slade
No
Prologue: A Death in the 'Family'
Chapter One: Lysander's Banquet
“Master, you must stay here and rest. The ritual saps too much of your strength.”
“There is no time. I must gather the ingredients again and get the next teardrop. Plus I have to scout for information.”
“Please reconsider I beg you. You have been pushing yourself too much. I will go get what you need while I listen to the rumors of the world.”
“No. You must return. You have been gone for too long and they will start to get suspicious.”
“They know I’m on Assignment.”
“And they know that you’re skilled enough to not take very long. You must return and assume your old role.”
“I hate reliving the past.”
“We all do. Now it up to the two of us to bring about a change to the future. Which is why I must get back on the road quickly.”
“Then be careful. Rumors are starting to pop up about sightings of you. Surely Lysander will hear of it and take it seriously. The pressure put on us will be even worse then. You’ve been too bold recently.”
“I’m not worried about that decrepit old man! Even if he knew exactly where I was he could do nothing. For soon his hands are going to be tied.”
“Then it’s true that-
“Yes. How Ironic that Boris will be indirectly helping us. His involvement has only sped up the process. Once Lysander figures everything out, he’ll be scrambling like a beheaded chicken.”
“And what of the others? Will they interfere?”
“The only ones capable of being a real problem are Sarda and Franco. Franco doesn’t know enough to understand whats going on. And Sarda, despite his power, is chained like a dog by those three desperate little schemers. Paranoid that their pet will break something."
“What about Jacque?”
“What about Jacque.”
“Good point.”
“Go now. Back to your masters.”
“You are my only Master. And unlike him, I have always followed you voluntarily.”
“You once abandoned me.”
“Yes. Because I thought we could awaken from this awful dream through other, subtler means. Now I know better. I know that you were always right. I was foolish to believe the dream could end any other way.”
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Remember, it's important to leave a good impression when we arrive ar the Banquet.” Benedict replied to the group that followed him up the maze of stairs throughout the complex city of Voima. With the city split into seven layers it was easy for one to get completely lost. Still, at least it was a bright, sunny day out; a good omen in Benedict’s mind, for heading out to the Eastern Wild Lands was always a dangerous prospect. More so now that Vulgo caravans were disappearing on a regular basis. He had assembled a good team, he knew the King would think so too but just as important, he hoped the rest of the nobility would approve. He already knew Klemetti would complain, but Klemetti was always difficult with expectations that were more often than not impossible to meet. Benedict didn’t assume that he would be getting his support. Still there were always others who would prove to be less ornery. Udo was a good example. Though, like the rest of the Captains, he still held a immense dislike towards Jackal, he otherwise proved to be a rather pleasant fellow.
“Keep in mind that you will be inspected and watched closely by everyone. Most of you aren’t noble so they will be checking you over carefully.” Benedict had to smile. Only a few City-States in the Eastern Vulgo could be more pretentious and lavish than Gyrus’s infamous nobility, whose arrogance had only inflated under Lysander’s success.
They were also late, the banquet had started without them quite a while ago. Still, knowing the habits of the nobility, Benedict figured that they would probably start off with endless chatting before delving into the feast. Benedict with his entourage walked up the stairway to the 6th level, which unlike all the others were guarded by a squad of soldiers. This was the living quarters of the nobles after all, and they couldn't have some riffraff just barging on through. All the guards recognized Benedict and would normally let him pass but his group of followers prompted two of the soldiers to form an X with their spears, blocking the path until the captain spoke with the Knight. Benedict was a high ranking member of the nobility and while others would be fuming at the prospect of being blocked off by common soldiers, Benedict simply smiled and explained that his small, armed entourage of adventurers were here to see the King personally. The poor captain, his eyes went wide and he barked at his guards to let them all pass, declaring a thousand apologies to Benedict for obstructing him, which Benedict merely laughed off and motioned for the others to continued up the stairs.
The 7th level was flattened out and paved meticulously and unlike the other levels which had a large number of buildings, the 7th only had one. The Palace proper, which housed the King and his relatives and was also was the prime seat of power within Gyrus. Its two doors were over twenty feet tall and built with steel that was a foot thick. However these doors were also beautiful and had carvings of Gyrus’s previous kings dating back to the founding of the Kingdom thousands of years ago. However, the face that was bigger than even those legendary kings was a young Lysander, who was given long, flowing hair and a braided beard. The details that were given to his face were so intricate that it outclassed any of the other kings that were present on the piece. The fact that it was carved into steel was telling of the immense work and craftsman ship that went into making these doors. It would always be the first thing one would see before entering the court room. Reminding everyone of Lysander’s greatness.
Benedict could hear the excessive noise inside and smiled. He was right, they hadn’t even touched their food yet so their tardiness would hardly be noted. Unlike the previous guards, the ones at the door let Benedict and his band in without question. These soldiers were the elites and they knew Benedict was coming and more importantly, who the knight was bringing with him.
It was easy for the grand lobby to turn into a banquet hall. It was already a huge room, housing over a dozen wooden tables that were a hundred feet long where not only the Nobility dwelt, but their knights and squires as well as their own servants. That wasn’t including the guards that were stationed throughout the room, of which there were at least a two hundred. In the back of the court room were doors that led to the kitchens where the food was still being prepared with dozens of raging fires and large cauldrons. Doors to the side were where a mass of servants of the King went in and out, providing services such as wine and even playing instruments if they had the skill, prompting merry laughter from the nobility. Which was surprising due to their reputation of indignant snobbery.
