Private Tales Oathbound

[Ostrum Brandish]

Pale brown eyes narrowed as they peered through the forest at the slow movement of brigands at rest, their hands busied with dice and drink, the hunched, cloaked figures collecting what warmth was cast out from the central firepit of the makeshift camp. They huddled and slowly moved about themselves as a spit was turned over the flames. Twenty humans, Ostrum had counted, yet no sign of the vampire that lead them had been offered to the knight. No patrols were made from those he spied upon. No supernatural eyes spotted him crouched from behind a tree some sixty feet away from the camp.

Undisciplined rabble, Ostrum thought with a smirk.

He had been breathing in the smell of slow cooked venison that rotated on a spit over the campfire for some time now; his observations of the camp had begun as the animal had been placed upon the spit. The meat was now cooked, and he watched as a knife that gleamed carved, cutting the flesh into meals for the gathered. Ostrum made his deductions final as he lay prone in the tall grass, some fifty feet away.

I shall afford them a morsel of their final meal before I approach with death as their digestif.

His thoughts turned to strategy. He wondered if his information had been correct from the village, if there was indeed a vampire to be found amongst their number or if it had been fear taking advancing steps on the truth. He knew that his presence here, lurking with violence in his imagination amongst the trees was a diversion from his appointed task, was a necessary one. It was one that he was bound to perform by oath and personal inclination, which to the knight were one in the same, emulsified to one thought process, undivided, unified, strong.

Providence to the innocent. The villagers spoke of cloaked figures that raided them routinely, and with fear catching in their throats uttered hushed words that a vampire was their leader. How it had threatened them with exsanguination and enthralment should the villagers pursue them with fire and pitchfork. Not that they had used such words; Ostrum had pieced the meaning behind the threats relayed to him from the imploring villagers' account of events after he had spoken with valiant heart that he was there for help. They soon turned to him for assistance at the hint of salvation. Such was to be expected and presented of one of his station and class, Ostrum knew.

The report was simple enough. The raids had taken coin. The brigands had taken wine. The vampire had terrorized, threatened death and dark promises beyond that death. The demanded action was simple to deduct.

Such hostile actions was an unacceptable affront to code to which Sir Ostrum Brandish had sworn his life to uphold, resemble and enact. He was not here to dole out justice to the wicked exclusively, his objective remained unreachable to him for now, yet he knew that his oaths demanded action.

The villagers had expressed all manner of things to him. Fear at first at their lot in life. Dread as they spoke of their plight. Surprise as Ostrum sought more information. Shock as he made his statement that the vampire and it's cohort would be put to the sword. And then silence as he walked away from the common people, alone, unsupported, unafraid. What was a suicide mission to the peasants who toiled the earth and lived ordinary lives was but a necessary detour from the path of destiny to the Enshrined Blade.

Until I find my charge, and provide providence to the just, I shall strike at these brigands and the fanged fiend that disturbs the hearts and mind of honest folk, and in so doing, offer providence to the innocent. The southern dial of conduct shall be appeased, I shall ignite hope in the hopeless, and in so doing, banish fear in the hearts of common men and replace it with a noble emotion.

Sunlight was to slowly creeping away from the skyline. Mouthfuls of venison were being devoured by the bandits as the Enshrined Blade hunger for violence grew too great, his spirit was now firmly set to the task ahead of him. He rose from his crouched position and rolled his shoulders from behind a tree. He had been gifted time to consider his approach, and now it was to be enacted.

The knight made his dedications to the path he walked gladly. He did not speak such things aloud, for the thought that his vampire foe might hear his decree. Instead, he ignited the flame of violence within him with thoughts that scorched his soul into a fighting spirit, his hands clenching, his brow furrowing, his eyes becoming fierce, his muscles warming and tensing, the impending violence given all advantage.

Swift, sudden, relentless and uncompromising shall be my approach be. To cut down those that support this vampire menace I shall offer no quarter. And when this vampire reveals itself, if it lingers near, I shall end it without hesitation. Tenacity for the mortal. Precision for the immortal. Service to the innocent, judgement to the guilty, death to the undead. My course is set. Let my zeal be assured, oaths be preserved, vows be my guide in battle. Until my true course reveal itself, let me carry out my duty to the realm.

He drew out his shortsword and gripped it in his left hand, he rolled his shoulders and produced a warhammer with his right hand. He gave each a spin within his armoured hands and felt the familiarity of his weapons serve him. The magic imbued within the short sword gave it a further keenness, the arcane nature of the warhammer made it heft with lightness and deftness, yet strike with firmness and weight.

A deep breath. Another spin of the weapons.

And then it began.

Ostrum turned the corner around the tree and at once sprinted towards the bandits. A broad smile was upon his lips as he treasured this moment. How he saw no alarm be raised at his presence. His footfalls were in long strides as he bound towards the center of the bandits who feasted upon the venison and played dice amongst themselves.

Other knights might have walked slowly up, weapon in hand, a challenge issuing from their noble throat which demanded respect to decorum as not to sully their own reputation for desire of fairness in combat. But the Enshrined Blades, the order that one Sir Ostrum Brandish was a member of, did not follow such a practice to lowly brigands. No quarter, no chance to gain advantage, nor precious time for a figure of darkness such as a vampire to gather their infernal arts as a decree would be issued. Enshrined Blades were expected to be paragons of virtue, yet they did not train fools to be cut down alone against overwhelming odds. Violence was their byword, and violence need not explain itself to such a breed of villain as brigands and vampires.

No words as the knight hurtled forward with both weapons coiled and ready that gleamed in the light of the flame. No words rose, except some shocked splutterings from one wide eyed brigand who was the only one to see the oncoming knight from the suddenness of his approach. The unerring speed and ferocity coming towards him produced fear within his heart that turned the man's skin cold, and a half choked, “What the fuck?” was all that was issued in alarm as Ostrum's shortsword offered the first strike. It pierced the neck of a brigand who had his back turned to the assault, death releasing him without a hint of the cause. The short sword was drawn back out, and the knight leapt forward through the fire, his burnished armour gleaming in the firelight as the body of his kill crumpled forward, the knight was propelling himself forward into the heart of the enemy.

Ostrum passed above the fire with both weapons held aloft, and the brigand who was the first to see him discarded his venison and fumbled to draw a short sword from his belt. Ostrum's short sword slashed with precision across the man's throat, the brigand's hand barely gripping the handle of his weapon as he blood was released, a following warhammer blow to the brigand who was carving meat to the first's left had his skull shattered from the force.

As Ostrum landed firmly upon the ground, he pivoted fluidly to look upon those others gathered around the fire, and he once more sprang into action, his shortsword carving legs, his warhammer crushing collarbone as he worked around the circle that had gathered.

Weapons were being drawn now by the many bandits, and Ostrum parried a wild swing and offered retort that was fatal in conclusion. Six of their number were now slain and panicked words were now in the air.

“Salazar! We're under attack!” one cried out.

Another, “Raid! Raid! Get out here Salazar for fuck's sake!”

“So,” Ostrum said boldly and with satisfaction as he delivered a parry with his shortsword and offered a hammerblow that was almost instantaneous to the parry in response, the reposte smashing a wrist that now dropped the sword, “This vampire leader of yours,” Ostrum continued as he made a rising strike with both of his weapons to the chest, throat and face of his yelping foe that ended his life, his body lifting and crumpling away from the knight, “has a name.”

Ostrum stepped over the body and made savage silent cuts at another. His eyes were gleaming with at the slaughter he was committing, the violence edified him, the bloodshed justified every year of arduous training he had undergone to reach this peak of martial prowess.

More offered desperate resistance as the clamour continued.

Heart beats pounded and were pierced by steel. Voices died mid protest. The six dead grew in number and became ten. Ten became seventeen in quick succession, Ostrum's blow resolute and fatal each time.

“By the Gods, Salazar, where the fuck are you?” one bellowed to the trees as Ostrum made his approach.

“Indeed,” Ostrum declared, and threw his hammer at the one that cried for help from his companion with a violent jerk of his bicep.

I must finish these brigands quickly before this Salazar enters the field.

The hammer smashed the face of the brigand, and was soon followed up by a vicious three fold cut across the stomach. The foe fell to his knees, and the knight gripped his shortsword with both hands and turned to face another brigand who pointed a crossbow at him.

A crossbow bolt flew wildly from shaking hands, missing the mark by two feet. Ostrum smiled wickedly and his boots pounded the ground to close the distance.

Just as I have been trained, so I go. To close upon a crossbow before it can be readied again.

And so it was.

Panicked hands fed a bolt into the groove, footsteps fell, another brigand stood in the knight's path and was cut down as if he were a mere annoyance. A firm kick was provided to remove him from play, and with another bound from Ostrum's feet, the shortsword was thrust true into the heart of the crossbow armed brigand as if the blade were a surgical tool cutting and snuffing out life itself in the hand of the knight.

“Salazar,” he croaked as the blade was ripped out and the final brigand collapsed, his eyes looking to the distance beyond Ostrum, death soon to grace him as he fell.

As Ostrum turned with derision upon his features, and he was greeted by the visage of a figure shrouded in snapping and snarling blackness all but a few feet away from him; bats fluttered their wings and swarmed about the figure as it loomed tall above Ostrum, a figure of shadow with eyes of gleaming red.

Ostrum's smile remained, for his enemy had revealed itself, and so he could go about the true work of the evening. No fear was elicited in Ostrum's heart. Such things had been forged out of him. Instead was the lust for violence, a need to bring death to his undead foe, a burning desire to show all foes the meaning of valour.

