The Old Realms - Chapter 108

Grimdux

I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck

 Touch O' Luck

II) It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series.

It will be a superior reading experience

to start this story from the beginning

Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience:)

Chapter specific maps of the realms 

Maps of the Realms

Glen 

The soft Spring of War

-Prelude-

Part II

(The Knight of Raoz)

Sen-Iv screamed next to his ear, her nails digging in the soft flesh under his collar, pulling it back and almost tearing everything away, just as he was stooping forward to follow the horse’s momentum as it jumped over the wooden fence, the animal landing on its front legs. Glen felt the impact on his battered back and groaned. The horse snorted wild in response, kicked with its hind legs down and then charged ahead again, through the short in height and neatly arranged in rows lemon trees.

The small fruits hanging from the branches smacking him in the face and chest, hard as solid stones. Stones that exploded on impact like small melons.

Filled with poison and slimy hard pits.

“GOD FUCKIN’ DARN IT!” Glen cursed ducking under a meaty branch, laden with enough fruit to stone a man to death and turned the horse right and to the small path again, joining the others.

“Do you see them?” He asked the awkwardly riding Marcus and the man swung his head around to catch a glimpse of their pursuers.

“Think they probably paused at the fence!” Marcus yelled seemingly in a lot of pain, his voice hoarse but loud and clear, not that the young former thief understood him.

“They took offense?” Glen grimaced. “ARE YE FREAKIN’ KIDDIN’ ME?”

The small path they followed moved them away from Lilyana Fort, as the road leading to it was blocked with more Cofol scouts. How they’d managed to appear behind the Duke’s lines a mystery to Glen, but he didn’t much ponder on it, as he knew they had the fresher horses then, but only for another ten minutes.

That was three hours ago.

“Whoa!” Glen yelled and pulled at the reins to stop his horse. He glanced back and caught Sen-Iv wiping her red eyes carefully with a hankie, her make up a mess. “Were ye crying?”

“It got in my eyes,” She explained. “You were going very fast.”

Which was the whole point pretty eyes!

“Right,” he murmured.

“Why are you stopping, milord?” Stiles queried, approaching on his mare.

“Has anyone actually seen them after we took the turn?” Glen asked the others.

Nobody had. Well, the dwarfs were still trying to bring the slave girls back, as they missed his que to make a stop and kept riding for about two hundred meters.

At least.

Either that, or they were making a run for it, in general.

Glen sighed and wiped some of the bitter juice from his face with a hand. While it had cleaned the sludge of the road he carried on him proper, it’d messed up his eyes something fierce. Sen was right in that.

“I don’t think they’re following us,” He said and accepted a linen hankie Sen gave him to clean the rest of it. “Their horses were shot, since before the attack.”

“Now what?” Marcus asked. “We circle back and try the Fort again?”

“Nay, we find the main road,” Glen replied, pocketing the hankie. “See if we can reach Rida by morrow.”

Rida was more than a day away as a matter of fact. The roads clogged with people trying to get away from the Cofol hordes and the Duke’s angry soldiers, either because they had missed the battle that was raging near the river crossings, or for the remote possibility they’d get called in as well.

The very first thing Glen could see, when they approached the outer walls of the city, was a portion of the famous flat top red pyramid, now enclosed on all sides by tall defensive walls and parapets, it’s terrace turned into a palace for the Grand Duke of Raoz. The large castle stood atop Bellaem as Fikumin kindly informed him, a modest hill at the center of the city, oriented towards the main branch of Aye-Riden, or Yeriden as the locals pronounced it.

The massive stone arched bridge built over it was ancient as well. It ran over the river channel, more than six hundred meters wide at that particular point, utilizing the three small islands to secure its gargantuan stone pillars and a lot of Zilan architecture. It had a secure draw-bridge at its mid-point, easily defensible for anyone foolish enough to attack piecemeal, across water. The massive bridge connected Rida with Altarin via a direct route in peacetime, but it was now closed for the public. You could see it extending through the morning mist, if you climbed a tower over the north wall of Rida.

Seeing that the city itself was packed with people, the lines on the west gate they now approached stretching back at least a hundred meters, Glen wasn’t in the mood for sight-seeing. He needed to find a place to leave Sen and the slave girls, while he visited the Duke and tried to get himself some kind of deal, or even plain information about what had happened back at Hellfort and Altarin.

The guard at the gates, one of eight, looked haggard and at the end of his tether.

“Kindly stick to your lanes and wait for your turn. NEXT! Yes, you sir,” He bellowed, voice gruff and eyed him casually at first, then with more interest, when he spotted Sen-Iv and the slave girls and finally utter bewilderment, when his eyes were set on the two dwarfs that had decided not to hide under the girls dresses, as Iskay had suggested.

Glen would have picked that option, without a second thought, but feigned outrage when asked about it.

“I’m Glen Reeves. It’s my name,” He declared, to the stupefied guard. Glen almost made a mess of the whole thing there due to his nervousness. “Seeking entrance to the city.”

“Reeves as…”

“Lord Reeves, was my meaning,” Glen added and the guard perked up.

“You’re coming from Altarin, milord?”

It was a legitimate query.

“In a roundabout way,” Glen grinned, absent a more legitimate answer.

“What news, milord, if I’m permitted,” The guard asked, after signaling for his colleagues to open the road for them through the glaring crowd.

“Have faith, friend,” Glen replied supportively. “I can’t say much more.”

There. Just ease into it, don’t be too anxious.

They don’t know shit.

“Of course, milord. THE LORD OF ALTARIN, coming through!” The guard barked to those slow to move out of the way, mostly families with small children, distraught women and old men. Most did speedily, the few that had opted to resist were just as swiftly convinced to change their mind.

Good gods, Glen thought shaking his head, leading his group away from the gate as fast as he could. They’re not exactly friendly.

Glen eyed the two-storied inn, located near the Rida’s large harbor, its marble columned entrance having a huge plaque over it, with the ominous ‘A King’s Fortune’ written on it with gold letters.

“Stiles, I thought you said, it was a ‘suitable’ establishment?” He asked perturbed.

“Aye milord. Asked around, it’s the best in this part of the city.”

Glen snorted.

“Do you have the coin for it?”

“Alas milord, I’m but a servant,” Stiles replied sadly. “My services still unpaid.”

“And thus, they shall remain, my friend,” Glen replied and looked about him at the different buildings on the large street leading to the docks.

“What are you looking for, lad?” Marcus queried, sharp as the knife he’d used on his face.

Glen narrowed his eyes, having Sen-Iv glued on him was very distracting, even through his armor.

“A bank,” He finally replied. “Stiles, kindly leg it to that market I see over yonder and ask about one.”

