Taperend
Tng! Tng! Tng! The gong rang ominously overhead announcing the death of a noble. Clangs stopped ringing from the belfry stopped after a while. A slender, scarlet stallion raced through the castle gates and halted in the bailey where it trotted stoutly. Taperend observed this quintessence of Dupark haughtiness in the horse from his cosy chambers. He lazily sighed, picking up his massive girth and marching down two flights of stairs. When he arrived at the ground level, he saw the horse snort at him. The colt lowered its collar with a flourish and grazed on the luxuriant, royal grass. A riderless horse — the sigil of Dupark men. That was at least relief amongst the riot in Cobardon, a pail of water to quell the desert's yearning. Not before long, he saw from his vantage gardens, row after row of gaunt soldiers with black, oiled mail and bayonets with blood-red blades. The Dupark had been true to their word, they had arrived in power yet, he had a nudging sensation of something about to go awfully wrong.
His eyes counted 10,000 soldiers and more were still streaming into his city of Napemol. Still, he didn't glimpse the sight his heart craved to see. The ants stopped coming, and he counted 15,000 of them. He strode with all the dignity he could muster, as his belly jiggled endlessly. A smile lay awaited and concealed on his countenance. Their chief came on a tottering horse, not dissimilar to the stallion he had seen before. "Ah! My awaited guests," he proclaimed and smiled cherubically. "M'lord Taperend, ruler of Napemol," he announced, delivering the phrase like a gibe, with a tone Taperend liked not, while dismounting from the horse. This fellow won't talk with reverence until I grant him a sample of his own medication, Taperend pondered. He angled his neck, rolled his eyes downwards so that he looked down on the ruler of Dupark. Taperend demanded from the commander, "Where is the heart of your battalion? Where are the drago..."
Before he could end his query, he picked up a raucous growl echo outside the city walls. The chief put on a shrewd smile and moved within uncomfortable proximity to Taperend in a flicker of an eye. The commander whispered, a threat evident in his tone, "Here they come. Oh, generous Ringhal!" With that Taperend glimpsed the colossal head of a dragon sheathe out a swarm of cloud, its scaly, thick wings tearing the clouds to slivers.
Red was the dragon, and red was the flame that blasted off its mouth.
Red was his blood, and red was the blade that cut him out.
Red was the horse, and red was his heart before it burned out.
The Dupark flag hailed above Fort Napemol. The Napemol flag was lowered temporarily. The Napemol flag would be raised again when Taperend would swear fealty to Wingbearer – becoming a co-conspirator to the rebellion. Yes, that would be a glorious start to the rebellion.
50 archers had their arrows aimed at Taperend's dead body. Three dragon-priests were crouched near the body, chanting in an ancient language. Each of the priests held a trinket – dragon fire had been used to heat and forge the stone till the stone existed only in a fiery semi-solid state. The stone was contained within the trinket and one could see the stone forming in an uneven solid-state for a moment and then melting to near lava, which splashed around the trinket to again form a jagged solid. The semi-solid danced for eternity, changing from solid to liquid and back to solid, again and again at the gap of few breaths.
From the trinket's jade tinted glass, the glaring bloodshot semi-solid cast out yellow shards of light illuminated the room. The room had been emptied yet it was clear this had been a temple – a temple to Ringhal. The wall was etched with obscene carvings of anguish and destructive glory.
10 spearmen came closer to the body, their spears hanging inches from Taperend. The chanting intensified. The trinkets glowed brighter. The phrases of the towering priests grew more complex and louder. Everyone's heads turned away from the glaring trinkets. The chants echoed across the colossal palace of Napemol. The trinkets shone so brightly that the whole room lit as if everyone was capsuled within a candle flame.
Aaaah! The lights quickly shrunk into darkness as Taperend glanced awake. He had been reincarnated!
The spearheads closed against his neck to form a ring of blades. A harsh voice spoke, "Quick! Do you swear fealty to Wingbearer or do you wish to stay loyal to Rulerstead and die!"
"I, Taperend, am loyal to … No one!"
The spears closed around his neck as blood traced down his skin like vines down a wall. Taperend choked while he barely voiced, "I swear fealty to Wingbearer."
Napemol's flag rose on top of Napemol's palace again, to flap beside the Dupark flag.
Inside his head, he vowed vengeance against the Dupark. He would make them pay, but for that, he had to stay alive.
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Arthur
The moon was a waning crescent that sparsely lit much. Standing on his balcony, he squinted his eyes to make out that patch of soldiers moving noiselessly away. He could only make out the tiny army of 200 soldiers because he knew where to look. The dim moonlight bounced off shiny metal weapons and armour and looked like tiny puddles were scattered across the patch of land and reflections of the moon in each puddle's water created the scenario. He turned his brooding eyes away while thinking, Trevan will not fail me, he will achieve this feat too.
He entered his room and called upon a servant. To the servant, he said, "Tell Hapem to come to my room."
Hapem emerged into his room – half groggy due to being woken from a deep sleep and half burning with impatience as Hapem anticipated an explanation was coming. I hope the explanation won't be another excuse to your eyes, he hoped.
Hapem seated himself on a chair, placed around a table. Arthur sat in front of Hapem and placed three candles on the table. He struck the matchstick against the tinderbox's side. A flame bloomed on the matchstick's top with a rasp. He took the burning match and slowly lit the first candle with it. "We will have to look into the past to find the answer," Arthur murmured softly.
"I, Orwen and Edward were fostered at Rulerstead. We three were tight friends, an unbreakable trio. Alas, death did break us apart. I was destined to be Lopelanzec's Lord; Orwen was destined to be Wingbearer's Lord and Edward was destined to be the Lord of Rulerstead and King of Cobardon. We learnt well, grew well. Everything passed like a fairy tale. When we three were near our fostering's end, Taperend arrived. He was much younger than us, but that sly ... nevermind. So, as I was saying we left, we became Lords. Everything was perfect!"
He had lit the second candle while talking and now proceeded to the third.
"Morningstar rose in rebellion. Me, Orwen and Edward with The Valley amassed our forces. No one else rose in support of us or in support of Morningstar. The rebellion was nearly crushed. Upon Morningstar's final stand, the Lord of Morningstar, Laskhor, applied a new tactic. A new fatal tactic! Instead of trying to win the war, the whole of Morningstar's army focused on killing Edward. They partly succeeded in that. Edward was badly injured by the time we managed to pull him out of the battle. Morningstar was defeated and the Lord of Morningstar, Laskhor, was killed by Orwen, who had been dying for vengeance against Edward's injuries. Thus, the rebellion was crushed. Yet, Cobardon faced its greatest loss. Edward's health only worsened and on the third day..."
Arthur stopped talking and Hapem heard a stifling noise.
Arthur continued, "On his death bed, only I had been nearby. At that moment, he made me swear to protect his son Newtriko's rule at all costs."
"Roger, Edward's elder brother had no heir and didn't intend to have any, had given up his rule to Edward when Edward reached adulthood. So, when Edward died and Newtriko was but an infant, Roger took up the rule as Newtriko's regent. Roger had known about my vow to Edward. So, when news of Robert and Alicia reached him, he forbade their marriage. The reason Roger had given me was that Robert and Alicia together had too much power. The old man made a hasty decision and he couldn't go back on his decision as that would loosen his grip on the rule, or so I believe. Now I am sure he wishes he had gone back on that decision. Why? Because Orwen has started the rebellion. And for all reason, I would rush to his aid but I can't. I can't!"
"I understand father," Arthur heard Hapem voice. Hapem understood. That was all he could have hoped for.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
