Blade of Erogrund

When the last hungry mouth had consumed the last delicious morsel and the sounds of eating gave way to even more animated conversation, Ennor stood once again before the several hundred or so seated.

“Friends!” He paused a moment to wait for the banqueters to quiet. “As tonight is a night of celebration, let us continue the evening with dance, for do even the stars shine has brightly as the face of one who dances?” This sentiment seemed to please the assemblage as they responded with thunderous applause and whistling, despite the phrase sounding like an exaggeration to Godric.

“Very well then,” Ennor replied, smiling. “Guards, open the doors so we may not be alone in our celebration!”

Bowing has they had before, the guards that stood beside each door into Rae-Oiron hefted the large gates and drew them open. Behind stood every collection of women, children and men that burst into the room, enthusiastically lining the edges of the Hall and around the tables until they stood precariously close to the pits that surrounded the chamber. It took a remarkably brief time for the additional hundreds of people to pack themselves in, whispering, smiling, and standing as solemnly as they could before the presence of their nobility on such an exciting night. Even several dwarves made their presence known in the front rows of the writhing crowd, but any others were lost among their human counterparts who possessed an unavoidable vertical advantage.

The crowd’s appearance was a startling difference to the people Godric had grown so accustom to seeing in the dank streets of the city. All burdened mothers, angered watchmen, filthy children, seething merchants, and exhausted laborers made no presence in the Great Hall. In their place stood every assortment of proud men in their finest - a term that greatly varied from man to man - tunics as proper lords of their house, women in adoring dresses that varied from the finest silk to the plainest cotton with eyes shining excitedly, and children as clean as their mothers had been able to scrub them in fresh clothes standing wide-eyed at the glorious display of grandeur.

As the crowd found its place standing around the Great Hall, Ennor took Saraycir’s hand and helped her from her chair, the two making their way to the vast space around the coffin that remained in the center of the room, surrounded by the crowd.

From somewhere a fair melody of flutes, harps, and other, less familiar, instruments began to play. The song they wove was sweet and quick, winding among the excitable people like a banner inspiring its army. The captivating music continued until it filled the room and the hearts of those within.

At once Ennor held the fetchingly lithesome elf that stood beside him and they began to dance with the music. Everyone watched noiselessly while their King swayed and stepped with the spry elf. The couple turned and spun fluidly in what Godric recognized to be one of the most popular dances of the Niron, if his memory of Agatha’s lessons proved correct.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Agatha murmured, her eyes fixed on the scene.

“Um, Yes?” Godric stuttered. Suddenly seeing Ennor’s confidence and poise made him only imagine how much worse he would be.

“Don’t worry,” Hilthwen said from several seats away. “Everyone is nervous their first time.”

“There’s nothing to it,” Matthias added, swinging back a drink of something from his goblet. “Just don’t screw up too much, and you’ll be fine.” His partner shot him a dark look, but he effectively ignored it by inspecting the crowd.

“And remember,” Thain muttered,

“- keep my head down, yeah, yeah,” Godric mumbled.

The dwarf scowled and crossed his arms.

Ennor and Saraycir stopped as the music ceased. There was hardly a pause, though, before again the unseen musicians struck up their instruments to commence another dance.

With this new tune many left their seats at the tables and joined the King and his partner on the floor beside a plethora of enthusiastic partners from the crowd. It did not take long for the echoing of steps to shuffle into the beauty of the music. Laughter began to take the crowd again and festivity of the party flowed seamlessly with the song.

“Feel like a dance?” Godric heard Hilthwen ask.

Matthias shrugged. “Not particularly.”

The girl shook her head. “You need to start enjoying people, friend.”

The young man’s dark eyebrows drew together. “I do enjoy people, just selectively and largely from a distance.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth, lad,” Thain called from his seat, sloshing down a large mug of ale. Much of it drooled down his beard that was already matted with a veritable feast of crumbs.

“What about you?” Agatha asked Godric intently. Hilthwen shot him a glance.

“I suppose so...”

“Excellent!” The short girl popped up from her seat excitedly and took his hand. “C’mon.” Her small hand took his with a sure hold that steered him toward the dance floor. As she pulled him, he thought he heard Matthias sigh.

“On second thought, Hilthwen, might I have this dance?”

The couple steps from the table to the dance floor were not nearly enough for him to organize his thoughts. Before his brain consciously recognized it they were there among the swaying dancers, the eyes of half the city dwelt upon his back.

But this heavy gaze appeared to have little affect on Agatha and she stood resolutely, still holding his hand. Hesitantly he put his other hand on her hip and held her close, as she had taught him.

