Knightsblade

by Andy Clark

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Luk, his voice hard. ‘I will go there, and I will end this.’

  ‘You may do,’ said the Oracle. ‘But there again, you may not.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Luk.

  ‘What means more to you, Luk Kar Chimaeros? Your honour? Or your family?’

  ‘I have no family,’ he replied.

  ‘You have a home world. Friends. Those for whom you care.’

  ‘I can’t think about them,’ he said. ‘Not until this is done.’

  ‘And yet,’ she said. ‘You must. Even now, a terrible shadow falls across the world of your birth.’

  ‘Adrastapol?’ asked Luk. ‘What do you know?’

  ‘More than I ever wished,’ she said.

  ‘Speak plainly!’ he snapped. ‘What threatens Adrastapol? I will send a message, warn them of its coming.’

  ‘That will not be enough,’ she said sadly. ‘The Emperor has shown me this. Either you choose your hunt and abandon all those you love to perish, or you turn aside to rescue them.’

  ‘What of Alicia?’ he asked angrily. ‘If I return home without concluding my hunt, will I lose her trail?’

  ‘I know much, Knight of Ashes, but I do not know that,’ said the Oracle. ‘I know only that you must choose your path wisely. Much rests upon your shoulders.’

  Mistrust and anger warred within Luk’s heart. He crumpled the scroll, causing flakes to crumble from it.

  ‘This could all be her machination, her way of shaming me and evading my pursuit yet again,’ he said.

  ‘It could be,’ said the oracle calmly.

  Luk shook his head and thrust the scroll into a pouch at his waist.

  ‘I came here for answers,’ he said. ‘You give me only questions.’

  ‘So it is, for those who seek to read the weave of fate,’ she replied. ‘Trust me that I take no pleasure in this. It is as much of a burden to speak these words as it is for you to hear them. The quarry of your hunt is foul and deserves to be purged with the Emperor’s light. Yet the threat to Adrastapol is as real as you or I, and without you they will fall. Even with you, perhaps. But can you truly turn away and know that you did not try?’

  Luk stood a moment longer, silent. Then he bowed again, stiffly, and turned away.

  ‘Thank you for your words,’ he said as he strode away. ‘May the Emperor watch over you.’

  ‘And you, Luk,’ said the Oracle. ‘Choose wisely…’

  Danial Tan Draconis stood before the throne of House Minotos. He wore a tabard in the crimson, black and gold of his house, belted over his half-armoured bodyglove. Upon his brow sat the crown of the High King of Adrastapol. At his waist was his draconblade, Oathkeeper. Three ornate servo-skulls hovered above him, each crafted to echo one of the three Noble Beasts of Adrastapol: the dracon, the minot and the pegassus.

  The minotane throne room was a study in martial grandeur. A mosaic floor depicted towering Knights marching out to war. The high ceiling bore a likeness of the Emperor as a warrior god, heroes and heretics battling around him across a stylised star-field. From the chamber’s cavernous doorway to the foot of the throne, the way was lined with huge statues in marble and iron. Each depicted a Grandmarshal of House Minotos, wielding their hammers, bellowing battle-cries, standing proud in victory. Many incorporated industrial machinery so that flames flickered in eyes and black exhaust smoke rose from open mouths.

  Behind the statues rose high galleries in which the Knights and courtiers of House Minotos could gather to spectate or petition. On this day, during a visit from the High King, they thronged with bullish warriors, robed adepts, stern consorts, cowled Sacristans and many others. The hubbub of their conversation washed over Danial like waves, mingling with the martial arias that floated down from cherubic laud hailers high above.

  He felt the weight of the people’s collected gaze. It was nothing compared to the glare of the man upon the minotane throne.

  Sat upon that edifice of black marble and wine-red leather, flanked by the Knights of his Exalted Court, Grandmarshal Kurt Tan Minotos glowered down upon Danial. Younger than Danial, Kurt was nevertheless powerfully built and had a thick moustache – an imposing physical presence who might have cowed a lesser man. Danial stood straight-backed and proud before him, and smiled warmly.

  At the ring of a court bell, the people in the galleries fell silent. Kurt’s herald, Sire Wilhorm Dar Minotos, stepped forward and cleared his throat.

