by Vinn Winters
“You challenge the king’s authority?” De’eyzen snapped.
The sound of metal rung through the throne room as the royal soldiers drew their blades.
“You have forgotten yourself, Lord Aldrean!” Sargedon boomed. “I am your king, your ruler! Your punishment for this rebellion will be—”
The king’s helmet fell off and rolled down the stairs.
Vyra jumped back and screamed.
“The king has been beheaded!” she cried.
Her shock quickly turned to concern as everyone else in the throne room appeared indifferent.
“Does no one else care about the king? He is dead, yet nobody cares!” Vyra shouted.
The royal guard looked at each other. De’eyzen groaned loudly.
“You put the royal suit together with too much haste this time,” Aldrean said, scrunching his face.
“I’m still here,” Sargedon’s voice came from the headless suit.
Vyra screamed again.
“The king’s body is possessed by a demon!” she yelled.
“Not… quite,” Aldrean slowly corrected.
“Close enough,” Sargedon’s voice replied.
A tiny, striped cat climbed out of the armored suit.
Vyra screamed a third time.
“So, you did not tell her?” De’eyzen asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I did not know I was permitted to, considering her status as my squire is in question,” Aldrean argued.
“Why is that cat talking?” Vyra said, looking frantically around the room. “And why does it sound like the king?”
“This is His Royal Highness, King Sargedon, Sovereign of Ancantion, and Ruler of the Third Realm… and also a cat,” Aldrean said, scratching the back of his head.
“The Duskpetal Witch’s sorcery did fail to kill me,” Sargedon said as he climbed down the suit to the space in front of it. He looked at De’eyzen and cleared his throat. The royal advisor rolled his eyes and then moved a container out from behind the throne. The container’s edges were decorated with gems, though there was little else impressive about it.
“However it was successful in reducing me to a smaller form,” Sargedon said. The king’s gaze not shifting from them, he stepped into the box.
“So the king is…,” Vyra said, squinting at the cat.
“Actually quite adorable,” she finished. Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably, including the king.
“Thank you for your—err—praise,” the king responded formally. “But I fear we are leaving the topic at hand.”
“It’s not fair or just that woman are deprived the opportunity to fight alongside us against the goblin hordes!” Aldrean protested.
“If a woman wants to serve the kingdom, she may serve the crown as a scout for the Embervyne Rangers,” De’eyzen said, pressing his tone of superiority.
“And that path should remain open, but with the goblin hordes of The Gruharr gathering, we need warriors, now more than ever. There are plenty of women who have the potential of being great fighters. Please, allow me to train them too.”
For some reason, an image of Sister Clevora wielding a mace came to Vyra’s mind.
“As long as Eygodon the Warlock exists, no woman shall serve as a knight!” Sargedon yowled, arching his back and hissing. “I will not make the same mistake twice.”
“Make the same mistake twice?” Vyra interjected, looking at Aldrean. “What does he mean?”
“Ah, so she doesn’t know that either… perhaps you do have a new lesson to teach your squire” De’eyzen’s lips curved into a toothy grin.
“She already knows I’m a cat, you might as well tell her the rest of the story,” Salderon grumbled, licking his paw.
“He means the tales aren’t true,” Aldrean said, through clenched teeth.
“What tales?” Vyra asked.
“The story of me defeating Eygodon—” Aldrean started.
“I know that one by heart. You were like the rising sun, fighting back the tide of darkness,” Vyra said.
“Is a falsehood,” Aldrean finished.
Vyra’s mouth fell open. “But how?” she asked.
“In truth, Cinder Reign was my first battle as paladin. Eygodon and The Duskpetal Witch had felled Edren Greathorn, the former paladin in the battle before. When I first became paladin, the Silverclad Knights did not separate men from women,” Aldrean explained. “And it was my duty to lead them all into battle.”
“And then what happened?” De’eyzen interrupted, looking delightfully amused.
“Our enemies were closing in on Beckonthrone, but we attacked them before they had a chance to reach the city.”
“In the Cinder Fields, right?” Vyra inquired.
