Kurlon Encampment, Late Spring of the Year 556 of the Runtallian Calendar…
I AM KNOWN as Gaverone by name and Duke of Regalia by my noble title, ruler of one of the four great duchies in the Kingdom of Runtallia and head of House Walruse, faithful loyalists and vassals to the Royal House of Durhamfortt. From a desolate place where not a soul can witness, discreetly I scribe the contents of the epistle that fate may reveal upon the wake of my demise, which I have foreseen upon my dreams of sorrowful eventides. Insist must I to believe that such was never a happenstance, and in the midst of those times these visions of mine caused me great melancholy for it fostered nay good, nor bliss, but utter malevolence and despair. Periodically, I found myself beseeching the gods to apprise me why was I the unfortunate soul to bear such vexing and maddening of an ability. And neither have I thought deserving of such curse, nor have I considered such thing a blessing. Nonetheless, I am endlessly thankful despite of its queer inequity, for a great deal of people were spared, peculiar and sinister natured as it may have seemed to my unknowing self.
Akin to the life of my grandfather who offered the greatest of honor to House Walruse, I have commenced my journey in life as a page serving at the Royal Court, then a squire, and eventually a full-pledged knight of the Kingdom. On the early years of my knighthood, I sought glory in battle ever so foolishly, as what was expected of me by my peers, superiors and the blood of my ancestry, as I was told ever since the day I awakened consciousness. There was prestige in every battle I have fought, and everyone around me saw myself as someone worthy of my name; the one I inherited that was not mine alone. I have slain enemies of the Kingdom, put down abominations that threatened the realm of the living, and liberated the weak from the cause of woe and grief. I have accomplished it all foremost on behalf of the ever watchful gods, for the sake of my king and His Majesty's liegemen, and the Kingdom altogether. I relinquished evil in the eyes of my people, done great things to such lengths that even I cannot imagine myself doing at the outset.
Upon years passing by, I became wiser to ask myself the meaning behind the attainments of my youth, yet I was obfuscated for far too long for enlightenment. Pondering the thoughts of incertitude and skepticism unremittingly, harboring doubts, all the while curiously wondering back and forth on the great labyrinth of my soul, the time finally came when I was endowed with the answer to quench my thirst for awakening, owing it to my persistent scrutinies. I have at long last arrived at so obvious of a realization that I almost lashed at anyone nearby when I have grasped and claimed it. True to its meaning, I say with grave earnestness: the enemies I fought and killed, the people I saved and freed, the men I served and dedicated my very life and honor, all the mortals I have been acquainted and befriended, including myself who wrote this passage, were all subjected from the preface that detailed our birth to be mere playthings by the supreme entities we have called and worshipped as gods and goddesses, which may have been all one and neither. The sophisticated culture and beliefs the people were keen to believe, even the high esteemed ideologies and moral codes our ancestry passed down from generations to generations, were orchestrated ruse to put the wheels of fate to concur with the desires of the ever scheming deities. The dubiety of mine led me to perceive realities that exceed reason. Alas! I shall not dwell upon this and start my own tale of the series of events that will serve as the beginning of my end.
When my father untimely perished upon his incurable illness, I inherited his title and accepted my noble birthright. I was to rule the Duchy of Regalia and make it my own domain. To lead it to prosperity and serve its people well. I was bestowed upon the duty above any other aristocrats in the Kingdom, and I began my rule as an exemplar of rectitude. Devoted was I to my court duties: harkening appeals from peasants, merchants and the ever squabbling nobles who were my vassals, raising taxes for the King's tribute, recruiting an army to enforce law and deploying them to resolve conflicts through force, coercing anyone into submission whom shall be a nuisance to peace and order. In the course of my reign, I ruled with an iron fist. Upon the matters of economy, I had my trusted merchant friend Fenric, Lord Treasurer of my court, who was expected to advise me and oversee the Duchy's finances and its coffers. Upon the matters of my lordship, I had the castle's trusty Lord Chamberlain, the old scholar Master Alfron, versed in both the affairs of politics and mastery of alchemy, who stood by my side upon each session of petitions and audiences day after day required of my administrative duties. Upon the matters of military, I had my lifelong comrade-in-arms Lord General Balmeister, who was head to the standing army of the Duchy. And at last, upon the matters of the heart, I had my beloved and dearest wife Alycia, the foundation of my strength and resolve. Albeit regrettably, due to some unforeseen tragedy, she too was taken from me, and almost my youngest child.
