In the great hall of the Sonadin’s palace, a hush had settled over the large assembly of nobles. An excited murmur swept through the crowd and not a few fingers were raised, pointing at the center stage where a flamboyant-looking bard made his appearance. The man was dressed in a tunic and wide pants that were made up of so many different colors that it nearly hurt the eyes. His white cloak fluttered behind him - a weird thing, as there was no wind inside the great hall - and when he suddenly jumped on a large table, it spread straight behind him. The cloak seemed to freeze in mid-air for a moment and many in the crowd gasped in delight when they saw the large symbol that was artfully sewn into it: the three golden trees that were the insignia of the great city.

The bard was holding a mandolin in one hand and a white plumed red hat in the other. He had a pointy beard as was the fashion these days among the nobles of the city, and his eyes were the color of deep purple - another mystery that delighted the onlookers.

The bard, fully aware of the attention he was receiving, smiled broadly while his gaze swept over the assembled people around the stage. His eyes fell on a tall bearded man, dressed in gold and black, who was standing at the far end of the hall. The bard cocked his head in a silent question. The man raised his glass of wine and nodded with a smile.

The bard nodded back and raised his strong voice, which carried easily to all corners of the great hall. Many who heard his words found themselves not only listening but actually seeing the events he was describing. Whether it was magic or just his high skill of storytelling, none knew. But many leaned forward, eager to hear the story - though most of them knew it by heart.

“Once, there was one kingdom, two cities, and three races living in harmony. The kingdom was the mighty SonRonDin. The cities: Sonadin and Ronadin. The races: humans, elves and the legendary Engill.

"Then came the Day of the Reckoning. The world split asunder! The Engill were banished. Elves and humans across Nolxar were thrown into WAR!”

(Gasps from the crowd)

“When the war ended, the kingdom was torn apart. The twin cities, once united, became divided. A new border was drawn on the maps, and the River of Hope that separated the cities turned into the River of Despair. From one side: the brave city of Sonadin, hard-pressed against the mountain, a shield against hordes of undead monstrosities…”

(More gasps. A woman nearly fainted, supported by a gallant nobleman)

“On the other side of the river lay the cowardly city of Ronadin, nestled in the magical Eloveen valley, aloof and detached from the troubles of the rest of the world. The Ronadinias made their cause one with the high elves of the forest, deciding to put their trust in them and not in their brothers and sisters of their once twin city. Their betrayal was heart-wrenching…”

(An angry murmur. One man raised a fist, crying “traitors!”)

“Alas, the Sonadinians never faltered. Despite their brothers and sisters turning their backs on them, they chose to keep to their duty and defended both cities with equal might and fervor. Once and again the monsters of the deep threatened to wash over the lands, only to be thwarted by the armies of our lord. We salute those brave warriors!”

(Scattered cheers. Calls of “Bless the Sonadinian heroes!”)

“And we know! We know that our valor and sacrifice won’t be overlooked! We have received the blessings of the gods and one day we shall be rewarded for our vigilance!”

(More cheers. Whistles and cries of “Aye! We’ll show them! We’ll get what’s ours!”)

“You know what’s coming now, don’t you, good folks of Sonadin?”

(Hoots and cries of “Aye! Bring it on!”)

“Then sing with me! Let the world hear our song!”

The bard put his hat on, raised his mandolin and started to play a tune. It started sad and dramatic, but by the third stanza, it gained a noticeable flare of defiance and pride. When the man raised his melodic voice in song, the hundred or so nobles that crowded the great hall raised their glasses in salute and joined in, creating a surprisingly beautiful harmony of voices that carried far away from the palace, reaching many of the darker corners of the city. Unbeknownst to the singing nobles, their song caused many others - less lucky than them - to raise their heads with glistening eyes and hope for a better future.

And so they sang:

"From the ashes, we have risen

Standing tall against the horde

Using all that we were given

We shall always keep our guard!

"Oh little child don’t shed a tear

Don’t be scared or look away

Raise your head for we are here

We will make the demons pay!

"Sonadin, oh Sonadin

Our hearts belong to thee

This is how it’s always been

To our lord, we bend the knee!"