The figure sent forward the miasma of darkness towards the Enshrined Blade along with a snarl of infernal words that slithered out and raked the knight's ears as they were comprehended.

“Turn back knight, you, you are no match for the dark! Turn back, turn back I say!”

But something was not quite complete about the words. Ostrum considered them as he readied his weapon, his judgement like lightning to the changing situation.

Is that panic in that voice? Hesitation? Fear? Desperation?

He felt no warmth from the tailsman about his neck that would indicate that he should have his arcane defences up. And so, there was one instant decision based upon these two facts, his zeal was assured, his movements fluid and terrible in efficiency as the tip of his sword gleamed, the pommel brought to his right shoulder, and his voice brought to the fore.

Ostrum provided a single declaration of contempt in a haughty, “Ha!” which drove him onwards, his feet propelling him forward in a lunge, his swordsword poised to thrust through the blackness that washed over him. He felt no twinge of threat to his person from the blackness. It was only that, only blackness and nothing more.

He closed the distance, and for a moment, the black embraced him...and then the sudden satisfying sensation of connecting with his sword thrust was offered to the knight.

A shocked scream that did not sound anything like the original voice was issued, and the magic that concealed them both dripped away as the illusion faded. The visage of the vampire faded and crackled in black tendrils as it revealed Salazar's true form.

An elderly white haired man now was pierced by the sword caught within his guts. Frail hands gripped the blade and were bloodied, wide eyes looked to the knight who's seemed to mock the magic user's attempt at fear with his own brazen display. Furrowed brow, a mouth that snarled with delight at the ending blow, eyes that shone with satisfaction as the bandit leader fell to one knee.

“Disappointing,” Ostrum said, “I expected a vampire and encounter you. Fall,” Ostrum said.

Ostrum ripped the short sword out and delivered a mailed back hand to the old man, who was desperately trying to prevent his innards from falling out.

The knight drew a deep cleansing breath and felt the exhilaration of combat course through him as his foe fell to the ground, the adrenaline, the fury that had consumed him now met with his rational mind in equal measure.

The day is won.

He delivered a kick to the man and watched how he fell to his belly. How he crawled and groaned.

“Fortunately for you, I have been instructed by my duty to provide merciful deliverance to your sorry existence,” Ostrum said coolly, his shoulders heaving slightly from his efforts, every breath was invigorating and fresh to him.

The camp fire snapped and crackled as Ostrum reached for his longsword on his back. The blade was drawn and the weapon shone silver from the flames. Further groans croaked from Salazar as Ostrum stepped above the bandit leader.

He readied the swordtip to the old man's neck, his hands firmly gripping the weapon as it loomed fatally above his final defeated opponent. He lifted up the blade.

“Merciful deliverance is yours,” Ostrum said, and paused for a moment as he sensed something. He listened and cocked his head as he held the blade aloft, ready to perform the coup de grace.

Someone I missed?

His eyes peered up, beyond the flame, to see what had caught his heightened attention. He remained fierce, his heartbeat steady, his breathing sure, his nostrils flared, his weapon ready to deliver the final cut.

 

[Heike Eisen]

ALLIRIA​

Heike Eisen had her feet hooked to the underside of Captain Bronmarch's desk, her hands laced behind her head, and was halfway through her series of sit-ups. Forty. Forty-one. Forty-two...

The Captain himself had come into his office. Saw Heike there and had made motions to leave but Heike waved him in. And so he had, and he closed the door behind himself. Presently he stood by the office's window. Outside, there came the rhythmic double-time footsteps of a new class of Allirian guards being trained.

"I received some news through Mr. Alanthis's contacts."

"Oh?" Fifty. Fifty-one...

"Yes. It concerns, I believe, some old friends of yours."

"Heh." Up. And back down. Breaths. "Nothing quite like a light touch of sarcasm in the morning." And back up, feeling that familiar burn in her abdomen.

"Gothia, right?" Bronmarch shrugged. "I can't say I've been much for travel outside of Alliria. I suppose I'm a lot like you in that regard."

"Just don't get turned into a vampire."

"Where else am I going to get an excuse to see the wider world?"

Up. Down. Up. And...down. Heike lay on the floor, breathing heavily, her undershirt and undershorts damp with sweat. "I'm sure you'll think of something. Inform me first of whatever excuse you conjure and I shall tell you if such will upset Martha or not."

"Perhaps I'll consult you on a variety of other, more mundane matters as well then." Bronmarch smiled, and Heike smiled back. All in good humor.

Heike unhooked her feet from under the desk and sat with one arm draped over an upturned knee. "So, what have you to say of Gothia? I haven't concerned myself with them in..." Her lips pulled tight, and she canted her head in reluctant admittance, "...the appropriate amount of years."

She had heard stories, of course, of Reikhurst's old rivals from across the Sayve. Of Gothia's attempt to occupy Reikhurst after its fall, and of the occupying force being slaughtered down to the last man in the supposed abandoned city, inspiring all those enduring rumors of ghosts and otherworldly hauntings. They abandoned the idea of occupying the city after that (at least for a time), and even left alone the other towns and villages which comprised the former Kingdom. So far as Heike understood, Gothia started a number of religious wars and wars of conquest (though, for Gothia, the difference was in name only) on its own side of the Sayve, now that they didn't have Reikhurst to worry about. What were they up to at the present day?

Bronmarch elaborated. "Seems there had been a dispute over trade or borders between Gothia and a city-state named Telefar."

Heike brow furrowed as she tried to recall that name. And she could not. She kicked her legs back and planted her palms on the floor of the office and, as she started her series of pushups, inquired, "Telefar? The name escapes me."

"On the big lake that splits the Sayve and the Bystra Rivers." Bronmarch snickered. "Our very own Cartographers' Guild has several different names for that lake across several different editions of their maps, but the one I like the most is Saystra Lake. Fits, and I appreciate the simplicity. Telefar is on the wide peninsula on the southwest side of the Lake. See it now, in your mind's eye?"

Heike paused in her pushups then, right as the name finally came rushing back to her, popping into mind as if it had been there all along. She laughed lightly. Five years as a vampire...yet, Hell's fury, it had felt so much longer than that. Long enough to forget one of Reikhurst's prominent trade partners.

"It seems a lifetime ago that the name 'Telefar' has held any significance to me. But yes, I do recall it now."

Bronmarch nodded. Came around from his spot by the window and leaned with one hand on his desk and watched as she went through her morning exercise. Said, "The Goths have besieged the city, and there's a large expatriate community of Reikhurstans inside."

Heike again paused. A bead of sweat dripped from her forehead and to the floor.

This time, she was not smiling.

* * * * *

DAYS OUT FROM TELEFAR​

Though Heike had her own mission in mind, she made an exception along the way.

The village of Iron Lake was one that she did not linger within. She had ridden through on the village's single road, not stopping for rest or supplies for she required neither. But, as it so happened, Heike had been approached and stopped by a farmgirl further down the road. And this farmgirl made a plea that Heike could not ignore.

Iron Lake had had its share of brigand troubles in the past. But, here and now, there was a band which had as its leader a vampire. Strange, such a thing, but not entirely underheard of and certainly not impossible. Worryingly, though, were the reported numbers from the farmgirl, for she said that there were surely two dozen brigands plus their vampire leader. Perhaps fear had prompted exaggeration--Heike had seen it before from civilian reports. But perhaps not. Whether the figure was steeply overestimated, or only slightly so, or firmly accurate, it seemed wise to scout the suspected area of their latest encampment first. Heike was but one woman, and facing off against some twenty men and a vampire all at once, by herself, unnecessarily, would be foolhardiness so great as to besmirch the name of the Golden Blades.

So Heike waited until dusk, shed herself of her armor, and clad in her arming doublet and pants and armed with her longsword, she set off. The vampire might well have nightvision (something she herself, being in this situation, admittedly longed to have to her advantage) or some other means to detect her, but...she had a surprise for the fiend, just in case that was so.

In time, a faint orange light in the dimness of the sun's final retreat, visible through the brush and trees. And Heike stepped along quietly toward it. She was wary of finding that fine line between close and too close--just enough for her to observe, clearly, and get a count on the numbers of the men present. Once she had that, a plan could be formed, and very likely a cohort of men from Iron Lake conscripted into service to even the odds.

She got as close as she dared, nesting herself behind the V-shaped trunk of a tree, crouching down to keep a low profile and keeping watch on the bandits as they milled about and talked and cooked and all else. Their voices she could hear, but the words were made indistinct by the distance. She watched. Keenly, of course, for the one which would distinguish itself as the vampire.

Then.

Something most unexpected happened.

Heike only became aware of the presence of a third party when the brigands themselves had become aware. Yells and shouts of alarm echoed across the forest to her, and she squinted her eyes bobbed her head about, trying to see what was the cause of the commotion. Bandits were scrambling, grabbing weapons, running to engage, and Heike could not see who or what they were fighting.

Then a flash, briefly, of a man suited in plate armor among the disorganized and frantic rabble of the bandits. A whirlwind of martial prowess and the felling of foes.

Heike just watched in awe for a moment. Watched as this man did what she reckoned she could not, and dispatched in short order the numerous brigands of the camp. It was a fight as one-sided as heavy infantry against levies.

She saw the magic then. The grand show of bats, the miasma of darkness. That was it! The vampire! Heike did not know who the man in plate armor was, what his allegiance or disposition might be, and she was acutely aware that she come here prepared not to fight but to scout. But she would not stand idle. She had to see the creature dead. She had to.

Heike rose from her hiding spot and unsheathed her longsword and started to run across the forest floor. Seconds. Seconds were precious in combat. And it was going to take some twenty or thirty seconds to clear the distance, even at a full unencumbered sprint. As well, whilst vaulting over a fallen, rotting log, Heike did not see the transformation of the "vampire" back into a elderly man.