The bank was built like a barrack. A square grey building, made out of granite, three stories high and occupying a street corner by itself. Big, ominous and well… sturdy, Glen supposed glancing at the double lettered logo written on top of the iron reinforced entrance. The interior well-lit and aired, the many windows barred, but open to let the morning wind in, six cashier spots at the far side of it and a large welcoming information desk smack at its middle, the young woman manning it clean cut and rather easy on the eyes.

“Welcome, to McLean and Merck,” The blond girl said, her accent reminding him of Sir Emerson, when he was being polite. “What can I assist you gentlemen with, this morning?”

Glen cleared his throat and glanced at Stiles a little amused at the term, but the former-pirate was looking around him thoughtfully and missed it.

“I’d like to make an exchange.”

“Can I have your name?” The woman asked, her bronze badge had the Bank’s logo on it and a neat square parchment pinned under it reading “Flora”, in a nice female script. “I’m Floronia Puviana.”

Ah.

Of course.

“It’s Reeves. I have a number of gems—”

“Apologies, Mister Reeves. What do you prefer the exchange to be in?”

“I’d prefer gold coins.”

Flora gave him a well-practiced smile and pointed at the cashier cubicles.

“That would be the number six, director Apus Similis. First, from where you are standing.”

Glen cleared his throat.

“Gratitude, Miss Flora.”

Apus had a huge bald spot on his head, covered expertly with hair he took from the sides. While it hid the bald spot for the most part, it missed a round portion of it right at the top that made his head look weird and egg like. His drooping cheeks and chin devastating to his looks.

“Yes?” He asked nervously, looking up from his notes. One of the books open in front of him massive.

“I’d like to exchange gems for gold coins,” Glen repeated, already getting bored with what at first he’d been excited with. This being his first time, setting foot inside a bank that is. He’d envisioned making an entry in this type of venue at some point, but for less legitimate reasons.

“Don’t we all?” Apus commented and sighed, returning to his reading. An uncomfortable silence ensued, until the bank official raised his eyes and saw him still standing there. “You’re serious.”

“Aye,” Glen hissed, not likening his attitude.

“What kind of gems?” Apus inquired reaching for a scroll that had tightly packed scribblings and numbers on it.

“Diamonds,” Glen replied, carefully placing one diamond he’d taken out of his purse in the meantime, on Apus Similis generous desk.

“The rate is twelve point five, gold Eagles,” Apus replied, glancing at it unfazed. “Thirteen gold dinars.”

“I’ll take Eagles.”

Apus stared at him for a moment.

“Your name?”

“I’m Glen Reeves,” Glen said tiredly.

“Any relation to the known family?”

A question asked innocently, but holding weight, Glen didn’t miss.

“The late Lord was my grandfather,” Glen explained and Apus stood up straighter on his chair, his eyes flickering towards the gold ring he wore on his finger.

“My condolences, Lord Reeves,” Apus said, his voice changing. “I wasn’t notified, you were in the city.”

By whom? Glen wondered. Does the bank run an information agency?

“I just arrived.”

“Evidently. You wanted to exchange the diamond for gold Eagles, am I correct?”

“Aye. What’s with the half gold in the price?” Glen asked him curious.

“The current rate is fifteen gold Eagles per medium diamond such as the one you have there, the Bank keeps two point five from that, as commission,” He pointed to a plaque over his head for validation, the text on it Glen couldn’t read, since half the words he hadn’t seen before.

“I see,” Glen replied although he couldn’t see shit.

“I will call for Caelus to appraise it now, Lord Reeves. It would only be a moment. Caelus!” He called, looking back towards a series of doors behind the cubicles. One of them opened and a bespectacled man walked out, looking confused as all hells.

“Ahm, I have more than one,” Glen added nervously.

“Caelus will take all you have. There’re no worries,” Apus soothed him with a professional smile, Glen didn’t appreciate at all.

“Can’t he appraise them here?” He asked.

“Haha… oh, you’re serious, my Lord?”

“Alike the plague,” Glen hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I ain’t giving him fifty diamonds and let him walk out of this room!”

Apus blinked and stared at his desk. There was a lot of scrolls and books on it.

“Fifty…” He repeated, staring at an ogling Caelus.

“Forty seven, to be exact,” Glen admitted.

“But you have them on you?”

Glen placed the small purse on the desk before them, opened it and let them glance at its sparkling contents.

“Caelus,” Apus said, after a sober look at the small fortune. “Get your tools here. You’ll use my desk.”

“Director, I can’t up and—”

“Caelus, that’s over five hundred gold Eagles worth of diamonds over there!” Apus smiled apologetically to Glen and then glared at his frustrated employee, who hang his head and went to bring his tools from the back. “It will only be a minute,” Apus reassured Glen and started picking up stuff to make room for the bank’s appraiser.

“I didn’t know ye have to appraise these things,” Stiles commented in Glen’s ear.

“Well, you do wit coins as well,” Glen replied, already an expert on banking affairs.

“I suppose yer right, milord,” Stiles agreed.

“Excellent,” Apus decided, after reading Caelus report, the man had gone through each diamond in turn, painstakingly examining them with a strange monocle, its tip protruding like a cat’s cock from his left eye. The director patted a couple of times, a medium sized box made out of rosewood, with the bank’s logo engraved in gold on its sides, and then slid it towards a bored out of his wits Glen. They were already more than an hour inside the bank.

Glen flicked the lid open and stared at the neatly stacked piles, arranged in rows. A beautiful sight, the former thief thought. All above board as well.

“I see ye given me the rounded ones,” He noticed and Apus frowned.

“It’s the standard gold coin, offered at our bank, Lord Reeves.”

“I had another… let me show you,” Glen told him and produced one of the few larger square coins he still had. Apus frown grew and even Caelus that was busy gathering his measuring tools to return to his desk paused and looked over the director’s shoulder.

“Ahm, this… can I have it?” Apus said, intrigued.

“I’m gonna ask for it back,” Glen said and gave him the coin.

“Yes, ah… well, this is interesting,” Apus murmured examining it this way and that, even giving it a soft bite, followed by an apologetic smile. “It’s legit, Lord Reeves. Where did you find it?”

“Twas a gift,” Glen replied, narrowing his eyes.

“I will make an offer for it.”

“I prefer to keep it, for sentimental reasons,” Glen deadpanned.

“It is within your rights, Lord Reeves,” The director responded, seeming rather disappointed.

“Why is it of interest to you?”

“Bah, just a collector’s motivation. Let’s just say… they are not in circulation anymore, for starters,” Apus elucidated, taking his quill to write something on a piece of parchment. “They were used up until eighty years ago, but since then most have been taken out for practical reasons.”