As always when it came to this part of the song, many of those who were singing actually went down to one knee in homage to their lord. They turned, their backs to the stage, and knelt in the direction of the man in gold and black who was watching it all with a benevolent smile. Some of the nobles were half-drunk and found out the kneeling, drinking and singing were three actions that weren’t easy to do simultaneously - which resulted in a few glasses crashing onto the floor and at least three people stumbling, slipping and falling on their buttocks to the hoots and laughter of their friends. This, too, was a common sight, and the lord of Sonadin laughed as well.

As the singing continued - somewhat more chaotic at this point - the lord turned his attention to the two figures standing next to him. “I see you’re not singing,” he said aloud, to be heard over the chorus of voices.

It was the woman who answered. She was nearly as tall as the lord and nearly as muscled - maybe even more so, or at least one may assume so as the lord was all dressed up, and the woman was the most scantily dressed person in the hall. Hers was the attire of a tribal warrior: soft leather loincloth that was cut to stripes and revealed more skin that was appropriate even among the Sonadinian nobles; and a leather short vest that, while covering some of her ample bosom, didn’t do anything to cover the rest of her upper torso. Her skin was so tanned it was almost golden and her muscles rippled as she moved - truly a sight to behold (and many in the hall indeed beheld, more than once). The woman’s long hair was the color of honey and it was gathered in many braids, each tied with a ribbon of a different color. She had slanted brown eyes and high cheekbones that framed an exotic and beautiful face and had an intricate tattoo sprawled all along her left cheek. This, and the earring she had on her left ear, completed the impression of an extrinsic woman coming from faraway lands. Her muscled body, the way she carried herself, the sword at her belt and the longbow that was slung over her shoulder completed another impression: that this was not a woman to be trifled with.

“I am sorry, lord Viridion,” she said and bowed her head slightly in apology. Her voice had a strange accent to it - her Rs were more guttural and she stressed the last syllable of her sentences a bit. That, too, contributed to her exotic appearance. “We do not know this song. But it is catchy; I am sure we’ll be able to join in the next time around.”

Lord Viridion laughed at that. “Banished Engill, I presume you will! It is not a song one can easily forget, is it?”

The woman smiled prettily at him. “Indeed not, my lord. In fact, it is one of the most…” she bit her lip as she searched for the right word, “invigorating songs I have ever heard.”

“Not surprising, as it is magical,” said the man who stood next to her. “Check your log, Gilly; you will find that nearly half of your stats have gone up.” He turned to face the lord. “I hope it is not a secret, my lord Viridion. And if it is, I promise to keep it between the three of us. Either way, I must say that your bard is very… talented.”

Viridion stopped laughing and took a moment to examine the other man. He was thin, not very tall, with prominent black eyebrows that curved sharply downward to meet above the bridge of his long nose. His eyes were an asserting dark green and his black curly hair was nearly as long as the warrior woman by his side, falling freely around his thin shoulders. His face wasn’t handsome by any measure, but if Viridion had to guess which face would attract more attention - his or the woman’s - he would gamble on the man’s; there was something unquieting about his all-knowing expression. As for his attire, the man wore the customary dark robes of a magic-user, complete with a belt full of pouches around his waist. There was also a wand stuck in his belt, within easy reach from the man’s fingers.

The lord took a slow sip from his wine to give himself some time to think. When he finally addressed the man, he was smiling again. “You’re the one they call Magus Nestor,” he said. “The nobles of my court are abuzz with curiosity about you. And about you, of course, my lady,” he bowed his head toward Gilly, whose smile deepened in response. Viridion’s eyebrows rose slightly, wondering if there was a suggestion in that smile, but decided it was not the time to find out. “As for my bard… you’re of course right, magus. Endrin’s talents go way beyond that of the common singer. He is… invaluable.”

Nestor smiled at that. “I am sure he is, my lord.”

They had to stop their conversation then, as the song rose to a thunderous crescendo. There were more people on the stage now, some had even climbed onto the tables, and many were kneeling again, shouting with all their might the last verse of the song: “To our lord, we bend the knee!”

Viridion took up the cue and gave a well-practised bow: he pushed back his black vest, put his hand on the hilt of the scimitar that hung from his belt, and, still holding his wineglass with his other hand, gave his most majestic salutation.