So Heike emerged from the forest and onto the campsite, longsword held defensively before her, eyeing Ostrum and Salazar. The former was prepared to behead to the latter. Taking in that quick sight, she said quickly to Ostrum, "Slay it. Slay it before has a chance to escape!"

Ostrum Brandish

 

[Ostrum Brandish]

Upon hearing the instruction Ostrum's eyes locked back to the foe beneath him who spluttered words begging of mercy, Ostrum's hands firmed upon the sword, his brow furrowed further, and the sword tip punched down in an efficient jab that severed the spine of Salazar without resistance.

“It is done,” Ostrum remarked as if the final stroke of the sword performed entirely at the behest of this newcomer, as if he were but a clerk delivering a simple service. He remained still over the corpse for a moment as he took a breath to consider the armed woman who had been so insistent on the swiftness of the execution.

After cleaning the tip of the blade upon the garments Salazar wore, the longsword was replaced into a scabbard at his side, and Ostrum stepped forward closer to the fire to reveal himself better in the low light to his new company.

“The rumours were false,” Ostrum began, his brow losing the ferocious visage that had been gifted to the ones he had slain, yet his eyes remained embroiled in the attitude of violence, “the it you describe, describe a he, and he was but a mortal man. An old man preying upon the weak with visage of vampire and hauntings of the hunter. Convincing in appearance, yet, unthreatening in actual affect. The village is safe from their tyranny, this...illusionist brigand's wickedness has been undone,” Ostrum continued.

He paused and exhaled a hot breath that edified him. He felt the adrenaline still fiercely contest his thoughts, yet, Ostrum began to contemplate the nature of his company. He spoke words as he allowed his eyes to adjust to etiquette.

“Tell me, what called you to compel me so?” Ostrum uttered, his voice carrying with it a sense of respect and admiration of what had just played out, “You were waiting to strike against these ruffians and their undead leader as I was perhaps? Suspecting a vampire, you approach in arming doublet and blade, to compel the necessary violence of the vulnerable enemy. To not let words get in the way of a death required of the supernatural that plagues the hearts of the commoner, the innocent, the victim.”

He paused and smiled as the possibilities pleased him.

“Does the call to valour perhaps guide your blade and deed?” Ostrum said, his voice now gaining authority, not a challenge but an expectation with some hint of knowingness. He held his hand comfortably upon the pommel of his longsword, his eyes looking for signs of this one's identity, trying to match information he had been briefed upon with his appointed charge.

Introductions to the just are always so full of promise of further deeds to come, of precedent set, of villainy to be undone. Could it be that the one I have been searching for comes to bid me to act swiftly due to the nature of the enemy? Fitting if so, indeed, fitting! A refreshing pace indeed.

Heike Eisen

 

[Heike Eisen]

There, the rightful end that Heike wished to one day bring to Jürgen Kaiser's own neck. Herself if she could be so lucky, but she would be well satisfied to simply see the aftermath of another's blade. For now, this whimpering vampire's demise would have to do.

Heike gave a small nod of approval to the man in plate. She still did not know much of him nor his intentions, but it did at least seem fair enough to regard him with a charitable measure, seeing as he had done Iron Lake a service whether he specifically meant to or not. It remained bright and clear in her mind, though, that he was an immensely skilled warrior, and that she was not even as well armored presently as these brigands.

The rumors were false?

Heike blinked. Flicked her eyes down to the corpse. Some strains, certainly, were near indistinguishable from their former species, and she couldn't quite see into that mouth frozen open in a curtailed final scream to see if there were or were not fangs. She flicked her eyes back up to the man.

Not an it. A he. A man, one who had possessed some manner of magical tricks, sure, but not the vampire the villagers had believed him to be. And...how absolutely despicable to ever engage with such a charade. Heike, as silly as the feeling was, felt personally attacked by this old man. Wearing vampirism like a fashion, using it for intimidation. Her. Blood. Boiled the more she considered it. The craven nature of this brigand leader reminded her much of Gregory, the Reikhurstan turned coward and servant to the Slaughterns, obsequiously doing their foul bidding. It was almost as bad. Almost. Still, who...who would want to willingly make himself out to be such a repulsive creature??

She almost missed the manner of the plate man's speech as her disgust clouded her thoughts. It certainly was not the casual, earthy vernacular common among the lot of sellswords and bounty hunter types. His eloquence put her at ease, and her stance relaxed.

Does the call to valour perhaps guide your blade and deed?

"Yes. It does indeed."

Heike pointed toward the brigand leader's corpse, "I had been convinced of the rumor, that this man was indeed one of those bloodfiends. It had been my intent to scout this encampment, to gain an estimation of their number. Though I am burdened with my own duties, I had committed myself to slaying the vampire I thought was here."

She rested the tip of her longsword in the grass at her feet, hands laid on the pommel and the crossguard. She gave the man in plate an adamant look. "I loathe their kind, and these guilty men deserved as well the fate which found them."

The heat of her ire dissipated, and she smiled, cordially, reckoning that she was among good company. Her tone dropped from its more formal register. "You fight with the strength of ten men, and with the sum total of their skill behind a single blade. I'm impressed."

She studied his armor for a moment, the particular, ornate design of it, trying to place it but as yet failing to do so. Even if he truly was a mercenary of some description, a successful one with coin to spare, most didn't bother with armor that was anything other than practical. Heike couldn't escape the thought that the design held prominent significance, just like her own.

Ostrum Brandish

 

[Ostrum Brandish]

Upon hearing the answer to his question, a fire of hope ignited within Ostrum that he was indeed talking to the one he had travelled so far to encounter. The accounts he had been provided made emphasis on the vampires being the primary foe to the one he would be charged with assisting. His eyes softened, his curiosity piqued, and a hand went to his beard and moustache to provide symmetry to his hair. No such gesture was required, but he made it all the same. A habit that relaxed the mind and set one's appearance in proper form.

A subtle hand yields much in diplomacy.

“I thank you for such an appraisal,” Ostrum said, his own sense of formality remaining despite his company's more relaxed tone now. “I fight with the strength my conditioning, training, oaths and vows provide me in my moments of need, in order to provide stalwart service, defense and contest. To the realm and to my charge.”

Ostrum became a shade more quiet in his volume as he confessed, “That is, if my efforts to find them are not in vain.”

Ostrum paused. He grew closer to the light so that his armour was clearly visible in the glowing light. The ornate spirals and geometric shapes were not well known or recognised by many. Only those who might have studied extensively of little known knightly orders might recognise the armour as being unique to the Enshrined Blades' forge. No armies wore such armour, only individuals, rarely known. The copper colouration seemed to glow in the firelight as Ostrum stood purposefully by the light to provide such escutcheon.

I wonder, is she educated on my order? Or must I instruct her of our existence? Such a cruel clue, but one I offer regardless.

He gently pressed a log with his boot so that it fell into the fire. Embers rose gently as the new wood was added.

“Much like you these bandits were but a necessary distraction away from a more pressing duty.”

He placed another log purposefully with a gauntlet clad hand into the fire, which set it into great tongues of fire that licked up. By doing so Ostrum had illuminated his face so that Heike might see him completely.

He continued.

“If you'll indulge me, a question for you,” Ostrum asked as he rose from the fire to standing before Heike. “A riddle as it were, that plagues the just. I'll provide my name and knightly order after your answer. And if you've already guessed what order I belong to, indeed, I shall be impressed by your esoteric knowledge. I know my manner might seem strange. But I have been travelling far, and it would humour a knight to hear an answer from one who would answer the call to valour. Especially from one who would readily engage with vampires.”

He smiled as he revealed his question and drew close to the fire, almost as if he would providing a ghost story of some kind designed to frighten and excite the listener.

“How might a knight determine which vows take precedent over the other?”

A question that had been posed early in Ostrum's life before he had adopted any vow or oath into his life. A question that had been repeated, and various answers provided during his time training and indeed further onto it. It was a sort of shibboleth between Enshrined Blades, as if one could ask it and know meaning of a knight's disposition by the answer.

Heike Eisen

 

[Heike Eisen]

Any thought that this man was anything other than a knight perished quickly as he began to speak once more. Far from his eloquence alone, his outright mention of oaths and vows, it was his demeanor--both unspoken and professed--that put Heike well at ease. A coincidence of timing, that Iron Lake would have two knights passing through and who had both, independently, answered their call for aid. Her knightly counterpart had summed it up best: necessary distractions from a more pressing duty. And this, in turn, is how their paths chanced to cross.

If you'll indulge me, a question for you.

Heike canted her head, receptive and intrigued. Intrigued especially so when he added that qualifier of his question being "a riddle that plagues the just." There had been a class, part of the education prerequisite for initiation into the Order of the Golden Blade, which had dealt with history, with the decorum of a knight's station, and with the philosophies inherent in moral dilemmas one might well face as a knight. It was a squire's only sanctuary to be outspoken, and Heike had vigorously taken advantage.

And then the man's question was posed. Succinct, yet--available with every new moment's pondering--it would be revealed to be built on a deep metaphysical foundation. Much like her own Trinity of Oaths, succinct did not mean simplistic. Not in the slightest.

What came to mind immediately in the wake of the question was a common saying among the Golden Blades, spoken often from one knight to another.

Stay true.