“I’m nervous,” he murmured. “All these people...”

Agatha smiled kindly. Her eyes lit up in the candlelight as her lips curved into a gently reassuring smile.

“You’re a different person tonight, you know that?”

He shrugged anxiously. “Am I?”

“Yes... But I like it. Every time I’ve seen you so far you’ve been different. In the apothecary’s you were vulnerable, yesterday you were confused, and today you are nervous. There aren’t many men your age that could cope with that.”

“I suppose it hasn’t done a great turn for my pride or for your opinion of me...”

“On the contrary,” she whispered.

Godric finally tore his eyes away from the crowd and looked at her. There was something in her face, in her eyes, that had changed. At first it did not matter what it was, as long as it kept them from dancing, but then it drew him in. There was something there. Something deep beneath he wanted to understand. A hope.

She cared for him.

The realization was as startling as a bucket of ice-water. Ever since Dunn had been desolated, affection had felt nearly void from his life. Mira alone had been his confident and friend through the brutal weeks, but she too had pulled away. Even the solace of his father’s memory had been besmirched by the knowledge of his treachery.

But here was a girl who had seen him at his worst, physically and otherwise, and had somehow still grown to care about him.

“Now come with me,” she said, still looking him in the eye and now grinning widely. Stepping back, she pulled him with her into the dancing crowd.

The entire dance was blur. All he could remember was fiercely attempting to remember each step until they, all of a sudden, it was over.

Agatha just stood there smiling. “Great job! You survived!”

It took a moment for his mind to conceive that it was actually over. When finally it did, relief flooded him. “Thank Niron,” he said, smiling.

“Please,” she protested. “You were excellent. No need for dramatization.”

“But on a night that thrives with juvenile dramatics, why should more not be added?” asked a shrewd voice.

Godric turned from Agatha to see Caeros standing beside them.

“Lord Caeros,” he murmured stiffly. Later on when he would reflect on those moments, it would seem remarkable that he had even recalled this courtesy in the presence of the Lord.

“Sir Godric, Lady Agatha. I trust your evening has been pleasurable.” His mouth twisted into a friendly countenance but a threatening aura could not be shaken from his face. The dull grey of his half-mask ended in a twisted metal curl that artificially transformed his smile into a gruesome sneer.

“It has scarcely started,” Agatha answered, unaffected by the lord’s sudden appearance. “But yes, thus far it has been very pleasurable. And yours?”

Caeros shrugged his broad shoulders. “Such gatherings as these hold little interest to me. Though I trust we shall see excitement before the night is up.” This last statement was spoken as his eyes stared into Godric’s, the warmth of his smile not reaching their glassy surfaces.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” the boy answered. He did his best to sound casual but the lord’s smirk hinted that it was failure.

“Oh, I’m certain you don’t. But no doubt you will.”

“It seems to me that you hide a secret unbeknownst to us, my lord,” Agatha laughed, unaware of Godric’s discomfort. “Pray, will you not indulge us into your confidence?”

Caeros broke into a mirthless chuckle. “Well spoken, my lady, but alas, I cannot. At least not as of now. Lady Agatha, might I speak in private with Sir Godric for a moment? Don’t fear, I will not keep him from the pleasure of your company for long.”

“I don’t think that is necessary,” the voice of Hilthwen broke in. She and Matthias made their way from a short distance to where Godric and Agatha spoke with Caeros. “This is such a fine banquet, would it not be a shame to miss even a moment of it in the drudgery of serious conversation?” Behind them the sound of music signal the start of another dance.

The lord’s confidence wavered at the sight of the second couple but recovered quickly. “Lady Hilthwen! A pleasure to see you. I would have thought you would be busy with preparations for tomorrow.”

“Preparations only serve so many purposes,” Matthias answered for her. “Sometimes it is better to focus on the present. Don’t you agree?”

“Quite,” Caeros replied through gritted teeth. “But it may be in Sir Godric’s interest to converse with me for only a moment.”

All eyes settled on him. Temptations to listen to what the lord had to say filled his mind. Afterall, it would only be a moment. And help will only be a call away. But then Thain’s warning words filled his mind.

“My apologies, Lord Caeros, but I should not like to leave such a celebration as this for even a moment. Should you like to tell me anything, however, do not feel that you mustn’t simply because of the presence of this fine company. We are all friends here, I trust.”

