His voice echoed over the stunned crowd. The rumour that I would no longer be in command of the Order had reached everyone’s ears almost before the word of the Duke’s arrival had but no one had truly been prepared to hear it spoken out loud from someone of authority. From my position a few meters away from the Duke I could see the collection of sullen expressions of the Men-at-arms and the crowd at their backs and I knew that not everyone was happy with the outcome. I didn’t know how I was meant to feel, but there was no way that I could fool myself that I wasn’t feeling equal parts relieved at having such responsibility lifted from my shoulders and downcast at the fact that such a title was no longer my own.
There was also considerable doubt in my mind at the veracity of the change and had been the leading cause of discussion and outright argument through the night. Viconia had railed against the change and not just because she considered any loss of power an insult, especially when it directly affected her. Others had weighed in but it all came down to the simple fact that the Elder Council had decreed that whoever claimed the most relics would lead the Knights of the Nine, and from all accounts the Duke had managed to retrieve two whereas I had directly retrieved the Boots, and assisted with the Helm, Cuirass, Shield and Mace.
“As the Nine wills!” the Duke cried out, his voice almost straining with the effort of the cry and I felt the surge of adrenaline as he reached behind to the sword sheathed down his spine, dragging it free and holding it aloft.
“Et Novem vult!” Roared the newly arrived knights but I barely registered the words. My eyes were instead drawn to the blade in the Duke’s hands, a blade that was swirling and glowing with incredible energies.
It was longer than Sunchild, but not as long as the Light of Dawn or Falid’s greatsword. Sitting in the somewhat uncomfortable length of a bastard sword it was obviously designed for use with two hands while dismounted and one handed on horseback for additional reach but the most obvious feature was the fact that it was no ordinary weapon. Ethereal lights flowed up the blade in the rippling swirls of the forged metal and the hilt appeared to be crafted from something akin to silver or platinum. In the Duke’s hands it was almost an elemental force upon the senses, an overwhelming, throbbing power that crashed into the mind like a storm.
That it was a Relic was not in doubt but it felt different to the others that we had encountered. All of the other relics seemed capable of breaching the clouds themselves with their purity and radiance and while this was obviously powerful, I found myself gritting my teeth in a sudden and overwhelming desire to claim the blade as my own. It had a hypnotic pull that the vampire was suddenly resisting, which was in stark contrast to the gnawing pain in the back of the mind when I gazed upon the other relics.
A quick glance to my sides showed the grim faces on Viconia and Alexi and my suspicions increased as they too appeared uneasy at the Sword’s presence. As the gathered crowds cheered and applauded, especially with the collection of halberd wielding Men-at-arms revealed the presence of the Greaves myself and those closest to me remained silent.
Lowering the sword into a casual, heroic appearing stance with the flat of the glowing blade resting on a shoulder, the Duke turned and regarded me with the same expressionless mask of a face.
“Sir Desin?” He said carefully with a voice as cold as ice. “There are things we need to discuss.”
It was impossible not to recognise the command despite the pleasant way it was framed and we all moved quickly after that.. Leaving the Men-at-arms within Carodus’ care and dismissing the Knights, Viconia, Alexi and myself escorted the Duke and his companions out of sight into the main building. While it didn’t take long I felt myself growing increasingly uncomfortable from the silence from the three nobles and the sensation of intense scrutiny every step of the way. The Duke seemed to refuse to look in any other direction than straight ahead, while Sir Wirile and the other as-yet unknown knight appeared disgusted at everything around them. The silent, unintroduced knight especially appeared a combination of insulted and full of loathing, walking about with a silken handkerchief pressed to his nose as though trying to ward off the plague.
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The personal discomfort that I felt was only further increased as we entered the half completed priory and had, in no uncertain terms been told that I, and I alone was to speak with the Duke. Viconia’s expression was unreadable to most but I could sense her discomfort and Alexi’s wasn’t much different as the door to my private study closed behind me. All three of us were incredibly wary, and my own unease was not helped that I suddenly found myself in a room with three noblemen.
Slowly moving around the desk in the centre of the room, the Duke appeared extremely out of place to say the least. Between his expensive clothing, armour and equipment, let alone the Sword of Arkay still strapped down his spine he was a far cry from the half restored wooden walls, the desk carved from locally made wood and a chair that creaked as soon as he rested a hand upon it.
“I am aggrieved.” He said simply, his eyes moving about the room and for the first time since his arrival I could see emotion on his features.
“My Lord?”
A flush was working its way up from his armoured bevor and his eyes were dark in his skull. “Aggrieved. Pained. Distressed. Surely you understand these terms?”
“I do, My Lord.”
“Then what possible excuse do you have for the state you have greeted me?” he gestured about himself to the half-finished priory and beyond. “How could you have possibly considered that this was in any way adequate for Pelinal’s heir?”
There was a time, a year or so before that moment that I would have simply straightened my back further, put my heels together and simply replied “Yes Sir, No Sir,” for as long as required. As unnerving as the situation was with the amount of authority that was present in the room with me, facing down the likes of daedra and vampires made such things trivial in comparison.
“In respect my Lord, this Order has been founded for less than a month and a half. Those who wear the Red Diamond have only done so since then and all things considered we have been extremely lucky with what we have.”
“Oh yes.” Replied the third knight. Unlike the Duke and Sir Wirile his armour was almost entirely chainmail, with only a breastplate covering his torso. He was however far more heavily covered in signs of his wealth and status, rings adorning most of his fingers and every surface of his breastplate gilded in some fashion or another. “We have all seen ‘what you have’ and you should be disgusted.”
“We haven’t been introduced.” I said with far more confidence than I felt, taking a moment to make note of his signet rings and any other signs of his titles and status and making the gamble that he wasn’t as high ranking as the Duke. “I am Sir Desin, otherwise known as the Hero of Kvatch and the Champion of Anvil.”
The subtle barb was enough to leave the noble almost snarling but he kept his own anger in check by the narrowest of margin. “I am Sir Denos Pierlon Jaseton; Baron of Norvulk.”
My feeling of vindication was lessened despite the fury on the Baron’s face as the Duke pulled a silken cloth from his armour and laid it on the surface of my desk and began removing his gauntlets. Duke de’Leorion’s face had returned to the passive mask that he had worn but there was something in the way that he carefully removed his gauntlets and leather gloves that set me on edge.
“This Order is a disgrace.” He said as the first gauntlet was placed on the cloth as though the desk itself was tainted in some way. “Your knights are an affront to every Order in Tamriel. Your Men-at-arms, when they are men at least are by far the most ill-kempt, slovenly individuals I have ever laid eyes on. You allow beasts and other lesser races to wear the symbols of the Divines and worst of all it seems you allow them to consider themselves to be soldiers.”
“They are soldiers.” My words were practically a growl and I could feel my flesh tightening no matter how hard I tried to keep the vampire in check.
His second gauntlet slammed into the table hard enough that I felt it through my boots and in that moment I honestly believed that he was about to draw the Sword of Arkay. “They are NOT! You have committed blasphemy and desecrated the Order of the Nine by your actions and I am thankful that you haven’t been in command any longer lest the damage be too great to repair! Women do not belong on a battlefield! They are for siring heirs and warming a bed, and cannot and will not be equal to men in combat. The lesser races; whether they be pig, cat or lizard, are animals and are utterly incapable of understanding the notions of honour and chivalry. Only through the nobility and grace of mankind can the world be saved from being plunged into eternal night!