Heike was not religious. She paid some respect to, but did not believe in, the religion which called the region of Reikhurst home and the people thereof its followers: Jura. Though the Jurists did hold central to their theology a concept with Heike need not send prayers to Regel to believe in wholeheartedly, and that was the idea of a Right Ordering of things. Despite the interjection of many chaotic occurrences, Heike believed that there was an essential Order to which all men and women should aspire, all kings and rulers embody, all kingdoms and cultures strive to manifest upon Arethil. The "better angels of one's nature" often poetically described were the trendings of an individual toward that Right Ordering within themselves. And here lay the inherent good to be found in the hearts of Mankind. And Man knows it to be so, this inherent goodness, for he, for she, has a conscience.

Enter the question posed by her fellow knight. And the answer which came to mind with the ancient gravitas of being the right answer to this manner of question--perhaps worded differently, perhaps spoken in different languages by different peoples, both the question and the answer, but the spirits of both remaining the same--which had been asked many times before and would be again many times hence.

How had Heike herself made this very determination? She knew. She had known it at the time in which she had made these decisions and she knew it now. This answer that had come to mind:

It was why she had refused to defend herself against the Monster Hunters in their Elbion Fortress, and refused to defend herself against the mob of watchmen in the city of Shadokien; for they were righteous men and women all in their intent to slay a vampire, even though the vampire was Heike herself. It was why she had departed from Sir Eberwolf's army during the Kinniger Duchy's war against a vampire menace; for he had been adamant on employing the services of a necromancer, and Heike would not abide the use of such dark and repulsive magic. It was why she had executed Maria, the woman she once loved, and had sentenced Szesh, her dear Draconian friend, to compelled service; for her personal feelings could not stand in the way of justice. It was why she had rejected Tzuriel Alanthis's cure for vampirism, despite her only hope of fulfilling her duty to restore Reikhurst beginning necessarily with her being shed of that affliction; for the cost of said cure was one that she had no right to pay, for the payment was injustice and wickedness itself.

...And it was why Heike sought the restoration of Reikhurst. Not only was she Oathbound to give everything in the endeavor, to see it done, but she needed Reikhurst back so that she herself might be judged by a trial of her peers. For she, as a vampire, had satiated an abhorrent thirst for blood by taking it from the innocent. It did not matter if such was necessary in order to stay alive, to live long enough to bring into being the very court which would try her and sentence her. It did not matter that she had not violated the letter of her Oaths, despite torturing the spirit of them. It did not matter if she, by some miracle, came to be the greatest hero Reikhurst had ever known.

She deserved her just punishment for her failures and her wrongs. Because her conscience demanded it.

She needed to stay true to herself. What she knew to be right.

Heike had considered all this, head lowered in contemplation not of the answer itself, but how to say it properly. Succinctly, as it were.

And then she lifted her head. Looked to the man whose face was partially backlit by the campfire. Her formal tone came back, for the answer was not one to be spoken lightly.

"The establishment of a precedence requires choice. One's conscience ought be heeded, and heeded well, in this determination, for the choice a knight makes should be the universal imperative that he wants others to aspire to. He himself must embody the virtues which inspire the right action, for only then is he set in Order, and can manifest those virtues in the world."

Ostrum Brandish

 

[Ostrum Brandish]

Ostrum remained silent for long moments. He brushed back his hair and breathed deeply in.

“Afford me a moment to give proper credit to your answer, knight,” Ostrum said quietly.

The fire crackled, the fresh logs caught alight, a gentle southern wind passed by.

He closed his eyes. The content smile remained, yet a clash within him played out, a duel between rhetoric, a contest of traditions. His brow was the only sign that there was turmoil within him, it twitched as the blades of his own chapter's thought and other knightly order's methods clashed. An argument between the old and the new, what he was and what he was not. What this answer meant coming from his potential charge.

His internal monologue took hold of him, the clockwork of his mental training gave him contrast between the other and himself, between another order and his own. He recognised the answer as being classic in design yet unwieldable by his own hand. He felt a twinge of disappointment within his soul but suppressed the sign of it upon his features as he processed the response.

He gave himself time to consider the answer in silence. Allowed his own training to clash against the rhetoric of this knight as if it were a duel within the mind.

As he began his thoughts and arranged them correctly, he could not shake the sensation of feeling utterly alone by virtue of Heike's answer.

A worthy answer of a knight. Yet not an Enshrined Blade facing the rigours of Hallowed Castigation, both to receive and provide in the field, beyond the overview of the Hallowed. Conscience is flexible, headstrong, yet can become weak, misguided, squabblesome.

Conviction upon the value and effectiveness of an oath, the compass of conduct, that is strong. Such endures. Such edifies. Such enshrines one.

But I do not expect my charge to be as me. Indeed, not all knights should be as I am. We support and reinforce the tasks of others. And in so doing, bolster all by our capacity, our veracity to our purpose.

No matter then. I shall walk alone with my duties to judge when the time comes. And to be judged in turn. I'd be foolish to expect another to assist in the execution of my future duty, and my own edification.

Conscience. Once...once upon a time...I too thought that it could be relied upon. It suits the purpose of many knights. Such is not a failing. It has a purpose and function that serves other orders well enough in its own way. But it is not wholly infallible. It can be corrupted. Led astray by attachment. By fatigue. By annexation of customs beyond the initial conditioning.

Before I was forged into something beyond conscience, I too thought that the method of determining conduct for oneself. I thought one's conscience could guide one flawlessly at the beginning of my journey to become what I am. Yet. Conscience could betray one cruelly, such a fickle array of emotions. It could conflict with itself, leave one powerless, rudderless, lost.

But it is human. And can bring much goodness to the realm, providing one is forged correctly, providing one is mindful to the lapses that conscience is want to deliver from time to time, by inches, by inches can it erode and leave one vulnerable to turpitude. To unworthiness.

We are different then. Instead of conscience, something else remains and guides me now. Duty beyond duty, action beyond thought, oath to supersede guilt; vows to transcend conscience, the necessary overwriting one's own inclinations, instrumentality instead of one's own complete agency. I am emboldened by it. I am edified by my own crucible.

And if I relied upon such a guide to my own vows? Hah. Consider it Ostrum, how foolish I might appear before the court. 'According to my conscience I was directed', I would say, and so I would be judged insufficient to my tasks, to my duty, to my purpose. I would fail in my task to offer and receive it. My lexicon would be wanting. My doom would be assured. To be buried or cast out dishonourably. This one's answer may satisfy their order. But not the rigours of my own.

No matter. The answer is worthy of any knight aside from one of my own order. I must accept it.

Ostrum opened his eyes. And at this moment, refreshed by his own internal reflection, he saw at the belt of the one in front of him the symbol of the Golden Blade. The smile remained as he provided his answer.

“So, knight, you use ethics so that you may resemble virtue, and then go about acting according to this virtue. Born from a desire that your choice should be adopted by others. To become a symbol using an internal sense of right and wrong. Classic. Classic indeed, it is recognised. It is an acceptable method of determining right and wrong for many and most. Between vice and virtue, it can burn a clear path. It has it's place. And so, you have yours.”

He allowed a pause.

“I am one Sir Ostrum Brandish, of the Knightly Order of the Enshrined Blade. I doubt you have heard of my order, yet...”

Enough delay.

“...my order has heard much of you, if I am not mistaken in my judgement. That symbol about your belt. Am I correct in saying that you are Herr Heike Eisen, daughter of Albrecht and Sieglinde Eisen, Knight-Valiant of the Knightly Order of the Golden Blade, honorary member of the Night Watchmen Chapter of Templar?”

Heike Eisen

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike waited as the man, as he said, thought for a moment to give proper credit to her answer. And she had a moment to consider her good fortune. Were she in command of her own errantry of knights, as a Knight-Valiant ought to be, then this venture in Iron Lake would have been a trivial matter--as trivial as a combat engagement can be. Yet she had been alone and, at the time, facing the prospect of vastly superior numbers. She would have endeavored to raise a militia out of the villagers of Iron Lake, but if they could not or did not heed the call (not everyone had the spirit of a Citizen and Warrior) and there was no other answer available, what then?

This was the sort of conflict the knight before her had posed with his question. Heike had a general obligation to punish the guilty and protect the innocent, but her duty--her one true duty--was to Reikhurst, and this duty trumped all other obligations. And though her conscience would have agonized mightily if it had been proven that there was nothing she could do for Iron Lake (lest she herself be certainly killed in a vain effort), a greater pain of conscience would be knowing that so aiding (or attempting to aid) Iron Lake would lead to a dereliction or outright failing of her duty to Reikhurst.

Philosophers liked to place circumstances in neat, perfect voids. And this was one: if it had come down to it, a stark and unavoidable choice between Iron Lake and Reikhurst, then Heike would every time choose Reikhurst. The sorrows laden in the countenances of that farmgirl, of the villagers, she would simply have to bear as she pressed on.

So her good fortune: that this fellow knight, possessed of extraordinary skill and ability, had spared her the possibility of having to make such a choice.

The plate-armored man opened his eyes, and Heike (certainly overdue, this) sheathed her longsword and listened to his appraisal. Classic. Yes, ancient. The Oaths she had sworn and the metaphysics which underpinned them went back to centuries before Reikhurst's founding.

Then, after a pause, he spoke his name and gave his full address. And to which, as he was speaking, Heike stood rigidly and rendered a crisp salute.

...my order has heard much of you...

