Scales of lament

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. When Redmond was just a child the Nine had awoken to reclaim ancient hunting territory. To the dragon's surprise, inhabitants of meager intelligence had inherited the land in their thousand-year absence and the valley just so happened to be under the claim of Dalabrac. Humanities scaled, winged myth and legend however were, very much real and were now competing with every other forsaken whim of natural and unnatural being across the land. Tensions and frictions ensued, soon conflicts with the local regents and petitions from farmers missing livestock lead to royal bounties. Brutes and assassins alike tried their blade at the throat of many of the Nine only to find themselves a quick meal or simply dust. For man, it would seem the creatures lived not only immensely long lives in comparison but that they were also impervious to their tools. From the perspective of the Nine, humanity was but an annoyance, a fly buzzing in the ear and while they possessed the power to lay waste to the lands, topple kings and raze armies they preferred, mostly, to be left alone to their own preening and fancy. In prior awakenings the Nine had struck bargains with one another to satiate their material desires; cooperation led to plenty and they longed for the days of old. Their hoards were certainly their pride and in this new era it suited them well to allow these creatures to go about their short lives, for in observation the Dragons had seen their mastery over nature Hearding and breading, planning and preserving. They found great joy in the delights of ornate precious stone and metal conjured into wonderous goods! They gleaned and shined in the sunlight and brought joy and wonder to the Nine and their subjugates. It was this admiration that led Dalabrac to petition his brethren in pursuit of treaty, curious as to what a few hundred years may do for the scurrying insects if left to their own devices. Seeing little choice, tenuous treaties were made by man, King Ladaran welcomed Dalabrac to the valley striking several conditions for the kingdom in exchange for what the King considered meager tribute. Dalabrac never having had to think about the number of cattle he was to need nor much about the passage of time in general, accepted with little negotiation. Aside from Royal celebrations, Dalabrac was to remain outside the Kingdom and to hunt away from the immediacy of the valley. To the Dragon this sounded ideal as he thought little of the company of humans and preferred to admire their craftsmanship away from them. While the territories of the Nine were vast, many remained remote and away from the touch of man. As such the peoples primarily ruled themselves, leveraging their relationship with the Nine for defense or deterrent against enemy siege. For some the emergence of Dragons was a wonder, for others a curse that had washed over the land. Years had passed in the uneasy treaty and commitments had been kept but animosity had grown among the kingdom. Crop failure and drought had crippled farmers and tribute to such a creature seemed frivolous in comparison to the plight of starving loyal subjects of King Ladaran. In the hard years that passed the uprising grew not just against Dalabrac but against dragon kind. Unfaltering, King Ladaran had spread his armies across his kingdom to quell tensions but over the years he had grown more vicious in his actions, a dark influence evident in his malice.

Such it was that Redmond and his companion Kane found their calling at arms far from home, fighting the likes of peasants and fishermen. A horn snapped Redmond from his sullen recount of his current predicament as the knight's 1st watch announced a perimeter breach from the east of the encampment. Moments later an exhausted black steed trotted to a halt just inside the camp. There, strapped to its back, a boy of no more than 14 slunk to one side held only by the rope binding his legs to the saddle at the waist. Dawning the royal colors, his garb marked him a member of the kings' messengers but his state would label him little more than an apprentice in the art of self-preservation and survival. Unconscious and nearly dead from dehydration and malnutrition two soldiers released him from his bonds and carried him to a nearby tent.

“Would you look at that!” Kane exclaimed as if Redmond hadn’t noticed the commotion.

“My eyes are still clear; it's you're hearing I worry about!” Redmond shot back in retort. Already standing he gestured to the horse and the two quickly crossed the courtyard.

Redmond and Kane inspected the horse and retrieved the contents of its saddle bags; crumbs of rations but clearly the last of the supply, flint, a bedroll and tucked carefully away, a letter bearing the seal of the Kings Garrison. Redmond looked down at the letter. He winced as a snap of pain struck his pride, a seal he had left behind nearly 7 years ago now. Kane had noticed the emotional flourish and recognized the seal.

“News from Tyran! It's been months!” Kanes excitement in hearing from old friends flashed like flame momentarily across his face before it was extinguished fearing the repercussions.

Letter in hand the two crossed to the tent the messenger had been carried into. Redmond fumbled with the parchment as he studied the state of the messenger laying on the simple triage bed overseen by Trevant the healer. With sunken cheeks his limbs lay slack and it was clear now that more than exhaustion had taken to the boy. Lacerations revealed seeping wounds that sullied tattered garments but these had not been fresh and showed evidence of healing albeit a poorly. His breathing was shallow but sustained. Redmond wondered what had driven the man to neglect himself for what must have been the entire journey having not taken care enough to treat wounds, take bread, water, sleep… nor bath since its inception. Surely his smell alone would soon choke what life remained. Redmond looked back at the parchment then towards the messenger before he was reminded of his current company.

“Well, isn’t this one a sight! tell me Redmond” piped in a voice “what errand does this fool carry for our King, who rebels against his Royal rule this time!”.

Kane had noticed the discomfort that had cloaked Redmond and was attempting to invoke a reaction.

“Your tongue would be best pressed between your teeth Kane, even separated by time and distance we are still oath bound to serve at his majesty's whim”.

