Sir Tiernan Bain looked north, feeling the heavy wind from beyond the mountains buffet his face. Soon, that current would turn chill as winter approached; with winter would come the wolves, and the sicknesses. The kingdom of Hollon was dying, and there was no certainty that anyone would survive to greet the spring. He sighed and spurred Champion, his favorite steed, back towards his manor. Nothing more could be done that night.
Upon returning, Sir Tiernan found waiting another letter from Lord Sepon of the kingdom of Righen, his older brother. This was the fifth correspondence in as many months, and to be true, the knight was becoming quite concerned, for it said nearly the same as its predecessors:
My Dear Brother,
Our younger sibling has written again, and Fainden’s words have moved me to contact you once more. No doubt you have grown weary of hearing my plea, but I implore you to seriously consider it this time.
I know how fares the kingdom of Hollon despite Lord Fralis’ attempts to convince the serfs and gentry that all is well. All is not well, Tiernan, and you know it. The recent decline in the last few years has forced me to take notice, and I become troubled that you and Fainden might soon come to harm. The famine of the summer has become worse, and I shudder to think what winter will bring. Then, there are the events of court which have reached mine ears. As supporters of King Damian, you take your lives in your hands each day you remain in Hollon.
Do not wait for them to come for your head, please, leave that blighted land and dwell instead in Righen. Lady Beatrice and I, as you know, would be overjoyed to have you stay at the palace while manors are built for yourself and Fainden. I pray this letter has reached you and it is not already too late.
~ Lord Sepon, King of Righen
The fire snapped loudly, bringing Sir Tiernan out of his reverie. Deep within, he knew the truth, of course. Had it really been that long ago when Hollon castle had been built, with its shining white Marble Tower which could be seen for miles? In those times the land had been fertile, with enough soil for each farm, enough food for each family, and a just king to lead and protect them. He himself had rode with the others in the name of King Damian to promote chivalry and justice throughout the kingdom of Hollon.
It had been an idealistic era in those first days, when the knights had stood for something then, and it wasn’t just the king’s authority. Sir Tiernan remembered court back then; Sir Fainden, and himself, Ladies Katera and Lydia, and her consort Sir Vincent, the court sorcerer. And above them all was the stately and kind King Damian, who conducted the business of the kingdom in a just and true manner.
However, young knights from the Outlands soon began to appear in Hollon. Being strong and brave, they soon earned positions in the court, for the king believed that valor would prove itself in any man. Sirs Rhyer, Petrik, Nacketel, and Fralis were the new additions to the court, and quickly ingratiated themselves into the ways and means of the kingdom. Lady Katera, however, found fault with the proceedings, and though she would not say why, soon left Hollon to return to her father’s manor beyond the mountains.
It was whispered that the ‘Pride of Hollon’ as they took to calling themselves, were not knights at all, but renegade squires who’d fled their own land. Surely, King Damian had not knighted them, and they were quite young to have such a title, in any land. Only Sirs Tiernan and Fainden discussed this, but they knew that Lady Abigail and her sister, Lady Rosemary, shared their view. Still, the knights seemed very loyal to the king, and performed bravely in any task given them. Sir Tiernan shoved aside his doubts and was content to attempt at befriending the young men.
Sir Rhyer was by far the most youthful of them all, though he held the senior knights of the court in great contempt, like the brash Sir Nacketel who roamed the kingdom doing as he pleased, leaving his fellows to explain for him before the king. The eldest was Sir Petrik, an often dark and brooding soul, who would occasionally burst into fits of merriment and exuberance, only to then retreat back to his world of shadows. In contrast, Sir Fralis was charismatic, charming, and seemed to have a tongue of smooth silver. There was not a matter he could not resolve, or a disturbance he could not quell, and he gave each party exactly what they wanted without letting either win over the other; Sir Fralis stood as the leader of the crew.
Time passed, and life continued in Hollon as it does the world over, at least, that’s what it looked like from the outside. Sirs Rhyer and Nacketel enjoyed riding their steeds to the point of exhaustion over the fields of the kingdom by night, and by high summer, very little crop would grow. The people appealed to King Damian, for they did not know what had happened to their farmland. Instead, it was Sir Fralis that answered them, saying that foul demons had come to the kingdom to ruin the harvest, and only by the valor of the Pride of Hollon had they been defeated, but unfortunately, the victory had come too late to save the fields.
