It had been a year. Twelve painful months since he took charge of an entire nation's army with barely any oversight from Heinrich. Despite every one of his efforts, however, the king's unwillingness to approve any true action led to the rampant problems he had seen only grow. Rebels were festering everywhere, and bandits raided any town without the ability to defend itself.

And it was all Kard's fault. He was the one responsible for defending each and every one of the men, women, and children that had died or suffered. Day by day he grew more frustrated and angry, a sense of overwhelming darkness boiled within him. One he had never known before.

Those thoughts all flooded him as he woke up that morning from a knock on his door. He shook the sleep from his eyes and told them to enter.

One of his messengers entered through the door, and handed Kard a letter as he got up from his bed, "Lord Borel commanded me to bring this to you, sir."

Reading it, a feeling of shock paralyzed him. The lord had just left the capital to the north, and his men encountered the aftermath of an attack on one of the villages nearby. And it was only a day's ride from the capital.

"We can't allow the kingdom to function like this!" Kard shouted in frustration. A company of mages stopped the attack, but many had been killed and the village was in ruins, "leave me, I have to go meet with the king," the messenger grimaced, but left the room.

"Heinrich!" Kard burst through the throne room's doors. He wore his crimson cloak and his family's armor, painted with blue apart from the yellow and white crest. This was not the day for casual attire.

"Oh, Kard! It's good to see you, what brings you here on this fine day?" Heinrich was looking through the window of the room, and into the sunlit gardens below.

"The village of Korhall was attacked last night, and I only just heard about it from the escort of lord Borel!" Kard felt his anger swell now.

"Where is that again?" Heinrich asked nonchalantly.

"A day's ride north," he gritted his teeth to suppress his feelings.

"Well, then I'm sure you will be able to find those bandits with only a few men?" the king still spoke with no care. But Kard couldn't decide if he was happy with his willingness to move to action, or disgusted by his attitude.

"I suppose so," he said, resigned to accept the king's decisions even now.

After calling a few men, he got his horse from the stable and joined them in front of the castle. Then he rode north, as quickly as his men and horses could carry him. By the time the sun had set the king's forest had given way to a clearing. In it was the small village of Korhall.

Half the buildings had crumbled into ash or shattered wood and stone. The other has been patched with leather and wool to shelter a mass of people in every single cottage. The only building still in good repair was the church, where even more people had camped inside or in front of.

Kard knew why they resorted to patchwork and tents, fall would give way to winter soon, and the ruined houses would not be back up before next summer. Some of these people would die if aid didn't come. From lack of food or shelter.

A single man stood in the middle of Korhall's square, facing Kard and his men with a rake in hand, "are you more bandits? Or some thugs from the capital looking for what scraps we have? Lord Borel already took all that was left!" he tried to look fierce, and his voice was angry, but Kard could see the pain in his eyes.

He got off his horse and walked slowly to the man. Then put a hand on his shoulder in a slow gesture. A man so many summers from his youth should not be the one to greet them.

"Did you lose your family in the attack? I am truly sorry."

"That is no business of yours," he looked at Kard's crest with great suspicion, but his eyes grew wet.

"You two," he turned back to his men, " go back to Ententseburg, bring a carriage by the road with as much grain, salted meats and fabric as the king will allow," he was left with three men under his command. Two more would stay to protect the village. His sergeant, the only one of his troops that had come with him from the Lighthold, would help him find the bandits.

First stop was the church. He gently moved past the mass of people filling it, and went to the single priest at the altar. Leading as many people as could fit in the building in a prayer for fortune and health.

He was sallow, and as young as Kard, and his face showed the hardship he had just faced, yet it shone with a smile, "the Comet brought the mages to our salvation, and so it will bring us what we may need for the coming winter!" he said fervently, though Kard wasn't sure he believed it himself. Nonetheless, he walked past the aisles. People did not know his face or name in the kingdom, but sometimes the colors of the comet were signs enough of the king's captain.

This was one of the times, some booed in anger but others seemed in awe, Kard wanted neither. He simply wanted to find who had done this and make sure it would not happen once more.

