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New Quest Objective

- Gain access to the Citadel

You’ll be playing Grey Steel, a minotaur with a burning desire for vengeance against the creatures that destroyed his life.

***

...Waking suddenly in the depths of the sea, Grey found himself consumed by waves of darkness, his frantic cries for help unanswered as he tried to swim upwards towards the tiny pinprick of light. Each shout for help resounding all around him, echoing back and forth before fading away to be replaced by a tidal wave of pain that dragged him further down. His mouth filled inexplicably with blood as he prayed to the Lightbearer to see his family again, prayed to feel his mother’s arms wrapped around him. Prayed to see his father as he was before the darkness shattered their lives, when a like a bubble popping he felt something strike him hard across the cheek...

Jerked awake to find himself in a room made of seamless white walls, Grey stared around himself gasping for air, hand trying to grasp the hilt of his greatsword, when the Falkneer hove into view and sat down on a stool beside him with a heavy sigh. The bed Grey was on made from uncomfortable slab of stone that made his back spasm as the old man stared through him with pitiless dark eyes that read his every thought. The single window cut out in the room's walls allowing golden sunlight to touch Grey's skin. The old warrior, still armored in that ancient bronze armor of his. Falkneer looking much older with wrinkles around his eyes.

Head still spinning as he tried to recall how he’d gotten here, Grey was inundated by memories that caused him to grimace, the old man’s grim demeanor softening at Grey's exhausted expression. “My friends--”

“--are fine,” grumbled Falkneer with a hint of annoyance as he peered out into the courtyard where he had thumped Grey handily into the ground. The old man continuing on with another heavy sigh as he felt Grey's intense gaze on him, pressing him for more. “Master Mertan, is seeing to them now and says they'll be fine, though I cannot say the same for you. You fight well for a farmer, but you lack the brains to think beyond your petty feelings creates too many openings.”

Nostrils flaring a little, Grey asked, "You think it's weakness to care for those around you?"

Falkneer belly rumbled in a laugh. "Again you misread my words, boy, better you listen first, before I give you another thrashing. What I meant was, you cannot cloud yourself with so many thoughts that it conflicts with your greater judgement. You know how to fight, and perhaps even have the skills to best me one day, but you were too far in your head to see the battlefield clearly."

Grey had to admit, he had been more concerned over the fates of his friends to care about winning, although there was more to it than that. The past couple of weeks had set obstacle after obstacle in his path and after awhile Grey had grown tired of fighting his way through them. He knew the path of light was not easy, but this incessant struggle had drained him. 

Still he did feel a little guilty for acting the way he did, the old man had posed no threat to them and yet Grey had attacked him, simply for the sake of releasing his pent up frustations. It was not the way of the warrior, it was not how an Honor Blade should act. Luckily for Grey, the big oaf was not only quick with his tongue but with his sword as well, making his moves difficult to anticipate, while at the same time anticipating every one of Grey's.

Silent for too long as they both gazed out into the courtyard, Grey eventually forced himself to say, “I am sorry, for attacking you.”

Which caused the big bellied warrior to let out a loud harrumph, “As you should be, boy, I had to break Dorlan’s practice blade against that thick skull of yours just so I could send you to the dreamless mother.”

Smiling weakly at the Honor Blade’s poor attempt at humor, Grey stared up at the blank white ceiling and couldn’t help but be reminded of the two homes he’d lost. One he had been forced to flee and the other he had abandoned without ever giving a second thought. Everything that had led him up to this moment, a trial of flames that had forever scarred his mind with dark memories. And yet it could not be all for nothing. He was here at last. Which meant there was still hope for him and those he still fought for. Still, he would need to know more of the troubles that plagued the Honor Blades if he was to gain a better understanding of what had happened here and how to proceed further.

Arms raised to help himself up, Grey let out a groan as he moved to prop his back against the cool surface of the wall. “When you said I could not speak with the First Blade, you said something about the Ardents and Fated. Who are they and why can I not speak with the First Blade?”

Falkneer who’d apparently been lost in his own thoughts as well, looked up at Grey in startlement before letting out a rueful chuckle that became a dark grimace of loathing. The old man's expression turning into one of consideration as though trying to decide whether or not he should tell Grey anything when he scrubbed the back of his neck and let out another soft sigh as he leaned back.

