Demon of Inenard

Today would mark the seventh month since the beginning of the Second Civil War of Kepton. Kepton's subjects were split on how to feel about that. For some, it was a day of great triumph and jubilation, celebrating the fruits of their efforts. For others, it was a day of crushing defeat and pain, the boots of grief stepping on them until they were crushed along with their dreams. For Caerix Kilbane, he too felt a sense of loss and pain, but still, he had taken to reassuring and comforting grieving knights and lords, for the great host of Azavyn had been annihilated at Searock. It was rare that anyone had all their friends, families, and brother-in-arms unharmed.

Even though Caerix himself had yet to participate in the offensive, he had been on the war council with his royal father, Azavyn Kilbane for some time. He, after all, was a prince of Kepton and if he dared say, a good warrior. He wielded twin daggers to complement his considerable arcane abilities, but Caerix would rather not fight. He secretly wished for an end to the war. He hated hearing the news of destroyed villages, and the screams of the dying. It was revolting that people thought war to be glorious and honorable. Even though neither side wanted to stain their swords with the blood of the innocent, in war, that could not be avoided. Whatever his misgivings, Caerix was a prince of Kepton. He would fight till the end for his kingdom.

Princes like him wore the fancy, colorful noble garb. Caerix didn't think he would ever like or get used to wearing them. Instead, he wore garments with plain colors, blue, brown and gray, his twin daggers at his side. Caerix's tranquil morning walk was interrupted and ended by a regal man behind him, the heir to the throne of Kepton. Thalanil Kilbane strolled smoothly to reach Caerix. 

"Hello, Thalanil. I hope this day finds you well." 

Thalanil studied him. "There's no need for smalltalk. I come here seeking advice. Several nobles have been killed or captured, Lord Canmore, Lady Whitelaw, even Sir Jasper's uncle." 

Caerix frowned. They were the most key leaders for their side, the loyalists. "So who's in command now?" 

Thalanil scowled. "Lord Sutton, that scum. If I could find any evidence of his treachery…" His voice trailed off but threat was evident.

Lavern Sutton was rather infamous here. Haughty, snobbish, cunning, treacherous, he had inherited Phoenixstone, a key fortress of Kepton. Rumors were that Sutton had long betrayed Azavyn for the favor of Menetrix. Caerix himself had attempted to convince his father to remove Sutton from command, but was rejected on the grounds that he was too powerful to be fired. Caerix returned to the present. "Then perhaps we should send reinforcements. What of Jasper Alpin himself?" 

Thalanil shook his head. "Jasper is a good commander, unfortunately most of our remaining men belong to Sutton."

"There's nothing we can do about it?" 

Thalanil shook his head. "Unfortunately not. We'll have to hope our host can hold for as long as it takes for reinforcements to relieve them. Could be months." 

Caerix lowered his head gravely. Thalanil continued, "I'll ask for father's leave for command of the remaining host. It's the only way. I want your support." 

Caerix wanted to discourage his half-brother, as Kepton needed its heir safe and sound, but Caerix personally felt no affection for Thalanil. Thalanil had never been kind to him, so Caerix was just grateful that Thalanil had mostly left him alone. If Thalanil wanted to be gone, so be it. "I will vouch for you."

Caerix found himself heading to the war room, the dilapidated mess it was. He recalled one of his personal companions, Stream, restraining himself from uttering some sort of mockery of the room. That was also a distant memory. Stream had fought bravely for them, and was in a dungeon for his efforts, with no attempt made to free him. Caerix leaned over the map, studying the various clay figures placed in Eastern Kepton, where the fighting was the most intense. He could not envision a future, win or lose, in which Kepton wouldn't be severely weakened. Perhaps the two kings should fight in single combat. We've lost too many good soldiers and innocents. It seemed that the gods would never allow Caerix to have peace and quiet, as he heard a rustling from the shadows.

A figure seemingly just appeared from the shadows. A regal, skeleton-thin elf. Exordin Regalshade, the elven ambassador in Kepton, here at the request of Stream. "Caerix. What are you doing here? There is no war meeting going on." 

Caerix looked into Exordin's cold eyes. "I could ask the same of you." 

Exordin leaned back into the shadows, making him look positively demonic. "That isn't your business. Ambassadors have free run of the castle." 

Caerix wanted to rebuke Exordin, but held his tongue. Exordin was simply born frigid as ice and would not care.

Instead, he chose his next words carefully. He was proud of himself for not wilting under that gaze. "I just wanted to see the situation of the war, see who needs to be ransomed. I think it is imperative to rescue Lord Canmore from Menetrix, no matter the cost. We can spare some gold and castles." 

Exordin scoffed. "Canmore is sixty years old, and does not know magic besides. Admittedly, he may be well-liked, but what did he do in the battle besides get ambushed and lose his army? What of the spellsword who held for three hours with eighty men against twenty- five thousand? Is he not to be freed?"

Ah. It made perfect sense now, why Exordin was here. Even if Exordin would not admit it, he was asking for help. "You're talking of Stream Insthral. He's your friend and my companion." 

Exordin nodded. "I will request your aid in the potential rescue of Stream. You will convince your father to allow us to do so." 

Caerix was relieved. After all, Stream was an asset to the loyalists, and he was nothing if not friends with Caerix. "Of course, Lord Regalshade. I shall do my utmost to aid you. Do you have any plans for the rescue?" 

Exordin glanced at the blueprint of the grand castle of Menetrix. "Of course. There are more holes in the defenses than a beehive. Also, I consider myself to be more than proficient at magic. And the prince standing besides me is hardly inadequate, too. We can surely exploit at least one hole." 

Caerix couldn't help but smile. "Is that a compliment? From you?" 

Exordin ignored him. "Let's get to work." They quickly went over the details.

Caerix and Exordin exited the war room, the sounds of their boots clacking across the dilapidated stone floor. They briefly continued their discussions until they reached the training yard. Caerix silently berated himself for not paying attention and allowing himself to be led somewhere. Of course, Exordin had meant no harm, but he might not be so lucky next time. Caerix and Exordin worked on their bladework together, Exordin wielding a mace, while Caerix used his twin thaedrium daggers to rip apart some poor training doll. Caerix had taken out all of  his pent frustrations at the training doll, and by the end of the training, his arm was sore and his face was covered in straw.

Caerix proceeded to the library, alone. Exordin had parted ways with him, claiming that he needed to work on some diplomatic paperwork, so Caerix began to read the tomes inside by himself. Reading was enjoyable to him, especially stories that told of chivalry, because of the optimistic outlook on life. Caerix had learned the hard way that chivalry was rare in the real world. He continued to read the tome explaining the meaning and usage of each magical rune, getting lost in his own world.

Alone both in his thoughts and physically, Caerix made his way to the royal dining hall, but was stopped at the entrance by the guard, who berated him angrily: "This hall should be graced by the presence of nobles, not brought down by peasants who can't even wash the straw off their face." 

Caerix supposed he did look peasant-like. His tunic and cloak was brown and plain, and filthy. He was still covered in straw. An honest mistake, if a bit rude. "I believe I do belong here, sir. I am Prince Caerix-" 

The guard laughed. "Prince? Leave now before I have you thrown in the dungeons." 

Caerix attempted to remain calm and polite. "Please, sir. Just let me in." 

The guard drew his spear menacingly, and hit Caerix in the face once, expecting Caerix to back off and cower.

What the guard did not expect was for said spear to be cut in half by a dagger the next moment, and with one hard kick from Caerix's boot, he fell to the ground with a grunt. Caerix drew a dagger and held it against the cruel guard's throat. "I hope you recognize this dagger. A princely dagger. Am I a thief now?" 

The guard shook his head. "Forgive me, my prince. You can go on in." 

Caerix took a few steps, then turned around to gaze at the guard. "Your wanton cruelty and utter lack of intelligence shows you are not fit to be a gate guard. You are to be reassigned. Tell the general that I am giving her personal orders for you to be assigned to the vanguard of Jasper Alpin's army." The guard blanched, to Caerix's satisfaction. He made his way inside.

As Caerix ate his lunch, he couldn't help but recall the incident that had happened minutes before. Caerix truly did try to be the best person he could be, and generally people found him pleasant to be around, but when angered, Caerix could be fearsome, as Stream had described it, "going from a springtime breeze to a tornado." Caerix didn't want to be a tornado, but sometimes that was out of his control. He resolutely finished his meal and retreated to his personal lavish chambers. The chambers were in the middle of the keep, and the keep was built between two twin mountains in Inenard, making it one of the most difficult cities to siege effectively. Eventually after another half-hour, the royal herald announced to the nobles that the monthly public hearings would be open.

It was now midday of the first day of the month, and so King Azavyn would be holding court. Caerix stood in the throne room, facing his father the king. The size and grandeur of the throne room of the capital city Inenard still disconcerted him to this day. Caerix had always preferred plain clothes and the countryside to the expectations of nobility, but he knew the importance of  his duties as a prince. Not that he was a real prince, but his father had raised him as a noble prince despite being a bastard. Caerix would always be grateful for that.

He stepped near the dais, and bowed the traditional Kepton bow. The official king of Kepton, Azavyn remained as emotionless and still as ever. The only acknowledgement the king had made to his son was the slight nod of his head, indicating that he was listening. Caerix began. "Your Majesty, I would like to formally and humbly request your esteemed permission to personally rescue Stream Insthral, currently held hostage by the false king Menetrix Nightstar." 

The king gave the slightest hint of a frown, leaning forward on his throne. "Prince Caerix, Stream Insthral failed in his duty as an Astrial and Royal Mage, and if Menetrix will not accept our ransom offer, I am afraid he will stay a hostage."

Caerix wanted to roll his eyes, sigh, or give some visible form of protest. He did as well as he could. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, Stream is one of the finest mages and the manifestation of the image of an ideal spellsword. Every moment he remains a prisoner leaves us with one less Royal Mage, and worse, gives Menetrix a chance to recruit him." 

Azavyn seemed to consider the implications. "He's certainly a very useful servant, but not irreplaceable. He isn't the most powerful mage or skilled diplomat on our side, and don't get me started on his controversies. If I were to lose you and Exordin as well, then we would definitely be hard- pressed to win the war. I will not take that risk."

Exordin Regalshade stepped forward. He was not someone Caerix would consider socially ept or skillful, but he chose his next words wisely. "Your Majesty. I don't believe I've ever vouched for anyone, but I will do so now." Exordin paused, smiling just the tiniest bit small to the point which his lips barely moved, "And, if you don't authorize this mission, I will leave your service right this moment." 

Azavyn frowned. "You would abandon your king in such a critical time?" 

"Stream's king," Exordin corrected. "I would humbly ask that you remember I am not a citizen of Kepton, and thus am not bound to your rule. Stream was the one who requested my aid in your war. I have no reason to fight for you without him."

Azavyn did a decent job at hiding his anger, but Caerix could still feel it boiling, churning. He glanced around the lavish quartz throne room, taking in the scene. Some nobles were clueless, some afraid. Exordin himself was about as emotionless as anyone could be. Azavyn's fingers started to pulse with magic, and for a the briefest second, Caerix thought Exordin would be vaporized, but instead, the king withdrew his magic, the glyphs fading from existence. "I didn't think you would have the gall to threaten a king, Regalshade. I do not condone the rescue, and I still do not. Lastly, I do not follow threats. Prince Caerix, I would like a private word with you. All of you, out! Yes, that includes you, Patton!" Caerix glanced as their meddling steward left.

Azavyn had somewhat softened in the presence of only his son. "Caerix, as a king, I have already given my word against it. I cannot respond to threats, no matter how reasonable they are. I do admire the loyalty that you have to your friend, though." 

Caerix nodded. "Of course, royal father. But, if I may be so bold, isn't there a reason why you sent everyone out?" 

Azavyn gave his son the ghost of a smile. "Yes. Even if I could not respond to a threat, there's nothing  to stop you and Exordin from sneaking out on a rescue mission, of course without your father's knowledge. Once you're back, your father would be relieved enough that you are unharmed and be forced to pardon you, no?" 

Caerix took a minute to absorb that. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will not disappoint you." He and Exordin made their preparations, and departed that same day.