It happened some years ago, and started upon receiving a troubling news of raids upon the borderlands. Balmeister reiterated to me and all the members of my court that tribesmen from the neighboring land of Norsmund have been sighted plundering villages along the frontier, resulting to the grumbling of the minor lords who had neither the sufficient troops nor the gold to subjugate them. To make things worse, several caravans have been attacked on different roads far and near the border, disrupting trade in some areas which had infuriated various merchants guilds in Estveine. And so, I was compelled to choose between war and diplomacy. After realizing the latter to be futile, I resorted to the way of the sword towards the thorny path of war.
Within two centuries' worth of our history, the Kingdom of Runtallia and the Chiefdom of Norsmund had shared contempt and hostility towards one another. Great battles and skirmishes had been fought, songs of the brave sung, and poems of valor scribed. But for what good cause, I asked myself. For naught, I daresay. Good and bad men have fallen, the children and the elderly had suffered, fathers and sons were grieved and mourned, and countless lives amounted to nothing for the vain and twisted struggle for superiority. I say this now for I failed to acknowledge this sagacity. Solemnly I desired that I could have been the wiser to avert disaster at the time.
During the aforementioned event, after succumbing to the pleading requests of my vassals and subjects who were insistent that I took action, I was driven to wage war against Norsmund to serve them a deterrent. Again, war was inevitable, as it always have been throughout humanity's bloody history. To elevate the spirits of my men, I had to be in the frontlines to lead them, may it be towards triumph or ruin. Naturally, my loving wife Alycia was opposed of me going, but even she cannot hope to break my ironclad resolution. With me were my eldest and second son, Varus and Theo. They too wished to seek glory in battle to follow in my footsteps, so I suppose there will always be a thin line between bravery and foolishness. Such can be said upon our noble bloodline.
Then there came a time to bid my farewell to my youngest son, Velmund. Admittedly, I have envisioned him to be in distraught the same way as his mother or at least worried upon my departure, like he always did when I would travel to a distant land, and yet how awestruck was I by his frigid gaze that try as I might I cannot fathom. Too puzzled was I to ask him why he looked that way that I was forestalled by my wife. "Your father is headed somewhere dangerous, dear. Won't you wish him to be careful?" said Alycia.
My young son was silenced for a while, then he finally eyed me– so intent and enthralling those gray eyes of his were– and said, "Why are you going to war, father?"
"For he needs to fight to protect our people, Vel," interjected my quick-witted son Varus, tousling his brother's flimsy black hair.
"Yes, and we will make sure those barbarians pay for what they did," added my marginally ill-tempered and strong headed son Theo.
"That is not what I mean," Velmund mouthed with his youthful voice, shaking his head sideways in disapproval. "Heed my words, father. Sometimes the simplest option is not the finest one." After muttering those words, he turned tail and ran. Was my son merely curious on why I took arms? Or was it because he knew war was not the only choice I could make? Perhaps it may have been the latter, but a shame it is I would not ever come to know, and forever those words shall linger without my enlightenment. My son was only seven summers at the time, yet he sounded of acuity and shrewdness. I would not have claimed to have been able to fathom his words, but it was almost as if he was a man of great wisdom in a child's body. Albeit I was not as marveled now as I was back then, ever ignorant and foolish as I am a failure as both a father and a husband.
The Regalian Army and I marched to intercept the enemy forces, staking our lives and honor for the sake of our motherland. The battle took place in the plains of Hatskins, a village that was recently destroyed located east of Regalia. A chilly spring afternoon greeted my men when the battle transpired, and I remember it with vivid certainty. We were opposed by the hostile army with at least ten thousand tribesmen, whereby greater in multitude compared to our forces. Mounted upon the finest war horse of the castle stable, and armed with an exceptionally crafted cavalry sword, I have rallied my men and fought in the vanguard to give them courage along with my most trusted retainer knights. The fighting was fierce and vicious, but due to the tactical advantages of our cavalry over the predominantly dismounted barbarians, we won a crushing victory and annihilated nearly half of the enemy army before they began their retreat, amid of maintaining relatively low casualties within our own ranks. After the battle we captured many prisoners, one of them an influential tribal chief-thane. Upon the advise of my court diplomats, we attempted to use the captives as leverage to parley and broker peace, but the ventures to engage in such negotiations were all rejected, all the more adding fuel to the already blazing fire of contempt and hatred between our two nations. At the end, the prisoners we took were to rot in my castle's dungeon and the fortress-prisons of the Kingdom.