For Redmond even a small indiscretion to discredit a Kings will over whim was a crack in the otherwise alabaster loyalty to serve and protect the Kingdom and his majesty himself. Lately these cracks had begun to spread, encouraged by dark rumor and a wariness for beating back the militia of farmers and townspeople that had increasingly formed the ranks of would-be usurpers to the throne. Kane gestured back in response with literal interpretation and a deep bow, sarcastically exaggerated for effect. He took a seat knowing he had failed to land any relief for his friend's nerves. Redmond turned his attention back to the sealed scroll, a feeling of despair dancing down his spine. Orders had borne the seal of the King for several months now instead of the Kings Garrison which typically advised directly on council and relayed military orders. Communications had become curt and orders more brutal and unyielding in their nature. The change had been unsettling but Redmond had remained loyal in his execution but the dark shift weighed heavily. Many messages had been hastily delivered to Redmond at the front line of battlements but none like this. Gazing at Kane across the room uneasily, he carefully broke the seal and unfurled it as if its contents might reach up from the pages.

--

Lord Redmond,

I write to you of desperate and dark news in the Kingdom but fear already I have left this too late. Few know of this letter and fewer still that will survive it should it be discovered. The King has succumbed to a darkness over that has been seeping its way into the very foundations of our lands. The foreign influence over the Kingdom has become increasingly malicious and councils' latest demands for sacrifice only seem to be stoking King Ladaran's dark proclivities. They are after something, terrible knowledge and are willing to pay any cost!

The King's temperament has never warmed the souls of the court as you know but his demeanor of late has brimmed with darkness and his appetites have grown grotesque. He has taken chambers in the southern rampart as of the last dying green of summer and let's not even the Kings Garrison within. The screams that echo from within those dark chambers chill the very souls of our ranks but we are powerless under Kings order. Those who enter the chambers do not return and strange robed servants can be seen in the dead of night frequenting the rampart.

Much has changed since your departure friend and I fear I can no longer keep my promise, if I can no longer keep my head. My dissent has struck a sour chord with the Kings mysterious advisors. The foreigners even now seek to join the ranks of the Kings guard after Cecil and Kareem disappeared. They were labelled deserters but the circumstances of their disappearance are suspicious. The only family they had ever known was the Kings Garrison and too many times they have stood to lose their lives in defense of it. Kareem left the trinket he always wore around his neck from his homeland, wherever that was, and even when he slept, I never knew it to be away from him.

If I do not make it someone must know. Someone must stop this madness! I fear the truth to be even darker than the rumor's brother and whoever these transients to the court must be to blame. What I have seen cannot be written, you cannot know the truth without looking upon it. Without seeing the corruption that festers at the very heart of our kingdom. It has been 7 long years since my oath and I will stand in its defense for as long as I walk this mortal plane, but those that surround us at court seek not our salvation brother!

Please I beg you, save our Kingdom, you must return to help those of us that stand in the light repel the darkness!

Tyran

--

The rumors were enough to shake his resolve but for the truth to eclipse them was shattering. His brethren in arms stationed at distance as the devil licks at their Kings ear… what had become of their home while they were off so loyally defending it? The numbing of his senses subsided and now he could hear Kane’s nattering return to which he extended the scroll without eye contact and awaited his acceptance. His gaze focused on the messenger laying impotent as Trevant dabbed a cool cloth across the brow and dry lips of the messenger attempting rehydration and relief from fever. His breaths, while continuing to be labored, had returned to a normal cadence.

“It will be the morning at least before this one joins us in the land of the living, if he makes it the night” Trevant surmised “this one barely has flesh on his bones and infection has kissed his wounds, I'll let you know when he finds his legs, or his tongue for that matter!”

With that there was little more for Redmond and Kane to do but toil over the contents of the letter. Neither slept long and when a brief moment slipped past it lasted only minutes until the nightmares took hold. For Redmond it was always the same, not often had he dwelled on it since the years had passed but the news of home had flooded him with fuel enough. On rare occasion when sleep had sunken him into that despair, he awoke to find the cool air of his battlefront quarters chilling the frantic bead about his brow. Morning could not come soon enough. Hours later Kane found Redmond already pacing outside the tent and tossed a ration of bread and jerky he had gathered from mess. Trevant, having heard the two outside the tent, poked his head out with a sullen expression enough to inform both about the situation. The messenger had not survived the night and had succumb but a few hours after Redmond and Kane had departed.

“He never fully regained consciousness...” Trevant sheepishly spoke “...he did call out in his sleep though. Come we should discuss privately” he motioned into the tent.

As Redmond and Kane entered a terrible smell wafted and Redmond nearly revisited his jerky. Where labored breathes had eked out hope of further reconnaissance and explanation only a few hours before only the poorly messengers' lifeless body now lay. Infection and exhaustion had taken him.

“He kept mumbling ‘save them...’ at times it was a murmur but at times I thought the boy was being flayed! I’m surprised to have seen you so late in the morning given the commotion last night!” Trevant appeared visibly shaken by the events and had taken note himself, he took a minute to calm himself. “The boy was in rough shape but he should have pulled through, whatever caused these wounds... I haven’t seen a corruption like this set in so quickly” he motioned back to the body and lead the two-revealing the putrid wound.

While it had looked bad the night before a blackness continued to ooze and the lacerations had grown black. The smell was now placed and Redmond and Kane backed away in revolt. Trevant went about his machinations around the tent but they afforded little more than dignity for the dead as he prepared the body for cremation. Redmond could only hope the boy died knowing he had succeeded. He would make sure his sacrifice was not in vain. His gaze found Kane and the two left the tent with little more than a nod to Trevant hoping to take no more putrid air. How Trevant could stand it was only a testament to his experience and his own witnessed horrors.

“Serion..” Redmond uttered only her name and started with Kane but a step behind. With haste the two made their way across camp.