Caeros’s lips curled in a grin that manifested into a snarl. “I wished only to tell you that it appears the dancers are forming lines. It would do you best not to be found on the wrong side of them.” It was as he had said, the dancers were lining up across from one another for a dance unknown to Godric. However, the ferocity that Caeros spoke with left no doubt that he was not speaking of the ball.

“Thank you for the warning,” Godric replied coldly, “but I see no need to move.”

“As you wish. Lady Agatha, Lady Hilthwen, Matthias.” The lord stalked into the crowd.

“What was that about?” Agatha inquired.

No one answered.

The next couple hours were filled with dancing, music, and conversation with the banqueters. Godric and Agatha must have danced thirty times and been introduced to countless men and women on the floor, some more courteously than others. It was almost half a dozen times that Godric found himself warding off the drunk or desperate who tried to take Agatha from him even as they danced.

Godric noticed Aeis and Mira dancing several times and had caught their glances more than once but made no effort to talk to either of them. In fact, as the night wore on he found himself working harder to elicit a smile or laugh from Agatha rather than catching the gaze of his old friend.

“So what do you think?” Agatha asked him as she fell in her chair. Her face beamed through rosy cheeks expectantly at Godric, who sat down beside her.

“Amazing,” he said through a sigh. “I’ve never been to a party like this before.” The whirling crowd, shining candlelight, and wonderful smells took his breath away, combined with, surprisingly, the sparkling eyes of the girl beside him.

“Yes,” she exclaimed. “It’s wonderful! A shame that it only lasts the one night.”

“I remember the banquets we used to have in Dunn. They were nothing like this,” he said hurriedly, “but for us it was a time to remember. The entire village would be in a joyful mood for days after.”

“That sounds nice,” Agatha said. “Did you have many celebrations?”

“A few. There was a winter festival in the late year and another at mid-summer, but my favorite was the Harvest Festival in the autumn. Drom, the blacksmith, would arrange for sheep to be roasted on spits in the Town Square. Huge wooden kegs of sweet cider and mead would be brought out from the bar and the ground would be covered with cereal grain that had just been harvested. Everyone would gather to eat and dance in the square to thresh the grain until the early morning. The air would smell like fresh chaff and sizzling meat. I still remember looking up one night and seeing the sky filled with stars and wondering how many villages like mine they were looking out for.”

“I think that’s what we’re missing,” Agatha responded. “This city is majestic, but the people within are broken.”

“What do you mean? Everyone seems quite happy now. And I’ve met some of the most dedicated, fearless people in this city. Granted the Lords are not on the best terms, but the people stand together.”

The girl brushed a couple strands of her hair out of her downcast eyes. The comfort and confidence she had portrayed was draining from her eyes as she searched for an explanation. “No, we’re dedicated.... But not united. All these people are selfish.” One of her hands began to clench in a fist. “For the most part we serve the same purpose, but not with each other. Everyone has their own agenda, own plans, and own way of getting there.” Her face was relaxed again, releasing her fist. “Maybe that’s why I like you,” she smirked. “You’re so oblivious that you would never try to use anyone.”

Godric raised his eyebrows incredulously and laughed. “Oblivious? Ugh, as much as I want to disagree with you, I guess you have me there.” Agatha joined him laughing for a moment. “But you seem different,” he added. “You’re the only person here who I haven’t seen manipulate or connive. Quite the opposite; you spend your days healing people. You... very kind.” He nearly flinched as they words fell flatter than he had hoped.

Immediately her countenance darkened as her eyes looked somewhere behind him. Her fist clenched once again.

“What’s the matter?” He asked. Something was clearly wrong. When she didn’t answer, he turned around, searching the banquet for something that would have caused such a response. Nothing but the lighthearted crowd and sea of dancers met his eyes.

“Oh, nothing,” she said anxiously. By the time he turned back around she had recovered. “I just thought I saw something. I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

He never got a chance to answer as the music ended and Ennor raised his hands above the crowds.

“Everyone! If you please, as much as I regret to bring stay this banquet, find your seats and make clear the floor.”

The shuffling of feet filled Great Hall followed by the gritting sound of wooden chairs sliding on stone floors. Ennor was among them, taking his place at the front of the head table beside Saraycir and Caeros.

When the floor had cleared and everyone had taken their seats or stood along the edges of Rae-Oiron, Ennor addressed them again.

“Tonight we have the pleasure of celebrating strength. Strength through determination, will, and most of all sacrifice. All of us have suffered sacrifice. We all have felt the consequences of survival in this harsh world. Now let us hear of the tales of this world and those that unfolded in past days to bring forth the lands we know now.”