“Fated and Ardents. Bellow-hearted pukes, the lot of them. I’d tell you forget about them, boy, but I see in your eyes that you will see this foolish quest of yours to the bitter end. And it will be bitter, have no doubt of that.”

Fingers lightly tugging the goatee on his chin, the old warrior rubbed the faint outline of a scar beneath his jaw. “Now where to begin? Perhaps I should go back to the very beginning? But then you young ones don't have much patience for long stories do you? I suppose I could and keep it short, although that reminds me of a favourite passage of Glondel's from the Blood Oath Chronicles. 'There are some things that cannot be changed, but in all things change will come.' Ahhh, but I guess you don't want to hear me blathering about that either," he said as he scratched his chin and went silent again.

Doing his best to remain patient, Grey was all but gnashing his teeth, when the Falkneer started speaking again. “A single strand of hair is all that holds the world in balance. A single strand is all that keeps the world from the abyss. Have you heard the tale of Lord Pargin's death? Probably not, country bumpkins like yourself probably don't involve yourself much in the wider politics of the world. But you see Lord Pargin’s death was the drumbeat that ignited the torch. Murdered in his sleep, his death set in motion everything that you now see around you. The empty courtyard, the missing patrols of Honor Blades, our broken code. The bloodshed inside the walls. All of it began with his death.

“Lord Parigin, the First Blade of Light was a peerless warrior of great honor, one who saw through Lord Salwin’s schemes to seize Colmar’s lands for himself and was prepared to act against the greedy lordling when demons led by a nameless dark mage invaded his fortress and slew him in his sleep, paving the way for Lord Rykon to become the next First Blade.”

Pausing briefly, Falkneer folded his arms across his chest. “I do not expect you would be familiar with that name, boy, but in the wars against the troll scourge he was the one that advocated that we speak with the troll kings and come to an agreement that would end the ceaseless bloodshed. His methods for dealing with his enemies something of a sore point among the Order, but for the younger men who had yet to get used to the constant death of close allies and friends, he was their salvation. Rykon offered an end to the cycle of death and way out for them that would not mean pointless sacrifice while still retaining their honor. The idiotic fools renamed themselves the Ardents, true believers and see it as their duty to end all wars through peaceful means or otherwise.”

The old man half lost in his own thoughts again as he went quiet, Grey was eventually forced to nudge him along. “And the Fated?”

Falkneer let out a snort of contempt. “Another damnable lot of fools almost as bad as Rykon, but they at least had the good sense to listen to reason while Lord Pargin was alive. With his death however, and the rise of the Ash Lands, that changed as well. Blind-eyed, empty headed, pukelings, they somehow came to the belief that we had all failed the Lightbearer somehow and that the Ash Lands are a sign from the gods that we are all Fated to die as our punishment."

Head lowered to look down at Grey with somber eyes, Falkneer continued, “They’re also the reason you won’t be able to reach the First Honor Blade. Those imbeciles have locked themselves away in the inner citadel to war with the Ardents and help speed our own demise. Which doesn’t need much help by my reckoning. The few that remain here to defend the keep and the outer walls are all that’s left of the Honor Blades, tired old men, and young boys whose heads have been stuffed full of ideas of glory.”

Letting out a heavy sigh as he finished, he uncrossed his arms and gazed back out the window to the few minos who had begun to train out in the courtyard. All of them much younger then Grey with barely grown horns. None of them old enough to wield the sword with any true skill, while the other half were drenched in sweat within a matter of seconds. Their practice blades slumped into the dirt as they panted for breathe with every swing.

Grey who'd listened to the entire story with a mixture anger and frustration at what lay ahead of him, found himself unable to stirr up that same cold burning furance that had kept him warm in battle. In truth, he was simply too tired to care anymore that world had been flipped on its head. His duty still remained the same.

Teeth gritted at the pain in his side, he swung his legs out from the block of stone and stumbled up to his feet. “Where is my sword?”

Falkneer quickly standing to block his path and place a heavily calloused palm upon his shoulder. “There’s no need for that, boy, not yet. There will be time for that much later.”

Chest constricting around the hole where his heart should have been, Grey shook his head. “No, there is no time. If the Honor Blades cannot help me? Then I must find it elsewhere. I cannot stay here,” he said and almost heard the emptiness in his own voice as he spoke.