When Benedict and his group entered, the noise only went down slightly with others noting their presence but were otherwise too busy in their own affairs to care at the moment. Still others spoke in hushed whispers and pointed towards their group with speculative fingers. Noting that Benedict's entourage was completely female induced more than a few snickers and accusatory glances towards the otherwise respectable knight. Benedict didn’t really care about all of that though, what mattered was to talk to the King as soon as possible, though he frowned when he finally caught sight of him
King Lysander sat on the throne before his feast, which was raised up by a large stone platform with two giant fires raging on either side to keep the King warm in his old age he was prone to colds even in amiable weather. His elderly appearance was drastically different from the image of his younger years that had been carved on the door. His hair was still long though it was completely white and gray, with the texture of rough wires. It was also unkempt, as strands of it fell over his face. It gave the impression of a grumpy old man who was simply too old to be bothered with most problems he came across. His body had withered from age and his strength had left him years ago, his elegant robes and cloaks now seem to barely hang on him they were so big. Everything about him seemed anything but kingly. Keen and cunning perhaps but not kingly. All except his eyes, those dark gray eyes which spoke of an immense power, and a raging, eternal fury to those who dared not to respect his power and authority. One thing that had always been peculiar with Lysander was that no woman throughout his entire reign, had been taken as his wife. It was by now an open secret that the thought of sharing his royal bed with anyone disgusted him immensely. During his consolidation of power after the wars of Kaldra, no one within the court would have dared tried to pressure him into a marriage. He would die without child and much to the anticipation and frustration of everyone he had never once named an heir.
Benedict had frowned because Lysander was surrounded by nobles, and they were all important. He could tell by their stern expressions and curbed tones that the topic was anything but pleasant. Among that group he spotted the notorious Conrad Klemetti, who looked even more unpleasant than he normally did. Benedict sighed, Klemetti could actually be a handsome man if he just stopped all the scowling. Still, Benedict knew he would have to wait for a moment before speaking with the king. Though he narrowed his eyes when he noticed an important person missing from the group that spoke with the King.
Where was Jackal?
Ah! Benedict spotted him among the tables, quietly drinking to himself. No one bothered to talk to Jackal as most of the nobility hated him and would have nothing to do with the man. Benedict seemed to be one of the few exceptions. Though he certainly acknowledge that the man was suspicious at times, he agreed with the King that Jackal was a phenomenal adviser and incredibly resourceful. He felt the ire that was directed at Jackal was undeserved, though it wasn’t as if Jackal had ever done anything to ease relations between himself and the upper class. He never once invited them as guests to his home, never sent them gifts nor made any attempts to acknowledge them. It seemed he despised them as much as they hated him. He was just more subtle about it. He also wasn’t an impressive man by any means; he was generally unassuming with a few brisk whiskers and short brown hair. He simply didn’t look like someone who would be Lysander’s most trusted adviser, he just looked like a commoner, even a peasant at times. Benedict guessed that he wasn’t with the King to prevent the nobles from causing a stir, and would give his thoughts with Lysander later. He would have to say a few words to Jackal later on, assuming someone from his group didn't decide to join the man for a drink.
Benedict looked around, spotting no other people of noteworthiness until his eyes zoned in on Shay, the merchant who fled from Xabsiga and was given temporary refuge by Lysander out of pity and curiosity for his wares. Though Benedict had personally advised against it. Shay sat with other members of the minor nobility and seemed comfortable enough, though he had an odd habit of shifting his eyes throughout the courtroom, as if constantly afraid that something would strike at him. His smile was toothy and nervous and the bags under his eyes showed stress and a severe lack of sleep. Plus his fingers were constantly tapping on the table, he was anxious and afraid of something. Though what that was was the real question. It was true he was accused of Demon worship back in Xabsiga, but the Draco Cauda held no influence here in Gyrus. Benedict figured there was something else going on. Though since this man openly collected and sold Demonic items Benedict was certain he didn’t want to know what sort of trouble the merchant was really in. Though his entourage might want to learn more and talk to him.
Finally, Benedict genuinely smiled as he spotted two familiar faces, Udo and Aapa. Two fast friends who could not be more different. Udo was stoic and serious, rarely smiling and having almost no sense of humor. Though generally a decent enough man past his taciturn moods. He was especially fond of his troops stationed back at Fort Seima. Aapa was also a commander of a fort, though it was Fort Sorto up to the north. A bit of a backwater region since it was erected to defend against another possible Orc attack, but since that had never happened (nor would it ever happen) Sorto wasn’t maintained as well and its soldiers were of a lower quality, often new recruits. Aapa, was jovial and laughed often. Often prodding and teasing Udo. Like Udo, he too was a massive man. Famously known for wielding a warhammer with ease. Benedict would have to chat with them at some point during the feast. Assuming that the two commanders didn’t take a liking to his recruits.
A servant meekly walks up to Benedict and whispers in his ear. His once smiling face becomes a little more serious as he nods and sends the servant away, he turns and looks and his recruits. Each one of them he had handpicked for their unique skills. After traveling with them to the capital and speaking to each of them, getting to know and understand them just a bit more, they had his utmost confidence.
“I’m afraid I must go see the King privately, please have a seat anywhere you like and have some wine. Though careful not to drink too much. I still have to present you to everyone.”
And with that, he was off, walking with a hurry towards the King. It seems whatever the servant whispered worried Benedict greatly, and he joined the group of nobles surrounding Lysander with stern faces, furrowed brows and hushed whispers.
Last edited: