The Road Not Taken

[Glenn]

#1

You open your eyes for the third time hoping that it is all somehow a dream. It is not. Your name is Elliot Brown. You are eleven years old. You ran away from home six months ago in the middle of the worst drought Myrken has seen in years. You had the stories and the wives' tales in your head. You could have run anywhere, but you ran towards the chapter house of the Shepherd Knights of the Silver Staff. Even growing up a Myrken dirt farmer cannot crush the dreams of a little boy, not completely. You are a squire. Whatever money you pieced together, you sent home to your family, but you did not look back yourself. You are a squire and you have dreams of being a knight, of standing between your family and friends and fellow squires and the dark things that have always plagued your home. You dream of being a hero. You dream of saving princesses and riding in tournaments. You should know better, Myrken Boy, but you are young enough not to, young enough to think with your heart, still, young enough to hope.

You open your eyes for the fourth time and see the world for what it really is. The fields outside the Priory of Snowstill are laden with blood and gore and death. And ash. The ash is your doing. Roland had been your friend; no, not a friend, but a brother. A brother-in-arms, a fellow squire. Sometimes you got along, sometimes you did not, but that was family. He was older like most of the other squires. You looked up to him. You saw him, just minutes ago, struck down by one of the Ashfiend's undead horde. You mourned in that moment. A moment was all you had, though, for sadness had quickly soured into horror. Roland had risen, but you knew better than to hope. You saw how he moved and you saw how he stared, blankly, empty, full of locomotion but not life. Sir Malaroth himself finally took the ambling boy's head off, right before your very eyes.

You open your eyes for the fifth time and see what it is that you must do. There is a torch in your hand. This was not to be your task, you the youngest of the squires, but others had fallen. Your knight, Sir.. it's funny. After all this time, do you even remember his name? Had you blocked it from your mind? Had you... Oh, of course. Sir Triston is as good a name as any other, right Elliot? Yes, His name was Sir Triston, and he had just been cut down by the Ashfiend's black blade. He falls before you, and you know what you must do. The lit torch. Your brave, horrified hand. Scared, terrified, shaking, but still you do what must be done. You are a hero of that day, burning bodies all over the field so that the Ashfiend's forces do not increase with every Myrken loss. You are a hero to be shunned and forgotten, of a knighthood that all but died in the defense of a land that was not even its home. You have no knight and there is none to take you. More squires survived than knights and you, as one of the youngest, should be shared, forgotten, neglected, until you find your own way, another orphan lost in the Wood. You cry out, far from home, shrouded in death, and more alone than you ever imagined you could be.

You open your eyes for the sixth time and there is an angel before you. She heard your pain even across Myrken Wood. She heard it and knew she must act. It is what she does. She helps those who are lost and who are alone because she can feel their need like no other. She found you and now she holds you in a caring embrace. You cry on to her shoulder as her veils brush against your cheek, soaking up your tears. She speaks soothing words and you know them to be true. It was horrible but it is over. The lesson to be learned from Snowstill was not one of pain and horror but of unity, and of heroism, and you, Elliot Brown, a boy with a torch who gave peace to so many, who prevented an army from rising with naught but a torch, you are as much a hero as anyone. She tells you these things and she means them. You can hear it in her voice. You can feel it in her calming hug. She pushes back the veil and you can see it in her eyes.

She speaks of your future of what she plans to provide for you and you smile; you smile when you thought you may never smile again. An assurance washes over you. Her assurance. Your new truth. It will be all right because she will make it so.

[Glenn]

#2

She straightens your hair and neatens your collar in preparation. There are butterflies in your stomach. You remember well the battle at Snowstill. You remember your fear even as you performed that solemn duty; Lady Rhaena has told you repeatedly how heroic it was, how heroic you were. You can see that she means it and still it brings color to your cheeks. You remember that fear but recognize this as different. This is nervous anticipation. It is weeks later and she has promised a surprise. Her connections as a trader have born fruit. You have tried to dissuade her multiple times, have tried to explain that you were not worth the trouble, but she has insisted on using her all to secure your future. That brings color to your cheeks as well.

She is calm and serene as always, taller than you but never looking down upon you. Her smile is hidden behind the veil but you've learned to see it other ways. It brings you strength and confidence. You have also learned to detect her excitement, even beneath such serenity and grace. She is looking forward to this, looking forward to your face when you meet the knight that has agreed to take you on.

