Nightfall was freshly fallen upon the dark woods just beyond the castle's borders. Fallon moved through the woods lightly as his feet trod upon the dead leaves of winter. The moon illuminated gaps between trees and lit up the sky above in an unusually bright night. The air was crisp and still, not a wind was stirring as the sound of owls hooting filled the air.

Fallon's quiet steps were pointless, however, as the clumsy fool of a man stumbled noisily behind him making grunting noises every couple step as he failed to avoid the slapping of tree branches and thorn bushes as he went. Fallon had given up on shushing the idiot when the response remined the same as it always had been, "I'll tell my mother. She'll tell your mother. You get in trouble. Hehehehe. Don't tell me what to do." His high pitch, nasal voice made Fallon want to slap his hand right across that small face. His features were so central and shrunken that Fallon wondered why he had been given such a large head. It's not as if there is anything inside that head besides a skull—maybe not even that.

Fallon had warned him, "Jugah, don't touch that. It will bite If you wave your finger in its face."

"But it's cuuutte!" came the response. Fallon had stood and watched helplessly, as the little critter from inside its burrow reached out its long, square teeth and took a nibble to Jugah's fat finger and he cried out in pain. The sound of deer and squirrels scurrying far and wide from their direction could be heard along the forest floor. Jugah whimpered and sucked on his finger and Fallon just shook his head and carried on. Nothing he could say would have made him any quieter.

Fallon would have preferred to go off hunting for a boar of the forest on his own, but his aunt had demanded that they bring at least three men to protect Jugah and make sure they took down the boar safely. Fallon had suffered greatly to hold his tongue. There was no logic in bringing along Jugah, except to give his aunt a break from his loudmouth and crude tongue that spewed out words with no regard for others.

He had three of his own hunters whom he often hunted for sport with—so it made eight of them. His men stalked quietly through the trees in their moccasins. Fallon followed closely behind but couldn't help cringing as the fool and his three guards crunched noisily behind him. It was after two hours of nothing but a bitten finger and the sound of scurrying squirrels and hooting owls that Fallon whispered for his three men to break off and hunt for the boar themselves. There was no way they'd catch one with Jugah running his mouth at every slight inconvenience, and he didn't like the idea of returning to his parents empty-handed.

The feasts had to be just right; he knew. It was tradition to have a feast the night before a trial to lighten up the mood about the castle. He had never understood it. The men on trial were usually murderers or thieves—it was of no bother to the royal family if they were sentenced to death. Tradition was tradition, however. And tomorrow, the trial was not just for any old thief, it was for a great capture. A capture of truly valuable men of magic. Fallon watched as his three men slowly drifted away from them and Fallon led those behind him the opposite way to keep their noise away.

Perhaps those men are what they say they are—Magi Knights of the Order. It matters not to me, it's all the same. Sorcery, necromancy, magic...our world is better off without their liking. Jugah whispered some joke to himself and erupted in laughter behind him but Fallon cared not at this point. His hunting spear was slung back across his back and he let his feet drag carelessly along the forest floor.

It always seemed to happen that way. The moment he had not cared less whether he caught even the sight of a boar had been the exact moment his eyes landed upon one. It was a fat boar as well, sitting by his lonesome atop some rocks that dictated a turn in the flow of a small brook that ran through the woods. Its back was to them and Fallon turned to the other four behind him, putting a hand to his lips.

Jugah smiled wide and Fallon feared he was about to break out into one of his explosive bouts of laughter but instead he held steady. The other men stood with blank looks upon their faces. They're just as much a fool as Jugah is. He tip toed down the small slope past a thick groove of trees and watched as the boar grasped some fish from the brook and bit chunks of the fish from his claws. Fallon slowly unlatched his hunting spear from his back. An owl hooted overhead, and Fallon cringed as if that would somehow alert the boar of his presence. The closer he stepped, the more danger he was in. One solid swipe from the boar and he could easily lose his life. What a shame it would be, and I could guarantee the fool would laugh his head off until the boar took his own head. And then he would be no less a fool than he is now. Fallon took his time shimmying around to just the right spot behind the boar and prepared to launch the sharp end of his spear into the boar. He waited and waited. Steady. And...

"Just kill it already, Uncle!" Jugah's voice was met instantly with a turn of the head from the boar but it had no time to process its death. The spear found a home into its back and the boar roared in pain, falling onto its belly. Fallon sprinted forward and withdrew his sax knife from his side and jammed the blade into the boar's skull. He laughed, and the fool laughed with him. He looked to Jugah's three men in triumph, but he was met with bored, gaunt faces. Fallon wished his men were still with him to celebrate the kill. It was a massive boar. There was no way his parents could be disappointed now. This would feed the entire King's Hall and more.

