Out With The Old...

[Knox213 10]

And in with the new.

 

 

A crumbling tower, frayed banner draped over its side long discolored and torn, sat overlooking a barren marsh, the dreary vista of flat wetlands surrounding it effecting an air of bleakness. From within the oblique, cracked walls of the ruin, the pale glow of a campfire could be seen, keeping warm the lone knight that sought refuge inside; for the lonely tower was a rare place of solace in the times of persecution he had faced.

 

An expectant frown was etched into the scarred and rugged face of Ser Dederick Varodyr as the faint light from the fire cast dancing shadows along his crouched form. As though to denote his own turbulent thoughts, a frightened flock of crows scattered with loud caws elsewhere in the marsh. The old knight’s blade rested against his lap, and he ran a gloved hand along its length in admiration at the craftsmanship.

 

The quiet of the eerie night was broken by the sound of hooved feet cantering over the uneven and fetid terrain. A single horseman navigated the swampland with caution, coming to a halt upon the crest of a hill to look down at the ruined battlement ahead, and the rising smoke of a fire from somewhere inside. With a swift jab to his steed’s sides, the rider galloped over the wetlands, dismounting the skittish beast upon nearing the ruin and striding inside.

 

 

Carden de Bar slowly paced into the squat and destroyed hall of the tower, coming to a halt just out of reach of the fire’s illumination. His sire sat unmoving with his back to him, his untrembling hands held over the fire for warmth. Without so much as a glance over his shoulder, Dederick made Carden’s presence known.

 

“You come at last, boy. I’d started to think this swamp had swallowed you up.”

 

The youthful squire knit his dark brows in apprehension as he neared the fire, his boyish face wrought with tension and worry. Carden drew near to the old warrior, lowering himself down to sit beside him with a suppressed groan. He remained silent, instead staring at the meager flames that lapped skywards before Dederick spoke again.

 

“You know why I called you here, de Bar. I cannot acquiesce, beg for mercy, grovel at your uncle’s feet- never will I stoop to a place of such low honor. For my whole life I have sought to die on my feet, rather than at some conquering hero’s bootheel.”

 

Dederick rose to his feet with these words, ambling around the fire to stand over Carden. With a terse grunt, he motioned for the boy to rise to his knees. Carden hesitated a moment, before dutifully acceding and hauling himself up to kneel. Dederick grasped the blade firmly in his hand, and he wavered it over the youth’s shoulder with a moment of deliberation.

 

“From the moment that I have met you, many had doubted you, and yet I saw you as somebody much like myself. You have proven yourself not only to me- but to all those who doubted you- that you are worthy of knighthood.”

 

With a solemn conformity, Varodyr knighted his longtime squire a knight of the Black Sepulchre in a ceremony devoid of fanfare. Carden rose with newfound grace, concealing the obvious burden of his ordainment and the circumstances before him. Dederick offered the boy a stern nod, before he offered him the blade in his hands.

 

The newly-initiated knight’s pale eyes flickered with pain, a knowing grimace encompassing his youthful features. Carden took the sword in his hands with no trace of assurance, the weight of the blade incomparable in his hands. Dederick watched the boy with a weary and haggard gaze, a morose smile creeping over his features.

 

“Outside this ruin, there is nothing for me, nothing but grief and pain. You know what you must do, Carden.”

The youth tightened his grip on the blade, lip quivering as he leveled it at Dederick’s chest. The old soldier did nothing to stop Carden, instead closing his eyes and inhaling deeply in expectation.

 

“The boy I squired before you, Carden- he was graced with my mercy when he needed me the most. The last thing I ask of you is that you can afford me the same courtesy.”

 

Steeling his vigor, the boy held the blade with a trembling grasp before his sire let out a dry bark of laughter. Shaking his head, Dederick uttered his last words.

 

“I had figured as much- you are without doubt the man I knew you would one day become.”

 

With a fluid motion, the knight took a pace forth, grabbing the boy’s arm that held the blade and pulling it towards himself. Wincing as the sword pierced his heart, Dederick staggered back, Carden standing in bewilderment as the blade in his hand punctured the old knight’s chest. The young man let the sword slip from his grasp with a clatter, staring slack-jawed as Dederick crumpled to the soil.

 

 

Lying supine on his back, his mortal wound spurting crimson and leaving a spreading red stain across his jerkin, Dederick’s weak gaze drifted upwards at the star-lit heavens high above him. The fire to his leftwards flickered out, leaving the grizzled warrior in darkness as the world winked out of existence, a final flashback appears in his head.

 

--

 

Ser Carden de Bar emerged from the ruined tower the following dawn with a muted expression lacking any emotion. A simple grave protruded from the ground behind him, a crude cross marking the final resting place of Ser Dederick. The man had died on his feet, and Carden would make certain that this much was known of his demise.

 

Saddling his horse, the saturnine boy bolted across the wetlands, taking a moment to glimpse upon the sun as it climbed slowly in the sky, deepening the shadows of the pockmarked terrain. As the errant knight rode back to civilization, a fleeting memory crossed his mind- a time long before the rebellion, a cold courtyard in Siegrad. He was only a boy then, and his father loomed over him.

 

“When you are ordained a knight, you will rise a new man.”

 

His father’s words reverberated in his head as he tore over the marsh with reckless abandon, leaping over dead and sunken trees brazenly. A new man had risen with the death of Dederick Varodyr, and as he raced through the barrens, he was rid of all emotion but one:

Spite.

Edited September 1, 2015 by Knox

[Ark 2835]

((Had me worried this was a leaving post at first!!!!

Karl Barbanov greets Dederick with the coldest Carrion Black he can muster as he crosses into the Seven Skies.

[Knox213 10]

Ser Dederick unfortunately never made it to the seven skies, he was but a sinner.

[Heff 2460]

Rorislav welcomes Dederick to hell. Smiling up at the little lordling grown knight, hoping he remembers the stories and lessons of an old strelt.

[Lark 2227]

Avgust glances at Dederick from a corner of hell and shrugs, "Took 'im long 'nough."

[Aislin 4354]

John cheered greatly "Go Flay !"

[Rudi 1747]

Rowen shivers

[James 425]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.