As the king sat, another man came forward. His lack of stature or bulk obviously betrayed he was not counted among the numbers of soldiers in the city. However, the confidence with which he carried a beautiful lyre instilled just as much certainty that he was a skilled musician as he was a poor warrior.

The lanky man stepped to the center of the room and placed a small wooden stool on which he sat. Once he had settled comfortably, his fingers skipped across the delicate strings of his instrument.

At first the music was almost hollow. As if an invisible void had been opened in the room, the celebratory mood that had so merrily filled the Great Hall was consumed to make way for a mellow sorrow at the haunting strums. It began as an uncertainty that could be seen in the eyes of the banqueters. With every chord of the lyre their hearts were further emptied to the sorrowful aching of the music that washed over them in sobering streams.

But this was nothing compared to the moment when the bard opened his mouth and began to sing,

Many a night ago

When the seeds of prosperity did sow

A shadow flew above the night

Carried on an North wind, a fright

To rend a great land low

Many a night ago

To the Kingdom of Lords

They pillage mighty hordes

Oh the cities of Men

Reduced to the dragons’ den

Shattered are their sharpened swords

In defense of the Kingdom of Lords

Many a night ago

When the seeds of war did sow

A shadow flew above the night

Carried on an summer wind, a fright

To rend an immortal land low

Many a night ago

To the west did their burning eyes look

The Elven kingdom their fire shook

Red runs the rivers of that land

The time for the kingdom ends like sand

The slaughtered Elestil, forsook

To the east do its red eyes look

Many a night ago

When the seeds of death did sow

Many a dragon flew above the night

Carried on a conquering wind, a fright

To rend a mountain land low

Many a night ago

Tall were the stone gates

Guarding those people from the fiery Fates

But break they did not

Even against the white fire, hot

Dwarves stood filled with hate

To defend their last stone gate...

The music was like nothing Godric had ever heard. It carried little rhythm but still flowed fluidly in a complicated and overwhelmingly emotional sound, enthralling its listeners. Each chord embraced the hearts of whoever listened, momentarily conquering them.

With every word that left his mouth, the candles’ light seemed to dwindle. Every verse filled the listeners with such as sense of loss that it was as though they stood looking upon the very scenes unfolding. The song continued on as the bard sculpted a verbal journey for the assemblage until he finally struck the last chord, letting it resound emptily in the chamber.

When the last echo of the chord had ended he bowed deeply to the King’s table. Ennor rose ceremonially and returned the formality.

Ennor was silent, letting the heaviness of the emotion that hung in the room oppress the assemblage.

Finally he spoke slow and deliberately. “It is my wish to neither sour the sweetness of celebration nor dampen the spirits of all , yet it would not be suitable for us to forget those who have fallen so we may sit here in safety. Among us now lies one who has served this kingdom as faithfully as one may; Lord Tennilius. May the people that he so honorably served remember him in a moment of silence.”

The candlelight sparkled like gold on the coffin of the deceased lord, shimmering in a sheen of electrum that seemed to solidify in the frigid silence of the people.

Before the king could speak, Caeros rose solemnly with a face as stone-like as the sarcophagus of the man he had just honored.

“Friends, my heart is moved to know that a hero of this people may still be remembered as such and appreciated accordingly. As you all know, Lord Tennilius was taken from us far too soon by the cowardly hand of an assassin. Such a death as this for one as noble as he should give us all reason to grieve, for was it not enough to take his life but his honor too?

“As one who proudly counts himself as a friend of Lord Tennilius, it was made known to me by him that it was his heartfelt wish to fall in the West Fields against the Draeknol, battling for the freedom of his beloved Kingdom. This dream too was taken from him, but I swear will not let it pass for such an action would gravely dishonor him.” Caeros paused, removing his mask and, Godric was surprised to see, wiping a tear from his eye. The marks on his face and wrinkles around his eyes that had looked like the cruel scars of a ferocious warrior only hours earlier were now riddled with the marks of sorrow. His eyes were deepened with emotion that glowed dimly against the white light of the room while he steadied himself.

After taking a breath he continued. “For these reasons I cannot in right conscious continue following the orders of my King.” A spite of murmuring broke out in the crowd.

“What the devil of the Nine Halls are you talking about?” Thain muttered under his breath. No one save Godric appeared to hear him.

Caeros raised his hands to silence them. “My kin, for twenty years we have cowered here. We have sent out patrols, jealously guarded our secrets, and sought all manners of destroying our foes, the Dragons. Yet to this day we are scarcely closer to victory and precariously close to defeat.