“What reasons?” Glen queried.

“I see you’re interested,” Apus replied. “They are repurposed Imperial coins, Lord Reeves. As in the bank gathered them and returned them in circulation for a good number of years, but eventually, since no one was minting them anymore, they were slowly taken out and then replaced by the more common variant you have there. Whatever is left, let’s just say, it exists in the bank’s vaults.”

Well, he was wrong about that last part and as for the rest of his explanation…

Words, upon words, Glen thought, looking at him sweating nervously. Why?

“What do they worth?” He asked calmly.

Apus sighed. “Ah, you figured out the other reason, Lord Reeves. They created confusion, you are right.”

I am?

“What manner?”

“Well, they are four times the value of a normal gold Eagle,” Apus explained and Glen flinched, the revelation shocking. “It’s a weight and gold purity per gram issue, to put it in layman’s terms.”

No way.

Fuck.

God fuckin’ darn it!

“Lord Reeves?”

“Hand me the coin!” Glen barked, fuming.

“Of course,” Apus said quickly.

Glen pocketed it and stooping grabbed his box, the darn thing weighting more than he thought, so turning around he handed it to Stiles.

Then with a courtly nod, to a curiously watching him Apus Similis, turned heel and walked straight out of the bank.

“Have a great day, Lord Reeves!” Flora said a little too enthusiastically, big smile on her face inviting, as he rushed to the exit livid, with a faltering weighed-down Stiles in tow. “Gratitude for selecting McLean & Merck for your business!”

Apparently, news traveled fast inside banks as well.

These rooms had cost me an arm and most of my left leg, Glen thought sourly, watching as Sen-Iv probed and smacked the mattress, squeezed the pillows and checked for oil inside the oil-lamps, a permanent pout on her pretty face.

“What?” He growled, when she let out a deep-deep sigh and collapsed on the bed.

“This place is awful,” Sen blurted out, then catching the murderous look in his eyes added softly. “For the price.”

“Hmm,” Glen grimaced and walked to the door, stopped there and turned to look at her. “I have to visit the Duke, it might go well, or not.”

“Why would it not go well?” Sen asked. “Leave my brother’s plans out of it.”

Yer brother’s plans are the least of my problems.

“I wasn’t going to mention him,” Glen replied. “The man has Cofols breathing down his neck, can’t see him being agreeable for a partnership.”

“If he asks about me, don’t be a fool,” Sen-Iv advised him.

“I wasn’t going to risk my neck for you, if you’re worrying about it,” a miffed Glen retorted.

“I won’t worry, if you don’t.”

Right.

Hells does that even mean?

It took Glen almost an hour to reach the palace’s gates, the walls surrounding the base of the giant pyramid taller than the outer walls of the city, which in turn hadn’t appeared particularly impressive to Glen and almost at the level of those at Castalor, noting here that Rida was twice as big in population and size.

The pyramid itself, was made of huge one ton pieces of red rock that resembled granite, iron-rich as the officer in charge explained with the ease of a tourist guide, and beautifully cut in identical square parts, seamlessly sewn together as if by magic. It reached almost three hundred meters in height, from its base to the flat terrace, probably a bit more since the palace buildings were added there. With the sides counted at two hundred and fifty meters it was the biggest building Glen had ever entered.

It was also cold and dark, despite many torches burning in its long corridors, mostly hollow at its middle, the sloped internal walls menacing to stare at and had an ungodly amount of stairs one needed to climb to reach the top. When he did, thoroughly exhausted and demoralized, Marcus put a hand on his shoulder to encourage him.

“Remember milord, this existed before the Dukes of Raoz, came to be.”

Glen stared at the former Decanus of the Legion unsure.

“Yeah,” He finally said, seeing Marcus had said his piece and wasn’t going to elucidate further.

A well-groomed man in his forties, with clever eyes and a face that reminded him of the older Reeves, was waiting for them outside the throne room, the two guards posted there, wearing the Duchy’s coat of arms. The red stallion.

Here goes, Glen thought.

“Great nephew Glenavon,” The man said, a look of disbelief in his eyes, despite his considerable effort to hide it, under a pleasant clerk’s smile. “I thought the worst.”

Red flag number one, Glen thought hesitating.

“I barely made it,” He finally said, opting to speak truthfully, but as vague as possible. “Hellfort has fallen, I’m afraid.”

“That’s the rumor. How is Sir Solomon?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he made it.”

“But you were there. Were you not?” The man, Sir Laurel’s father for all intents and purposes, queried appearing suspicious.

“I was, but got injured severely. This man got me out,” Glen replied, with a grimace. “Condolences for Sir Laurel, ahm… I had the fortune of talking with him briefly.”

The man pulled back, the topic painful. He licked his cracked lips once to gather himself and sighed.

“A tragedy. Our family… and I want you to know, I Victor Reeves, consider you a part of this family Glenavon,” His eyes dropped to his hands, noticing the ring he wore and froze.

“Lord Reeves sent me a letter,” Glen said calmly and reaching he produced it from an inside pocket. “It is rather detailed.”

“That’s his will then?” Victor croaked, the news devastating.

“It is,” Glen replied simply, looking at him.

Yep, that’s a snake coiled in the lawn.

Victor took a step back, his face a mask. “The Duke will see you now, Lord Reeves,” He announced in a professional tone.

“Why,” Glen retorted with a grin. “Thank you Uncle.”

Duke Gideon was an imposing man once, but years and recent troubles had eaten away at him it appeared. Still much of his former imposing figure remained, especially as he sat on his throne, inside the rather impressive hall. The window leading to the balcony extraordinary massive, its drapes drawn for the light to come in.

“You can see the harbor from up here,” Duke Gideon said getting up and walking towards him slowly. Glen had paused unsure, after he’d entered, as Victor didn’t follow him inside, perhaps under orders. He stopped in front of him and Glen had to stare up to meet the Duke’s eyes. He was a tall man.

“I’m Glen Reeves,” He blurted out nervously, attempting a laughably bad curtsy. “Your Grace.”

Gideon stared at him a little amused, for a long moment.

“Sir Glenavon’s son,” He said, as if he had difficulty believing it. “A secret apparently.”

He took to his death.

“Apologies, your Grace.”

“What are you apologizing for?” The Duke stopped him. “It’s on him, not on you. How did the old man take it?” He face fell at the mention of his grandfather. “You have my sympathies lad.”

“Gratitude, my Lord.”

“Speak Glenavon, is that what they call you?”

“Aye, your Grace. Though back home, they called me Glen,” He stumbled through this part and while it was perhaps amusing to the old Duke, the novelty would eventually wear off, he thought. Snap out of it.

