Amber ones with helping hands,
Shining ones with battle plans,
Burning boughs for those in Red,
Green ones make a leafy bed,
Blue ones have the sea to reap,
With Black ones left to dig and weep
---Eldun Childrens Rhyme
It all comes down to duty. Honor is still important, and glory has its place, but the bare facts point to duty has the true measure of a knight.
My father and I have differing opinions on this matter, which is well and good. His banner, or should I say, his old banner, was famed for the glory of its charges. He was quite pleased that Gareth, my oldest brother, took after him in his choice of banners. Gareth (four years my elder), strong, tall and proud, firstson of Sir Amory Drummond, was now a Knight of the Scarlet Banner. He serves with distinction in Eldun under the direction of my father, who is now a Knight of the Brazen Banner. I know that our holdings are in safe hands with the two of them looking over them.
There were arguments, of course, when Elsbeth, my older sister, took up the banner of Azure. My mother, Demala, would have been proud to see that day. If you had asked me about the whole matter, I knew from the moment that Elsbeth first saw the sea we had lost her. We had always known she would wield a blade, as Elsbeth was no delicate lady of Lathay. In her the Eldun blood ran thick and strong, and though she was smaller than most of the men at arms, she had no problem disarming them all. My father spared no expense in hiring a Talanthi weapons-master to teach her the way of the blade. Money well spent, I say. Elsbeth is a terror with her sword, one forged for her under the instruction of the smith Kansu brought with him. From her infrequent letters, I gather she is also the terror of Reielian privateers as well.
And what of me? I, Barret, the quiet one, was second son. I was heir to my fathers seat should some horrible fate befall my brother. Given his prowess with the blade, I think such a fate unlikely. I, too, was expected to become a Scarlet Banner Knight, an opportunity that I first relished, in the manner that all young children dream of becoming a brave hero. In truth, I would most likely have joined the Scarlet Banner if Sir Petrovich had not arrived at our castle.
Sir Petrovich had been sent on a quest to end the threat of a rouge Spirit mage headquartered in Ashur. He had arrived from Sarus, and was stopping off at our castle to rest and provision himself before he journeyed on. Unlike my father, and unlike my brother and his men, he was more reserved. He was a man of middle height, and for the most part, as non-descript as a Knight gets. But his face and his eyes told the story. His face was lined with care and sorrow, but his eyes burned with fierce determination. As quiet as he was, I could tell the reserves of power that he has within him. He formally thanked my father for his provisioning, and made polite conversation at the feast hall. The boasts of the assembly of Scarlet rang though the rafters, about how many darkling foes they had faced, how many tribal shamans they had put down, etc. Seeing engaged in his food, and not the revelry, my father felt it time to bring his guest into the boasting match.
So, Sir Petrovitch, you are well traveled, tell us how many Darklings you have put to the sword. There was a great stillness as the humble Knight considered his words. A few of the more drunk Scarlets had begun to make derisive comments, but Sir Petrovitch ignored those. Only those that duty required me to kill, for in my line of work, whatever you kill once, often you have to kill twice. A few Knights laughed uneasily, and Sir Petrovitch returned to his meal. As he finished, he stood, thanked my father for his generous hospitality, and then asked his permission to leave the hall to rest for tomorrows journey. With his permission granted, he took his leave.
I, at thirteen, was impressed to find a man who would face something that gave the Scarlet Banner pause, and do it with such a humble manner. Later that night, I crept past Sir Petrovitchs door. Seeing light creep through the sill, I crept up to the door to listen, and peek through the key hole. I saw him bent over a tome reading by the light of a heavy enchanted glass globe. He must have heard me for he closed the book, and bade me enter. Startled, I could do little but obey. After all he was a Knight and I was a squire.
Why have you decided to spy on me, squire?
Because you are different from other Knights, you dont boast, you drank only a little beer, and didnt stay up to the small hours in the hall.
That is because I have to travel tomorrow, and, besides, that is not the way of my brethren and I.
In the Ebony banner?
Yes, we deal with the things that do not make good feasting hall stories. With that he gestured for me to sit. The room he was in was opulent, as it was created to show the generous hospitality of my father, and the good taste of my mother. Sir Petrovitchs travel stained leathers seem wholly out of place. My fingers nervously traced the interlocking patterns the skilled Tausan carpenter carved into my chairs frame. I did not want to ask the next question.
Like the dead?
Yes, like the dead, and the Bane, and, more importantly, with those who would use both of those to carve out their own little Sarhood within the realm.
But my Brother, and my Father, they are valiant. They have fought many foes of the Sar, both man and Darkling. But, tonight...
Yes, ...Barret, was it? I nodded, proud that he would remember my name. Barret, a good name, a strong name. Yes, well, Barret, even brave men fear. And the undead are our province, something that we face most often. The walking dead are something that we understand, that we harden ourselves to. The dead are our duty. What most do not understand is that the animated dead themselves are not inherently of the Night Path. It is the motive of the animator that makes the act wrong or good. I myself have fought on the side of the dead against the living before..
What, how... but you are a Knight!
