"Welcome, gentleman." Spoke the Commander. "It is to my greatest pleasure to see you all gathered here once again before me, though I do wish the circumstances behind our reunion were less dire."
Commander Greenwood surveyed the rows of men. Subtle looks were exchanged amongst those who hadn't yet an inkling of why they were summoned, or who had been so caught up in attending the summons, that they had never stopped to consider what it was for. The room grew silent.
"Some of you whose stations or journeys have taken you far beyond the walls of our great capital may have come to notice the unrest brewing amongst our provinces. There is a rancor stirring in the hearts of our people – and this is a discontent that I am certain we have all come to share in recent times."
Greenwood scanned the room until his eyes landed on the man he was searching for. "Sir Heinrich, trouble has amassed as far north as your holdings as of recent, so I've heard?"
Nodding slowly, the elder knight's placid eyes showed a keen comprehension between the gray of his brows.
"Duchy Creagsten is plagued with all manner of beast creeping down from the Greyscape Mountains. Old Hrimscar Prison has seen its third revolt in just under a cade."
"Matters are worsening in Jättemor as well, Sir," Sir Nathaniel sighed, "While our men clear monsters from ruins, brigands assail the roads. When our men flush out their camps, creatures flood back to the ruins – the common folk aren't safe."
"Same sorts of issues in Sgoth Mairn," piped up Sir Harris, "Not to mention the Dwarven positioning at our northernmost border."
Commander Greenwood assessed each grievance as it was aired, choosing an opportune time to interject. "This plague, this…decay of our Kingdom, when is it that our people became so downtrodden when once they were the most prosperous of any humankind in the world?"
Each face looked about in the uncomfortable silence that ensued, as if it would bring bad luck to even speak on the matter. At last, a voice offered the answer that everyone had already known.
"The Copper War." Orwick said bitterly.
Commander Greenwood smiled tightly.
"The Copper War." Greenwood repeated. "Stoked by the Redpipe Rebellion, where just under fifty roats ago we lost half the domain and two-thirds of our men. Now, the so-called Animaerisian Republic sees prosperity in our former frontier after suppressing human magic and seeing our proud dragons all but extinct."
Greenwood's speech had a queer effect on the knights. Though his voice was even and unwavering, it conveyed the frustration they had all experienced. It caused the air to grow heavy.
"Though few of us were alive during the last days of the war, and fewer of us old enough to remember it, its memory blights our land and our lives. Famine rakes her talons through our fields, vagabonds and beasts alike roam freely about, and now," At this, the Commander held high a scroll of parchment. "Our enemies ally against us."
Now there was a general murmur of confused alarm in the council.
"What's this all about, Sir?" queried Sir Harris.
"A Merchant Alliance, intercepted from a Dwarven ship by an informant in the Dracticos Isles. It details the trade of raw materials from Dvargkall in exchange for gunpowder, smokepoles, and ammunition from Animaeris."
A dark scowl was present on every man as they comprehended the meaning behind this announcement. Few of them had ever seen a firearm in action, but they were all too aware of the power that they held. Their murmurings soon turned to outrage.
"They'll pinch and corner us like rats." Breathed old Sir Heinrich aghast.
"Scheming bastards!" growled Sir Nathaniel, slamming his fist to the table, "As if they haven't taken enough from us already!"
"We must purge the traitorous turncoats at once…" Sir Zachariah muttered.
Alwyn looked around the chamber, unsure what to make of this news. He was searching for something to say until he caught sight of the dour countenance that had overtaken Orwick, who seemed just as angered as the rest.
Commander Greenwood raised a single palm and the room fell yet again to silence.
"King Edwin has made it clear that any shadowed plots made by our enemies shall not come to pass so long as he draws breath. In order to combat this alliance, we have sent a diplomatic envoy to Incanterra to see if we might not curry the favor of Queen Thalara."
Sir Lawrence raised a hand at this, and interjected once permitted.
"With all due respect Sir, the Elves and other Fyearn are not to be trusted - would it not be wiser to call upon our allies in the Dracticos Isles?"
Commander Greenwood nodded slowly, acknowledging the logic in the concern. "Unfortunately, between the threat of piracy from Padasiras and the rise of slave revolts, the resources of our Mid-Islander friends have been stretched thin," he sighed, "Our diplomats are hopeful that the Elves will be cooperative, given how Animaerisian logging endeavors have doubled in effort since their separation from the crown. Though there are plans being set into motion should our efforts fail."
"Our cause of summons." The voice was so quiet that had anyone made any noise above a breath, it would not have been heard. Instead, Commander Greenwood smiled in assent.
"Indeed, Sir Derich."
Sir Derich, though present and in fact one of the first members of the Drake's Tongue in attendance, blended so perfectly into the atmosphere that it had become commonplace to almost entirely forget he was there. This disposition was not due to any sort of timidity such as the kind that possessed Sir Jonah; rather, Sir Derich was soft spoken by nature, and so prone to not speaking unless he found it necessary. He stared blankly at his Commander as if there was nobody there at all through the overgrown locks of black curls that flowed over his face in a tangled waterfall.
"Also why you have brought newcomers into the Hall for this attendance. What purpose do they serve?" He asked in a blunt monotone.
"Mind your tongue." Warned Sir Zachariah acidly, though Sir Derich only stared at him with dull affect. Confused glances were exchanged across the table with those who were unfamiliar to Sir Derich's ways.
Sir Nathaniel gave him a subtle nudge. "Ain't nobody here but the Commander, Derich." He said with some concern.
Sir Derich shook his head slowly, raising a single lazy finger towards the doors behind Commander Greenwood that had so far remained shut.
