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The eastern keep was quiet, the halls empty save for the occasional sentry that saluted Haedren as he passed. Haedren was glad for the silence; the raucous clammering that would soon fill the keep distracted even the most focused of minds. He came at last to the kitchen, where a few bleary-eyed cooks had begun work on preparing breakfast for the garrison. Not wanting to interfere with their work, Haedren quickly grabbed a couple hardboiled eggs and an apple before departing from whence he came. Sustenance in hand, he returned to his quarters.The first rays of the morning sun had just begun to shine through the narrow loop holes, casting his quarters in a faint golden light. He settled down at his desk, resuming his previous night's reading as he ate. The Boar and the Snake was one of the more interesting books he had read; a tome discussing both organized and guerilla warfare written by Aurennis himself.
He had only read a few pages before he heard a knock on the door and Xuldur the Half Orc entered. The Half Orc was clad in heavy scale mail, the hilt of a greatsword visible over his right shoulder. He was a full head taller than Haedren and far stouter; no doubt physical gifts granted by the Orcish blood in his veins. Haedren often wondered what Xuldur thought of his moniker, though the stern look who always bore revealed little emotion.
"They are assembled." Xuldur said bluntly.
"Very well." Haedren stood. "Best not keep them waiting."
Haedren followed Xuldur to the makeshift stables in training yard of the keep. Their horses had already been saddled by a dutiful stablehand who saluted the pair upon their arrival. They mounted their steeds and rode through the gate at a trot. To his right, Haedren could see the Valley of Steel, whose many forges would soon be ringing with the clamor of hammers on steel. They turned away from the Valley of Steel, heading south towards the river. The sentries along the river wall stiffened as they road past, the early morning light glinting off the tips of their spears.
The dull rhythm of hoofbeats on the cobblestone threatened to lull him to sleep and Haedren's mind began to drift elsewhere. He thought of Arkelai, the wizened Guardian embroiled in a battle with pneumonia. He was tough, Haedren knew, but even so he feared that his age would betray the man. Arkelai's infirmity had thrust Haedren to the fore, assuming the mantle of Guardian until Arkelai recovered. Haedren had learned a great deal under Arkelai, the personal manner of his tutelage indicating the mantle would have been his sooner or later. Haedren would have preferred the latter. Letters and whispers brought rumors of brewing unrest in the Empire; hardly an ideal time for a new Guardian. Haedren shook away the doubt and refocused himself on the task at hand. Arkelai had taught him to worry himself only with what he could control.
At last they arrived at the sparring grounds, situated well above the city on a great plateau. He could see a few soldiers milling about the entrance to the barracks, likely just returned from their nightly patrols to ward off Endermen. Haedren was not concerned with them, but rather the four warriors gathered near one of the fighting pits. They were intently cleaning their weapons, only rising to salute when the horses were nearly upon them. The pair dismounted and tied their reins to a nearby post.
The soldiers assembled before him bore the marks of battle; their armor speckled with the black blood of Endermen. None of them were part of the city's garrison, but Haedren had no doubt they had fought together the night before, each trying to outdo the others. Each had well earned their place here. Even in his weakened state, Arkelai had labored to find the best warriors in Casadia. The Guardian knew that Casadia must send its very best to join the Inquisition. Haedren had been surprised to see Xuldur left off of the list, as the Half Orc was considered as fearsome a warrior as any. Haedren suspected that Arkelai did not wish to risk an experienced commander on such a venture, but he had made no comment on it. Alas that Arkelai's strength had failed him, leaving Haedren to choose Casadia's champion. Haedren had read about all of them, each had long lists of deeds and praise. Yet there could only be one Champion.
"You all know why you are assembled here today." Haedren addressed them. "One of you will stand as Casadia's champion as the gathered warriors of the Empire venture into the End. Only one of you will bear Casadia's banner. Who shall it be?"
The man farthest to his left was the first to step forward. He was a stout man, clad in the heavy mail of a lancer. In one hand was a blood-stained lance, the other hand rested idly on the hilt of the sword at his waist. Haedren knew from the reports that his name was Oslen.
"Allow me to represent us in battle. There is no greater mounted warrior amongst our people. Countless Endermen have died at the point of my lance. I should like to have a dragon join them."
The soldier next to Oslen was the next to step forward.
"I am Erides, captain of the Shields of Teleros. Oslen is a mighty warrior, yet the End may not prove suitable for a horse. You will need a fighter who is good on their own feet. You will find few men that can equal my skill with sword and shield." Haedren heard Xuldur shift in his armor, almost in disagreement, but said nothing. "Let me put an end to our enemy." Erides finished and bowed.
Haedren studied the man. He was a tall man, armored in a hardened leather jerkin over a mail hauberk. A longsword was sheathed at his side, a round wooden shield strapped to his back. Erides had come from Old Hermertia. Haedren knew the least about him of all of them, though knew only the finest soldiers joined the ranks of the Shields of Teleros.
"A sword is a good weapon against men and monsters." chided a third warrior as she stepped forward, "But you have to be close to a dragon to use it. I do so assuredly doubt the dragon will take to that kindly. What you need is a good archer."
Haedren chuckled at her brashness. Eliria was a fighter he knew well. She had served under him during his tenure as Guardian of Miradost and he was quite familiar with her skill with a bow.
"A demonstration." Eliria lifted her bow and pointed to an armored dummy at the far end of the sparring grounds. She nocked an arrow and took aim. Eliria judged the wind for a moment and loosed the arrow. It soared gracefully through the air, its arc ending in the head of the dummy. She turned to face Haedren and smiled.
The fourth warrior let out a hearty laugh. He was a mountain of a man; a hair taller than Xuldur with arms like tree trunks. Haedren had heard rumors about Hullock's size; rumors he now knew to be well founded. Hullock was clad in heavy plate that bore dozens of scratches from fallen opponents. A huge double-bladed battleaxe was slung over his shoulder. His prowess with his battleaxe led men to call him the Butcher, a title he surely relished. He had begun to string a mighty longbow, the wood groaning as he bent it. Haedren doubted there were a dozen men in the Empire that could string such a bow. Once it was strung, Hullock removed an arrow more akin to a javelin from his quiver. He nocked the arrow and took aim at the same dummy. The arrow shot from the bow like a lightning bolt, streaking through the air before burying itself up to its feathers in the chest of the dummy. The smile faded from Eliria's face.
"Xuldur, I believe we have found our champion."
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Guardian of Casadia
Master of the Slayers Guild
Minister of Hermertian History
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