"Tomorrow, even the peasants and the horses shall eat this fine meat!" Fallon chuckled aloud and raised his spear in the air in victory. Jugah copied Fallon with a stick he had found on the ground, lifting it high and cheering.

It was about a half an hour before Fallon's men had heard his hunting horn and managed to find their way to its sound. He needed all the help he could get to lift the heavy mammal. His kill was met with smiles and great acclaim when Fallon's chosen hunters finally did arrive. They hoisted the boar up and used all the strength they had to get the boar from the forest back to the butchery inside castle walls, all in all a backbreaking effort and it didn't help when Jugah somehow always managed to find his walking path to be at a slow pace just in front of where they were carrying the giant beast. Fallon would yell at Jugah to move out of the way and Jugah would just mouth off a snarky reply and pick up his pace, but inevitably it would slow again right in front of them, as the strain of the boar became more and more of a burden the closer they got to the castle.

Rain started to pelt down upon them the night skies and clouds began to cover the moon that no longer shined like a nightlight in the sky. By the time the boar was delivered to the butchery and the night's work was done, Fallon's arms hurt like pins and needles and he was soaked head to toe with sweat and rain water. The smell of the boar was all over his body as he strode through the oak doors into the King's Hall that evening. His boots left traces of mud upon the tile floor as he walked down the aisle of the royal Diehurn family palace.

When Fallon glanced up, his confident stride paused. Edmund Nightclaw stood before the King and Queen of Weptswur, those oddly quiet foreign swordsmen behind him as they always seemed to be. There were a host of knights gathered as well, and a table underneath the raised dais where the King's small council sat. The Hand of the King sat to his left, and in between his King Father sat his brother, Prince Brahon. To the right of him sat Queen Lialya, his mother. Fallon was not surprised to see that Jugah had already made his way inside and had both arms wrapped around his mother, his Aunt Ashiya, who cradled the fool like a child. He felt all eyes on him as he made his way down the aisle towards the raised dais where his parents sat. Not a word was spoken as he walked, the only sound were his muddy boots upon the cold red and black checkered tiles.

"Have I missed something? I thought the feast was tomorrow?"

"You have missed the greatest news this kingdom has received since the war, Fallon. The Slayer of Mestrane's guardian Maldur King has been found. He's rotting away in a waste-high pile of royal feces as we speak. I hope he likes it there, because that's the only place he'll be until his trial," said his mother.

"Well, when is the trial to be? We've got one tomorrow; we can just add his—"

"—NO, absolutely not, Fallon. I'd rather you not try to give your sense on the matter. We've got things handled. After talking with your father and the small council, we have decided to put off tomorrow's trial and the Slayer's execution is in a week. Until then, we will be preparing to celebrate the capture of the—"

"—Wait, you said execution? Mother, he has not even had a fair trial. Weptswur does not stand upon the principles of execution without a trial. It has never been that way," whined Fallon. He continued, "And what of that boar you've just had me capture? Is it to feed your royal highness and father for a day and then to be sent to waste away?"

"You will not speak to your mother with that tongue, traitor. You've had your fair share of disrespect towards the crown and it seems just right that you shall never be crowned King of Weptswur. I'd sooner name your aunt's fool King before you, after all you've done. Control that sharp tongue of yours before it is taken from you like a toy from a child."

Fallon had not seen his father this fussed in a while, but he held a strong face despite his father's angry scowl. He had stood from his throne seat to spit out the last few words as well. Fallon glanced to his left amidst the crowded King's Hall. He made eye contact with his mercenary Charion and his men who stood in the shadows along the side wall underneath the mosaics. So even THEY have been made aware of the small council's decision whilst I break my back capturing a boar—for what? For nothing. And all I get from my parents is disrespect.

Fallon's black hair clumped together from the rain and sat a little lower than his eyebrows now. His jaw was strong and his eyes steely, but it had always been his brother who was seen as the stronger one. It was simply age. The younger brother had never received any glory, despite how successful or strong he was. Fallon shook his head in dismay as he stood the center of attention still before his parents. He wanted to yell at everyone. He wanted to demand why he could not court his parents in privacy, but instead receive a scolding as he always did in front of Weptswur's highest officials. He looked at the Hand of the King, Lord Rayudus. His wrinkled face had a disproving look upon it and he shook his head at him.