“Good grief,” Gideon said. “Hope you’ll grow out of it.”

“I will, your Grace.”

“What did the old man say, when he found out?” The Duke asked him, and ushered him towards a cupboard, where a servant had left a bottle of wine and a couple of finely made silver goblets.

“He was pleased, I think,” Glen replied. “I believe he suspected it, your Grace.”

Duke Gideon, took a sip from his cup and nodded. “It won’t surprise me, if he did. Your grandfather was sharp as a knife. A good man. Aye. To your grandfather,” Gideon raised his cup and Glen followed him suit fast, gulping down half of it.

“Now, Lord Reeves, I’d love to learn more about you, but the timing of your visit is sensitive. Time waits for no one, young Lord,” The Duke said, looking at the contents of his cup. “What can you tell me of our situation?”

Glen gulped down nervously, cold sweat appearing on his forehead.

Truth and lies, mix ‘em up!

Don’t fuck this up, he urged himself.

“You have no idea what happened to Sir Solomon?” The Duke asked ten minutes later, after he’d given him an embellished tale of the battle of Hellfort and his unlikely escape through the mines with the help of the dwarfs. He could have avoided the last part, but the dwarfs were seen and it would be difficult to explain away.

“They stayed in the fort to buy us time, your Grace.”

“Ah, good men. And Lord Lennox you say? You were his squire, were you not?”

“Aye, I was. I hope… perhaps they managed to live through it, your Grace,” The Duke put a large hand on his shoulder.

“My lad, you have to be strong now. This is no time to get sentimental.”

I was being hopeful? Glen thought with a frown.

“He told me, Sir Emerson… he’d given up his title,” Glen said after a moment.

Gideon waved his hand. “King Davenport, never agreed to it, nor did his uncle. They let him, believe it. Helped him in his road to penance. Emerson was a rare type of knight, my lad.”

Glen stared at his boots. He hadn’t lost hope to find the old knight yet, despite what all these people seem to believe.

“Where do you think the Cofols are?” The Duke asked him. “They didn’t go to Altarin.”

Glen perked up. “I thought they would.”

The Duke showed him a map on the wall above the cupboard. The Duchy and part of the Steppe drawn on it. Altarin, even Hellfort, but not the dwarf villages. All in all, it wasn’t too detailed, but he could understand some of the landmarks on it.

“The Cofols crossed the river,” He said.

“They tried, but they were beaten back,” The Duke replied. “We caught them flatfooted and pushed them back away from the bridge.”

“They were after us for a while,” Glen insisted.

“Small numbers, I’ve dispatched a part of First Foot to deal with them,” He showed him on the map. “They are trapped. We hold Sadofort to the south, and despite their effort they couldn’t take Lilyana Fort.”

“I think Prince Nout is coming here,” Glen said.

“Rida?”

“He’ll try to cross the river, like the scouts we’ve met,” Glen replied and stared at the map long.

“I have people scouting the road from here to Altarin, the Prince vanished in the woods,” The Duke countered. “There aren’t rafts enough to ferry a meaningful force across even if he attempts it. Then what? No supply train, a river on his back. The numbers you’ve given me aren’t enough to take the city, young Reeves.”

Aye, Glen thought. They aren’t. Assuming the Prince heads for Rida. If the Khan’s main army was truly beaten at the bridge, then Prince Nout would be cut off and annihilated. Will he risk it though? Glen wondered, trying to remember the shining Cataphract with the leopard skins.

“Everyone notices the view,” Duke Gideon said, snapping him out of his reverie. He’d moved away from the wall, towards the roomy balcony and stared outside, a frown on his face. “Something my father built as an afterthought,” He chugged the rest of his wine down. “Here I am, hoping to avoid losing it all.”

“Fear will beat you, before yer opponent,” Glen blurted out, before he’d time to control himself.

The Duke laughed hard at his words. “Was that Emerson’s teachings? Haha, ah that stupidly brave son of a bitch, pardon my language lad.”

“I’d use stubborn, your Grace,” Glen countered with a grin.

“Aye, that too, heh,” The Duke snorted, looked at his hands and then at the handle of his sword. A beautiful ivory piece, fully engraved, ending at the pommel, with a garnet the size of a lemon. “You still wanna be a knight lad?” The Duke asked him.

“My… Lord,” Glen stumbled through his words. “I hoped to find, Sir Emerson—”

“He’s probably dead,” Gideon cut him, with a grimace. “That’s a lot of death, surrounding me Glenavon. Friends and allies, dropping like flies. You’ve lost most of your family, but your aunt and while I love my daughter in law, she ain’t carrying your name.”

Glen gulped down unsure where this was going.

“You’re supposed to be on your knees, boy,” The Duke of Raoz noted, all serious and approached him, sword in hand.

Fuck me, Glen thought horrified.

What did I do wrong?

Luthos hairy arsehole, ye set me up ye piece of shit of a god!

“Kneel boy!” The Duke thundered and came to stand above him, as he collapsed on his shaking knees.

Jig is up, Glen thought despaired, ye done fucked up like an idiot.

“Here’s my blade,” Gideon said solemnly, the sword looming over Glen’s head huge and too fucking sharp. “You’re are supposed to repeat them words,” The Duke growled, looking at him like Death’s incarnate. “Cry about it later.”

Wait… way, wait a plaugin’ minute here!

No way.

“Here’s my blade,” Glen said with a small voice.

“Louder god darn it!”

“HERE’S MY BLADE!” Glen droned, as loud as he could, not completely sure what the hells was going on, but deliriously happy he hadn’t been decapitated just yet.

“Bless it and it shall cut through rock,” The Duke said.

“BLESS IT AND IT SHALL CUT THROUGH ROCK?”

What in the holiest slovenly fuck?

“Here’s my heart,” Gideon said and lifted his blade from his left shoulder and moved it to his right.

“HERE’S MY HEART!” Glen roared, teeth gnarling in a manic half-smile, half-camouflaged cry of deliverance, having figured out what was going on at last.

“Take it and it shall fight to its last beat.”

“TAKE IT AND IT SHALL FIGHT TO ITS LAST BEAT!”

Yeah!

Haha, oh my god, I’m gonna faint.

Don’t for fuck’s sake, hold on!

The Duke moved the flat of his blade on his left shoulder again.

“Here’s my soul.”

“HERE’S MY SOUL!”

“Offer it in battle and it shall be forever free,” Gideon said, hint of a smile on his mouth.

“OFFER IT IN BATTLE AND IT SHALL BE FOREVER FREE!” Glen yelled, as loud as he could, his voice carrying inside the large hall and escaping outside, through the large open floor to ceiling window.