Sir Tiernan knew the truth, but said nothing, for who would have believed him? The people went away, praising their ‘saviors’, and praying that the Lord would grant them a miracle and restore the crop. No miracle ever came.
Food was becoming scarce, though it seemed that the young knights never wanted for anything. When Lady Abigail discovered them raiding the royal store, the surplus harvest from the year before to be used only in a state of absolute famine, Sir Tiernan was certain that an end would finally be put to the matter. However, King Damian said nothing, and would not hear a word from accuser or accused. This did not prevent Ladies Abigail and Rosemary from speaking in the Market Square to the people.
Two nights later, Sirs Nacketel and Rhyer dragged them from their manor, accusing the two of witchcraft and crimes against the king and the kingdom of Hollon. They were tried, convicted, and burnt at the stake the following day. It was then that Sir Fainden first wrote to Lord Sepon, and when their elder brother began begging him and Sir Tiernan to leave and dwell in Righen. It seemed that King Damian no longer had control over his court, and it appeared to the wise brothers that he had no choice in what was transpiring.
On a night that raged with tempest, Sir Tiernan confronted Sir Fralis, who had, that day, proclaimed that the king had bestowed upon him the title of ‘lord’. The knight sought the man in his chambers, insisting that they parley alone, sending away the morbidly silent Sir Petrik. The odd gleam in his eyes had become colder in the months since his coming to Hollon, as a love deferred and ignored, Sir Tiernan often thought. Lord Fralis wasted no time in building up a castle of words.
“Ah, my fine fellow, Sir Tiernan! What brings you here this night?”
“I wish not to waste words, I will be direct, Lord Fralis. What you and the others are doing must stop, for the good of King Damian and all of Hollon.”
Lord Fralis paused, steadied himself, smiled wanly, and finally spoke. “I do not know what you’re talking about. The kingdom is prospering, and of the king, why, he and I are the fastest of friends, what could be wrong?”
“How can you say the kingdom is well when there are people reaching starvation just outside the castle walls? All that is well here is the position of you and your knights!”
“Calm yourself, my friend. Who expects every peasant to become an old man? Those people are born, and it is of little consequence, and they die, as insignificant as they lived. There is a greater plan which I and my brethren are a part of, and if the people cannot see that, well, than they do not deserve to live!”
Sir Tiernan backed away. “You’re a madman! I do not yet know how, but you’ve been controlling King Damian and using him to your own ends!”
“Are you certain? The people are firmly behind the knights and myself. It would be quite unwise of you to oppose us now. Besides, if you were to support us, you could gain the rank and respect we hold. Think of that, Sir Tiernan! Think of that as you move against us!”
The knight merely shook his head sadly, and left Lord Fralis’ room. For the storm still raging without, he was unable to return to his manor, and so spent his time visiting old friends from court. Lady Lydia had taken ill a few days before, and was in her chambers resting and preparing her spinning, so he did not disturb her. Instead, he sought out Sir Vincent, the court sorcerer, who was in his study copying text from an ancient scroll.
“Good evening, Sir Vincent.” The man looked up from his work.
“Hail and well met, Sir Tiernan.”
“What do you make of this gale, do you believe it will last until dawn?”
Sir Vincent put down his quill, rubbed his eyes in exhaustion, and leaned back in his chair. “I read in the stars two nights before that this storm will be but a trifle, and should end in few hours. However, I doubt you’ve come to the castle only to discuss the weather; what weights upon your mind?”
Sighing, Sir Tiernan moved a rack of potions off the other chair and sat. “The state of Hollon is what concerns me. You’ve seen the recent events, what is your opinion?”
“At first, I was in support of the young knights, but now, I am beginning to have my doubts, as I assume you are. Though, courtly intrigue has never been my forte nor interest, I much prefer the study of the ars magica, if you will.”
“Why do you and Lady Lydia not leave this place and seek your pursuits elsewhere?” A small empty bottle lying on the floor caught Sir Tiernan’s attention, and he picked it up and began tossing and catching the item idly.
