Lord Soth w-6

by Edo Van Belkom

  Sending him on a thirty-day quest to restore something which was lost, to defeat an evil and more powerful opponent and to conduct one test of wisdom and three of generosity seemed unnecessary in Soth's case. He had been undergoing such tests, and passing them with flying colors for years.

  "Now," said Lord Caladen. "If anyone present has any knowledge as to why this noble knight should not ascend to the Order of the Rose, or rule over Knightlund as its lord, now is your chance to be heard." Although Lord Caladen said the words jovially and as if they were little more than a mere formality, Soth's heart leapt up into his throat as he waited for a faint voice to break the quiet stillness of the moment.

  No one said a word.

  Or perhaps dared to.

  "Very well, then. Knight Soth," Lord Caladen said rising to his feet.

  "Your lineage is impeccable, your deeds most honorable, and your supplication unchallenged.

  However, it is the custom of the Rose Knights Council to adjourn in private to determine whether a petition should be accepted or rejected, and we shall do so now."

  Lord Caladen moved away from the high table, stepped off the platform and was followed into a room just off the courtyard by Lord Cyril and

  Lord Olthar. Oren Brightblade and Dag Kurrold also followed the others off the platform, but they were helped down the steps by several eager

  Knights of the Crown who were more than willing to lend a hand to the gallant knights who had fought beside their fathers and grandfathers so many years ago.

  When the Knights Council had left, Soth turned around to take a look at the gathering. To his right, seated in the small gallery reserved for honored guests, was Caradoc, who as Soth's seneschal, would also be ascending an order of the knighthood soon, becoming a Knight of the Sword.

  To Caradoc's left was Korinne Gladria, waving to her shining knight with a look that was proud, loving and somehow seductive. Soth waved back at her, then stopped as he caught sight of his father. Aynkell Soth had raised his clenched fist as a sign of congratulations, but Soth quickly looked away before it became obvious that he had seen the man and was forced to acknowledge the gesture.

  Soth turned his head the other way and saw scores of his fellow knights from all three of the orders offering their congratulations and best wishes. Soth nodded to each in turn as he continued to scan the gathering. Then when he looked directly behind him, he saw a wall of bodies crammed into every available corner of the courtyard, some even sitting atop the shoulders of the more sturdy in the crowd. Even the balconies and battlements were full of onlookers and well-wishers. This was a momentous occasion in Soth's life and he was glad there were record numbers of people who wanted to be a witness to it.

  The low murmur of voices was silenced by the opening of the door to the

  Rose Knights Council's room. Oren Brightblade and Dag Kurrold were first to exit and were quickly escorted back onto the platform by the young knights who, like everyone else, were eager to hear the Rose Knights Council's decision.

  A moment later High Warrior Lord Olthar Uth Wistan, High Clerist Lord

  Cyril Mordren, and High Justice Lord Adam Caladen took their places at the high table.

  They were all silent and their faces were strangely solemn.

  Watching them take their seats, Soth was suddenly worried that things were about to go terribly wrong. Had the Knights Council been made aware of his father's indiscretions?

  Had they somehow learned about the measures he had taken six months previous? If they had, it would mean his ascension to the Order of the

  Rose would be rejected; indeed, even his life as a Knight of Solamnia might well be over.

  The sweat began to bubble up on his brow.

  Lord Adam Caladen looked down at Soth. "Knight Soth," he said. Lord

  Caladen raised his head to address the gathering. "The Knights Council has considered your application carefully and it is our opinion that-"

  Soth drew a breath and held it.

  "— you immediately be admitted into the Order of the Rose." Soth exhaled.

  The courtyard erupted in applause. Hats, helms and gloves flew into the air in celebration.

  Soth remained kneeling, knowing the ceremony was still not completed.

  Lord Caladen stepped down off the platform and walked out into the courtyard until he stood in front of the young Knight of the Sword.

  After a few seconds, the cheering died down, allowing Lord Caladen the chance to be heard. "Arise, Knight Soth."

