The two knights paled to a much whiter shade of blue at that very unwelcome news.
“You have truly died in service to the Corcosi, completing all oaths of loyalty and service and carrying them through. There is no oath that can carry you past death without your own will. In death all debts are paid.
“You are not knights of any family, regardless of what you remember. You are newborn dreams walking the world of men, scant days old. If you wish to regain your mortality, to become human, there are two things you must do. Are you ready to hear them?”
Both former knights swallowed and nodded respectfully, voicing their assent loudly.
Briggs nodded solemnly down at them. “First, you must be Sworn to the service of a Source like myself. I will stave off the influence of the System if you are Sworn to me and my service. You will be able to retain your names and sense of self, and remember who you once were.
“If you do not wish to swear to me, you will eventually be reclaimed by the System, and return to the mindless state in which we found you.”
Both young men swallowed deeply.
“For the short-term, the second thing you must do is give up your armor and weapons, and go live as normal men, where you must eat.
“Your ectoplasmic body will act as a living one, including digesting the food that you take in. Slowly, it will replace the substance of dreams with the substance of the mortal world. You will start producing real blood. Your appetite will return, you will eventually need to sleep, you will tire, and you will slowly begin to age again.
“You will know when your return to mortality is complete, because you will suddenly be able to Level again.”
Both of the young men drew themselves up alertly at that.
“At that point, if you wish to take up your arms and armor again, you can once again proceed on the path of knighthood… or you may realize that you care more for rebuilding what was lost than slaughtering a foe designated by others.
“In addition to this, there is news. Your Highness, what year was it when you came to Dereth?”
The pale violet-eyed, black-haired scar-faced young woman addressed with the inflection of high royalty responded with a voice like a naked sword. “I entered the Portal from the Imperial Capital of Tirethas in Roulea in 1325 RC.” The eyes of both men widened in disbelief, as that was over thirty years after they had done so in Viamont! “That was four years after my parents completed the unification of their Empire. That included the complete subjugation of Viamont and the utter extinguishing of the Corcosi bloodline on Ispar, along with the Houses of Lotila, Renari, and Morillo. Eighty percent of the nobles of Viamont were slaughtered in the resistance that the Viamontians put up, and two-thirds of the country and eighty percent of their herds were put to the torch.
“The last members of the Corcosi, Lotila, Renari, and Morillo Houses may still exist on Dereth here, and they are all going to die, and with them any vassals who may claim loyalty to their banners.
“If you are of the opinion that Varicci II still has your loyalty, then inform me now. I will give you a sword, we will fight, and I will send you off to your final fate, beyond this System that has enslaved you.
“That is the mercy my family and I have for the royalist houses of Viamont who face us.
“Now, choose your course. The mercy of Commander Briggs, your newborn Oath of Fealty, and the attempt to live a truly new life, or upholding dead Oaths and so joining them in death.” Her pale violet eyes narrowed down, but only seemed even larger with the death leaking out of them.
Both of the extremely intimidated knights immediately fell to their knees. “Commander Briggs, please accept my Oath of Vassalage and service to you and your banner!” they cried more or less together and quite fervently, their heads bowed.
His gaze flickered over to me, and I nodded, Kris having paid the cost for the Geases that would back those Oaths.
“Accepted.”
The world seemed to tilt and spin, especially for those two knights, whose heads jerked up and eyes spun as something rotated around them, jerking them back, forth, and then was gone, a dissipating shattering that was felt on the soul, and they fell to the ground with cries of shock and release.
It took them long and careful moments to reclaim their senses, and even then they first buried their faces in the ground before Briggs’ even gaze.
“Commander, I live to serve!” Henri spoke up after a long moment, clapping his fist to his chest loudly, his gaze still averted, Jamail echoing him a moment later.
“You are newborn dreams attempting to claim a new life, and become the first of your lines. As such, your bloodlines begin with you,” Briggs pronounced, and it was indeed truth, as everyone instantly realized.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“I name you Henri du Nenati, and Jamail du Nenati, of the House of Nenati. When you reclaim your mortality, we will see what you can make of your new House and a Bloodline that began in Dream.
“Your first command is to retire to the post of Eastwatch, once located upon that hill there.” It had not existed at the time the two young men had died. “We will be returning there soon enough. Do not fight anything you see upon the landscape, and it will not fight you, for they are also dreams made flesh, but they are trapped in the System.
“We will return to you shortly, and hie you off to the lands of Baishi, where the last of the Bellenesse seek to rebuild. You will aid them in rebuilding their lands there, but not as knights, merely strong men who are needed to do the work that must be done.
“When your mortality is reclaimed by life and by living, your lives begin anew.
“Do you understand these orders?” he asked them calmly.
“We do, Commander Briggs, sir!” they answered loudly.
“Then go.”
----
This was certainly the most interesting set of people he could remember ever having associating with, Master Oswald thought as he watched the two liberated Summons at first walk away, and then break into fully-armored runs, heading for the rising hill atop which the post of Eastwatch had once been established.