"What is with all of you? I do nothing but serve our family name with dignity and hard work, and this is what I get. May the gods curse you all! There you have it; we serve one God, but we have a sorcerer who serves the many gods of magic standing here before you. What about those men who you ordered me to capture and are sitting in our dungeons? Are they not exempt simply because they won't bend to our will and do as we please as this wiry old wizard does?" Fallon's voice was mighty now as he gestured his words towards Nightclaw who stood unphased before the table of the small council.

Whispers went up around the King's Hall and slowly rose louder and louder until the King's squire had to release a blast of his trumpet to bring quiet amongst those gathered. More had gathered to hear of the squabble. Fallon almost turned to leave but his anger kept him rooted. He watched as Lord Rayudus, the King's Hand, had a hand cupped over his mouth as he whispered to his father, King Erilin.

"My son, you are quick to forget your place. If it weren't for you, we would have yet another son still living inside these castle walls. Do not forget that. If you were wise you would hold your tongue."

"I am wise, and I think I will speak as I wish. I am no longer a boy, and I may do as I wish. Never mind me, there is a rising evil within the lands of Mestrane now, and the only thing separating these lands from that vile evil are the Carnakanes. You seem to forget this land will not be protected by history alone, but by mobilizing all the men we can and preparing to defend these walls. If Weptswur falls, my lord father, then the whole realm shall fall."

"Now do not speak folly, little brother. I see what you are saying. Yet, our people are not prepared to fight another war. We are only just coming off of a war that spanned the entire continent, brother." Prince Brahon spoke compassionately to Fallon, but it was not enough to stop Fallon from returning with more.

"We are not prepared, you say. What did we contribute to the last war? It was this kingdom's decision not to have a part in it! If you mean to count the small skirmishes that occurred in rarity by our borders, do not be so vain. I would not count that."

More whispers and discussions went up inside the King's Hall, but they quieted down once again once Nightclaw spoke. He had an aura that ushered fear before him. The people of Weptswur were not used to having a sorcerer inside the King's Hall and the Castle walls.

"Do not disrespect your family name, Ser Fallon. You hardly sound like a Diehurn now. Just listen to yourself. The Maldur Slayer is finally to be brought to justice, let us rejoice in this!"

A deafening cheer from the crowd gathered went up. Fallon's eyes wondered across the crowd gathered and met the eyes of Lady Velanna Rayudus, the daughter of the King's Hand. Her eyes seemed sympathetic, but it was only a small comfort amidst the supportive cheers in response to Edmund Nightclaw. He has no place here. He said it himself, I am a Diehurn. And yet, can I not find respect here?

"You know, Nightclaw, it is funny to hear your words spewing out just as I imagined they would from a wrinkly old sorcerer just as yourself. Why don't you tell us about Weptswur then? I'm sure you've enjoyed some time there being a wielder of dark magic, right? It would seem to align perfectly that you wouldn't want us preparing for what's to come. I bet that's why you're here isn't it?" Fallon could hardly finish his sentence. Pushing and shoving had begun to take off. Charion was in a shoving match with one of the King's guards and a host of kingsguard had swarmed over to calm the situation. Meanwhile a piercing scream was flowing from Jugah by his mother who has screaming equally loudly at him to shut his mouth. Shouting matches rang through the air and one of Nightclaw's Ki'vatsu drew his sword and the sound of steel ringing quieted most of the crowd.

The Queen had been quiet for long enough and Fallon realized how nice it had been not to hear his mother's screechy voice condemn him, but all good things must come to an end.

"Do not speak so treasonously of Edmund Nightclaw, my son. He is the one, after all, who captured the Maldur Slayer and in that way, he will bring closure and peace to our people!"

"What peace, mother? Is executing that man without a trial going to stop our enemies from emerging from the south? I never ask for much from you mother—or even from you, father, for that matter. What I simply ask, is that we prepare our walls and mobilize our armies to prepare for that which rises in the south. Everybody knows it. The guardian race of the Maldur no longer protect us from Mestrane. The curse is lifted. So, tell me then why we act like we aren't in peril?"

"I've heard enough of this fool. Send him away," the voice of grouchy lord Rayudus was met with agreement from the local folk who had gathered inside the King's Hall to join the deliberation.

"Perhaps you should return to your bedchambers for the night, my son. I think you are lacking a lesson in humility. Perhaps it would be smart to save yourself further humbling and find your way there."

"Arrogant prick! Hahahaha!" shouted Jugah the fool.

Fallon spit on one of the red square tiles at his feet and gave one last shooting glance to his mother and father. The oak doors shook the entire room as they slammed behind him, and he walked far. He knew not where he was going, but he cursed loudly to himself as he went. One day...one day...when this castle falls to ruins and we are melted like butter; it will be I who was remembered as the wise one, and my parents as the fools who ignored the signs.