  Soth got to his feet.

  "And from this day forward be known to all as Lord Loren Soth of Dargaard Keep, Knight of the Rose."

  Four knights stepped into the courtyard carrying a shining new breastplate bearing the symbol of the rose in its center. After placing the breastplate at Soth's feet, they helped him remove his scarred and dented one bearing the symbol of the sword, then placed the new breastplate into position.

  With his armor now complete, Lord Soth absolutely gleamed.

  He bowed to Lord Caladen and the rest of the Rose Knights Council, then turned to face the bulk of the crowd. He drew his sword, raised it high over his head, and said, "Est Sularus oth Mithas."

  Then he repeated the words in Common.

  "My Honor is My Life!"

  The crowd erupted in thunderous applause, this time accompanied by a shower of yellow, white and red roses.

  "He is so very handsome," said one of the many maids and ladies who had gathered in Korinne's bedchamber to help her pass the hours before her greatly anticipated wedding to Lord Soth in the morning.

  "Not to mention big and strong," said another.

  "That he is," agreed several others.

  "If you are lucky," said Lady Gelbmartin, a large, robust woman who was a cousin of Korinne, and whose husband, Lord Gelbmartin, was the steward of Vingaard Keep, "he'll put both those qualities to good use on that bed over there." She pointed to the huge canopied four poster bed on the other side of the room.

  All of the women laughed.

  "If he's anything like his father," said Lady Gelbmartin, "you two should be busy just about every night, Palast morn to Linaras eve."

  Again, laughter coursed through the room.

  Korinne smiled. Although she'd never said so in as many words, she was looking forward to her wedding night with great anticipation. And she knew Soth was, too.

  When the laughter died down, Lady Gelbmartin chattered on. "Aynkell Soth is getting on in years, but that hasn't stopped him from flirting with every pretty woman he sees. Why, just today I was-"

  Lady Gelbmartin stopped talking when she saw three maids approaching the gathering carrying a gift-wrapped box and a bundle of six red roses.

  "Milady Korinne," said one of the maids, a woman by the name of Mirrel who'd lived and worked in Dargaard Keep as a laundress even before it had been completed.

  "Allow us to welcome you to the keep. It will be our pleasure to serve you as loyally and faithfully as we have served our Lord Soth."

  One of the maids gave Korinne the roses and box. She sniffed at the roses, then pulled tile ribbons off the box and opened it. Inside was a white gown made of the softest and sheerest of fabric, which when worn would do nothing for the sake of modesty.

  "Thank you," said Korinne, standing up and holding the gown against her body at the shoulders. "Do you think he'll like it?" "If he has a heartbeat!" said Lady Gelbmartin.

  Korinne blushed.

  The rest of the women laughed.

  Elsewhere, Lord Loren Soth sat comfortably in one of the keep's smaller dining halls in the company of his fellow knights, including the thirteen loyal knights under his command. He finished his tankard of ale in a gulp and before he could place it back on the table, a footman made sure another frosty tankard was there waiting for him to sample.

  "Thank you my good man," he said, blowing the white head of foam from the top of the tankard. Then he picked the tankard up from the table and raised it high in the air.
r />   "To wedded bliss!" he shouted.

  "To wedded bliss!" came the cry of dozens of voices, a few of which were slow to answer the call causing a strange echo to reverberate through the room.

  "Bliss! Wedded bliss! Bliss! Bliss!"

  And finally one last cry from a knight rudely awakened by all the noise.

  "To bedded wiss!" he stammered, grabbing his tankard and raising it up, only to realize it was empty.

  The knights laughed raucously and easily. After what seemed to be endless quests and journeys across the continent of Ansalon, battling evil forces in the never ending fight for the cause of Good, this gathering, filled with such camaraderie and good cheer, was a more than welcome relief, in fact, so happy were the men to see old friends and fellow knights that (although no one would be foolish or brave enough to suggest it) the atmosphere pervading the room would have likely been as warm even without the lubricating effects of the ale.