The Duke put one of his fingers in his mouth, bit at a crude squarish ring he had on and pulled it out with his teeth, keeping the blade on his shoulder. He made his left hand into a fist, the ring in it and looked at him all serious.

“I Grand Duke Gideon of Raoz, with the power bestowed upon my person, by High King Antoon, witness this. Gods witness this. Arise, Sir Glenavon Reeves, second of your name, Lord of Altarin, a sacred Knight of Raoz, and of the Three Kingdoms. May you serve Tyeus, until your last breath,” He said ceremoniously and lifted the blade off his shoulder slowly.

“This is yours,” The Duke of Raoz said, and opening his fist dropped the ring into Glen’s shaking hands. “I was anointed over forty years ago to Tyeus, apologies, if you favor another deity.”

Glen stared at the warrior priest depicted on the large ring, still in complete shock.

Gideon shook his head and walked towards his goblet of wine.

“You better stand up soon son,” The Duke said hint of razz in his voice. “Your aunt wants an audience,” There was a gleam in his eye now, a little unexpected. Satisfied perhaps? “I wager she’s dying to talk with you,” Gideon added cryptically and poured himself another cup of wine.

Grimdux I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck Touch O' Luck II It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series. It will be a superior reading experience to start this story from the beginning Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience: Chapter specific maps of the realms Maps of the Realms Glen The soft Spring of War -Prelude- Part II The Knight of Raoz Sen-Iv screamed next to his ear, her nails digging in the soft flesh under his collar, pulling it back and almost tearing everything away, just as he was stooping forward to follow the horse's momentum as it jumped over the wooden fence, the animal landing on its front legs. Glen felt the impact on his battered back and groaned. The horse snorted wild in response, kicked with its hind legs down and then charged ahead again, through the short in height and neatly arranged in rows lemon trees. The small fruits hanging from the branches smacking him in the face and chest, hard as solid stones. Stones that exploded on impact like small melons. Filled with poison and slimy hard pits. GOD FUCKIN' DARN IT! Glen cursed ducking under a meaty branch, laden with enough fruit to stone a man to death and turned the horse right and to the small path again, joining the others. Do you see them? He asked the awkwardly riding Marcus and the man swung his head around to catch a glimpse of their pursuers. Think they probably paused at the fence! Marcus yelled seemingly in a lot of pain, his voice hoarse but loud and clear, not that the young former thief understood him. They took offense? Glen grimaced. ARE YE FREAKIN' KIDDIN' ME? The small path they followed moved them away from Lilyana Fort, as the road leading to it was blocked with more Cofol scouts. How they'd managed to appear behind the Duke's lines a mystery to Glen, but he didn't much ponder on it, as he knew they had the fresher horses then, but only for another ten minutes. That was three hours ago. Whoa! Glen yelled and pulled at the reins to stop his horse. He glanced back and caught Sen-Iv wiping her red eyes carefully with a hankie, her make up a mess. Were ye crying? It got in my eyes, She explained. You were going very fast. Which was the whole point pretty eyes! Right, he murmured. Why are you stopping, milord? Stiles queried, approaching on his mare. Has anyone actually seen them after we took the turn? Glen asked the others. Nobody had. Well, the dwarfs were still trying to bring the slave girls back, as they missed his que to make a stop and kept riding for about two hundred meters. At least. Either that, or they were making a run for it, in general. Glen sighed and wiped some of the bitter juice from his face with a hand. While it had cleaned the sludge of the road he carried on him proper, it'd messed up his eyes something fierce. Sen was right in that. I don't think they're following us, He said and accepted a linen hankie Sen gave him to clean the rest of it. Their horses were shot, since before the attack. Now what? Marcus asked. We circle back and try the Fort again? Nay, we find the main road, Glen replied, pocketing the hankie. See if we can reach Rida by morrow. Rida was more than a day away as a matter of fact. The roads clogged with people trying to get away from the Cofol hordes and the Duke's angry soldiers, either because they had missed the battle that was raging near the river crossings, or for the remote possibility they'd get called in as well. The very first thing Glen could see, when they approached the outer walls of the city, was a portion of the famous flat top red pyramid, now enclosed on all sides by tall defensive walls and parapets, it's terrace turned into a palace for the Grand Duke of Raoz. The large castle stood atop Bellaem as Fikumin kindly informed him, a modest hill at the center of the city, oriented towards the main branch of Aye-Riden, or Yeriden as the locals pronounced it. The massive stone arched bridge built over it was ancient as well. It ran over the river channel, more than six hundred meters wide at that particular point, utilizing the three small islands to secure its gargantuan stone pillars and a lot of Zilan architecture. It had a secure draw-bridge at its mid-point, easily defensible for anyone foolish enough to attack piecemeal, across water. The massive bridge connected Rida with Altarin via a direct route in peacetime, but it was now closed for the public. You could see it extending through the morning mist, if you climbed a tower over the north wall of Rida. Seeing that the city itself was packed with people, the lines on the west gate they now approached stretching back at least a hundred meters, Glen wasn't in the mood for sight-seeing. He needed to find a place to leave Sen and the slave girls, while he visited the Duke and tried to get himself some kind of deal, or even plain information about what had happened back at Hellfort and Altarin. The guard at the gates, one of eight, looked haggard and at the end of his tether. Kindly stick to your lanes and wait for your turn. NEXT! Yes, you sir, He bellowed, voice gruff and eyed him casually at first, then with more interest, when he spotted Sen-Iv and the slave girls and finally utter bewilderment, when his eyes were set on the two dwarfs that had decided not to hide under the girls dresses, as Iskay had suggested. Glen would have picked that option, without a second thought, but feigned outrage when asked about it. I'm Glen Reeves. It's my name, He declared, to the stupefied guard. Glen almost made a mess of the whole thing there due to his nervousness. Seeking entrance to the city. Reeves as Lord Reeves, was my meaning, Glen added and the guard perked up. You're coming from Altarin, milord? It was a legitimate query. In a roundabout way, Glen grinned, absent a more legitimate answer. What news, milord, if I'm permitted, The guard asked, after signaling for his colleagues to open the road for them through the glaring crowd. Have faith, friend, Glen replied supportively. I can't say much more. There. Just ease into it, don't be too anxious. They don't know shit. Of course, milord. THE LORD OF ALTARIN, coming through! The guard barked to those slow to move out of the way, mostly families with small children, distraught women and old men. Most did speedily, the few that had opted to resist were just as swiftly convinced to change their