As Heike's hand fell back to her side, her face lit up with surprise. She certainly wasn't expecting that. The Order of the Enshrined Blade was one which to her was unfamiliar, though perhaps the Knight-Commanders or the Lord Commander himself (whilst they were all still alive) knew of them. Sir Ostrum did indeed know much more of her than she of him. He knew of her parents, that she was an honorary Templar, and he even got her title of Herr correct, pronouncing it flawlessly. It was, in the initial moment, shocking that someone she had just met could know so much of her. Yet...such a thing had been commonplace, back when Reikhurst still thrived. It felt good to be recognized, however it was that Sir Ostrum had come about the knowledge; for those five years spent as a vampire were as if she lived as a shadow of herself, all of what she had earned through hard effort and all that she had been proud of in her life transfigured into a new, wretched existence as a monster, a fiend.

This. This felt good.

"Proud daughter of Albrecht and Sieglinde Eisen, is the only amendment I would make," she said with an effervescent smile. Such was a Reikhurstan custom, to declare oneself as the proud son or daughter of one's parents and therefore of one's place in the family unit.

"Sir Ostrum Brandish, we are well met. Forgive me, for my knowledge is not so esoteric as to impress you, but nonetheless I am honored to be in the presence of a Knight of the Enshrined Blade."

Heike's brow furrowed as a sudden realization began to dawn on her. And she canted her head in an inquisitive manner.

"You said that you had a charge? Where might this..."

He knew so much.

Her eyes dipped down in consideration of the impossible. No, impossible was too strong a word. The unlikely. The highly unlikely. Yet...he knew so much.

She looked back over to him.

"...Have you been looking for me?"

Ostrum Brandish

 

[Ostrum Brandish]

When Herr Heike Heisen offered her salute, he offered his own, the first of many to be issued he knew. His heels snapped together and his hand went to his brow and swiftly delivered the sign of mutual respect that all knights knew and offered to worthy friend and worthy foe alike. He felt satisfaction as he delivered the gesture as his month long travel to reach her had finally yielded such expressed behaviour.

Ostrum's smile was dissolved by the action, it brought him to the fore of military thinking. He relaxed from his salute and continued to speak, for he sensed that if he did not speak quickly he might create suspicion in his charge that he bore malcontent for want of such pauses in information. He appreciated what it was to have one's actions loom over them when one could not return the judgement in kind. He knew this from his most recent Hallowed Castigation, where he actions performed were held in measure against him, scrutinised, reviewed, cast against the light of one's peers and betters with the real possibility of destroying one in the process.

“Proud daughter of Albrecht and Sieglinde Eisen,” Ostrum said to correct his previous address. He considered the failure in the Venerated Servants who provided such information to forget this important detail. Someone might get reprimanded for such a lapse of information should he give the word. He dismissed the thought at once. The Venerated Servants had already served their purpose well enough to equip him properly to know his charge's history, they had performed admirably enough, Ostrum considered.

“Forgive my lack of precision in my address,” Ostrum uttered, “Although information has been gathered for some years, and thought thorough, it is driven by all too fallible hands. Such is the nature of fieldwork by those who offer our Order precious eyes in this world from our seclusion. I shall personally update our records when the time comes for me to return to my order, so that you might be properly honoured and addressed. And in many ways I am glad you have not heard of my order. It means we as a whole still satisfy one of the dials of conduct to which we draw direction. We should not bring about fame to ourselves but to our charges, and their causes,” Ostrum said, reciting his code.

“Yes, Herr Heike Eisen, I have been set with finding you.”

The smile returned and he waved his hand as if it to dismiss any implication of threat behind the statement.

“Fear not. You are deemed worthy. And bluntly speaking, you are a knight. You are not solely patrician, you wield blade and oath, as I do. I shall speak plainly then, so as not to fray your nerves as to my presence. From one knight to another, I shall speak plainly,” Ostrum repeated to reassure his company.

Ostrum's smile disappeared again, and it was replaced by a seriousness that was respectful to the sensitive subject matter.

“You are no foe of mine, should you be thinking that possibility due to your past. Make no mistake however. Your past is known. Your embroilment with darker forces was with fervour discussed amongst those who were charged with making the decision to send an agent of my order.”

It was up to each Enshrined Blade to make introductions as they saw fit. Some would offer themselves with a salute and offer military report of their capacity and potential to assist. Others would try to ingratiate themselves favourably in a courtly fashion, pledging fealty until the end of the cause was brought about. Ostrum had decided on the long journey that the Golden Blades should be treated honestly and fairly. There had been much discussion of vampirism being a disqualifier for help. Heike deserved to hear such a truth.

Keen minds of justice spoke true during the discussion of if someone should be sent to assist the Order of the Golden Blade. Some discontent had been voiced, but in the end, it had been agreed that an agent should be sent to assist Reikhurst as a whole. And this Herr Heike Eisen who now represented them.

Ostrum continued with this in mind.

“Indeed, you performed admirably from what I heard to preserve your honour despite your previous circumstances. I offer a quote from my superior, Hallowed Blade Sir Sebastian Illdoren, to which I agree whole heartedly.”

Ostrum changed his register, speaking with authority, as he echoed the literal words spoken by his superior. It would not do to meekly offer such words. They were expert thoughts. Thoughts from one who had survived the ardours of the life of the Hallowed Blade and elevated to the peerage of leadership. One of five who commanded and guided the Hallowed Blades in their direction.

“'When facing the wickedness that is the vampire scourge, one is forced to consider that being turned is a real possibility from such fiends should they gain advantage in battle. Such risks are to be understood when engaging with such a foe. Just as we accept death for common conflict, we accept the possibility of being turned to stone by the gorgon, and we accept becoming lost with fighting the minotaur, so too should we accept the possibility that we should be turned when engaging the vampire. Such a condition does not damn the valiant inherently for falling victim to it, only if one resembles the beast and brings further carnage should they be put to the sword. One can seek absolution from such a fate. And indeed, this knight of the Golden Blade has done exactly that.'”

Ostrum cleared his throat and continued, his tone becoming more familiar as he spoke from the heart instead of reciting the words of his superiors.

“I choose to believe the reports that you did your utmost not to harm anyone, that you did not succumb to the mindset of the vampire. I need not ask you if such is true, and I shall not test you with such unworthy talk. The Hallowed Blade, Sir Illdoren, is an expert on fighting the undead, and was the primary one to advocate for your worthiness. Indeed, he instructed me on a few killing arts before I headed out on this task, so I might better serve your purpose against the vampires that roam. To assist you in re-establishing Reikhurst is what I have been charged with, as best I can and as best as you direct. There are many tasks to be performed. I know that this is a lot to appreciate. But I am here to help you in your tasks. Such is my purpose, for however long it may take.”

Ostrum knew that this might be quite some time, but had accepted in his heart the value of such a task. He knew he had been speaking for some now, and allowed Herr Heike to respond. He knew it might all together be shocking.

Heike Eisen

 

[Heike Eisen]

The diligence with which he corrected himself was impressive, as many qualities of this knight were proving to be. He, and mayhap his Order as a whole, placed a heavy emphasis on the spoken word, on its careful wielding and its correctness, and it showed.

Yes, Herr Heike Eisen, I have been set with finding you.

And there it was. She wasn't mistaken. He had mentioned a charge, and though it well could have been anyone, the knowledge he had of her and of the Golden Blades maybe proving circumstantial, she was nonetheless that very charge. From all he had said prior her apprehensions had melted away, for she could scarcely imagine anyone, knight or bounty hunter or whatever it may be, taking the care to speak her address properly and to update records to reflect the same--certainly all that bother wouldn't be worthwhile when she stood before him, unarmored, extending a measure of trust--if he had truly meant her harm.

Then Ostrum said it. And Heike was not expecting it.

Your past is known.

Her eyes slowly widened, and her expression stretched long.

Like the distant echo of a stone dropped from a gorge, the shock was like a low thump in her chest. A missed beat of heart (oh the blessed beating of her heart). Heike, in some form of hopeful denial, thought for a second that it had to be something from her time as a Knight and Knight-Valiant before Reikhurst's fall, some embarrassing foul-up that made for quite the common story among new recruits in any military, order, or martial company. What he knew of her--her rank, her parents, even her honorary status as a Templar (Bronmarch was a people person, after all)--were things that were more or less public knowledge, if one knew where to look. Surely. Surely...he didn't mean to say that he knew--

To preserve your honor...

The wickedness that is the vampire scourge...

Did you utmost not to harm anyone, that you did not succumb to the mindset of the vampire...

Heike slowly dipped her head down, bringing a hand up and with the tips of her fingers lightly touching her forehead, her brow. She felt weak in the knees. Sick to her stomach. It was an incredibly peculiar and upsetting feeling, but...somehow...it had been easier to say that she was a vampire when she was a vampire. In the Monster Hunter Fortress, in the city of Shadokien, she had been asked directly, and she had spoken the truth, even though in both instances it very well could have led to her death. She had sat across a table from two Templar and told them that she was a vampire, and such a thing was easier. Because it was plain and evident, and it was clear to be seen beneath her hood and under her mask, clear as the freakish claws she had hidden away under the veil of her shawl. But this now, in the wake of her cure? Now that she was a woman again, an actual human being, with her healthy flesh, with her eyes the bronze with which she had been born, with fangs no longer despoiling her smile and claws no longer disfiguring her hands, with a blessed heartbeat and blood that ran strong and warm! Now, having regained her humanity and with it readily on display, for someone to know that she had been a vampire, that she had been that wretched monster she remembered seeing in the mirror, came with a heightened sense of shame. She felt like she was harboring a dark secret beneath a bright veneer, as if within the brilliant sun itself lay a core consisting of the inky void of the night sky.

She was human now. She was. But she could remember vividly the feeling of those claws, the coldness of a stilled heart and inert blood, of the sinful ecstasy of feeding...

