entire city,” Godric whispered to Agatha.

The girl shook her head ever so slightly. “No, only the honored men and women of the city may sit at these tables. Everyone else will dine in the city-proper and join the nobility only for the ball.”

"Shhh," Thain hissed less than inconspicuously.

Agatha covered her mouth with a delicate hand, but her twinkling eyes made it evident that she was attempting to cover only a smile.

The formalities continued monotonously for many minutes before finally gaving way to the celebration of a feast. Ennor beckoned a line of servers bearing every arrangement of pork, beef, geese, fish, and even a boar in large polished steel platters that held the sizzling meat amid mounds of seasoned potatoes, vegetables, and fruits. Plate after plate of succulent meat, delicious vegetables, and dishes piled high with all kinds of mouth-watering courses sent every manner of stomach-grumbling scents wafting through the huge room.

It was not long before the solemn formalities of the nobility gave way to a hesitant joviality that spread among all assembled. It was not long before the sounds of deep laughter and loud speech wove a thrilling atmosphere to the banquet.