“Do not presume to give orders general! I am king and I alone will decide what the best course of action is! Guards…take General Chad into custody.” The king’s guard who had remained in the shadows stepped into the light, but they did not move toward the general. They were looking at Chad as though they were waiting for his orders. The king looked around at his protectors in disbelief. He began to bristle in his seat and look at the soldiers with an ever increasing degree of hatred. How dare they side with that treacherous Chad!
“I am afraid your authority is temporarily suspended until you come to your senses. I am acting on behalf of the people of Ennis. Guards…take the king to his chambers. Make sure he is comfortable, but do not let him leave his room unattended. He is to have a watch over him every hour of the day until this threat has passed.” He turned away this time and began to walk away resolutely as though he had somewhere urgent to be.
“You cannot do this…I am king! You have no authority…” the king blustered as his guards grabbed him by his arms and began dragging him away. As the king struggled the dwarven guards tightened their already vice like grip on the monarch’s arms.
“You will understand in time…I am acting in the best interest of the people. Call for me if you have a change of heart.” He waved dismissively to his enraged king. He will understand when the fighting begins…at least we will be ready this time.
The Silver Anchor
A tall hooded figure approached the small town of Belva in the dead of night. The residents were in their homes or taverns at this time of night. Torches were lit along the main thorough fare which cast odd shadows as the lights flickered. The stranger meandered slowly down the center of the road and did not look right or left. The Silver Anchor was at the end of the main street and was the source of the night time sounds drifting through the chill fall air. This was by far the most popular tavern in the west and it was clear that this traveler was heading directly for it. The air had a salty taste to it, which was not unexpected for a port town.
Some of the residents peered out their lantern lit windows at the unusually tall visitor. They had not seen someone that tall since the elves stopped trading with their town decades ago. They huddled together and watched the dark figure walk resolutely toward The Silver Anchor. Some were worried that it was an orc because of the person’s physique. They usually had to deal with a few dozen of those foul creatures every winter. This hooded stranger had a stocky build of an orc, but he was slightly taller than any they had seen before in Belva. After the person had passed their windows, they bent their heads closer together to discuss who this mysterious traveler could be.
The tall figure seemed to glide as he made his way past the rows of modest homes along the main road. The buildings were constructed of some of the finest timber from neighboring Tansanee Forest. Silver and gold were etched into beautiful carvings which were difficult to see in the twilight but still cast ominous shadows in the fire light. This port town was home to a wide variety of people…even southlanders. Visitors from the north came to this port town during the winter months, so there were none in town when this stranger came to call during the waning months of the fall season.
The light from within the tavern was bright as the outsider approached the thick wooden doors. The tall stranger peered through the panes of glass at the very top of the double doors. There were several tables scattered throughout the spacious inside of The Silver Anchor that were peopled by a wide variety of rift raft. They did not appear to be any females amongst the different races and the air was thick with smoke from the lamps and pipes the patrons were smoking. As the doors opened inward, a dank foul smell filled the nostrils of the tall dark visitor. He stepped into the light where his face was clearly visible for the first time. The noisy bar went deadly still at the sudden appearance of the mysterious stranger.
“Who you looking for mate?” grunted the bartender. The big beefy man had a black patch over his left eye and his teeth were yellowed from years of smoking. His face did not show any kindness or tolerance for fancy strangers. He did not even bother to look at the newcomer. He was too busy cleaning a tankard to take any special notice of anything out of the ordinary.
“I am looking for Xuzien…where can I find him?” asked the fearsome looking stranger. His white hair contrasted his tanned skin which added to his mystic. His hood still hid his eyes.
“Why should I tell ye anything? I have never seen the likes of ye in these parts before. Who the blazes are ye?” asked Ofular the bartender. He had a quizzical look on his face as he looked up at the unwanted visitor with his one good eye. He nodded to someone in the crowd without taking his eye off the unexpected guest.
A dwarf and a thick set man stood up after the gesture from the bartender. They made their way toward the tall figure that was draped in midnight blue robes with his hood pulled up over his head. He had crystal blue eyes that focused on the pair which caused them to halt their approach. The white goatee twitched as the stranger smiled at the fear in their eyes. He lowered his hood to reveal a mane of brilliant white hair and skin that was dark brown from prolonged exposure to the eastern sun. There was a collective intake of breath when the patrons realized who this person was.
“I’m sorry me lord…I did not realize it was ye” said a quaking Ofular. He bowed hastily and began to fumble around for a clean glass. He poured a clear liquid and held it out for the visitor to take. He trembled slightly as he held the drink. He seldom was nervous or afraid of anyone; however, having a god-like person in your tavern changed that. He had enormous respect for the white haired old man.
“It is quite alright Ofular…I am grateful for your hospitality” replied the dark stranger as he took the strong drink from the shaking bartender. He downed it in three huge gulps and placed the glass back down on the bar. There were many in the establishment that raised eyebrows at how easily he downed such a powerful drink. Some mumbled grudging respect from someone who could down the strong drink.
“Attention ye raucous bunch of thieves…this here is the fella that saved our ancestors from those damnable demons! He be the one that kept those eastern war mongers from entering yer lands. This be the guardian himself!” bellowed Ofular with an even more ridiculous prostration. Cheers rang through the smoke filled air as well as many thumping the table with their fists or tankards. There was one person who did not bow or join in the cheering. The bent figure stood slowly and made their way to where Lord Adair stood at the end of the bar.
“You filthy scum…you wretched traitor…you piece of bat droppings! You’re the murderous villain that is the cause of the bloodshed in middle Tuwa and if you do not leave now, that war will follow you here!” hissed the stooped figure. The person wore a tattered cloak with the hood pulled way over its head. The room fell silent as everyone in the bar waited for the guardian to reply. It was as though all time stopped and no one breathed for what seemed an eternity. The outburst was such a contrast to the warm welcome the guardian had just received that the room was immediately tense. Stunned silence permeated the bar.
“Ukegry…death waits for you my old friend. Why do you come here in disguise? Are you afraid these fine folks would dispose of you if you revealed yourself to them?” Adair turned to face his antagonist. His visage darkened as he looked at the stooped figure.