“That’s how it got its name, yes. But the grass was small then, barely a—”
“Stick to the story!” Sargedon growled.
“King Sargedon and the royal guard had already charged ahead to stop The Duskpetal Witch. King Sargedon was a titan among men on the battlefield, so we figured he would be fine and reinforced the soldiers of Beckonthrone as they engaged the bulk of The Gruharr. But then The Duskpetal Witch enacted a curse that turned our king into…”
Aldrean gestured to the cat licking its paw on the throne.
“The story doesn’t end there, keep going,” De’eyzen added.
“I ordered most of the knights to retreat from The Gruharr and move to defend the king. But the army of Beckonthrone was no match for the goblin forces, and they were quickly overwhelmed; the ones who weren’t killed were forced into retreat,” Aldrean said.
Well, I guess that explains Radek’s feud with Aldrean, aside from Radek just being scum, Vyra thought.
“We arrived just as the last of the royal guard fell, and were able to protect the king, but The Gruharr caught up to us, and then…” Aldrean paused, as if the following words would be painful to speak.
“And then what?” Vyra pressed.
“And then Eygodon himself stepped into the battle. He singlehandedly slaughtered over half of the remaining knights under my command; The Gruharr reinforcing him killed the rest. My knights, both men and women, fought bravely and took most of the goblin horde to the next life with them. My knights, my friends, left me that day. In the end, it was me against the vile warlock himself.”
There was a moment of silence.
“And then you fiercely defeated Eygodon and saved the king, right?” Vyra asked hopefully.
“Yessss, that’s exactly what happened,” De’eyzen interjected in a gleeful but sarcastic tone.
“Enough. Let him tell the story,” Sargedon snapped, brushing his ear with his licked paw.
“No…,” Aldrean said, too softly. “I was not strong enough to defeat Eygodon. I threw myself in front of the king to protect him; but before the warlock could deliver the final blow, Ethoria and her Embervyne Rangers rushed in and saved us. They fought Eygodon back and…”
“And?” Vyra asked.
“That’s all I can recall,” Aldrean said, rubbing his temples.
“That’s all any of us can recall,” Sargedon added, with a big stretch.
“The next thing I knew, those of us who had survived woke up in the Cinder Fields. The goblins had retreated, and Eygodon and The Duskpetal Witch were nowhere to be seen.”
“The king believes that keeping two distinctly separate factions will make the kingdom stronger. That keeping women out of the Silverclad Knights, and solely in with the Embervyne Rangers, makes us stronger.”
“Because it’s true,” Sargedon stated. “Women are weak in the Silverclad Knights; it’s as true today as it was back at Cinder Reign, and even times before. They’re safer with the Embervyne Rangers; they’re stronger with the Embervyne Rangers.”
“Then the difference is not of their capability, but of my poor leadership!” Aldrean shot back.
“I did not doubt your leadership then, but I doubt it now. You violated my direct orders, Lord Aldrean,” Sargedon said, hi
s ears drawing back.
“Lord Aldrean is not to blame for this!” Vyra shouted above them all. All heads turned to her.
“He’s the paladin of the Silverclad Knights,” De’eyzen snapped. “He’s their leader; of course it’s his fault!”
“No, the fault is my own!” Vyra protested.
“Vyra… it means a lot to me that you would come to my defense like this,” Aldrean added comfortingly. “There is much honor in your actions. However, I knew the risks when I accepted you as my squire; and the consequences—”
“No, it’s my fault!” Vyra pressed. “Aldrean didn’t have a choice!”
“How could the mightiest soldier under the crown not have a choice?” the king inquired with a tilt of his head.
“Because I made the choice for him,” Vyra said, too softly. “When I was in The Scarred Forest—”
“You were in The Scarred Forest?” De’eyzen said with a shrill laugh. “Even the Silverclad Knights don’t dare venturing into those woods, and you’re saying that you, a mere woman, entered and emerged unscathed?”
“This appear a farfetched tale,” King Sargedon replied skeptically
“I speak the truth!” Vyra argued heatedly. “When I was in The Scarred Forest, I made a deal with The Great Midnight Wolf and—”
“Ah, so not only did she venture alone into The Scarred Forest, but she made a bargain with apparently a living myth,” De’eyzen mockingly interrupted.