The gathered nobles cheered. The bard, Endrin, laughed and started playing a merry tune, dancing as he did so. Soon, many of the people in the hall were dancing as well.

Lord Viridon Darkblade, High Watcher of the Mountain Kingdom, ruler of Sonadin, former general of the army of the Three Trees, felt an itch at the toes of his feet. He wanted to join in, to dance and party with his people - he was fond of dancing almost as he was of drinking or fighting - but the presence of the two adventurers by his side made him hesitate.

The two had appeared in his city two days before. That in itself wasn’t something new - Sonadin attracted many would-be heroes to its gates - but unlike other adventurers who sought the dangers of the Depths, these two chose to remain inside the city’s walls. Viridion, who knew everything of note that happened in his city, learned that the two had kept themselves busy; they completed several small quests given to them by Sonadin’s inhabitants, consequently rising in levels and, more importantly, gaining notice. When the two heard of the weekly gathering in the palace (Viridion liked to name these gatherings “life-giving parties”), they asked for permission to join. Completing a minor quest for the captain of the palace guards, they got what they wanted.

Viridion noticed them the moment they joined the party and he was the one who invited them to stand by his side. He knew he had just helped them to gain much-needed fame, but he was feeling generous today. Besides, if he was to execute his plan, he needed as many powerful allies as he could find. And these two - while still relatively low-levelled - had the potential of becoming significant, if not truly powerful.

The lord of Sonadin brought his glass to his lips, found out it was empty, frowned. Not a second passed and a servant boy appeared by his side, carrying a cold pitcher of wine on a silver tray. Soon both his and his guests’ glasses were full again and Viridion signalled the two adventurers to follow him. He led them up a few stairs, to a raised platform that was reserved for the lord’s special guests. Here were fewer nobles, favorites of the lord. When they saw the two newcomers that appeared amongst them they began to gossip with a fervor equal to those lesser nobles who were dancing below.

Viridion ignored them. He didn’t invite Gilly and Nestor to sit - giving them such an honor would turn the gossip into an uproar - but remained standing with them, which was an honor in itself. “So,” he said, able to speak without shouting now that they were a bit farther from the music. “What brings a barbarian warrior and an initiate mage to my court? And why have you not sought the riches of the dungeons as you adventurers so often opt to do?”

If he had hoped to put them off balance, he was off the mark. The two did exchange a quick glance, but that was the extent of their discomfiture. When Gilly spoke, she sounded as sure in herself as before. “We have heard a great deal about the quests that await in the dungeons of the Mountain Kingdom, my lord,” she said, “and we would have ventured there ourselves… but we have heard a great deal more about another possible quest. This one with far better rewards… for those who know which side to choose.”

Viridion cocked his head. “Side?”

Gilly lowered her voice. “We know of your… struggle with a certain neighboring city,” she said, “and we know that the current peace that exists between the two halves of the divided kingdom will not be kept for long.”

Nestor nodded. “We sympathize with your goals, noble lord. We want to offer our help.”

Viridion faked a surprised look. “I don’t know where the two of you have been hanging out” (that was a lie; he knew exactly where they had been the last couple of days), “but I assure you, you’ve got the wrong idea. In fact, simply suggesting such a thing put the both of you in grave danger. If the wrong people heard you talk like that…” He spread his arms wide, looking around him at the various nobles who were busy trying to look as if they were looking anywhere but at the trio, “I would be forced to arrest you. To keep the rumors from spreading, you see.”

Nestor pressed his lips tightly. “That would not be necessary, my lord. We must have… misheard.” He turned to the barbarian woman. “We should leave, Gilly. It’s not working.”

Gilly bit her lips, examining the lord with a thoughtful expression. “I don’t understand,” she said. “It should work. It worked on those other NPCs, didn’t it? It cost us quite a bit for it not to work, godammit - “

“This is not the place to discuss - “

“Why the fuck not? We came this far. We know there’s a secret quest here. And he’s lying - “

“Gilly, not here! Let’s go - “

Viridion sighed. And here he thought he was dealing with potential powerful allies. Apparently, these two were just like other adventurers he had met - thinking they were better than anyone else. They were stupid in their assumptions, but still, the lord couldn’t overlook their resourcefulness. After all, they had managed to gain an audience with him in less than two days. He decided to fool around with them a bit, just to see how this would play out.