mind. Good gods, Glen thought shaking his head, leading his group away from the gate as fast as he could. They're not exactly friendly. Glen eyed the two-storied inn, located near the Rida's large harbor, its marble columned entrance having a huge plaque over it, with the ominous A King's Fortune' written on it with gold letters. Stiles, I thought you said, it was a suitable' establishment? He asked perturbed. Aye milord. Asked around, it's the best in this part of the city. Glen snorted. Do you have the coin for it? Alas milord, I'm but a servant, Stiles replied sadly. My services still unpaid. And thus, they shall remain, my friend, Glen replied and looked about him at the different buildings on the large street leading to the docks. What are you looking for, lad? Marcus queried, sharp as the knife he'd used on his face. Glen narrowed his eyes, having Sen-Iv glued on him was very distracting, even through his armor. A bank, He finally replied. Stiles, kindly leg it to that market I see over yonder and ask about one. The bank was built like a barrack. A square grey building, made out of granite, three stories high and occupying a street corner by itself. Big, ominous and well sturdy, Glen supposed glancing at the double lettered logo written on top of the iron reinforced entrance. The interior well-lit and aired, the many windows barred, but open to let the morning wind in, six cashier spots at the far side of it and a large welcoming information desk smack at its middle, the young woman manning it clean cut and rather easy on the eyes. Welcome, to McLean and Merck, The blond girl said, her accent reminding him of Sir Emerson, when he was being polite. What can I assist you gentlemen with, this morning? Glen cleared his throat and glanced at Stiles a little amused at the term, but the former-pirate was looking around him thoughtfully and missed it. I'd like to make an exchange. Can I have your name? The woman asked, her bronze badge had the Bank's logo on it and a neat square parchment pinned under it reading Flora, in a nice female script. I'm Floronia Puviana. Ah. Of course. It's Reeves. I have a number of gems Apologies, Mister Reeves. What do you prefer the exchange to be in? I'd prefer gold coins. Flora gave him a well-practiced smile and pointed at the cashier cubicles. That would be the number six, director Apus Similis. First, from where you are standing. Glen cleared his throat. Gratitude, Miss Flora. Apus had a huge bald spot on his head, covered expertly with hair he took from the sides. While it hid the bald spot for the most part, it missed a round portion of it right at the top that made his head look weird and egg like. His drooping cheeks and chin devastating to his looks. Yes? He asked nervously, looking up from his notes. One of the books open in front of him massive. I'd like to exchange gems for gold coins, Glen repeated, already getting bored with what at first he'd been excited with. This being his first time, setting foot inside a bank that is. He'd envisioned making an entry in this type of venue at some point, but for less legitimate reasons. Don't we all? Apus commented and sighed, returning to his reading. An uncomfortable silence ensued, until the bank official raised his eyes and saw him still standing there. You're serious. Aye, Glen hissed, not likening his attitude. What kind of gems? Apus inquired reaching for a scroll that had tightly packed scribblings and numbers on it. Diamonds, Glen replied, carefully placing one diamond he'd taken out of his purse in the meantime, on Apus Similis generous desk. The rate is twelve point five, gold Eagles, Apus replied, glancing at it unfazed. Thirteen gold dinars. I'll take Eagles. Apus stared at him for a moment. Your name? I'm Glen Reeves, Glen said tiredly. Any relation to the known family? A question asked innocently, but holding weight, Glen didn't miss. The late Lord was my grandfather, Glen explained and Apus stood up straighter on his chair, his eyes flickering towards the gold ring he wore on his finger. My condolences, Lord Reeves, Apus said, his voice changing. I wasn't notified, you were in the city. By whom? Glen wondered. Does the bank run an information agency? I just arrived. Evidently. You wanted to exchange the diamond for gold Eagles, am I correct? Aye. What's with the half gold in the price? Glen asked him curious. The current rate is fifteen gold Eagles per medium diamond such as the one you have there, the Bank keeps two point five from that, as commission, He pointed to a plaque over his head for validation, the text on it Glen couldn't read, since half the words he hadn't seen before. I see, Glen replied although he couldn't see shit. I will call for Caelus to appraise it now, Lord Reeves. It would only be a moment. Caelus! He called, looking back towards a series of doors behind the cubicles. One of them opened and a bespectacled man walked out, looking confused as all hells. Ahm, I have more than one, Glen added nervously. Caelus will take all you have. There're no worries, Apus soothed him with a professional smile, Glen didn't appreciate at all. Can't he appraise them here? He asked. Haha oh, you're serious, my Lord? Alike the plague, Glen hissed, narrowing his eyes. I ain't giving him fifty diamonds and let him walk out of this room! Apus blinked and stared at his desk. There was a lot of scrolls and books on it. Fifty He repeated, staring at an ogling Caelus. Forty seven, to be exact, Glen admitted. But you have them on you? Glen placed the small purse on the desk before them, opened it and let them glance at its sparkling contents. Caelus, Apus said, after a sober look at the small fortune. Get your tools here. You'll use my desk. Director, I can't up and Caelus, that's over five hundred gold Eagles worth of diamonds over there! Apus smiled apologetically to Glen and then glared at his frustrated employee, who hang his head and went to bring his tools from the back. It will only be a minute, Apus reassured Glen and started picking up stuff to make room for the bank's appraiser. I didn't know ye have to appraise these things, Stiles commented in Glen's ear. Well, you do wit coins as well, Glen replied, already an expert on banking affairs. I suppose yer right, milord, Stiles agreed. Excellent, Apus decided, after reading Caelus report, the man had gone through each diamond in turn, painstakingly examining them with a strange monocle, its tip protruding like a cat's cock from his left eye. The director patted a couple of times, a medium sized box made out of rosewood, with the bank's logo engraved in gold on its sides, and then slid it towards a bored out of his wits Glen. They were already more than an hour inside the bank. Glen flicked the lid open and stared at the neatly stacked piles, arranged in rows. A beautiful sight, the former thief thought. All above board as well. I see ye given me the rounded ones, He noticed and Apus frowned. It's the standard gold coin, offered at our bank, Lord Reeves. I had another let me show you, Glen told him and produced one of the few larger square coins he still had. Apus frown grew and even Caelus that was busy gathering his measuring tools to return to his desk paused and looked over the director's shoulder. Ahm, this can I have it? Apus said, intrigued. I'm gonna ask for it back, Glen said and gave him the coin. Yes, ah well, this is interesting, Apus murmured examining it this way and that, even giving it a soft bite, followed by an apologetic smile. It's legit, Lord Reeves. Where did you find it? Twas a gift, Glen replied, narrowing his