Heike stretched out her hand behind herself. Slowly descended down to sit on the ground, leaning back on that outstretched hand, looking terribly dizzy all of a sudden. Indeed, it was the suddenness and unexpectedness of Sir Ostrum proclaiming that he knew which brought on such a powerful nausea.

She swallowed. Couldn't look at him.

"...How did you know?"

What Ostrum had said of Reikhurst, of assisting her, had yet to even register.

Ostrum Brandish

 

[Ostrum Brandish]

Ostrum experienced an involuntary shiver about his person at the sight of the knight laid low by his words, a shiver which he did his best to conceal. A gamut of thoughts followed his efforts to remain stoic in spite of the vulnerability in his charge. Each was allowed to pass by, unseized, disregarded, discarded.

As according to his training he would wait until the correct thought emerged, something worthy, something useful to be gripped and utilised.

Proud daughter? Your pride can't even resist such a truth being known!
Does she not realise I'm here to help? The insolence of it!
How did I know? Because my order's purpose is to know and respond!
Is this how I felt the first time I was placed under Hallowed Castigation? Exposed so?
Am I the first to know of her past? And wield it?

Ostrum breathed a cleansing breath and settled his shoulders from the shiver he had endured. He reasoned it was a natural reaction to seeing such vulnerability in one he had such high expectations and hopes for. Like a dog snapping at a timid owner, his body had rejected the sight instinctively.

Did she not hear me before? I'm here to help!
She is brave enough to face vampires but is not braced against truth as a weapon!
Have I been charged to assist someone who has such weakness about them?

Ostrum frowned as his thoughts raced. He forged his thoughts further as he refused to indulge these violent lashings of his own pride. He removed the impurity that was his harsh judgements about the knight-valiant. His thoughts slowed as he declined the opportunity to rebuke each thought in turn. He viewed them unworthy, and were allowed to slip between his fingers like grains of sand.

A moment passed and Ostrum's thoughts became more precise and honest to his intent. Less clouded by bickering emotions that felt betrayed, more true to the nature of his presence. The words formed far more elegantly within his mind, carrying a lyrical quality that was the hallmark of excellent thinking.

The shock must have been too much,
A heavy burden such a past affliction must be,
I must tread carefully, yet honestly.

Yes, this is the correct conduct,
I'm here to help and assist,
Now soothe and direct, better thyself and hint of hostility desist.

His mindset now correct to his own values and channelled using the vow of lexicon, he remained still, as if drawing nearer might shock further. It was as if he had cast a terrible boulder into a pool of water and was waiting for stillness to rule again so that he might peer into clear waters again.

The fire continued to crackle and the new logs that had been added took to igniting.

Ostrum spoke slowly, his mind gathered and composed, his words delivered as to reassure and inform.

“The Enshrined Blades do not pledge support to individuals without extensive research. Especially knights. But I assure you. I'm here to help. And your secret is safe.”

Ostrum continued.

“As to how...my order knows because it is thorough. Agents in the field who grant us eyes and ears to the past and present are diligent, and again, extensive research was necessary. The process took years, for good reason. There was no weakness in your concealment of such a past affliction. Nor judgement as to why you have done so.”

He paused. He held his breath for a moment.

“Certainly not from me,” he said.

I spoke too much previously. I didn't give my charge time to receive it all. Patience Ostrum, patience.

“I'll answer any and all questions I can. I apologise for the shock. It was unreasonable of me to speak so swiftly about such a...sensitive issue.”


Heike Eisen

 

[Heike Eisen]

Herr Heike Eisen.

Once it had been that this was the whole story of her being, and there was a purity to it. A daughter of Reikhurst, answering the call to assume personal responsibility for the welfare of the Kingdom and thus becoming a Citizen and Warrior, striving for induction into the elite Order of the Golden Blade, succeeding in this arduous effort, earning the prestigious title of "Herr" and being entrusted with upholding the very virtues which defined her people. A dream born as a girl, realized as a woman. Through the blood, sweat, and tears she had forged a story that other sons and daughters of Reikhurst could aspire to.

Then Reikhurst fell, and she was left as a vile monster, in league with the fiends who had brought that very ruin by way of her twisted form and abhorrent thirst for blood. Herr Heike Eisen, all her accomplishments and all the facets of her life, reduced to the ash in which she had awoken. A single night had burned away every treasure she had known, leaving her with merely intangible mementos.

But she did not give up.

Though she had fallen far from where she had once stood, she persevered to rise back up. Most crucial of all in the story she had forged was not her success, but the manner in which she attained it. She had faltered, failed, and fallen constantly. But it was the rising from having so fallen that remained the key. This was what ought be aspired to, for any and all who might know her story and take from it some example.

Yes, it was utterly shameful that she and the Order had failed Reikhurst against the Slaughterns. Yes, it was utterly shameful that she had been turned into a monster and, as they did, drank the blood of the innocent (and even of the guilty, for the act itself was repulsive and sinful). Yet it would forever remain a dark part of her history now. The girl who dreamed of becoming a knight, the woman who accepted her Accolade and her earned title thereof, the very same had as well been a vampire...and no cure could rid her of that truth.

So be it.

Persevere. Rise.

And Heike, with a heart laden with that shame, that embarrassment, endured the acidic grip of these emotions, and rose up to her feet. She held her head up, as was only right and proud. And she met Ostrum's gaze again.

"I...apologize for my lack of composure. I will strive to improve, and to bear my ordeals more worthily in the future."

And to the matter at hand, the reason why he was here, the reason behind their not-so-chance meeting along the outskirts of Iron Lake.

"Nevertheless, I am heartened by the support that your Order has deemed fit to pledge to the cause I represent. For in the end, it is my people, the Reikhurstan people, who stand to benefit most, and I would have it no other way."

No judgment from from her fellow knight concerning her past, that dark part of it. A magnanimous gesture, and one that--despite his cordial and friendly demeanor all this time--she would not have expected for herself. Especially if she had still been a vampire. A question, therefore, did indeed arise in her mind.

"You have not cast judgment on me, and neither shall I of you nor your Order for the answer I wish to hear. I would hear it with the full weight of truth, as well."

She looked to the campfire for a moment. Its glow reflected in the bronze of her eyes and there it seemed twin forges were put to work, the metal hot.

"Would the Enshrined Blades still have pledged their aid if I were still a vampire? If the good fortune of a cure had proven forever elusive to me?"

Ostrum Brandish

 

[Ostrum Brandish]

Ostrum issued a solitary hum of thought upon hearing the question. And then another as he found his conclusion.

I'm being tested. Or rather, our valuation system is being tested. Very well.

“Piercing question. I respect that,” Ostrum said with a smile, “and I understand why you ask such a thing.”

Ostrum met Heike's gaze for a few precious moments, and then turned his vision to the campfire as he did his best to answer honestly without dismaying his company. He gestured with his hands at certain moments, as if yielding information and opinion freely by virtue of his gestures.

“I'll answer your excellent question as candidly as I can,” Ostrum began, his tone more conversational, as if the first blow of a training session had been offered and met with his own weapon satisfactorily, an interchange of blows to offer the other an idea of what they were capable of. This was, Ostrum hoped, the first of many candid conversations between the two of them. And while he wanted to be as forthright as possible, he had to ensure that his own order was protected in evaluation.

Balance, Ostrum, balance.

“Firstly, please bear in mind that I had no voice in the discussion as to if you should be accepted as my charge, merely that I was assigned to such a duty. But...I can try to speak on how the Hallowed Blades, my superiors, the ones that lead us and assign us our charges and missions, might think. Their prerogatives. I'll do my best to elucidate.”

Ostrum cleared his throat and began.

“Had another worthy survivor of the Reikhurstan people, a leader, a symbol in which to be drawn upon be present, and you been afflicted still? My order most likely would have assigned me to that person. It was your cause first that guides us. You are the rallying point to that cause now, and deemed more worthy due to your overcoming of the dark, you are now the most worthy and likely to succeed at what is ahead of the cause to restore your people.”

Ostrum gestured with his hands, an open gesture, as if he was revealing his hand in a poker game.

“To explain. Our Order does not help out of charity, more necessity, both to others and itself. We act for the good of the realm. And to continue to do that, those we assist are expected to return the favour through pledging resources, be it manpower, intelligence, a simple financial exchange, or loyalty in some form or another. We recently survived a severe blow to our Order. Good help is given by our Order, good help is returned. It's how we survive on, and thrive. Providing an Enshrined Blade is successful that is, and by what measure they are successful.”

“We are a small order with many people needing our assistance. And to receive boons from a vampire in return for the restoration of the Reikurst? That would have most likely caused complications. We are practical. But not that practical. That would be the overarching issue, from command's perspective.”

“But I'm aware I might be seen as dodging the question. Would my Order pledge a knight to a vampire? I've never heard of such a thing. It would conflict with a primary vow of all agents, the vow of wrathful conclusion. Should my charge die, or are incapacitated, I am ordered to deliver about wrath to their enemies, and carry out their wishes for a time. So, in your instance, I would do my best to give enough backbone to your cause so that it would not crumble...and deliver death to those who would have ended your journey, and beyond. Up to a year that would last. Sometimes longer.”

“A vampire who is slain might die at the hand at very pious hands indeed. We as an order do not shy away from difficult confrontations, even so far as...” Ostrum said, and realised that his next words revealed an aspect of his task within his own order, that of bringing Hallowed Castigation to another. He wet his lips and furrowed his brow at the thought.

“...unfortunate circumstances where Enshrined Blades must engage with one another. Complications do arise. Causes sometimes come in conflict with one another. And we are not infallible. But delivering retribution for the death of a vampire would be...a difficult task for any Enshrined Blade. And one the Hallowed Blades, I'm sure, would not agree with. It might have terrible consequences and innocent causalities. It would conflict with our providence to the just, who might deliver such a deathstroke to a vampire.”