  ‘Let all show their respect,’ he began, his voice rolling through a vox amplifier on his shoulder. ‘Here stands Danial Tan Draconis, son of Tolwyn Tan Draconis, High King of Adrastapol, liege-lord of the three houses, shield of the Majestis System, victor of the Donatosian triumph. Strike the bell thrice.’

  The court bell rang out again, a ritual threefold tolling. The onlookers made the sign of the aquila and intoned the words of fealty that courtly protocol demanded.

  ‘Behold, he who unites the Noble Houses!’ continued Wilhorm, the men and women in the galleries speaking the prescribed prayers as the ritual of welcoming continued. ‘Behold, he who leads our people to glory! Behold, he who leads our Knights to victory! Behold, he who shields our people from harm!’

  At this last honorific, Kurt Tan Minotos raised a hand. Wilhorm faltered.

  ‘That will suffice, Wilhorm,’ said Kurt stiffly. ‘Our High King is a busy man, I am sure. So am I. Let us be about our business.’

  Shocked whispers spread through the galleries. Wilhorm stepped back, looking stricken. Courtly protocol, though tedious and long-winded, was a cornerstone of Knightly life. To interrupt the ritual of welcoming was boorish at best. At worst, the High King might choose to construe an insult.

  Duels had been fought for less.

  Danial took a step forward and bowed deeply and respectfully, picking up the ritual at a later step.

  ‘Grandmarshal Kurt Tan Minotos, son of Grandmarshal Gustev Tan Minotos, Lord of the Ironfields and Castellan of the Kulrikh Peaks,’ intoned Danial. ‘It is a pleasure to stand in your presence again. You do me great honour by receiving me.’

  ‘The honour belongs to House Minotos this day,’ said Kurt. He, too, had returned to the words of the ritual, albeit having skipped over half an hour of formalities. ‘You grace us with your presence, High King Danial. Pray speak your will, and Minotos shall hear you.’

  ‘My thanks, Grandmarshal,’ said Danial. ‘I come this day to discuss matters of state.’

  For a moment, it seemed as though Kurt would commit the unpardonable insult of forcing the High King to speak on their business before the court like a common petitioner.

  A muscle twitched in Danial’s jaw. ‘In closed chamber.’

  The Grandmarshal stood, gesturing to his Knights.

  ‘Of course, my liege,’ said Kurt. ‘Pray accompany me to the iron sanctum.’ Danial ascended the steps and joined Kurt’s small entourage as they filtered through an ornately carved doorway behind the throne. They strode down a marble-floored corridor with martial arias swirling around them, Danial matching the Grandmarshal’s brisk pace.

  ‘How many times is this you have visited us, my liege?’ asked Kurt.

  ‘Since taking the throne?’ asked Danial. ‘Seven, I believe.’

  ‘Thrice more than House Pegasson,’ said Kurt. ‘Careful, they’ll think you’re playing favourites.’

  ‘The Marchioness Tan Pegasson knows how greatly I value her close allegiance and aid,’ said Danial. ‘Her loyalty is not in question.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Kurt gruffly. ‘The Lady of Miracles.’ Danial heard the disapproval in the Grandmarshal’s voice, but offered no comment.

  Ascending a brazier-lined set of steps, they passed through an armoured portal and into the iron sanctum. Hulking gun servitors watched them, vat-bred slabs of muscle with metal minot heads. Danial felt their glowing
sensor eyes tracking him, the yawning barrels of their heavy bolters following as he passed.

  Within, the iron sanctum was a hexagonal chamber perhaps a hundred feet across. An iron table of the same shape sat at its centre, surrounded by high-backed thrones. Tapestries and relic weapons hung from the walls.

  ‘Pray, will you take a seat, my liege?’ said Kurt. ‘By now you must have a favourite.’ The Grandmarshal settled heavily into his own, ornate seat and thumped his booted feet up onto the table top. Danial locked eyes with Kurt, until the lord of House Minotos dropped his gaze.

  Expressions carefully neutral, the Exalted Court of House Minotos waited for the High King to sit before following suit. Danial could feel their reluctance to spectate upon this discussion, but protocol had to be observed.

  The Gatekeeper, Sire Ottovio, stayed on symbolic guard at the chamber’s entrance. Danial carefully chose his vacant throne, gesturing to the others to assume their normal places of honour. They did so gratefully.