The lord raised his hands, stopping their bickering. “I could tell you why your Charming Power doesn’t work on me, Gilly, but that would just spoil the fun, wouldn’t it?”

That got their attention. They both froze, looking at him wide-eyed. It was very satisfying. Viridion continued. “Suffice it to say, you are extremely under-matched. In fact, I believe you ‘jumped the gun’, as I heard an adventurer saying once. You should have gone to one of the dungeons, fought some monsters, completed a few of the more serious quests, and tried coming to me when you’re at least level 10. Then, maybe, I would choose to hear you out.”

They remained quiet, obviously not knowing how to react.

Viridion smiled. He stroked his beard in contemplation. “As it is, I now can’t decide whether to trust you or not. In fact, I’m seriously thinking about throwing you in jail. What do you think? Should I?”

He took a sip of his wine, and when he saw Gilly’s hand drift to her sword, the lord of Sonadin started laughing, spraying spittle and wine all around. “Banished Engill! Please, go on! I would love a good fight. I haven’t had one in - “

Viridion didn’t get to finish, for, at that exact moment, the world of Nolxar paused.

The music seized. The dancers around the hall froze in the midst of spinning their partners around. Gilly and Nestor’s eyes were full of alarm, but they couldn’t move. Viridion’s mouth froze in mid-laugh, tiny droplets of wine sprayed around his beard. Everyone, everywhere, couldn’t do anything else but read the black and golden prompt that appeared in their vision, together with a clear trumpet call.

Attention, Nolxarians! A new Beacon has emerged!

The words blazed triumphantly for a few moments. Dramatic music filled the ears of everyone watching and then the words disappeared and were replaced with an image of a young man holding a crossbow. He was shown from the chest up and had a bloody leather armor covering his upper torso. His face was thin, haggard and proud and he held it high, his olive eyes narrowed in determination. A few strands of his black hair fell to his forehead, where an angry red scar was visible above his left eyebrow. The crossbow he was holding was made of wood and bronze and on its head was engraved an eye that looked like that of a bird of prey.

After a few more moments the image fazed out of view and the black-gold letters reappeared:

The Vindicator Of The Depths has claimed an epic Power Crystal and has fulfilled the terms determined by the Heroes of old. A sacred pact is now in effect, tying the fate of the Vindicator with the fate of this world - whatever happens to one will affect the other. Praise your new Beacon! Through his courage, our world may once again enter an era of fame, hope and glory.

When the last words of the prompt blazed out and time resumed its course, a hush once again fell upon the great hall. The music did not resume; the bard stopped playing abruptly and his last chord came off flat and grating. The dancers put down their partners, wide-eyed, looking around them as if to make sure other people had had the same experience. Everybody looked amazed and for a few rare seconds, the Sonadinian nobles were left speechless. Then, almost on cue, everybody started talking at once and the hall was filled with the buzz of excitement.

Viridion could well understand them. Most of the guests in his life-giving party had never witnessed a world prompt; messages like this were rare to begin with, and usually, only people of high-level were privileged enough to be able to see them. The lord of Sonadin himself had seen only two such prompts in his lifetime and in truth, didn’t believe he would live long enough to see a third. He was surprised not only by the fact that the prompt was open to anyone - he had the feeling that even the lowliest being could see it - but also by its content.

A new Beacon. Viridion had read of such heroes. He was well-versed in Nolxarian lore but had always thought that the tales of the Beacons’ valor were exaggerated. Surely, the deeds that were attributed to these beings - mere humans (he ignored the other races) - couldn’t be true or at least if they were, they must have gotten help. The true valor probably lay with the generals of the armies who supported those Beacons’ quests. It was the sin of the historians, knew Viridion, to always neglect the lesser men, though in effect they were the ones who had done all of the hard work.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t ignore the prompt or its consequences. A new Beacon was unleashed upon the world. And not just a Beacon. A Vindicator of the Depths, no less. And someone who has fulfilled the ancient terms of the Heroes of Old. Vindicator of the Depths. Viridion had heard the title before. He had read about it in one of his books but couldn’t remember which one. He racked his brain, knowing that this piece of information was important. The Depths was a realm that lord Viridion Darkblade was well familiar with; the Mountain Kingdom was fraught with dungeons and as general of the Sonadin Three Trees Army, Viridion himself had led many attacks against the hordes that so often emerged out of the holes in the ground. A vindicator of the depths, if nothing else, could be a tremendous help in that regard.