“So, forgive my verbosity. But no, I don't think it would have been so. However, if you were in the company of someone one of my Order was assigned to, your existence would have not damned you. A cure might have been pursued, as part of the duties I'd be expected to perform for whoever was in charge of the effort to restore your people. That I can imagine.”

Heike Eisen

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike had asked for the full weight of truth, and she received it.

Sir Ostrum laid out in detail the ways in which his Order operated. It was no trivial matter for anyone who wished to perform acts of altruism in the world that they discern correctly who ought be the beneficiaries. A general of sentiment of good will for all was untenable--an unfortunate circumstance, but a very real one. Lending aid to those who had made themselves unworthy through ignoble actions, to those who were merely ostensibly good, or to those who were outright wicked was folly, and undermined the ultimate good that was to be achieved by the act of altruism itself by perpetuating said ignobility, said deception, said wickedness.

So Heike took no offense when Ostrum said that if another Reikhurstan leader had emerged, then he or she would have been chosen. She herself knew that she could not lead her people whilst afflicted with vampirism. They would not have accepted her, and nor should they. It would have presented an issue that Heike herself dealt with as a vampire, an issue Ostrum addressed directly: pious hands often seek to slay vampires. When confronted by good, righteous men and women, men and women who had done no wrong and sought (correctly, in her own opinion) to slay her for what she was, it was all Heike could do to run and evade. She would not bring harm onto them. Having to slake that wretched, vampiric thirst was horrible enough. Raising a clawed hand to strike against good men and women, even in her own defense, was too much--her conscience would not have allowed for it.

And we are not infallible. At this, Heike's expression had melted into complete, receptive understanding, even appreciation for this simple statement. For she could relate wholly with it. Hell's fury, she could truly relate with it. That purity of her life, the unblemished journey, was gone. She had been forced to make agonizing, gray decisions whilst persevering as a vampire, and though she had not broken the letter of her Oaths, she had indeed tortured the spirit of them. Herr Dieter Roth had often said during her initiation that the road of honor was a hard one indeed, and he said as well that the true test of upholding one's Oaths came in times of strife--and these words she had lived through and endured. A curiosity emerged then: what might Sir Ostrum have endured? She wished mightily that he had been spared such torturous tribulations, that he had lived the best life he could have lived, but...the world seemed especially primed to challenge any who would undertake a solemn oath.

At Ostrum's conclusion, Heike gave a slow nod and spoke.

"All that you have said, I would have no other way. You have shed light on the guiding ethics of your Order, and all that I see is honorable. And you have my word, that when I am able and have the proper capacity available to me, I will see to it that the favor so extended by the Enshrined Blades to Reikhurst's cause is returned."

A brief glance about the bandits' campsite. The Enshrined Blades had sent in Ostrum a formidable warrior indeed, and that is exactly what Heike needed. The task before her was immense, so grand in scale that it dwarfed hope and fostered the despair of "it cannot be done." Which might well explain why she was the first among the survivors to even begin a serious attempt. For most of her five years spent as a vampire, she had thought it a lost cause too. But now she saw the light of hope, however faint.

And it was men like Ostrum who would help her reach it. For she knew as a certainty that she could not do so alone.

Heike half turned her stance toward the surrounding woods, and said to Ostrum, "Shall we depart from here, and return to Iron Lake?"

Much could surely be discussed in the journey.

Ostrum Brandish

 

[Ostrum Brandish]

Ostrum was satisfied by the understanding displayed by his charge, that she was not offended by his answer, nor by how his order's rhetoric functioned to keep them fighting in the world and functioning as a useful organisation.

Aid provided meant aid returned. It was a simple exchange, and one the Enshrined Blade enacted out of necessity. The orders that were charitable with their resources were soon bled dry of them. Each allocation of an agent was carefully calculated based off need, worthiness, chance of success, and more often than not, cold logistics to see what gain could be brought about for the Enshrined Blade's longevity should the task be completed properly. Should the assigned charges be elevated by merit of an Enshrined Blade's presence and efforts. Long gone were the days the Order able to go about operations because it was simply the necessary thing to do.

Ostrum aware of this fact due to his success at his previous mission. After one's first successful mission within the order, certain facts became revealed. A fresh faced knight had enough to bear in responsibilities with their first assigned task without being burdened with the realities of how the upper echeleon of command thought. There were some divisions in thought, but pragmatism was the guiding hand that lead them here and prevented them from total dissolution from attrition and expenditure. There were only so many sources of money, supplies, manpower, and intelligence. They were all spent wisely, shrewdly, and with an understanding that too many losses without any gains could spell doom for future ventures. All this Ostrum understood now that he had completed his first assigned task.

He wondered at this moment, what new perspectives might be granted to him should he succeed at this mission. To bring this Herr Eisen back into glory, into formidable command, back into the position of strength with soldiers to command and lands to defend.

One thing at a time, Ostrum thought. To travel first, and be closer to the impending task. And then, more would be revealed.

“Yes, let us depart, the threat is dealt with here, introductions have been made, and there is much to do,” Ostrum said, his voice cheerful and his motion carried with a spring in his step.

He went over to the venison upon the spit and carved out a small chunk for himself with a small knife from his belt, which he ate quickly as he looked for the weapon he had thrown at one of the bandits. His eyes scanned his path of carnage as he remembered each blow delivered, each life ended.

The hammer was lying beside one who had been attacked so decidedly by the object, and Ostrum reached over and put it back onto his belt with a sharp motion, as if disciplining the object into obedience as not to sway wildly as he would move.

“Lead the way, Knight-Gallant,” Ostrum said, his tone full of satisfaction as to be able to finally say those words to his new charge, that he was working with someone who knew how to use a blade, and knew the ways of the knight. It would make this a far more pragmatic working relationship than his previous mission.

“What information I have I'll share on the road, but I won't burden you with all of it just yet. There's plenty of time for such things, in the light of day, Herr Eisen," Ostrum said as he gestured for Heike to take point.

Information like the potential foe that loomed within his imagination. The one he knew he would have to face with wit or weapon. One like himself. One sworn to oath and vow. Not a traitor, yet, one who betrayed themselves by refusing to adhere to protocol. To understand when a battle was done and lost.

There will be time to brace my charge against such knowledge. And to think of what glory awaits me should I succeed at bringing him back to the fold, instead of his conviction to the cause that emboldens us. What terrible violence has already been committed in the name of vows and oaths that I may have to add to it further. The very circumstance I hinted at may come about again.

One Enshrined Blade against the other, fighting for their own honour, spiting our scarce number by neccessity. I hope it does not come to it. But...I must be ready to do what I must.

And she must be ready to witness such a thing, to understand it too.

In time. In time.


Heike Eisen

 

[Heike Eisen]

Out of the forest and back onto the road, Pneria and Lessat each lighting the way with their soft moonlit glow. Iron Lake lay at the end of their trek, and they would be sure to reach it before dawn. The night watchmen in town would be delighted to hear the good news, and might well be surprised and a little abashed to know that they had in fact procured the help of not one but two passing knights. It was their good fortune, and they were entitled to it. Though there in truth had been no vampire, the townsfolk deserved to rest easy in the knowledge that, for now, they had eluded the danger that had been present.

A long and hard day of travel toward Telefar lay ahead, certainly. Heike could already feel the light tinge of sleep clawing for purchase at the far corners of her eyes, but she banished fatigue's entreaty from her mind--an simple enough task, after having endured many a sleepless night whilst undergoing initiation and whilst on proper campaign; and she didn't even entertain the thought of the plethora of effortless nights absent of sleep whilst she was a vampire.

And her thoughts turned to Sir Ostrum, the knight beside her. A question then formed.

"From the research your order has performed, you know a great deal of me, and yet I know little of you, Sir Ostrum. You weren't born into the Enshrined Blades, I presume. So from where do you hail? Where is home for you?"

To Heike, the Order of the Golden Blades was inseparable from Reikhurst, and vice versa. It was for Reikhurst that the Order existed, it was for Reikhurst that the Order fought, and it was for Reikhurst that those of the Order often sacrificed everything. Service in the Golden Blades meant service to the Kingdom as a whole, assuming personally the grand responsibility for the Kingdom's defense and for the safe keeping of those who dwelled within it. The Enshrined Blades, by contrast, seemed a cosmopolitan Order, based nowhere and with potential interests everywhere. The concept she could understand and readily endorse, but those who made up this Order all did hail from somewhere, and perhaps harbored the intention that by doing good and righteous deeds abroad would make Arethil as a whole safer by the sum total of their efforts. And thus, by extension, their own homes.

Did Sir Ostrum feel this way? Or was he more like some of the travelers and adventurers that Heike had come across in her time as a vampire? There were some of that number whose wanderlust simply eclipsed their love of homeland, and they departed on good terms, without any ill-tempered feelings. And yet there were also those fled from their homes and never looked back, adopting instead the open road and wherever they may so rest their head. And it was this latter group that Heike could never understand: they had a home, perfectly intact, and willingly abandoned it as if it were a repulsive thing. Yet here she was, their opposite, longing for hers as it lay in ruin.

In a way, she was asking to know more specifically of Ostrum the man, not so much Sir Ostrum, Knight of the Enshrined Blades.

Ostrum Brandish

 

[Ostrum Brandish]

Ostrum was forced to agree with Heike's assessment.

“It's true,” Ostrum said, “I do know a great deal about you, and all you can know of me is what I share. Only fair you'd expect counterweight to such imbalanced scales,” Ostrum said with a quiet smile about him. It had taken his previous charge three months to ask him anything at all personal. Felix had been a busy and young man, and had been busy with being young.