“I could leave Hollon any time, for there are several universities of magical study in other kingdoms which would be pleased to receive me as a scholar or professor. It is Lady Lydia who wishes to stay. Her poor health would make travel difficult, and besides, she has family here still; Sir Petrik is her mother’s brother’s son.”
“Truly? That is certainly interesting. Now that I think of that, I have not seen much of him, nor King Damian.”
“Ah yes, the king. He has taken to his chambers and not been seen in quite a while. The guards let none to see him, and he asks to see none. I fear for his sanity, for I am told that he wanders the castle in the depths of night.”
“What can be done for him?”
The candle on Sir Vincent’s desk flickered, and he stared at it intently. “That, I do not know. Essentially, we have all watched his kingdom slowly taken from him, measure by measure. Now, with the guild tongue of ‘Lord’ Fralis, the people all rally behind the Pride of Hollon, though they do not know these men are bringing about the downfall of their land. It would be wise to avoid the conflict, as I and Lydia intend to do.”
“My brother, Lord Steven, has been imploring that Fainden and I leave Hollon. Events this night have led me to believe that might be the only safe course of action left.”
“If you decide to go, I bless you both with my protection, and wish you good fortune in reaching Righen safely.”
Sir Tiernan stood. “Thank you, my friend. There was bad blood between us when you first came to this land, but now I see that you are as valiant and stout of heart as any king or warrior. Remember that if you and Lady Lydia ever wish to leave, or find yourselves in need of refuge, there will be places set by the hearth for you in Righen.”
Sir Vincent rose in turn, and the two shook hands. “I will remember. Hail and well parted, Sir Tiernan! I wish you well on your journey, should you take it, and hope that I might see you again in years to come.”
That had been three nights before, and now the weather was again unsettling. Dark, heavy clouds hung low over Hollon, but though rain threatened, a stiff wind blew as Sir Tiernan, riding Champion, reached the venge ridge that overlooked the castle and town. Sir Fainden, atop his steed Typhoon, met him. They nodded to each other and looked out over the once-great kingdom.
“What happened here?” Sir Tiernan asked, absently.
“That, my brother, I fear will never be answered. It is best that we should leave Hollon and never look back.”
“Do you remember when we were young, and the brothers of the monastery spoke about angels with shining wings that soared to Heaven and made miracles in the service of man and God? Where are those angles?”
Sir Fainden stared across the valley, his eyes both shocked and resigned, as if seeing something that horrified him, but that he always knew would come. “There is one,” and pointed to the Marble Tower.
From the distance, he saw Sirs Rhyer and Nacketel carry King Damian to the ledge of the tower as Sir Petrik and Lord Fralis looked on. Without hesitation, they threw him down. The body of the king seemed to hang sickeningly in the air as he slowly fell, flying towards the ground. It was done.
“My brother, we must leave now, they will come for us next.”
“I do not wish to abandon the kingdom that I helped to build! Surely there is something that can still be done. These traitors can yet be overthrown, I am sure of it!”
“Tiernan, there are cracks in the very foundation of this land from the abuse of the young knights. Let this place be, for though I know you live for Hollon, there is nothing more you can do now. Loyalty is a virtue, but you cannot remain loyal to a thing corrupted.”
“But what of the people, Fainden? We cannot leave them here to be treated like animals!”
“Then we will return when it is safe, and lead them to sanctuary in Righen if need be. They shall not be forgotten, I promise you.”
The brothers turned once more to look upon the kingdom of Hollon, then wordlessly spurred their mounts towards the Outlands, and the palace of Lord Sepon in Righen.
A few hours later, when full night had set on the town, Brother Matthius sat at his table translating text. On chance, he looked up, and through the window could have sworn to see King Damian, staggering towards the cathedral, clutching his side and laughing madly. Though, by the time he reached the window, only the still and silent street greeted him.
They say that is when the plagues first began coming to Hollon, and when the land became fields of fire as a host of dark armies set out from the castle to conquer in the name of the Pride, though that would not happen yet for many more years. They say also that by the time Sirs Tiernan and Fainden were seated in the hall of Lord Sepon and Lady Beatrice with a good meal behind them and hours of conversation ahead, that the great Marble Tower of Hollon had dulled, turning as dark as the crimson stain that seeped up from the street, and the howling laughter of the mad King Damian echoed in ascension.