  "With a woman as beautiful as Korinne Gladria," said Wersten Kern, one of the most loyal of Soth's own knights, "I should think wedded bliss would be a certainty."

  "Truth be told."

  "Hear, hear."

  "Paladine speaks!" came the call of the knights, followed by the sounds of clinking tankards and the slosh of ale.

  "Yes," continued Wersten Kern. "And if Lady Gladria doesn't give our good Lord Soth the desire to produce many, many heirs, then he has no business being such a famed Knight of Solamnia."

  At another time Kern's comment might have been construed as being covetous of Lady Gladria, but in the company of his fellow knights, the sentiment was understood.

  The room erupted again in laughter and the sound of more clinking tankards, even a shattered one, which brought on still more laughter.

  Meyer Seril, a Crown knight originally from Caergoth, the capital city of Southland, was next to speak.

  "Certainly Dargaard Keep shall soon be filling up with young knights eager to follow in their father's footsteps."

  "It's my solemn promise," Lord Soth said, "that the Soth name will live in glory throughout Solamnia, by the deeds of its namesakes, my sons, grandsons and great-great grandsons, for many, many years to come."

  Dag Kurrold, the semiretired knight who had been sitting off by himself, half-asleep in a corner, suddenly perked up at hearing the new direction of the conversation.

  "If the younger Soth is anything like his father," he said in a hoarse, yet powerful voice, "there won't be a lack of children for want of trying." He laughed then, a wheezing cackle that caused everyone to stop and look in the direction of the old knight.

  Everyone, including Soth.

  The mention of his father hit Soth like a cold slap in the face. He stood up, his wide piercing eyes and dark scowl causing everyone in the room to fall silent.

  "Leave the room!" Soth said harshly.

  Dag Kurrold looked at Soth, a stunned and apologetic look on his bearded face. "I'm sorry," he said. "I meant no-" "No, it's not you," Soth said, his voice much softer, as if he'd reconsidered the harsh tone of his earlier words. In fact he was now almost as apologetic as the elder knight had been. "It's just that I've suddenly been overcome by the whole day. I'm afraid I'm going to need my rest if I'm going to be a presentable bridegroom at tomorrow's ceremony Please, if everyone could leave now…"

  "The lord of the keep needs his rest," declared Wersten Kern. "There are many other rooms in the keep we can move the festivities to."

  The knights slowly began to rise, many of them taking their tankards with them, some even carrying barrels.

  Indeed, the party would be continuing in scattered parts of the keep well into the night.

  "Good night, my lord."

  "Good night, sir."

  "Night, Lord Soth" Each of the knights said farewell, then quickly left the dining hall. Dag Kurrold was one of the last to leave, his face long and troubled.

  "I'm sorry for ruining the merriment," said the elder knight.

  "Not to worry," said Soth, slapping a hand on the older man's back. "You can rest easy tonight. It was not your words which troubled me."

  Dag smiled. "All right, then. Good night."

  The hall was soon empty.

  Except for Soth.

  Except for Caradoc.

  Together, knight and steward filled their tankards then sat down at the table, facing each other.

  "To the glory of the noble Soth clan," Caradoc said, raising his tankard.

  Letting out a sigh, Soth raised his tankard as well. "Yes," he said. "To an unblemished future, for generations to come."

  They clanked tankards, the sound of which echoed hollowly off the cold stone walls.

  Chapter 2

  The sun had risen several hours Ago but was still barely visible over the eastern horizon as the sky over Dargaard Keep was gray and full of thick, dark clouds. Obviously these were not the best weather conditions under which to celebrate a wedding. But as the dark clouds continued to gather and roll across the sky, threatening a downpour at any moment, a kind of reverse optimism began to infect the wedding's guests until they were all of the opinion that a stormy wedding day could only bode well for the bright future of the marriage.