“Most of my comrades don't remember what their lives were before orientation. Or don't admit the truth of it. Life before drills. Before trials and tests and violence and discipline. Before the code.” Ostrum talked slowly, each sentence an admission of the harsh life that an Enshrined Blade was expected to endure, if not die at, before they were pledged with a task. Ostrum did not speak lightly. His eyes were fixed on the horizon as he spoke.

“And if they do, they don't talk about it. They don't hint that there was a before. That such a thing is even possible for us. At least, they've never spoken to me so. I think my comrades find it painful. Or simply a distraction. That they might not want to be seen as weak in reminiscing about what was before. But that's not the answer you're asking, or one that would satisfy me were I asking in your position. You're asking who I am. Who I was...before the Order. Very well.”

Ostrum's eyes carried the familiar sting of lack of sleep and he was grateful for it, for it meant that his charge knew how to press on, a military life involving necessary hardship. He continued, his speech slow, as he was not used to speaking on such a subject. His words carried a slightly disjointed element to it, as if this was not an arranged or perfect story, but rather what best he could recover from the mists of time for his charge.

“I remember evergreen woods. The sound of axes felling trees...and the almighty crash of newly felled lumber. Of a small home, made from such lumber, that my father and mother called home. We called home. My father worked as many did, felling the trees, transporting lumber...and I remember he made wooden swords. Not just for me, for the other children in the community. What community there was. Wooden swords that we were taught to never use in an actual encounter. That's what the knife was for. I always remember having a knife as a child. It was normal for us. We never drew them against each other. Never. We all knew it was for only thing. I remember not having a knife to my belt for a long time when I was inducted. I kept a sharpened stick in my belt instead. Only way I felt...comfortable.”

Ostrum pursed his lips.

“I remember the warnings of what lurked in the woods at night. My father used to tell me things he'd seen on his travel home. Eyes that you sometimes saw. Tracks you sometimes found. Bodies. And there were bodies, found regularly. Often we had no idea who they were. Strangers, lost, found by us. Sometimes there was no sign of how they'd met their end. Sometimes. Most times, great gouges of claw and tooth. Funerals, I remember funerals for kids my age. Kids who didn't listen to the warnings. And adults, either from accidents or, well, those beasts that lurked and tracked and bounded. There weren't many of us. But we survived as best we could. My mother fished. And I think she might have practiced some magic, although she never did such a thing in front of us. She might have been a healer. She did not speak of it. I was left to wonder. Always to be told, 'when you're older you might understand, I will show you'. Or did she say teach? I cannot remember. Obviously such a time never came about. Otherwise I might know more magic than my fundamental arcane defence.”

Ostrum paused. Frowned at his own lack of fluidity to his words. Yet continued.

“But such a recollection, as I've put it thusly, I realise, is rather morbid. But it's what I remember, for now. I haven't had much time to think on it. Or rather, my mind was applied to more utility than to long for the past. To answer more simply, I believe I came somewhere from the south. I was never shown a map as a child, but I've come to believe it was Falwood. Somewhere south of Falwood perhaps. I overheard a superior when I was young speak of new bloods from Falwood, and well, I assume that's where I was. I don't know if I could ever find the exact spot I had my childhood to be honest with you. I left when I was ten, compelled by the local baron to fulfil his pledge. Not his own children who went. The few who were deemed strong enough, those who were worthy of being uplifted. And I was indeed uplifted. Not all were found worthy, and those who were, not all survived. I remember my father's words to me. 'Become one of their number, and go beyond what you could imagine son, it will be extraordinarily difficult, but you will become extraordinary in the process.' I remember those words, yes. Gravely spoken. And absolutely true."

Ostrum moved hair from each corner of his face.

"I think of if I ever returned, I'd slay every monster within five miles of the place. If there's even anyone still living around there. If they haven't all been wiped out by their presence by now.”

Heike Eisen

 

[Heike Eisen]

There was a kind of haunting quality to Ostrum's recollection of home. As if it were fragmented, disappearing from view or slipping, like sand, through his fingers. As if the further he was from it, the less, inevitably, he remembered.

Or maybe it was more a statement of life in a small village, wherein each day was not so distinguished from the one which preceded it nor the one which followed it, a kind of cozy haze fogging the memory of its contented inhabitants as the simple, day-to-day life was not so often punctuated by events of significant note. Heike, having lived in a large city, knew well that she romanticized the quaint life of a small village, thinking it endearing to be a part of a community which all knew one another. The reality was likely different. Not better or worse than her preconceptions--just different.

Back to Ostrum. Mayhap again, his recollection was a statement of the man himself. How he had given himself over to the Enshrined Blades much in the same way that those itinerant travelers and adventurers gave themselves to the wide open road. It was a touch sad (and a small frown on her face betrayed this) that Ostrum very likely could not locate his own home if he were given a map. Simply somewhere in Falwood.

Yet what he had said in closing sparked a small fire of kinship in Heike's chest. Slaying every monster around the periphery of his home--was her goal, even if its end shape was different, not forged of that same steel? Was it not the most crucial step, to retake Reikhurst by force from the clutches of the False King and his vampiric host? And more so, had she not entertained thoughts that a new order ought to be established in Reikhurst, a third armed branch distinct from the Guard and the Golden Blades, whose sole mission would be to hunt down vampires, and indeed, why not, other monsters as well? Ostrum's sentiment silently set the embers of a future hearth, that, should she live to see Reikhurst restored, that such an order be so established. This, so that none may wonder as Ostrum did: if they haven't all been wiped out by now.

"I hope that you do not find it intrusive of me to say as much, but...I believe that you've an obligation to yourself to return to your home one day. I--" Heike pursed her lips for a moment, canted her head as she searched for the most articulate and tactful way to express her thoughts. "I can scarcely imagine being so far removed from your home, from your family, that you do not even know whether they are alive or dead. Does it not trouble you that your mother and father must long to see you once more, to see the man that you have become?" She exhaled, making then a grand gesture to express her vexation--good-natured or not, vexation it nonetheless was. "You left when you were merely a child. I...oh, huh, hm...would they even recognize you? Yet imagine their surprise! Imagine their great joy!"

She walked. Boots on the road, soles treading across the dirt, twin moons above.

"And if it is so that your home has met with tragedy in the intervening time between then and now, would this not be a call to duty worthy of the Enshrined Blades to answer?"

Her tone, slightly more dire in this last question.

Ostrum Brandish

 

[Ostrum Brandish]

Ostrum resisted the urge to balk at such a suggestion for want not to appear impertinent and rude. Heike had done him no wrong so far, commanded him to fight no unreasonable fight, there were many causes to carry bitterness as an ally to a cause but these questions had no character of foolishness, Ostrum thought. Just difference in thought. He knew that such a reflex of rejecting the value of the question would appear to be boorish and ill fitting towards his charge, and he fought against the desire to simply laugh off such a direction to act. Ostrum was tempered by experience with his previous charge's manners, and how to hold his tongue until his thoughts served the moment properly, and so that experience let him act diplomatically in this conversation.

He took a moment to think, his frown growing as he considered why he felt such derision towards the question. He thought on the fact that this knight held such a high value on home and it gave him much reprieve from his own scorning nature.

An admirable quality in a knight sworn to protect a land, to be tied to it so. To be so bound by it's peoples, of family. Yet, that is not my way. Not our way.

She doesn't know, and it is my duty to inform Herr Eisen of how things truly function for us.

“An obligation to myself, you say?” Ostrum said, his expression cracking into a wry smile, entertained by the notion now instead of dismissive of it. “My obligation is thus. To be all that I can be for those who forged me to become a living weapon, to those who taught me how to exist as I do, those those who petition my order for aid and to answer that call. My knightly lords, to my trainers, to the one who first placed a sword within my hand and instructed me to cut and cut again and to the one who will bury me with that blade. To uphold our purpose, and our duty to the worthy who would beseech us for aid...it is not my place to determine the merit of petitions. But, it is my place to go to where a single agent could make the difference between success and failure. It is my lot in life,” Ostrum said, without hint of begrudging such a fate.

He continued, more cheerful this time, as if he were pointing out the differences between night and day, how they were simply two sides of the same coin perhaps.

“My record of deeds would not grow due to such a venture, such a...quest, if I were to borrow the adventurer's term for such a pursuit, such a quest would only give a flicker of glory to my name. And barely that. To slay monsters in the wood is no cause for an Enshrined Blade to answer. The heart does not decide where we go. But the thought of the knightly and wise, those who have experienced hundreds of battles and survived, they direct us so that we can be all that we can be, that each victory is followed by a new challenge, one that serves the land and those caught in most desperate struggle."

“If I went as you said, what think you to those who I would be leaving without aid? Another knight perhaps, who's cause would go unanswered if I shouldered a thought to return to this idea of home, this place that I have outgrown. Think of those who's pleas would be unanswered for-” Ostrum said, and cut himself short. He knew that the idea of home was a precious one to Heike by this point. He did not want to finish his sentence and say such a thing was selfish.

“What I mean to say is that it would be insubordination, and deplete our resources with such a self serving task. We are human, yes, but we are living weapons, and should only be drawn at the behest of those who require shining steel. Providence to the just comes before providence to the innocent, as so my code directs. The just must be served in their purpose to maintain order, before the whims of the innocent and inexperienced.”

Ostrum softened a bit and revealed his thoughts in a further final moment.

“My parents knew that they would never see me again. And so I abide by their decision also,” Ostrum said quietly.


@Heike Eisen