“MacMikal.” The Black Aluvian turned his head at the Green Hunter’s quiet voice. “Something just came to mind, seeing those two. Do you remember the Sword of Bellenesse?”
The Warden of the Royal Scouts of Freehold (Hah! A MacMikal a Royal Warden! Would the world get much stranger than that?) furrowed his brow. “That were a Quest before the Fall. Some thief o’ no name managed t’ steal the Ducal Sword from the vaults o’ Sanamar. Ye could return it to the bull-kissers, t’ Silyun, or ta a Gharu’n swordsmith t’ replicate it,” he recalled, and then he scowled again. “Gor dammit!” he spat. “Another damn repeating Quest…”
“It occurs to me that there can really only be one Sword of Bellenesse, you think?” Oswald mentioned thoughtfully.
“An endlessly replicated toy that becomes the real one when a Null or Source grasps it?” a gentle voice broke in on them, and both turned to the Magos standing next to Oswald.
“Aye,” Oswald decided was all that was needed to be said.
“Where is this Quest Sword to be found?” the Lady Magos asked calmly.
“Not far from where we came across the sea, actually,” the Green Hunter answered promptly.
“When matters here are done, you will escort Princess Kristie there to claim the Sword,” the Lady Magos said, with a soft iron under it that Master Oswald knew he could not refuse.
“Not to return it to the House of Bellenesse?” Master Oswald asked, interested in her motivations.
“Princess Kristie is the reincarnation of Eleonora di Bellenesse.”
Master Oswald’s bright green eyes grew very large as that news entered his ears, and he smacked his lips as a secret he knew he’d never give voice to without permission came into his grasp. “And Commander Briggs?” he dared to ask, knowing instinctively that the ties that bound the two were now something that had to transcend death.
“Darren Marden.”
Oswald’s breath hissed out slowly, staring at the towering warrior who was more of a knight, warrior, and commander of men than any Viamontian Knight could ever dream of being. He glanced at the Mick’s unsurprised face. “He didn’t know until recently, I trust? That little episode with Korvus and the lads standing guard, if I were to venture a guess…”
“Aye,” the Mick nodded. “We’re told that the Ranthas and Briggs are born from souls who died to great evil.”
Oswald was not slow. “So her Imperial mother and father…” he trailed off.
“I do not know, but I imagine they were killed by Viamontians in some cruel and horrible fashion in Aluvia. Kris never asked who they were, and it does not matter, truly. In the end, all of Viamont paid for what was done to them, and that is enough,” the Lady Magos told him.
“Ye know there’s plenty o’ bandits an’ killers in some o’ the Dungeons around, aye?” the Mick asked, an odd expression on his face. “But good soldiers an’ the like, not so many…”
“Are any of them women?” the Lady Magos asked, turning to glance at him.
The Mick’s eyes slowly widened. “Aye…” he said softly.
“Would perhaps your Bunita have qualified as a bandit at some time?” she went on quietly, and the Mick trembled at her words.
“Perhaps…” he acknowledged. “She didnae speak much o’ her past afore becoming a proper tomb-looter an’ adventuring monster-butcher.”
“Perhaps you might want to learn Assay at V and go venturing into some of those places and see what souls might actually be bound to Summons there,” was the quiet suggestion.
The Mick’s fists creaked. “Aye. Aye, lass, that sounds like a strange an’ wonderful use of me time, it do.”
“I’d start with the Mana Hunters on Freebooter Island,” Oswald recommended softly. “They are the most accomplished of their sort to be found on Dereth, and your little wife was quite adept with her rapier.”
The Mick’s black eyes glinted. “That be sounding like an even more worthy use o’ me time.”
Master Oswald considered the group of Fiuns they were now pacing towards, Princess Kristie Rantha-Briggs and Commander Briggs with the pale light of Mercy showing on their Sword and Hammer respectively.
Others might not know it, but the Fiun sexes looked remarkably similar, and basically half of the insane Fiuns were actually female.
Oswald’s teeth drew back in a half-crazed smile.
It was likely that the Fiun were, in truth, actually extinct right now. But if a healing touch could Regenerate that missing gland in their brains on a Summon and shackled spirit, an Oath to a Source and eating and drinking the matter and material of the mortal world could potentially return to life an entire race the servants of Varicci had heartlessly used and thrown away.
His internal laughter at the entire irony of the situation he kept to himself, until another thought intruded upon it.
Gods, and the Lady Magos saying they were sent here by gods, maneuvered like pieces on a great chessboard, brought to a place where they were truly needed and could do some Good, all in opposition that had gone on unchecked.
The rebirth of an entire race and culture, one wiped from existence by their own hubris and foolishness, given a second chance to achieve greatness, administered the kind of lesson that would change any race’s view on life and death.
Returned to life by the grace of the gods and a heart willing to make the sacrifices of time and effort necessary to bring them back.
Great Evil, and great Good acting in turn to become something even greater. A cycle of life and death and influences greater than anything even he could truly comprehend, yet laid right out before him.
Truly life had become even more interesting than it had ever been before for a certain former knife for hire…
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