  So, content in the knowledge that the wedding ceremony would go on, rain or shine, the squires and footmen worked quickly to assemble the benches which would seat the more than one hundred invited guests on the grounds just outside Dargaard Keep. The decision to move the day's festivities outside had been made not only to accommodate the large number of guests, but also to allow everyone who wanted to witness the spectacle a chance to do so.

  Those without official invitations would find a spot for themselves on the hills and knolls surrounding the makeshift chapel that had been built on the grounds. In fact, some had already secured a place for themselves on the grassy slopes near the altar even though the wedding itself wouldn't begin for several hours yet. All this, simply for the sake of catching a close-up glimpse of the regal Lord Soth and his resplendent bride-to-be, Korinne Gladria.

  Conducting such an early vigil for something as simple as a good vantage point might have seemed a bit excessive for some, but certainly not to those native to Solamnia who looked upon a marriage between the houses of Soth and Gladria as nothing less than a royal wedding.

  Which in many ways it was.

  Korinne Gladria was the daughter of Lord Reynard Gladria, one of the most highly regarded and respected noblemen of Palanthas, not to mention a distant cousin to the High Clerist himself. And Soth, although the son of a humble clerk, was also a distinguished Knight of Solamnia and member of the Order of the Rose. And, while all the Knights of Solamnia could lay claim to royal blood, the Order of the Rose was open to only those of the "purest" blood, making it the order of royalty within the Knights of Solamnia.

  And so, as the last few benches were set into place, the grassy lands surrounding the altar slowly began to fill up with footmen, maids and commoners from Dargaard Keep, as well as the many farmers who tended the fertile farmlands of Knightlund.

  Overhead, there was a slight shift in the clouds, allowing the sun to peek through the curtain of gray for the first time that morning.

  "Please don't worry. Mother. He's a wonderful man," said Korinne

  Gladria, as her bridesmaids attended to her long, flowing white gown.

  Lady Leyla Gladria looked into her daughter's eyes and smiled. "I have no doubt that he is, dear Korinne."

  "Then why do I have the feeling that you are still uneasy on a day which is supposed to be one of the happiest of my life?"

  Leyla took a breath and exhaled slowly. "I just wish you were marrying someone more like-" "More like Father," Korinne said. "Oh, Mother."

  "Your father might not have been heralded as a valiant and courageous hero, but he was still a very distinguished politician and diplomat, not to mention a good husband and father. There was nothing he liked more than to be at home with his family. Nothing in the world made him more happy." She shook her
head. "Soth is a warrior, perhaps even a great warrior. But that is his life. He craves adventure, lives for the battle. When I think of the violence he's been a party to…"

  "All in the name of justice and freedom."

  Leyla paused. "My dear, sweet, innocent girl. Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it under the guise of doing good."

  Korinne looked at her mother curiously. "Whose fine words are those?"

  "It's a preface to one of the volumes by Vinas Solamnus, volume seven I believe. It is a warning to those who foolishly believe that all warriors who fight on the side of good can do no wrong."

  "Soth is a good man. And he will be a good father, too." Leyla sighed.

  Obviously this was a topic that had been discussed many times before, each time ending with the same result. "I just want you to be happy," she said, giving her daughter a hug.

  "I will be. Mother," said Korinne, returning the hug warmly. "I will be."

  "Do you. Lord Loren Soth, take Korinne Gladria, to be your wife, to love her with a pure heart, and honor her as you would the Oath and the

  Measure?" asked Lord Cyril Mordren. The elderly knight was flanked by two silver and-white robed Priests of Paladine who had conducted the more mundane aspects of the ceremony before relinquishing duties to Lord Mordren, the High Clerist of the Knights of Solamnia.

  Soth turned to his bride and held his breath lest her beauty take it away. She was absolutely stunning in her long white gown, which was highlighted by swirling sky blue accents that followed the contours of her shapely form like a second skin. Under her veil, her red hair hung down past her waist in thick, full curls. Her green eyes looked up at him, large and alluring, possessing both an innocence and an eagerness, neither of which ever seemed to wane. She smiled at him, and for a moment Soth felt himself grow weak.