She is not disappointed. You have your boyish hopes and suspicions even at first glance. He is tall, stout, closer to sixty years than fifty. His hair is neat but graying and with sizable balding in the back. Somehow, this only adds dignity, not that he needs it. His mustache is graying as well but intimidating in size and verve. His armor is immaculate; it carries the scars of battle and time yet is still polished and perfectly kept. The sword at his side is beautifully crafted and engraved, like none you have ever seen before. Despite all of that, it is his gaze that moves you the most. He stares to the very heart of you, seeing your nervousness, your fear, your bravery. He sees your potential and your failings. He sees the whole of you, Elliot Brown, and he is satisfied.

She is satisfied as well, both with his reaction and with yours. Sir Gahald is the name she provides him; your throat becomes dry as your suspicions and truly unreasonable expectations have been confirmed. He is a myth and a rumor in knightly circles, a name out of those very stories your mother told you, the ones that drove you to join the Order in the first place. He was a great chivalric hero of decades past who accomplished all he set out to accomplish and drove forth into Lothaine itself to fight the legendary evil that lurked past where all others dared to tread.

His voice is clear and kind, gruff but instantly inspirational. He tells of wonders witnessed and dangers battled, of a land where the old magic still flows like water, of a land where the extraordinary is mundane and where wonders and dangers truly never cease. He tells you that he has returned to restock, to resupply, to complete all that he must before the end of his days. Age has overtaken him, however, and he can no longer complete his journey alone. He needs a boy, brave and willing, to learn from him and to help him complete his quests.

You are reluctant to leave your lady, to be separated from her kindness and support. You know she is not alone in this world for how could anyone as wonderful as her not be surrounded by friends and loved ones, but she is far from home, as you will soon be. It will just be another connection between you, one of many it seems, for she speaks now, before this august knight and his newly adopted squire. She promises that while you work towards your goals, towards your future, she shall work towards her as well. When it is time for you to return, she shall be a great Lady, helping all of the land. You admire her already but she shall become someone to revered. When you return, you shall be your Lady's true knight.

You pack up your meager things. In his first act as your master, Sir Gahald helps you pen a letter to your parents. Reading is very important. Reading, writing, arithmetic, manners. These things are just as important as riding a horse and wielding a sword. You understand that now, Elliot Brown. These things are important to Rhaena Olwak. These things are important to Sir Gahald. These things are important to you. It is your first lesson and you learn it very well. You shall never, ever forget it, not in a hundred years. The letter is sent to your parents and the knights present you with a sword as a parting gift. It is very large, almost as tall as you. Sir Malaroth calls it The World for it will signify the responsibility you will carry upon your shoulders as a knight. You vow to grow strong and true and to one day return to your Lady to become her knight.

Then, with your goodbyes said, Sir Gahald and you ride off into the sunset towards Lothaine like heroes of old.

[Glenn]

#3

Your journey begins normally enough, normal sights and normal sounds. Soon enough, though, you are traveling through foreign provinces, farther from home than you've ever been. Finally, after a span of long, exciting weeks, you arrive at the outskirts of Lothaine. You encountered wolves and bears, coyotes, strange people and dialects. You were always moving though, Sir Gahald and yourself. He was stern, hard, but never unkind. He worked you everyday until you became stronger. At night he provided the foreign chocolate which was your only true comfort on your journeys, that and the seeds of bravery, propriety, and chivalry growing into a beautiful grove within your heart.

As you delve deeper into Lothaine the terrain begins to change. This is an ancient and mythic kingdom full of magic and technology the likes of which you could not even begin to imagine. Sir Gahald tells you that the land itself seems to change on chaotic whim. You trust him completely but are skeptical until you see it yourself. What is a lush forest one day is a scoured desert the next. In such a mad world, you learn the importance of discipline, of order, of the wise and good imposing their will upon all that is unclean, ugly, and rude. Neatness is very important to you. You learn to steel yourself against temptation and against doubt. It is only through trusting in the proper authority that one can do real good in this world and you want to do that good more earnestly each and every day.

Chivalry is your most important lesson but Sir Gahald builds upon your training as a squire. It's amazing how much you recall from those days with Sir Triston. Every lesson seems to reverberate in what Sir Gahald shows you, things you barely recalled. Part of your mind did, however, and he is an expert in using those to build your knightly skills. You grow stronger with the sword, with riding, and using the lance. His tutelage in itself would be invaluable, but you are also receiving firsthand training of a more practical sort. The beasts are growing fiercer, more outlandish, more nightmarish. They grow larger and stranger by far. Your adventures seem like something out of a fantastical dream, fairies and lizards that walk like men, sentient plants and savages riding the very clouds above your head.