eyes. I will make an offer for it. I prefer to keep it, for sentimental reasons, Glen deadpanned. It is within your rights, Lord Reeves, The director responded, seeming rather disappointed. Why is it of interest to you? Bah, just a collector's motivation. Let's just say they are not in circulation anymore, for starters, Apus elucidated, taking his quill to write something on a piece of parchment. They were used up until eighty years ago, but since then most have been taken out for practical reasons. What reasons? Glen queried. I see you're interested, Apus replied. They are repurposed Imperial coins, Lord Reeves. As in the bank gathered them and returned them in circulation for a good number of years, but eventually, since no one was minting them anymore, they were slowly taken out and then replaced by the more common variant you have there. Whatever is left, let's just say, it exists in the bank's vaults. Well, he was wrong about that last part and as for the rest of his explanation Words, upon words, Glen thought, looking at him sweating nervously. Why? What do they worth? He asked calmly. Apus sighed. Ah, you figured out the other reason, Lord Reeves. They created confusion, you are right. I am? What manner? Well, they are four times the value of a normal gold Eagle, Apus explained and Glen flinched, the revelation shocking. It's a weight and gold purity per gram issue, to put it in layman's terms. No way. Fuck. God fuckin' darn it! Lord Reeves? Hand me the coin! Glen barked, fuming. Of course, Apus said quickly. Glen pocketed it and stooping grabbed his box, the darn thing weighting more than he thought, so turning around he handed it to Stiles. Then with a courtly nod, to a curiously watching him Apus Similis, turned heel and walked straight out of the bank. Have a great day, Lord Reeves! Flora said a little too enthusiastically, big smile on her face inviting, as he rushed to the exit livid, with a faltering weighed-down Stiles in tow. Gratitude for selecting McLean & Merck for your business! Apparently, news traveled fast inside banks as well. These rooms had cost me an arm and most of my left leg, Glen thought sourly, watching as Sen-Iv probed and smacked the mattress, squeezed the pillows and checked for oil inside the oil-lamps, a permanent pout on her pretty face. What? He growled, when she let out a deep-deep sigh and collapsed on the bed. This place is awful, Sen blurted out, then catching the murderous look in his eyes added softly. For the price. Hmm, Glen grimaced and walked to the door, stopped there and turned to look at her. I have to visit the Duke, it might go well, or not. Why would it not go well? Sen asked. Leave my brother's plans out of it. Yer brother's plans are the least of my problems. I wasn't going to mention him, Glen replied. The man has Cofols breathing down his neck, can't see him being agreeable for a partnership. If he asks about me, don't be a fool, Sen-Iv advised him. I wasn't going to risk my neck for you, if you're worrying about it, a miffed Glen retorted. I won't worry, if you don't. Right. Hells does that even mean? It took Glen almost an hour to reach the palace's gates, the walls surrounding the base of the giant pyramid taller than the outer walls of the city, which in turn hadn't appeared particularly impressive to Glen and almost at the level of those at Castalor, noting here that Rida was twice as big in population and size. The pyramid itself, was made of huge one ton pieces of red rock that resembled granite, iron-rich as the officer in charge explained with the ease of a tourist guide, and beautifully cut in identical square parts, seamlessly sewn together as if by magic. It reached almost three hundred meters in height, from its base to the flat terrace, probably a bit more since the palace buildings were added there. With the sides counted at two hundred and fifty meters it was the biggest building Glen had ever entered. It was also cold and dark, despite many torches burning in its long corridors, mostly hollow at its middle, the sloped internal walls menacing to stare at and had an ungodly amount of stairs one needed to climb to reach the top. When he did, thoroughly exhausted and demoralized, Marcus put a hand on his shoulder to encourage him. Remember milord, this existed before the Dukes of Raoz, came to be. Glen stared at the former Decanus of the Legion unsure. Yeah, He finally said, seeing Marcus had said his piece and wasn't going to elucidate further. A well-groomed man in his forties, with clever eyes and a face that reminded him of the older Reeves, was waiting for them outside the throne room, the two guards posted there, wearing the Duchy's coat of arms. The red stallion. Here goes, Glen thought. Great nephew Glenavon, The man said, a look of disbelief in his eyes, despite his considerable effort to hide it, under a pleasant clerk's smile. I thought the worst. Red flag number one, Glen thought hesitating. I barely made it, He finally said, opting to speak truthfully, but as vague as possible. Hellfort has fallen, I'm afraid. That's the rumor. How is Sir Solomon? I don't know. I don't think he made it. But you were there. Were you not? The man, Sir Laurel's father for all intents and purposes, queried appearing suspicious. I was, but got injured severely. This man got me out, Glen replied, with a grimace. Condolences for Sir Laurel, ahm I had the fortune of talking with him briefly. The man pulled back, the topic painful. He licked his cracked lips once to gather himself and sighed. A tragedy. Our family and I want you to know, I Victor Reeves, consider you a part of this family Glenavon, His eyes dropped to his hands, noticing the ring he wore and froze. Lord Reeves sent me a letter, Glen said calmly and reaching he produced it from an inside pocket. It is rather detailed. That's his will then? Victor croaked, the news devastating. It is, Glen replied simply, looking at him. Yep, that's a snake coiled in the lawn. Victor took a step back, his face a mask. The Duke will see you now, Lord Reeves, He announced in a professional tone. Why, Glen retorted with a grin. Thank you Uncle. Duke Gideon was an imposing man once, but years and recent troubles had eaten away at him it appeared. Still much of his former imposing figure remained, especially as he sat on his throne, inside the rather impressive hall. The window leading to the balcony extraordinary massive, its drapes drawn for the light to come in. You can see the harbor from up here, Duke Gideon said getting up and walking towards him slowly. Glen had paused unsure, after he'd entered, as Victor didn't follow him inside, perhaps under orders. He stopped in front of him and Glen had to stare up to meet the Duke's eyes. He was a tall man. I'm Glen Reeves, He blurted out nervously, attempting a laughably bad curtsy. Your Grace. Gideon stared at him a little amused, for a long moment. Sir Glenavon's son, He said, as if he had difficulty believing it. A secret apparently. He took to his death. Apologies, your Grace. What are you apologizing for? The Duke stopped him. It's on him, not on you. How did the old man take it? He face fell at the mention of his grandfather. You have my sympathies lad. Gratitude, my Lord. Speak Glenavon, is that what they call you? Aye, your Grace. Though back home, they called me Glen, He stumbled through this part and while it was perhaps amusing to the old Duke, the novelty would eventually wear off, he thought. Snap out of it. Good grief, Gideon said. Hope you'll grow out of it. I will, your Grace. What did the old man say, when he found