I know, but our Banner has the power to breathe a breath of life back into those that have fallen. Only the greatest of our Kind, blessed with the wisdom of the years and ordainments of the mystics, can do that, but if need be, we can take from the fallen. As for the why, because it is needed, and only when it is needed. Better that then the alternative, letting some black mystic run roughshod over the people of this land. Even if the choice is difficult we must do it, to answer the call of duty.
Why have I not heard this before? And why do you tell me now?
As for why you have not heard it, that is for the people of this realm. They know our station, they know what the Ebony Banner means, but if they knew what we could do, then they might not fully understand. And for why I tell you... because, Barret, I do not see you wearing the Scarlet of your father. You were too quiet by half. The Amber, perhaps, or... another Banner... but not the Scarlet. Your nature is too quiet by half for the proper Scarlet temperament. The path of glory will not be yours, but rather the path of service. Now, get to your bed, young squire, I have reading to finish...
I then took my leave of him.
I heard later that Sir Petrovitch perished in the Ashur desert, but not before vanquishing the Necromancer that terrorized those barren wastes. His hired men found him, surrounded by the dried bones of his risen foes, his sword arm broken and crushed, with his bare shield hand wrapped around the blackened throat of the nameless fiend who raised the dead for his own gain. His body and personal effects were returned to the servants of the Sar. He was laid to rest in the halls of the Sar, after the long journey north.
Imagine my surprise when a copy of Sir Petrovichs journal arrived a year or so after his sole visit to our castle. His family had paid to have the Mage Scribes of the Sar copy the journal for me, as per instructions in one of the final entries. I was amazed at the many feats of gallantry and sacrifice within, all done in the name of duty. I could not put the journal down. Indeed, after a fortnight, I knew the names of his companions as well I as I knew my brothers vassal knights. The stories that I read had a resonance with me that my fathers tales never had.
So it was, many years hence, when I was given my ordainment, I took the black. My father, instead of anger, shocked me with congratulations instead. Given the row that had been my sisters ordainment, I had expected quite the display. My father explained it thusly:
With Elsbeth, I saw in her a passion that I mistook for fire. Little did I know that the sea has an even greater hold. I pushed her from me, and see my only daughter as the wind and the tide will. I will not repeat that mistake with my youngest. With you, son, I knew your strength lay not in fire, and I have known that since you were little . Your way is the way of iron. I think it right for you to wear the black. Just remember that even iron is best tempered in fire!
And so, now ordained a Knight, I set my feet along the path of service, along the path of duty. May the Path of White find me worthy.
Shining ones with battle plans,
Burning boughs for those in Red,
Green ones make a leafy bed,
Blue ones have the sea to reap,
With Black ones left to dig and weep
---Eldun Childrens Rhyme
It all comes down to duty. Honor is still important, and glory has its place, but the bare facts point to duty has the true measure of a knight.
My father and I have differing opinions on this matter, which is well and good. His banner, or should I say, his old banner, was famed for the glory of its charges. He was quite pleased that Gareth, my oldest brother, took after him in his choice of banners. Gareth (four years my elder), strong, tall and proud, firstson of Sir Amory Drummond, was now a Knight of the Scarlet Banner. He serves with distinction in Eldun under the direction of my father, who is now a Knight of the Brazen Banner. I know that our holdings are in safe hands with the two of them looking over them.
There were arguments, of course, when Elsbeth, my older sister, took up the banner of Azure. My mother, Demala, would have been proud to see that day. If you had asked me about the whole matter, I knew from the moment that Elsbeth first saw the sea we had lost her. We had always known she would wield a blade, as Elsbeth was no delicate lady of Lathay. In her the Eldun blood ran thick and strong, and though she was smaller than most of the men at arms, she had no problem disarming them all. My father spared no expense in hiring a Talanthi weapons-master to teach her the way of the blade. Money well spent, I say. Elsbeth is a terror with her sword, one forged for her under the instruction of the smith Kansu brought with him. From her infrequent letters, I gather she is also the terror of Reielian privateers as well.
And what of me? I, Barret, the quiet one, was second son. I was heir to my fathers seat should some horrible fate befall my brother. Given his prowess with the blade, I think such a fate unlikely. I, too, was expected to become a Scarlet Banner Knight, an opportunity that I first relished, in the manner that all young children dream of becoming a brave hero. In truth, I would most likely have joined the Scarlet Banner if Sir Petrovich had not arrived at our castle.
Sir Petrovich had been sent on a quest to end the threat of a rouge Spirit mage headquartered in Ashur. He had arrived from Sarus, and was stopping off at our castle to rest and provision himself before he journeyed on. Unlike my father, and unlike my brother and his men, he was more reserved. He was a man of middle height, and for the most part, as non-descript as a Knight gets. But his face and his eyes told the story. His face was lined with care and sorrow, but his eyes burned with fierce determination. As quiet as he was, I could tell the reserves of power that he has within him. He formally thanked my father for his provisioning, and made polite conversation at the feast hall. The boasts of the assembly of Scarlet rang though the rafters, about how many darkling foes they had faced, how many tribal shamans they had put down, etc. Seeing engaged in his food, and not the revelry, my father felt it time to bring his guest into the boasting match.