Today though, it is something more straightforward yet something just as deadly as any of those more abstract threats, giant carnivorous sand-crabs. You've seen Sir Gahald dispatch one before, but today there are three that have been tracking your steeds. They are ten feet tall, with claws that can sever a man effortlessly. He looks to you with a ragged, noble confidence, with a sudden assurance and pride. Two of them, he will deal with. The third, though, must be yours. You are fourteen now. You have been with Sir Gahald for three years. This is to be your coming of age.

The beast chitters and squeals as its humongous claw swipes at you, an immediate killing blow. You are quick, though, far quicker than your mentor, far quicker than any knight should be. You do not use this speed to run or to hide, but instead to enhance your valor and bravery. You do not flee from the attack but charge headlong into it. The claw closes with an almost deafening snap, but you have moved through it deftly and are now climbing up towards the main expanse of the creature. Out of the corner of your eye you see Sir Gahald standing firm, deflecting and counterattacking, holding his ground. This heartens you, though in truth, you have been steadily shedding fear more as you encounter the dangers of the world. Before there had been necessity to drive you forward. Now there is honor. Fear is quickly becoming a far off memory from your past.

Right now you have action, quick, daring movements pushing you to the very top of your enemy's monstrous frame. There, your blade is drawn. You are stronger now, growth spurts having begun to transform your body. You wield it decisively if not yet perfectly. You wield it heroically. With a mighty downward thrust, the sword cuts through shell and exoskeleton straight into the heart of the beast. The crab takes three, four more sideways steps, its dark chittering twisted and hateful. Then it sinks to the ground, life leaving its body. All of your being screams out to cherish your victory but you are a young gentleman, full of self-control and loyalty above all else. You leap down to the ground and rush over, assisting Sir Gahald with the other two.

The two of you make short work with them and, wiping his brow, the years now truly catching up to him, your gallant knight clasps your arm. He is proud of you yet you remain humble. He speaks of how far you have come and how far you would yet come. With a smile, he tells you that somewhere, he knows your benefactress, Rhaena Olwak, would be proud of you as well and you cannot help to blush thinking of returning someday to be her knight. Elliot Brown, in this moment you are no longer a boy. You have grown. You have survived and you are well on the way towards your true destiny.

[Glenn]

#4

Two more years pass. You are sixteen now. You have grown into your duties, have grown into the spirit of chivalry and good grace. You know you have not completed your training yet. You know you are not yet ready to return, but Sir Gahald indicates you are close. You have learned to appreciate the proper hierarchy of life, to revere beauty in all of its forms. You are a young gentleman, well mannered, possessing and revering correct etiquette at all times. You have grown out of chocolate; instead, a highlight of your day is teatime where Sir Gahald and yourself make pleasant conversation. It is a relief and succor from the perils and chaos you constantly strive against.

Your adventures have become less abstract, more grounded. Sir Gahald makes a rare joke that it is through learning to enjoy tea and forsaking chocolate as a boy's drink that you have brought order to your life. You laugh politely, but know, as does he, that it is through hard work and toil that the pair of you have so bettered this part of the Loathaine waste. The giant monsters have been driven back. Sentience now only resides in such proper things that should possess it. Nature has begun to bloom once more. The hanging purple mists of magic gone wrong are even beginning to clear. In clearing, however, the true hand behind the darkness and wickedness now stands revealed.

For years, you have been surprised that, despite a wide variety of life, sentience, and savages, there is no civilization here in Lothaine, only the distance ruins of such. Now you learn why. The monsters and mist have served as a shroud, a dread protection for the evil Order that had stamped out all that was good and worthwhile in this land. Thanks to your efforts, they now have nowhere left to hide. In turn, they begin to attack, misshapen wretches, short and lumpy, tall and thick, tattooed and scarred. They call themselves the Revered Sisterhood, The People, but you see immediately through their lies. They are the Inscribed Witches of the Scoured Expanse, and although you do not know it yet, you have gone to war against them.

They attack in a pack. They have tattooed their own bodies to gain power, marring whatever natural beauty they might have possessed in order to gain the ability to twist, corrupt, and destroy. You are a lover of beauty in all things. By choosing such a path, they have brought their inner ugliness outward for the world to see. You hate them immediately. They do not smile. The only emotions they are capable of are spite and cruelty. It is only when a vile smirk appears upon their face that you can sense any real life from them; those smirks are common enough when they prey upon those they see as weaker. Though the runes tattooed upon their body glow with eldritch might, they greatly underestimate Sir Gahald and yourself. They have become animals, no different from the giant beasts that had once slavishly protected them. You are so much more, knights and heroes and your bravery and conscientious planning overcomes them at every turn!