“Tennillius died dreaming of a day when the armies of Biren-Lararth marched again and stood in the shadows of the Draeknol. This dream could not come true for the fear that gripped his fellows and for the brittle steel of our blades that would do ill against the scale of the Dragon. And so he remained with us in these halls of stone, waiting for a day when his dreams might come true. Friends, such a day has come.”

“That’s enough, Caeros,” Ennor interrupted. The elder Lord ignored him.

“Within this fortress is a weapon many of you have perhaps heard of. In the tales of Ecthion and the Scourge, it has no doubt fallen on you ears. Erogrund.”

Another stream of conversation blazed through the people.

“Yet your king has hidden this from you. For nigh on three weeks the blade has been among you, but you would not know it. Even on the night when twenty-five souls fell on the threshold of this refuge, the only blade that could have saved them were safely within its walls.

“Not only this, but on the same night that this noble man fell, the sword was stolen from your king’s care and to this day it remains unrecovered by him.

“Do not be deceived; Tennilius’s life and the life of all those that have fallen since Ennor’s return are not the cruel cost of our freedom but a waste that occurred only because of your King’s cowardice to reveal the truth that Erogrund, and with it hope, rested among you.”

“That is enough!” Ennor yelled.

Caeros finally faced him. “Is it? The truth is enough? I agree but nothing short of it. And so I have taken it upon myself to avenge the death of my dearest friend and right the wrongs you have incurred.”

“I have done only what I have felt right.” Ennor announced fiercely. “And I will hold to it.”

“Then do so. Meanwhile I will do what is necessary. Guards!” His order was quick and sharp, immediately followed by the steps of two guards that made their way through the crowd, dragging between them the lashed, beaten carcass of a shackled man.

When they had reached the center of the room, the guards dropped the remnant of the bloodied man onto the coffin.

It was Thain’s turn to stand in rage. “Caeros, what in the name of Niron is this?! What right do you claim to have to beat a citizen of this city so? Answer for yourself!” His beard fanned like an intimidating cape from his lips that had contorted in fury.

Caeros turned slowly to let the full force of his disdain wash over the dwarf as he glared down. “I owe you nothing, dwarf. To Ennor alone will I answer and to him, for not much longer.” Looking back to the king, he continued. “My lord, I have brought you Oarch, a servant of Bewin. As you know, Bewin was the merchant allowed into the Vault to retrieve his gold from the Vault on the morning the sword was found missing.

“After given incentive, he has confessed that he was hired to take the package from the Vault but Lord Tennilius was made aware of his conspiracy through an attendant. He made the mistake of not taking it seriously. I know for a fact that Oarch was assigned to the same division as this attendant that night, who was found the following day slashed nearly beyond recognition and killed by a knife wound to the back. An identical wound, I might add, as the one that claimed the life of Lord Caeros.”

“Pray tell,” Ennor answered with a voice as glacial as the North Wind, “what is the name of this attendant and why was his death not made aware to me?”

“Bor,” replied Caeros. “His name was Bor and you were not told because he was a dwarf of little consequence. You had enough to concern you the day in question.”

“Bor?” Godric exclaimed. It was only when the eyes of the room settled on him that he realized he had stood. Only Thain’s eyes did he meet, but such a speechless inferno of rage met him that he did not know what to say.

“Yes,” Caeros snarled. “I am told you knew of him.”

“Regardless,” said Ennor finally. “There is no justification for torture here and no place in our law for such brutality. A further investigation will be made into your claims, but until then, guards, take Lord Caeros away to be dealt with as the Council of Lords shall stipulate.”

A pair of soldiers made their way along Rae-Oiron from the gate to Naevir, but Caeros raised a hand and bowed his head. “Halt! You forget, Ennor, that there is one stipulation in our law for doing what was necessary. The king may do as he pleases in order to find justice, provided he does not exceed the boundaries of the Council of Lords.”

"You. Are. Not. King.” Ennor growled. His hand had fallen to his sword hilt and gripped it so tightly his muscular arm shook against his white knuckles.

Caeros ignored the accusation. “I standing before you, the people of Biren-Larath and the Council of Lords, and hereby make this proposition. That Ennor be removed from kingship for the following charges: murder for condemning twenty-five men to death outside the gates of Biren-Larath at the hands of the Dragons, negligence for lacking to bring justice for Lord Tennilius, breaking the King’s oath to always protect and preserve this kingdom by concealing Erogrund from the people, and a score of additional charges that may be brought forward upon request.”