  ‘So, my liege,’ said Kurt. ‘To what do we owe the honour this time?’

  ‘Grandmarshal,’ said Danial, ‘my purpose this day is twofold. First, I wish to enquire as to your progress in implementing my Adrastapolian defence decrees. Secondly, I offer an invitation that I hope you will accept.’

  Kurt nodded to himself, then clapped his hands in demand.

  ‘Wine!’ he shouted. ‘How can we conduct the business of state with our throats parched dry?’

  At his shout, a trio of house serviles hurried into the chamber from a side door, bearing iron goblets and carafes of Kulrikh sourwine. They set them down with practised swiftness, studiously ignoring the glare of their lord and master. Danial accepted his goblet with a polite nod, but allowed the servant to fill it only half way. It was enough to avoid slighting his host, but no more.

  Kurt took a long pull on his goblet then set it down with a clang.

  ‘We have made little progress with regards to your defence decrees, my liege,’ he said. ‘House Minotos is concentrating upon recovering from the losses sustained during the Donatosian disaster, as I have told you already. Only when I am satisfied that the damage done to my own house has been repaired can I look beyond our borders. Such is my duty to my people.’

  ‘Grandmarshal,’ said Danial patiently. ‘The defence decrees are intended to ensure the safety of your people, and all the other peoples of Adrastapol. The planned network of orbital defence silos progresses apace elsewhere. It has furnished many regions of Adrastapol with a far more robust capacity to defend ourselves from planetary invasion.’

  ‘It was my father’s belief that our House’s strength at arms should always be our foremost defence,’ said Kurt. ‘To meet our enemies in full panoply upon the field of battle is the Minotos way, not hiding behind defence lasers and missile silos. I have spared what Sacristans and labour I can to this project and I will do no more until my Knightly Lances are fortified to my satisfaction.’

  ‘What of the Minotane air force, then?’ asked Danial. ‘During the Donatosian conflict, we saw only too well the strategic versatility and strength that aircraft provide. Even if you do not value orbital defences, you must see how a fleet of heavy landers and combat aircraft will allow your house to move more swiftly between war zones, and to defend itself from myriad threats.’

  ‘I allow, my liege, that such an endeavour has its merits.’

  ‘Then how is it that I see so few signs of progress, Kurt?’ asked Danial. ‘With the most recent shipment from Korphos, House Draconis now has sufficient heavy landers to transport two-thirds of our Knights, and over one hundred fighters and bombers. Still our efforts are dwarfed by those of House Pegasson.’

  ‘Pegasson possessed a substantial air force to begin with,’ said Kurt. ‘They have always been overly proud of their people’s abilities as pilots. Aircraft are not without their uses, but to focus upon such progressive tactics is to neglect the traditional primacy of our Knights. Thus, we weaken ourselves even as we appear strong.’

  ‘What of the industrialisation programs, then?’ asked Danial, forcing his voice to remain even. ‘The construction of new agriplexes, new power sources? The initiatives I have started to improve the lot and productivity of our serf-classes?’

  ‘I have channelled what resources I deem sufficient into your initiatives, my liege,’ said Kurt. ‘But, if I may be frank, I am not alone in believing them to be perilously lacking in traditional values. My father would not have wished to see our people grow soft from lack of toil.’

  ‘I hold our world’s traditions in the utmost respect,’ said Danial. ‘But rebellion ferments amidst the downtrodden and the discontented, Grandmarshal. It is our duty to ensure that our people feel the love of their Emperor, lest dissatisfaction take root in their souls. This is but one of the ways we ensure the taint of dishonour never again darkens our world. This matters, Kurt. I would see you act upon it sooner rather than later. To mistake compassion for weakness is to show it yourself.’

  The Grandmarshal looked momentarily taken aback, but his scowl quickly resurfaced.

  ‘You will find no weakness in House Minotos, my liege,’ he said, refilling his goblet. ‘Under my rule, this house is rebuilding its strength as my father would have willed. And our compassion will be reserved for those who deserve it. We will show no mercy to any heretic that we find amidst our ranks, no matter their provenance or status.’

  ‘Do you believe that I have done otherwise?’ asked Danial.