“I’m not lying!” Vyra snapped. “I went to The Scarred Forest, and spoke to The Great Midnight Wolf, and made a deal with him to—”
“I’ve heard enough of this tale,” King Sargedon cut her off. “Lord Aldrean, by choosing a woman as your squire, you’ve deliberately disobeyed my decree—”
“It’s a selfish decree! You only want women out of the knights because you are chasing some strange conclusion that this is the only way, because the rangers succeeded where the knights could not at Cinder Reign. But it doesn’t, it only divides us!” Aldrean shouted.
Sargedon’s tail twitched.
“I did not ask for your opinion,” he growled.
“Because a woman led the rangers, and a man led the knights; you somehow think forming factions based on that will make us stronger,” Aldrean pressed. “To make it worse, you never told the people about what really happened, and you never silenced the rumor that I saved you instead of the Embervyne Rangers; all because you’re so afraid that your sovereignty will be challenged if the people find out that the almighty King Sargedon has been weakened, that you’ve been turned into a cat. But all that’s just fanned the flames of a poisonous idea; an idea that women are unfit to fight for the crown and lead, that they’re somehow weaker and inferior. But it was women who defeated Eygodon where I had failed. It was women who rescued you, who rescued me.”
“Silence, paladin!” Sargedon snarled.
“Cinder Reign was the first time in all the battles you’ve fought, you’ve felt vulnerability. You know, deep down, that your decision is based on fear, not strategy!” Aldrean continued.
“Your actions are a crime against my rule, and a crime against this Beckonthrone!” Sargedon roared.
“And you are wrong,” Aldrean yelled back.
De’eyzen gasped. The royal guards around the throne room lifted their weapons.
“Listen to me, and listen to me well,” Sargedon said, his voice a soft rumble. “You pledged your loyalty to me, to my rule, to my wisdom; absolute loyalty, not loyalty when it is convenient.”
“I pledged to protect and serve you, a pledge that I honor then and I still honor today,” Aldrean said calmly. “I did not pledge to agree with you.”
“Your grace, this is treason!” De’eyzen interjected. “We should separate his foul head from his body for such impudence.”
“Your punishment for this crime shall be great,” Sargedon said, glaring down at the paladin. “For your rebellion to the crown, I hereby sentence you to—”
“Your Majesty!” Ethoria burst into the room. “My scouts have reported a dragon is heading this way! It was first spotted at the edge of The Fallen Mountains and has already passed over Wishwind Lake. We are about to be under siege!”
Shouts and curses echoed about the throne room.
“A dragon? That’s impossible! There hasn’t been a dragon sighted in Ancantion since the forming ages of this kingdom!” De’eyzen squeaked.
The king stared ahead silently.
“I do not know the reason behind the dragon’s appearance, but it was sighted heading this way by my own Embervyne Rangers,” Ethoria replied. “Any creature less skilled in stealth than a ranger would likely not survive an encounter with a dragon to tell the tale.”
“First The Midnight Wolf, now a dragon? You’re not going to stoke these women’s reckless imaginations, are you, Your Grace?” De’eyzen said smoothly.
“Ready our defenses; have all soldiers prepare for battle,” King Sargedon said sternly.
“Your Grace, you cannot be serious?” De’eyzen protested. “Mythical creatures attacking our city is a conjuration of the deluded—”
“Just because I believe that women should not be knights, does not mean that I do not hold respect for them as rangers,” the king responded sharply. “If an Embervyne ranger tells me there’s a dragon, then I prepare for a dragon.”
“But Your Grace—” De’eyzen began.
“Prepare our defenses! Ring the bells!” Sargedon commanded. Several guards ran past Vyra, out the throne room door. She could hear them yelling a call to arms as they ran.
De’eyzen stepped back, remaining rigidly quiet.
“It’s Vyra, isn’t it?” Ethoria inquired, turning to her.
“Yes, milady,” Vyra replied.