out? The Duke asked him, and ushered him towards a cupboard, where a servant had left a bottle of wine and a couple of finely made silver goblets. He was pleased, I think, Glen replied. I believe he suspected it, your Grace. Duke Gideon, took a sip from his cup and nodded. It won't surprise me, if he did. Your grandfather was sharp as a knife. A good man. Aye. To your grandfather, Gideon raised his cup and Glen followed him suit fast, gulping down half of it. Now, Lord Reeves, I'd love to learn more about you, but the timing of your visit is sensitive. Time waits for no one, young Lord, The Duke said, looking at the contents of his cup. What can you tell me of our situation? Glen gulped down nervously, cold sweat appearing on his forehead. Truth and lies, mix em up! Don't fuck this up, he urged himself. You have no idea what happened to Sir Solomon? The Duke asked ten minutes later, after he'd given him an embellished tale of the battle of Hellfort and his unlikely escape through the mines with the help of the dwarfs. He could have avoided the last part, but the dwarfs were seen and it would be difficult to explain away. They stayed in the fort to buy us time, your Grace. Ah, good men. And Lord Lennox you say? You were his squire, were you not? Aye, I was. I hope perhaps they managed to live through it, your Grace, The Duke put a large hand on his shoulder. My lad, you have to be strong now. This is no time to get sentimental. I was being hopeful? Glen thought with a frown. He told me, Sir Emerson he'd given up his title, Glen said after a moment. Gideon waved his hand. King Davenport, never agreed to it, nor did his uncle. They let him, believe it. Helped him in his road to penance. Emerson was a rare type of knight, my lad. Glen stared at his boots. He hadn't lost hope to find the old knight yet, despite what all these people seem to believe. Where do you think the Cofols are? The Duke asked him. They didn't go to Altarin. Glen perked up. I thought they would. The Duke showed him a map on the wall above the cupboard. The Duchy and part of the Steppe drawn on it. Altarin, even Hellfort, but not the dwarf villages. All in all, it wasn't too detailed, but he could understand some of the landmarks on it. The Cofols crossed the river, He said. They tried, but they were beaten back, The Duke replied. We caught them flatfooted and pushed them back away from the bridge. They were after us for a while, Glen insisted. Small numbers, I've dispatched a part of First Foot to deal with them, He showed him on the map. They are trapped. We hold Sadofort to the south, and despite their effort they couldn't take Lilyana Fort. I think Prince Nout is coming here, Glen said. Rida? He'll try to cross the river, like the scouts we've met, Glen replied and stared at the map long. I have people scouting the road from here to Altarin, the Prince vanished in the woods, The Duke countered. There aren't rafts enough to ferry a meaningful force across even if he attempts it. Then what? No supply train, a river on his back. The numbers you've given me aren't enough to take the city, young Reeves. Aye, Glen thought. They aren't. Assuming the Prince heads for Rida. If the Khan's main army was truly beaten at the bridge, then Prince Nout would be cut off and annihilated. Will he risk it though? Glen wondered, trying to remember the shining Cataphract with the leopard skins. Everyone notices the view, Duke Gideon said, snapping him out of his reverie. He'd moved away from the wall, towards the roomy balcony and stared outside, a frown on his face. Something my father built as an afterthought, He chugged the rest of his wine down. Here I am, hoping to avoid losing it all. Fear will beat you, before yer opponent, Glen blurted out, before he'd time to control himself. The Duke laughed hard at his words. Was that Emerson's teachings? Haha, ah that stupidly brave son of a bitch, pardon my language lad. I'd use stubborn, your Grace, Glen countered with a grin. Aye, that too, heh, The Duke snorted, looked at his hands and then at the handle of his sword. A beautiful ivory piece, fully engraved, ending at the pommel, with a garnet the size of a lemon. You still wanna be a knight lad? The Duke asked him. My Lord, Glen stumbled through his words. I hoped to find, Sir Emerson He's probably dead, Gideon cut him, with a grimace. That's a lot of death, surrounding me Glenavon. Friends and allies, dropping like flies. You've lost most of your family, but your aunt and while I love my daughter in law, she ain't carrying your name. Glen gulped down unsure where this was going. You're supposed to be on your knees, boy, The Duke of Raoz noted, all serious and approached him, sword in hand. Fuck me, Glen thought horrified. What did I do wrong? Luthos hairy arsehole, ye set me up ye piece of shit of a god! Kneel boy! The Duke thundered and came to stand above him, as he collapsed on his shaking knees. Jig is up, Glen thought despaired, ye done fucked up like an idiot. Here's my blade, Gideon said solemnly, the sword looming over Glen's head huge and too fucking sharp. You're are supposed to repeat them words, The Duke growled, looking at him like Death's incarnate. Cry about it later. Wait way, wait a plaugin' minute here! No way. Here's my blade, Glen said with a small voice. Louder god darn it! HERE'S MY BLADE! Glen droned, as loud as he could, not completely sure what the hells was going on, but deliriously happy he hadn't been decapitated just yet. Bless it and it shall cut through rock, The Duke said. BLESS IT AND IT SHALL CUT THROUGH ROCK? What in the holiest slovenly fuck? Here's my heart, Gideon said and lifted his blade from his left shoulder and moved it to his right. HERE'S MY HEART! Glen roared, teeth gnarling in a manic half-smile, half-camouflaged cry of deliverance, having figured out what was going on at last. Take it and it shall fight to its last beat. TAKE IT AND IT SHALL FIGHT TO ITS LAST BEAT! Yeah! Haha, oh my god, I'm gonna faint. Don't for fuck's sake, hold on! The Duke moved the flat of his blade on his left shoulder again. Here's my soul. HERE'S MY SOUL! Offer it in battle and it shall be forever free, Gideon said, hint of a smile on his mouth. OFFER IT IN BATTLE AND IT SHALL BE FOREVER FREE! Glen yelled, as loud as he could, his voice carrying inside the large hall and escaping outside, through the large open floor to ceiling window. The Duke put one of his fingers in his mouth, bit at a crude squarish ring he had on and pulled it out with his teeth, keeping the blade on his shoulder. He made his left hand into a fist, the ring in it and looked at him all serious. I Grand Duke Gideon of Raoz, with the power bestowed upon my person, by High King Antoon, witness this. Gods witness this. Arise, Sir Glenavon Reeves, second of your name, Lord of Altarin, a sacred Knight of Raoz, and of the Three Kingdoms. May you serve Tyeus, until your last breath, He said ceremoniously and lifted the blade off his shoulder slowly. This is yours, The Duke of Raoz said, and opening his fist dropped the ring into Glen's shaking hands. I was anointed over forty years ago to Tyeus, apologies, if you favor another deity. Glen stared at the warrior priest depicted on the large ring, still in complete shock. Gideon shook his head and walked towards his goblet of wine. You better stand up soon son, The Duke said hint of razz in his voice. Your aunt wants an audience, There was a gleam in his eye now, a little unexpected. Satisfied perhaps? I wager she's dying to talk with you, Gideon added cryptically and poured himself another cup of wine.