Commander Greenwood, in place of irritation, gracefully stepped backward and raised an arm himself to introduce his guests, who now entered through the door.
An elegant young woman entered first, striding confidently to the right side of the Commander. Curls of brown hair tinted with just hints of red were highlighted better by the crimson of her bodice. When she smiled at the gathering, Alwyn could almost feel the stillness in the air as the gathered knights forgot to take a breath. He was transfixed by her beauty and, glancing towards Orwick, knew that he was not the only one to be enamored. As he returned his gaze to her, Alwyn could only wonder at what purpose this enchantress could have in their company.
"This is Miss Lamira Erisane." Spoke Greenwood, motioning to the young woman who curtsied politely at the introduction.
"And this," The Commander continued, gesturing to his left. "Is Sir Nemian Holloway."
Only at the introduction of his name and title did the space become occupied, as a man shrouded in a dark green cloak hobbled his way to stand at the Commander's left. This elderly figure was assisted by a whittled walking stick that eased the cripple of his right leg. Alwyn only assumed the man was old by the hunch in his back and limp in his walk, as naught could be seen of his concealed face. Sir Nemian made no formal bow nor so much as a nod, but stood as motionless as a statue once he had reached his destination.
Something about the introduction had struck Alwyn as odd, however, and realization struck him after a moment.
"Sir?" he queried, observing the newcomer, "So you are knighted, then?"
Though the man himself made no attempt to answer, Commander Greenwood supplied a response.
"Indeed. Though long retired, Sir Nemian served as a Knight of the Drake's Tongue the same as yourselves, so be certain to show him the proper respect as your senior."
Awestruck silence encased the room. Rare was it to meet a retired member of the Order, seeing as their oath was meant to bound them to the service until they met their end.
"Ensure you do the same for Miss Erisane. She has journeyed far to be of aid, and has proved to be a most trusted advisor to the Crown."
Alwyn found himself mesmerized in the presence of the two unusual figures. Not only had he never met a former knight of his Order, but neither had a foreigner been invited to attend so closely within Regganor's highest inner circles. This feeling of rapture was almost mutual through the knights.
"Whatever you require of us, it will be done."
It was unknown to Alwyn where his sudden determination sprang from, but as he spoke the words he felt that the conviction he spoke in them was true.
Commander Greenwood nodded his approval; Miss Erisane beamed at this assertion, and while he could not be certain, Alwyn could have sworn he felt the gaze of Sir Nemian watching him closely.
"King Edwin and myself are formally requesting the Knights of the Drake's Tongue to accompany Miss Erisane and Sir Nemian on a journey to recover two artifacts that, if found, could hold the capability of not only protecting the realm, but of ushering in a new era of prosperity as well."
This momentous revelation was too much for even the knights of the highest order. Their discipline collapsed as the council chamber was flooded with questions.
"Journey? Where would we journey to find such things?" Sir Barney blurted out.
"You are to be partitioned into two parties; one of which will accompany Sir Nemian past the Greyscape Mountains into Duchy Creagsten, to the northernmost reaches of our Kingdom. The second will journey with Miss Erisane to Duchy Fharsält in the far southeast."
"What artifacts could hold such a power?" said Sir Derich.
"Unfortunately, the sources received regarding the artifacts themselves are closely held secrets. Only a select few individuals - to include Miss Erisane and Sir Nemian, are privy to the information regarding their nature. You are to act as their guards, and they as your guides."
An uncomfortable silence ensued. Rare was it that information was held from members so high in rank as the knights of the Drake's Tongue.
"I mean no disrespect in my asking, Sir, but is there any chance that we are to be chasing shadows in this venture?" wondered Sir Lawrence after a moment.
Commander Greenwood hesitated, careful to plan his next words. "I cannot say it is impossible, but we have a fair certainty that these relics exist, and where to find them if it is so. The benefit of obtaining them outweighs the risk of a vain pursuit."
"You had mentioned our division into parties - might I ask, have the parties yet been decided upon?" croaked Sir Heinrich.
"They have," assured the Commander, and in anticipation of the next question, cleared his throat, "Each unit will have a knight designated to take lead and work alongside their guide in the event of any trouble. Accompanying Miss Erisane southeast will be:
Sir Derich Osterly,
Sir Lawrence Corwick,
Sir Barney Gorrin,
and Sir Jonah Ornsworth, for whom Sir Orwick Danheim will act as Captain.
Those accompanying Sir Nemian to the north shall be:
Sir Heinrich Hargreaves,
Sir Harris Montfort,
Sir Zachariah Parnsley,
and Sir Nathaniel Bricklebach, for which Sir Alwyn Jormund will be acting Captain."
"When are we to depart?" Sir Jonah spoke after a moment, his curiosity earning a rare victory over his bashfulness.
"By sun's peak on the morrow we will regather at the Eastern Gate before departure. You are to use this day to ensure you and your mounts are prepared for your travels ahead."
Hearing how soon their departure was determined came as a shock to the more junior of knights, but each of them found their resolve strengthened for the mission ahead. No more did a hand raise an inquiry.
"This is a tight-lipped matter, not to be spoken of outside of any company not within this room. The Order of the Drake's Tongue is founded on this honored principle of trust and secrecy; I invoke the oath in which you are bound to fulfill this obligation. Many thanks, gentlemen. You are dismissed. "
One by one the Knights of the Drake's Tongue silently filed out into the atrium of Cagrach Hall, leaving only the three looming figures to stare out after them, the wall sconces causing their shadows to briefly dance after their guests before the doors of the council chamber were sealed again.