“Just call me Ethoria,” the ranger replied with a smile. “Everyone else does.”
“Yes, Ethoria,” Vyra said obediently.
“Great feat on becoming a squire,” Ethoria said, with a friendly tap on her arm. “I knew one of us would climb that mountain again someday. Hopefully more will follow.”
“Thank you, Ethoria,” Vyra said, smiling as she looked at the floor. “It is an honor to—”
But when Vyra looked back up, the ranger had already vanished from the room.
How did she leave so quickly, and without a sound? Vyra thought.
“De’eyzen, my weapon!” King Sargedon said, breaking the silence with a demanding meow.
“Your grace, if there even is a battle, you should not concern yourself,” his advisor protested. “Come to the royal shelter instead. Our defenses will be plenty, and if you are seen—”
“I’m aware,” Sargedon interrupted. “But if all else fails and our enemies find me even there, I would like some means to defend myself.”
“Of course, your majesty,” De’eyzen said with a wide nod. He leaned down and pushed against the side of the throne; a piece of the side pushed inwards, and a small drawer pushed outwards. The advisor reached into the drawer and pulled out two items; in one hand, Vyra saw a golden collar holding a series of bright rubies, the largest in the center with descending smaller gems on each side; in the other hand was a small golden bauble.
“Is that a collar—” Vyra asked reflexively, her eyes widening as Aldrean’s hand covered her mouth.
“A mighty armament, that is!” Aldrean yelled with excessive volume.
“If you want to keep your head, don’t ever call it that,” he hastily whispered into her ear.
Vyra quickly nodded and the paladin resumed his initial posture.
“De’eyzen, fasten my weapon to me,” the king said, reaching for the collar with one paw. “Aldrean, if you ever want to see light beyond a dungeon torch, you defend this kingdom at all costs.”
“I would do that gladly, regardless of my fate,” Aldrean said, bowing.
“Save your charm for the tavern,” the king spat. Not seeming to notice what Vyra had said, he pointed a paw to the floor at the base of the stairs. “
But take the King’s Pharos and hide it right there. I doubt a dragon would be interested in this precious artifact, but I’m not taking any chances. We may need it after this battle.”
“Of course, my liege,” Aldrean agreed. De’eyzen reluctantly handed the paladin the artifact before turning to the king. Aldrean leaned down to the base of the stairs, to the spot where the king had pointed. Even though Sargedon had revealed the piece of the throne room floor as a hiding spot, Vyra still found herself surprised to see that a piece of the floor actually slide aside, revealing a small holding place. Aldrean placed the trinket in the compartment and with a second tap, the floor slid shut.
“Your Majesty, we need to get you to safety,” De’eyzen urged.
“I’ll go when I’m ready,” Sargedon argued stubbornly, then turned back towards his audience. “If you truly believe that what you’re saying is right, then go prove it on the battlefield.”
“I will make up for my failures at Cinder Reign,” Aldrean pledged, bowing again. “I will keep you safe.”
“See that you do,” Sargedon replied, his hair fluffing up as he shook his body.
Vyra felt the paladin’s hand rest gently on her shoulder.
“Come, squire, we have a kingdom to save,” Aldrean said with a grin.
~
Vyra followed Aldrean as they raced through the city, towards Brightmeadow Manor. The sound of bells ringing across Beckonthrone made her tense. Vyra had only been a child the last time she heard the bells ring all at once, at the beginning of Cinder Reign.
Once they reached the manor, they went straight to the barracks to gather weapons and armor. A servant presented Vyra with an exquisitely decorated leather vest, adorned with seal of Brightmeadow Manor.
It seemed like just yesterday, that the peak of my reachable dreams would have been being this servant, never the squire… but look where I am now, Vyra thought, feeling a glimpse of pride that was quickly followed by guilt for remembering how she achieved it.
“What were you about to tell the king?” Aldrean asked curiously as he fastened his armor.
“I…,” Vyra stopped as soon as she started; she really didn’t know what to say anymore.
“Tell me later,” Aldrean said, sensing her distress. “Best to keep your mind clear, we have a battle swiftly approaching.”