But who was this young man with the crossbow? And where was he? For all Viridion knew, he had claimed his Epic Crystal in some faraway dungeon and could be thousands of miles away, too far from Viridion’s grasp. The Lord of Sonadin’s thoughts were awhirl as he tried to figure out a way to learn more about this new Beacon, when a woman’s voice suddenly snapped him out of his reverie.

“I know him! My lord Viridion! I know this man!”

The lord blinked. He was so engrossed in his thoughts, he completely forgot about his two guests - a dangerous mistake, which proved just how agitated Viridion really was. The two adventurers were wide-eyed, looking more alarmed than they were when Viridion had made his veiled threats before the prompt came. The magus moved his lips in a silent curse and the barbarian warrior, Gilly, breathed heavily, her nearly bare chest rising and falling in a hypnotizing rhythm. She was looking at Viridion, her cheeks flushed, and repeated her statement. “I swear to you, my lord, I know this… Beacon. I know his name. And I think I know where he is.”

Viridion stared at her - at her eyes, this time - and was surprised to realize she wasn’t lying. The lord’s perception was one of his highest attributes - a rare thing for a fighter - and he could see through most bluffs, even those attempted by high-level diplomats. Gilly was a mere level 5 adventurer and it didn’t seem Bluff was a skill she would invest in - and even if she did, Viridion would see right through her lies. No, the woman was telling the truth. The lord of Sonadin’s interest in the duo in front of him suddenly skyrocketed.

“Well? Who is he?” He demanded. All the joviality was gone from his demeanour.

If Gilly had known him just a bit better, she would have probably recognized the danger. The woman didn’t, though, and so she acted foolishly. She glanced at her companion. The mage shook his head, obviously not liking what she was about to do, but the barbarian beauty ignored the warning in Nestor’s eyes. She gulped and raised her head up high, defiant. “I would tell you, lord, but first I would ask that you accept our - “

Gilly didn’t get to finish her demand. Viridion moved and his sword flashed thrice in the air - first, cutting a deep gash across the woman’s left cheek, ruining her tattoo. Then back the way it came, cutting a twin gash on her second cheek. Finally, the point of the blade stopped at the base of the woman’s throat, where it remained unmoving.

It all happened so quickly that Gilly’s scream came only after the deed was done. Blood flowed freely down both her cheeks, painting her face red (and adding, in Viridion’s mind, to her exotic appearance). She began reaching for her sword a million years too late but stopped when Viridion pressed his blade forward, penetrating her golden skin. She could only stare at him, tears of pain falling from her eyes and mixing with the hot blood that gushed from her fresh wounds.

Nestor - obviously the smarter of the two - didn’t do something as stupid as reaching for his wand or trying any of his meager spells. The magus immediately took a step back and raised both hands up, to pronounce he wasn’t going to follow his companion’s example.

Around them, the hall fell into a hush for the third time that night. A few of the more delicate nobles screamed when they saw the blood but most were hardened Sonadinian folk and the sight was nothing new to them; if their lord chose to kill one of his guests, he probably knew what he was doing. They were a curious bunch, however, so it was only a matter of moments before a large circle of people was surrounding Sonadin’s ruler and his two once-honorable guests.

The palace guards were also there, of course. Never far from the lord, the guards - dressed in the special black uniforms that announced their station - were the first to draw their weapons and surround their beloved ruler, ready for anything.

Viridion was in complete control, his moment of distraction gone. He looked steadily at Gilly, who - too late - recognized the evil in his gaze. “I ask again,” said Lord Darkblade coolly. “Who is this Beacon? How do you know him? And where do you think he is?”

The woman stood still, unflinching. Viridion knew she was suffering greatly - his magical scimitar inflicted wounds that were extremely painful - and so he was impressed by the barbarian’s resilience. Now that she realized her mistake, she tried to regain a bit of honor by her show of fortitude and Viridion would remember that in her favor - that is, if she lived long enough to enjoy his esteem.