Without hesitation, Theronin rose from his seat. “I second this proposition and vouch for Caeros. His current initiative has proven he is far more suited for kingship than the coward that stands before us now.”

Blatant speech and arguments broke out among the crowd. People shouted angrily, shoving with those around them that struggle in disagreement. Layers of voices strove to be heard over one-another until they were sheered to silence by the sound of steel being drawn.

Caeros had drawn his sword. “Come now,” he hissed. “I have no intention of being uncivilized about this. Lords, vote, if you will.”

“I’m bloody sure you broke the civilized standard when you flayed a man within a speck of his life,” barked Thain.

“This doesn’t concern you, dwarf,” Theronin spat.

“Shut your arrogant mouth, you ignorant, young prick!” Thain snapped. “Far from it; my people find refuge in this city just as yours. And we are vowed to protect it just as yours.”

“Then stand by and watch,” ordered Caeros. “Perhaps I will let you live, should you find enough hair in that beard of yours to bridle your gapingly obnoxious mouth.”

“Don’t you dare mock me, you filthy traitor. And may I remind you that my people and I have no dues to you or yours. Our loyalties lie solely with the city and Ennor; even if you dispose him, that does not change.”

“So be it,” Caeros grunted, waving a hand. The guards that had hauled Oarch in stalked to where Thain sat, but were shoved back by the two armored dwarves guarding him. Both pairs of soldiers drew their weapons, letting the bare steel reflect the dimming light of the multitude of candles.

Agatha grabbed Godric’s arm and pulled him back into his seat. She leaned in and whispered, “We need to get out of here. Before things get dangerous.”

One of the Ladies from the Council rose. “Caeros, you have my loyalty. The king’s sickening irresponsibility can be ignored for no longer. Ennor, one month ago you left us with your two closest companions and swore - swore - that you would do all you could to save Dunn and Threst in order to prove you still could be the king we need you to be. You failed. This may have been acceptable should you have made the knowledge of Erogrund’s discovery public and laid plans based upon them. This too you failed to do and instead acted out of fear and cowardice.”

“I did no such thing,” argued Ennor. “It is not my place to order the use of the sword as long is it is not in my control. Concealing it was the only appropriate measure given the circumstances.”

“This too should have been taken care of,” said another Lord. “You have placed greater value in this boy,” he accused, waving a hand to Godric, “than in the entiredy of this city and all those within it. If this is not a show of cowardice than I fail to recognize what is.”

“What would you have me do?!” Ennor cried. “Take a the life of an innocent? Slay one whose only guilt is the possession of a coveted weapon?”

“No!” Still another Lord rose from the table, tossing down his half-mask to show the wrath in his face. “We ask you to fulfill the duties of your office! You are king! It is your duty to make the hard choices for the better of our kingdom. No one will disagree that slaying a child is a grim deed, but it is one that must be done.”

“Never have I fully recognized Man’s potential for foolishness before tonight.” Saraycir’s smooth words fell like a soft stream of water on the fiery conversation. “You ask Ennor to make a decision such as this and still hold him guilty when you makes the right choice. Many a king I have seen in my lifetime. I have lived to see the dawning and dying of many a lord and there is no doubt in my mind that the right choice is often the harder one. But you fail to make this differentiation. Do not deceive yourselves into thinking, my friends, that you must make the wrong decision to follow your path. Fate is a fickle weaver, yet at the end of time its picture is always clear. Are you the ones to sacrifice all morality and ethics, to cleave Fate’s tapestry, in order to sew your own wills into history?

“Ennor has chosen the nobler road, though not the one you wish for. Still he stands before you all now as if on trial because you do not see the results you want. Why do you compromise the sanctity of life for the ambition of humanity? Is it not better that all fall nobly than take the life of one out of resentment? Nay, Men of Niron, do not be so anxious to wrongly steal the life of another so that you may find a vain hope to preserve your own.”

“A fine sentiment, Lady Saraycir, but to what consequence?” Caeros replied. “It is not by sentiment that Men live or die, but by action. And it was Ennor’s failure to take action that has left us in the current predicament.

“Neither Lord nor Lady have stood in opposition to my proposition. I’m I correct to assume that my proposition is unopposed?” Ennor’s eyes traced the faces of the Lords that remained seated, all of whom averted their gaze from him. Not for the first time that night, Rae-Oiron was masked in silence.

“It is as I feared, then,” Ennor whispered.

A satisfied grin cut across Caeros’s face. “Then let my first order be heard: that Ennor be placed under arrest to face charges for his crimes.”