Upon reaching the capital city of Regalia with my soldiers, a devastating sight greeted me upon my return. How gravely discomposed was I upon laying my eyes on the burned façade of Walruse Castle, my very own residence. The gate was flocked by guards from the City Watch who carried cadavers of the dead, piling them into a heap along the road. The supposedly good day to commemorate our victory turned into the most sorrowful time of my life within a flash. An old knight smeared in blood with a maimed right arm and an eye patch embedded upon his left eye, whom I recognized as Sir Claude, cousin and personal guard of Alycia, narrated the agonizing tale. Apparently, upon my absence, a group of peasants had instigated an uprising and went to storm my castle. Having most of the troops out in the war, they seized the opportunity to wreak havoc while the city was at its weakest. The rebellion dwindled half of the City Watch, plunging the city into a state of pandemonium for the course of five days. It extended for two more days after they infiltrated the castle armory to steal weapons, which inevitably led to the demise of my beloved Alycia, who personally took charge of the castle's defense on my behalf.
There were no words to express my grief at the time, nor can anyone console my anguished heart. It was as if I was crushed by a huge boulder dropped from the skies; punishment handed by the gods themselves. I cannot breathe and was frozen upon my feet as if deceased. Nay, my own death would have been better and less painful. Still, I hunkered to lament but was not able to do so, for it meant unveiling a weakness in front of my retainers and subjects, who knew me as a man of fortitude. And so with the creeping melancholia that was shrouding my heart bit by bit, I accepted the guise of the unwavering liege lord.
The reason behind the rebellion was unknown, but Fenric speculated that it might have had something to do with the tax raise issued upon last month of that year for the war preparations. General Balmeister was dubious with the idea, insisting that it was a ploy orchestrated by the Norsmundi tribal leaders to stir up a civil war and create an internal conflict within the Duchy. I was indecisive about the two propositions, so I conferred the matter with Master Alfron, whom among my advisors possessed greater wisdom, on the succeeding days after the event. The old scholar implicated two theories to me. The first was that the peasants who took up arms, whom we had discovered upon a series of inquisitions to be farmers who had resided on villages secluded from the city, were motivated by the discontent they harbored against the current rule. The scenario was certainly plausible, as Alfron himself said one time that a ruler cannot please the entire population even as he slogged himself to death, for one's desire coming true might be another man's envy. However, I seem to fail to acknowledge the cause of discontent grave enough to inspire the rebellion.
The second scenario he presented was extremely unsettling. "A conspiracy, Your Grace," Alfron said in hushed tone. "A third party is involved doubtless to say. Upon who was it that schemed against you, that I do not know. Nevertheless, the motive is explicitly stated. They intend to cause instability in the region; to seize the power of Estveine's overlord for themselves without their identities being known. The war with the barbarians was all but a wile, a mere decoy to divert your attention. Woefully to admit, you have been ensnared within their trap, my liege. But all is not lost for we have yet to totally succumb to their elaborate ruse."
"Pray do tell me why wouldn't the barbarians orchestrate the conspiracy themselves?" I urged.
"Your Grace, I am well versed in the ways of the tribesmen for I studied them for more than five years as I accompanied your father upon his conquests in Norsmund to reclaim the ancient lands of our ancestors. For one thing, our people would not dare stray upon the presence of these so called 'barbarians' and neither would they understand them without someone, per say a scholar or a diplomat such as myself, to interpret foreign language. Even though some of them may understand the Common Tongue, they rarely converse in such manner. Moreover, that is excluding the fact that our borders with them remains unopen till this very day. Needless to say, by no means can Norsmund influence the people nor intervene with the Duchy's affairs internally. Let me remind thee, forbye, the Norsmundi are proud warriors, brutal and ruthless as they may be. So, I assure you they would not dare tarnish their honor upon the use of subterfuge and other deceptive stratagems."
"Be that as it may, Alfron, who do you think would pluck the courage to defy me?"
"The greater the power you possess, the more dreadful and malicious your enemies become. I can think of an indefinite number of people who may wish you harm, Your Grace. There is the yeomanry– the merchants whom you take tolls upon their travels on road and the landowning commoners who begrudgingly pay taxes– as well as the peasantry who owe you tithes for the lands they ploughed. And the serfs to boot, who are bound to the fief which you hold. There are also the minor lords of the lower nobility and the other provincial lords in chase of their ambitions and thirst for power, itching to get rid of their vassalage to you. And of course, absurd as 'tis might not be far from truth, shall we exclude the members of this court and your own household?"
To that question, no longer was I able to reply.