“His name is Ben,” she said. Blood streamed into her mouth, painting her teeth red. “He came with me and Nestor to Sonadin, though I do not think he had entered the city.” The blood congregated in her mouth and she had to cough it out before she continued. “I believe he is in one of the dungeons around the city, my lord.”

Viridion nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied. As valuable as the information was, it didn’t really help him. There were dozens of dungeons around the city, with underground complexes that stretched for many miles. Finding this Beacon would take many weeks, if indeed he even chose to remain where he was. The lord looked from Gilly - she obviously told him everything she knew - to her companion. “And you, magus? Do you have anything to add?”

The dark-robed sorcerer slowly lowered his hands. He didn’t look frightened, only angry - probably at his foolish companion, for putting them in such a predicament. “It is as Gilly said,” he said quietly. “I can only add that seeing his image in that prompt took both of us by surprise. He didn’t seem the type to ascend to such greatness so quickly.”

Viridion considered that, wondering if the mage’s words would become even more valuable in the future than those of the barbarian woman. Still, that didn’t help his immediate goal. With a frustrated snort, the lord snapped his blade back to its sheath, releasing his death threat on Gilly. The woman - brave and foolish - kept standing there, bleeding like a butchered pig. Viridion ignored her. He was about to command the guards to take the two adventurers away - probably to the city’s jail, where he would later pay them a visit to make sure they didn’t forget anything important - but just then, one of the guards stepped forward from the circle of onlookers. “They are speaking the truth, my lord,” he said.

Viridion examined the man. He was thin, muscular and clean-shaven - a rarity in Sonadin, even among the guards. His hair was black and smooth and he had a scar shaped like a half-moon next to his left eye. Viridion realized he didn’t know the man, which was strange; he made sure to know all of his soldiers and especially the palace guards. “Name, soldier?”

“Jarod, my lord,” said the man. He took another step forward; there was confidence in the way he walked and his eyes reflected strength. “I just recently joined this division. My previous assignment was in the cells beneath the city.” He stopped suddenly, looking around him. Viridion, immediately understanding, signalled the man to come closer. With his other hand, he made a shooing motion with two fingers - which resulted in the other guards quickly dispersing the crowd to give their lord the privacy he needed.

Jarod stopped next to Viridion, Nestor and Gilly. The woman was finally beginning to show signs of weakness and Viridion wondered how much longer she could keep it up before losing consciousness.

“Carry on,” said Viridion to the guard.

Jarod gave a smart nod. “As I was saying, my lord. I was assigned to escort some prisoners - two women - from the cells and bring them to you for questioning. I was interrupted by two men who masqueraded as Sonadin guards. By the time I saw through their disguise they managed to overtake us and escape - they killed three guards, my lord, and freed the other two prisoners.” Jarod’s eyes grew troubled. “One of the men who attacked us was the man in the prompt, my lord. The Beacon.”

For the first time that night, Lord Viridion Darkblade showed true surprise. His eyes widened. “He was - in my jail? Why wasn’t I notified about any of this? Why - “

Suddenly, something clicked inside his mind. The Vindicator Of The Depths has claimed an epic Power Crystal… An epic Power Crystal! This man had escaped from Sonadin's prison, which meant he must have found the Dungeon of Dwarven Despair. And as far as Viridion knew, there was only one Epic Crystal in that accursed place. This could only mean one thing.

Viridion felt his lips curl up in a mad grin. Plans that he conjured for the better part of his adult life suddenly seemed very much closer to fulfilment.

“You know what it means, Jarod?” He asked, and he couldn’t hide the thrill in his voice.

“What, my lord?” Asked the soldier.

Beside them, Gilly collapsed to the floor, where she lay unmoving in her own little pool of blood. Nestor pressed his lips but made no move to help her.

Viridion continued to ignore them. He put his hand on the guard’s shoulder - a guard he didn’t really know, but somehow it made sense to him to put his complete trust in him. “It means that I don’t have to do anything. This… Beacon… will come to me.”

“Ah,” said Jarod. “Brilliant, my lord. And what, if I may ask, does my lord plan to do with him when he arrives?”

Viridion stroked his beard and winked. “I am going to make him uphold an ancient pact.”