As you cut them down, you think again about true beauty. Lofty thoughts. It may come in many forms, you know. Your Lady, surely rising to glorious prominence in Myrken Wood even at this moment, has her glistening, exotic scales. They only enhance her beauty and this is due to her grace and poise. She appreciates the ideal and works towards it in all ways. She takes great care in how she presents herself. She is meticulous and stylish in her clothing and not only follows the rules of propriety but helps to develop and enforce them. This is your ideal as well, what you fight to protect, what you are drawn towards like a moth to a flame. There are those whose lot in life is to serve their betters. So long as they show proper respect it is only natural that they be allowed to thrive in drab and mundane wears. They are a flock to be tended to and it is their joy in life to serve the beautiful and benevolent as it is shall soon be your joy to partake in such beauty and grace and to protect and foster it.

The Inscribed Witches have turned away from such ideals in the name of petty greed and avarice. You pity them, but your mercy is Sir Gahald's, tempered by the harsh necessities of life. There is such honor in ending them, in removing their ugly blot from the face of this world. In this you show mercy both to them and to the world itself. In this, you are a hero once more. Of this act your knight is proud, your lady is proud, and you too are proud.

It is your destiny to bring light to the world and to protect the Beauty that it illuminates so gloriously.

[Glenn]

#5

It is a wistful day when you realize that are now an inch taller than Sir Gahald. He is close to seventy now and the last two years have worn him down more than either of you want to admit. He walks with a limp and his vision is not what it was. Battling against the Witches' arcane might is a more difficult task than standing steadfast against simple monsters. Age makes cripples of us all but his spirit remains undaunted. He wears that gruff smile even now as you sit around the fireplace, savoring your tea.

You have enjoyed great victories. The coven's number has dropped exponentially and the lush beauty of a once great land has begun to reappear. You feel a modest pride with each new blossom you pass. Moreover, there is an end to this harsh war in sight. The remaining Witches have called for a summit. There they are agree to withdraw from the land so long as both of you do the same. While somewhat bittersweet, it is the victory you sought after. Eastern Lothaine will begin to become inhabitable again. You will have brought light and goodness back to the land once and for all and brave and hopeful souls from the entire province will began new lives there, creating a new and everlasting bastion against the darkness.

From the very beginning the summit is awaft with the air of deception. Some of the younger witches have gone, fled not west but east, back towards civilization. It is a bad omen, but Sir Gahald continues forth meaning to honor the letter of his commitments. They are surprised by that, confused. They have ugliness and wickedness in their hearts. They expect betrayal. By acting bravely and with honor he reveals their dark plans before they are ready to spring them. It is still too late for him though. He uncovers their trap but is caught in it, magical force striking him from all sides. You cannot trust such witches, Elliot, not ever, no matter what they say, no matter how they play. You are not to trust witches and you are not to trust thieves, not under any circumstance. Those who steal from others, who slit throats from behind, who would accept money to perform terrible tasks will always let you down. They disgust you. You are a man of honor and goodness. You are handsome and brave. You see this betrayal. You feel it deep within yourself and you know that henceforth, you will associate only with others like you. The moment is seared into your mind, but that does not stop you from doing your duty.

You rush forth, sword gleaming. You strike back at the witches. One falls after the next. Where your mercy has been spurned, your blade brings forth justice and victory. Singlehandedly you end their reign of terror. It has come at a cost though. Sir Gahald lays back within their trap, breathing his last breaths. He calls you forward and bids you bow. With his final iota of strength, he presses the broad side of his sword against your shoulder, once then again. He is proud of you. Even a man so gruff who has seen the world and all it has to offer can shed a tear. You may be sensitive as well at times, Elliot, but always within the rules of propriety. There is an order to things, after all. In this moment, your eyes are wet as well, and for such reason! Sir Gahald says that his final wish is for you, now a noble knight as he was, to take his name as his adopted son. You rise, Sir Elliot Gahald, and he looks upon you with pride as he passes from this world.

All is quiet. The sun sets on Lothaine and upon this chapter of your life. You know you have done good work, but it is time to return to civilization. It is time to return to your birth family and to your Lady. You make a funeral pyre for Sir Gahald and say your final goodbyes to this strange, wondrous land where you have grown from boy to man. Despite your loss, you are bright and optimistic. A smile sits upon your face even as you reenter Myrken Wood for the first time in years. Letters from your Lady were held for you in the towns along the way. You learn of the bad and of the good that has happened in your absence, of dragons and distant rumblings of war and of your father's death. You learn of Rhaena Olwak's rise, of her Foundation and her Governor. Upon reaching Myrkentown's border, your Lady's mind connects with your own, full of happiness and pride. Your eyes are wet once more. For the first time in seven years, you are home.