Mouth tighthened stubbornly at the thought the old man would try to dissuade him, Falkneer let his arm drop by side. “I know about your missing friend, boy, and the army of kindred. But there is nothing you can do against it alone. I see within you a great fire, boy, perhaps even greater than that of Ice Eyes himself. Do not waste it away, chasing some idle fancy. You’re here now, so stay and rest while you can. Soon I fear there will be no rest for any of us.”

Puzzled by his words, Grey met Falkneer’s gaze and saw something akin to regret within them. The old man who had at first seemed so hard, wilting a little beneath the harsh rays of the four suns as he said, “If what your chatty friend says is true, there will be no need to chase after her. He’ll bring them right to our very doorstep with the whole mess of those filthy beasts.”

The old man turning to walk away as the last word fell from his lips, when Grey blurted, “How? How do you know he’ll come here?”

“Why else, boy, vengeance.”

Vengeance? Vengeance for what? But before he could even ask Falkneer was gone and Grey had slumped back onto the bed, his hands rubbing the sides of his temple at the mess he’d gotten himself into. So much for doing things the easy way.

***

Done sitting around moping over things he could not change, Grey finally left the room he was in and went in search of his friends. Perhaps speaking to them would clear his mind and give him a better idea of what to do next.

Passing through plain white corridors, he stopped at the first doorway which had no door and peered inside. The room filled with more of those blasted rock hard beds that had wracked Grey’s back to the point he thought he could no longer feel his nerve endings.

Seeing no one in sight, he continued on following the curve of the wall when he came face to face with Lorel in her stained white dress who grinned up at him in delight, before rushing forward to leap into his arms, her small arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he knelt down to scoop her up. 

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded her head in his fur and brushed aside tears that had slipped out from her eyes. “You scared me, Grey. You looked so angry, I thought you were going to kill him.”

Squeezing her tighter in his arms, he pulled her back to look at her. “I am sorry, Lorel. I did not mean to frighten you or shame myself so, but it seems I am forever the fool. Do you accept my apology?”

The girl looked at him through wet brown eyes, perhaps trying to see if he was sincere when she nodded her head affirmatively, Grey helping to wipe the tears from her cheeks as he set her back down.

“Where is everyone else? Are they well?”

Smiling mischievously as though she knew a secret he did not, she waved her arm at him to follow and quickly began sprint down the hall. Grey who was still feeling the pain from his most recent beating, letting out a grunt of annoyance as he forced his body to give chase after her. The winding corridors that curved and moved in a long sinuous line, broken up by windows that showered in daylight. The young human girl, deceptively quick on her feet as she paused to look back at him before darting through one of the open doorways. 

Slowing to grasp his throbbing side, Grey entered the room after her and found them all sitting in a cosy dining room hall with a large table set out before them covered in food and a roaring fireplace at the back with wooden chairs placed close to it. The paintings that hung on the walls all around them depicting various Honor Blades who had served as the First Blade. Sky who’d been reading a book from one of the nearby bookshelves, leaping to his feet the instant he entered. “Grey! You’re okay! I mean, old Falk, said you would be okay, but he wouldn’t let us see you. Said you needed to get some rest and time to think.”

And while Grey was immensely relieved to see his friend alive and well, he was more distracted by the sight of Glydel stuffing his face full of roasted hob meat who looked up at him with a boyish grin, and Calain who stood there by the fireplace warming his hands when he turned back to bow his head in Grey’s direction.

“It seems I have you to thank for saving my life again,” he said with a wistful smile, “alas I may never be fully rid of my debt to you.”

Unable to hide his delight at seeing them all alive and well, Grey found his lips curved into an irrepressible smile he could not be rid of even if he tried. The despair, anguish, and fear he had felt earlier, all of it, somehow lessened by their mere presence here with him.

“How?”he asked.

Calain shrugged his shoulders. “As I said, not all my people serve the dark. It is why I left my homeland to begin my journey around the world. As for your albino friend, I believe his transformation was severed by the gateway. Master Mertan has assured us that the boy will recover fully in time.”

Speechless and filled with an incredible warmth inside of him, Grey again heard the call of Tamrel and found his greatsword on a chest to the side of the room. The gleaming sword, recently polished and sharpened to a fine edge as he moved to pick it up.

Re-united both in spirit and mind, Grey knew right then and there, that he could never stop now. He would become an Honor Blade as he had dreamed, he would avenge his family, but more importantly he would save the world from the coming darkness, and in so doing save Amaryllis!

To be Continued...