His hand grabbed hold of the sallow priest. Suddenly Kard recognized the man as the one of the apprentices who knighted him, and with an apology to the Comet he pulled him into the man's own office.

"Please tell me everything that happened, and of the bandits that attacked you," Kard said gently, reminding him of the night a year ago to comfort him. The young priest then did tell him, first with some motivation, then in horror as he spoke of how he was almost killed by the bandits.

One thing alone stood out to Kard. Johannes, the priest, had heard the bandits speak a few words in the eastern dialect.

It had been banned from use since the eastern rebellion, the same mysterious thing that had led his king to act so uncaring. Kard had decided, before the sun would rise once more, he would know what he needed of this tragedy.

It was by candlelight that he looked through the castle. There were no servants, and tonight he would not be stopped. Heinrich never locked his study, so he entered easily, but inside he found nothing.

Kard knew the king spent most of his time there, yet it seemed completely untouched. Dust was on every book upon the massive shelves, and not a cup of drink or plate of food was anywhere to be found. Yet, on the table there was a single painting. Of the royal family before the rebellion.

Kard took it in his hand, and when he did something fell to the table with a clank. It was a tiny ring of silver and gold, decorated with words in the old tongue. Whatever they once were, he could not read them anymore, they were scratched out beyond recognition. Instead of them, however, another etching was readable.

"Jan and all he stood for will be destroyed."

He had heard that name once before, at his knighting ceremony, and that is where he went to look. He rode through the empty streets of the night. Full only with thugs and schemes in allies and corners. To the small church on the outskirts of Comet's Landing. Where they say it landed in truth. In it he met one apprentice alone.

"Where are your mentor, and your friend?" Kard asked, his tone polite, after he was led to a chamber a floor above the rest of the church.

"Francis has gone to do some business for the Church of The Crimson Comet, and you have already met Johannes on your own. At Korhall, Kard Lightwatcher. I didn't expect to see you here so soon after last year, but I am glad you kept your oath," Berthold laughed, then rose from a wooden chair to shake Kard's hand, "so, why did you come meet me?"

"The bandits that attacked your friend spoke the eastern dialect, and I found a name in my search. That name was Jan, your father, or Johannes', I am still not sure," Kard shook his head, the candlelight in the room casting shadows across his face.

"He's my father, yes," Berthold seemed reluctant to say even that, "or was, I should say. Though I have not seen him since my sixth birthday. Jan along with all of his men were executed by the church," he said with anger, "burnt to the stake, their ashes weren't even collected. Just left there. Every house and village which supported them were slaughtered to the last-"

"Was it a rebellion? What did your father lead?" Kard couldn't believe his ears, and he felt angry now. He was sure Berthold was lying.

"My father was the mayor of our small village. A few of the children were discovered as mages, but he didn't let the church take them. The farmers had enough of the royal taxes, and a few villages around gathered a small militia. When royal knights arrived to keep the law, half of them were killed, but even more joined. And in a year half the eastern province was up in arms. Jan wanted none of it, but he was their leader, and he couldn't stop it…" Every word had stung Kard's soul, and yet Berthold sulked, as if telling of a tragedy. The Lightwatcher wasn't sure it wasn't anymore.

"How did the old king and his family die?" Kard asked, trying to concentrate on his investigation, not the horror of what happened.

Berthold shook himself out of some kind of trance, then said only a few words, "I don't know, I was only a child. But the old governor will. You will find him in the eastern capital," he finished, his voice quiet.

"Thank you, and I assure you I don't blame you for the actions of your father, whatever the king thinks," Kard said kindly, and put a hand on the priest's shoulder. The young man reminded him of himself, he wasn't responsible for his ancestors' legacy.

"I should be the one thanking you. Believe me I hope you find what you're looking for, and you find justice."

He bowed to the priest and left the church with all haste. Then he rode to the castle, gathered as many things as he could, and wrote a small letter for the king. Only an hour after he returned, he left the castle and city behind, and was headed to the east.