So, Sir Petrovitch, you are well traveled, tell us how many Darklings you have put to the sword. There was a great stillness as the humble Knight considered his words. A few of the more drunk Scarlets had begun to make derisive comments, but Sir Petrovitch ignored those. Only those that duty required me to kill, for in my line of work, whatever you kill once, often you have to kill twice. A few Knights laughed uneasily, and Sir Petrovitch returned to his meal. As he finished, he stood, thanked my father for his generous hospitality, and then asked his permission to leave the hall to rest for tomorrows journey. With his permission granted, he took his leave.
I, at thirteen, was impressed to find a man who would face something that gave the Scarlet Banner pause, and do it with such a humble manner. Later that night, I crept past Sir Petrovitchs door. Seeing light creep through the sill, I crept up to the door to listen, and peek through the key hole. I saw him bent over a tome reading by the light of a heavy enchanted glass globe. He must have heard me for he closed the book, and bade me enter. Startled, I could do little but obey. After all he was a Knight and I was a squire.
Why have you decided to spy on me, squire?
Because you are different from other Knights, you dont boast, you drank only a little beer, and didnt stay up to the small hours in the hall.
That is because I have to travel tomorrow, and, besides, that is not the way of my brethren and I.
In the Ebony banner?
Yes, we deal with the things that do not make good feasting hall stories. With that he gestured for me to sit. The room he was in was opulent, as it was created to show the generous hospitality of my father, and the good taste of my mother. Sir Petrovitchs travel stained leathers seem wholly out of place. My fingers nervously traced the interlocking patterns the skilled Tausan carpenter carved into my chairs frame. I did not want to ask the next question.
Like the dead?
Yes, like the dead, and the Bane, and, more importantly, with those who would use both of those to carve out their own little Sarhood within the realm.
But my Brother, and my Father, they are valiant. They have fought many foes of the Sar, both man and Darkling. But, tonight...
Yes, ...Barret, was it? I nodded, proud that he would remember my name. Barret, a good name, a strong name. Yes, well, Barret, even brave men fear. And the undead are our province, something that we face most often. The walking dead are something that we understand, that we harden ourselves to. The dead are our duty. What most do not understand is that the animated dead themselves are not inherently of the Night Path. It is the motive of the animator that makes the act wrong or good. I myself have fought on the side of the dead against the living before..
What, how... but you are a Knight!
I know, but our Banner has the power to breathe a breath of life back into those that have fallen. Only the greatest of our Kind, blessed with the wisdom of the years and ordainments of the mystics, can do that, but if need be, we can take from the fallen. As for the why, because it is needed, and only when it is needed. Better that then the alternative, letting some black mystic run roughshod over the people of this land. Even if the choice is difficult we must do it, to answer the call of duty.
Why have I not heard this before? And why do you tell me now?
As for why you have not heard it, that is for the people of this realm. They know our station, they know what the Ebony Banner means, but if they knew what we could do, then they might not fully understand. And for why I tell you... because, Barret, I do not see you wearing the Scarlet of your father. You were too quiet by half. The Amber, perhaps, or... another Banner... but not the Scarlet. Your nature is too quiet by half for the proper Scarlet temperament. The path of glory will not be yours, but rather the path of service. Now, get to your bed, young squire, I have reading to finish...
I then took my leave of him.
I heard later that Sir Petrovitch perished in the Ashur desert, but not before vanquishing the Necromancer that terrorized those barren wastes. His hired men found him, surrounded by the dried bones of his risen foes, his sword arm broken and crushed, with his bare shield hand wrapped around the blackened throat of the nameless fiend who raised the dead for his own gain. His body and personal effects were returned to the servants of the Sar. He was laid to rest in the halls of the Sar, after the long journey north.
Imagine my surprise when a copy of Sir Petrovichs journal arrived a year or so after his sole visit to our castle. His family had paid to have the Mage Scribes of the Sar copy the journal for me, as per instructions in one of the final entries. I was amazed at the many feats of gallantry and sacrifice within, all done in the name of duty. I could not put the journal down. Indeed, after a fortnight, I knew the names of his companions as well I as I knew my brothers vassal knights. The stories that I read had a resonance with me that my fathers tales never had.
So it was, many years hence, when I was given my ordainment, I took the black. My father, instead of anger, shocked me with congratulations instead. Given the row that had been my sisters ordainment, I had expected quite the display. My father explained it thusly:
With Elsbeth, I saw in her a passion that I mistook for fire. Little did I know that the sea has an even greater hold. I pushed her from me, and see my only daughter as the wind and the tide will. I will not repeat that mistake with my youngest. With you, son, I knew your strength lay not in fire, and I have known that since you were little . Your way is the way of iron. I think it right for you to wear the black. Just remember that even iron is best tempered in fire!
And so, now ordained a Knight, I set my feet along the path of service, along the path of duty. May the Path of White find me worthy.