  ‘I imply nothing of the sort, my liege,’ said Kurt. ‘I hope that the Knight of Ashes proceeds well upon his hunt for she who slew my father in cold blood. May neither of them ever darken this world with their presence again.’

  ‘Grandmarshal Tan Minotos, you understand the implications of the Freeblade oath as well as I,’ said Danial. ‘And you know full well that Houses Chimaeros and Wyvorn were purged utterly, their heresy expunged in the Emperor’s cleansing flames. We could have been no more thorough on that front. The Ecclesiarchy confirmed this. Please do not dissemble, Kurt, it diminishes you. Will you bring dishonour upon your Noble House by refusing to enact your High King’s decrees?’

  The Knights around the table stiffened as Kurt Tan Minotos glared into his goblet. He thumped the drinking vessel down, slopping wine onto the table top.

  ‘My liege,’ he said. ‘I will never bring dishonour upon House Minotos, and I would duel any other who implied otherwise. I have told you on several occasions now that I will enact your decrees in the pace and fashion that best suits House Minotos. Trust me, when you look to me, you will not see dishonour.’

  ‘No,’ said Danial. ‘I do not see dishonour, Kurt. I see a good man, striving to show unassailable strength. One upon whose shoulders the mantle of rulership fell early, and by tragedy. One who still sees the shadow of his father cast upon the wall in place of his own. It is something I know a little of.’

  ‘Thank you for your insights, my liege,’ said Kurt stiffly. ‘I shall consider them as I continue to rule my Noble House as my father would have wished.’

  ‘I understand, Grandmarshal,’ said Danial. ‘But to be frank, your rule runs the risk of becoming isolationist and regressive. You have sent only what forces you must when I have called for aid in driving off piratical raiders. When my sister marched out to answer the call for aid from the world of Dakhera II, she led five lances of Draconis Knights, four of Pegasson, but only one of your own.’

  ‘I spared what warriors I believed I could,’ said Kurt. ‘With so many inexperienced Knights having just passed through their Becoming, I had few warriors I deemed ready for that battle. And the Emperor alone knows House Minotos has too few warriors to call upon these days.’

  ‘I understand your reasoning,’ said Danial. ‘And I do not condemn it. But within living memory, two Noble Houses of Adrastapol have turned traitor and been put to death for their crimes. I do not for on
e moment believe that your house harbours heresy, Grandmarshal, I wish to stress that. But understand that under such circumstances I can only show so much forgiveness before I, too, must show strength.’

  Kurt’s Knights shuffled uncomfortably. Perhaps, Danial thought, his words touched upon their own frustrations. Or perhaps they resented him. He watched Kurt carefully, willing the young Grandmarshal to swallow his pride and extend some gesture of compliance.

  ‘You mentioned a second reason for your visit, my king?’ asked Kurt, and Danial suppressed a sigh of frustration. ‘I have heard your words, and will think upon them. But both of us have a great deal to attend to. What was this other matter, might I ask?’

  ‘An invitation,’ said Danial. ‘Imperatus Dam nears completion at last. Hydromechanical power for three new defence lasers, as well as light and heat for every farmstead in the north Valatane. A sign of this world’s renewal, and its advancement into the Emperor’s light.’

  ‘A fine achievement,’ said Kurt. ‘One for which I’m sure your people will thank you, my liege.’

  ‘I would prefer they thank the Emperor and the Omnissiah,’ said Danial. ‘Just as we, too, plan to give thanks. High Sacristan Polluxis has assured me that the grand awakening of the dam’s machine-spirits is now just a day away. The worthies of House Draconis shall attend this important moment in our world’s history, as will those of House Pegasson. I have come in person to extend my invitation to you and yours, that you might join us in a display of solidarity to our people.’

  ‘You honour me, my liege,’ said Kurt, sounding sincere to Danial for the first time that day. ‘But I… I must decline. Matters of state compel me. Please accept my apologies.’

  Danial’s jaw set as he restrained his anger. He considered raising his voice, commanding Kurt to comply as was his kingly right. But he knew Kurt was glass, liable to crack if pressed too hard, which would be to the detriment of his house and his world. Danial had worked too hard to win the son of Gustev Tan Minotos around with diplomacy. He wouldn’t draw the velvet glove from his mailed fist unless he had no other choice. ‘Of course, Grandmarshal. You must do as you see fit.’