Wednesday, 17 October 2018

Prologue


Chronicle of Cadan Dalmas, Knight




               Being the Chronicle of Cadan Dalmas, Knight

BEING   BEGINNING  

 

               Our natural philosophers often argue there may be many worlds, so close as to almost be touching and each a wayward echo of each other.  Each world so very different but still with some matters shared in common.  Who can rightly say, who can be sure?   I will simply remember those quiet words dear Sokrates said so often:  "If I am truly wise, it is only because I realise I know nothing."

 

               The forces of evil are forever watching.  The Long Night fell five centuries ago when hordes of wild Orcs and yet fouler creatures swept west through the mountain passes, killing and destroying all in their path, raising strong towers to the ground and driving almost to the coast before their onslaught was held, turned, and driven back in red ruin.  Much was lost, much destroyed, the legendary Mine of Phandelver among them. My own Order of Athene played no small part in the victory, rallying the brave and steadying the faint hearted, our lances and swords the cleaving edge of our vengeance.  In those darkest days my Brethren earned their renown for all time and forever. Days we do not forget yet shudder to remember. There is always a price for victory.

 

As decades passed order was restored.  Slowly and with much labour and heartache but order all the same.  Once circumstances forced our toleration of the squalid and self serving providing they could stop the Orcish devastation.  There was a time when any petty captain or Marcher Lord was accepted if they could hold their borders firm against the darkness. Yet this is a new Age now, an age of Hope, an age of Striving and unless this is an age of Justice for All we will find no peace and no prosperity worthy of the name.  Our work continues.  It must endure.

 

I ,  Cadan Dalmas, scion of a Noble House, old in Name, yet shallow of purse, will recount my Quest for Phandelver.  May I serve nobly, with modesty and honour, courage and wisdom. May I earn the right through trial by combat and deeds of justice to call myself a Paladin.



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               I was understandably nervous when called before the High Archon of my Order, the revered Theramenes.  Had I been accused of some transgression?  I was still a novice, still to take my final oath of Devotion, I was making every effort with my education, both on the field of arms and in the Chamber of Chronicles, but had my endeavours been found wanting?  Our grizzled swordmaster seemed pleased with my martial skills and my tutors had praised my understanding both of history and doctrine, yet was this really enough in the eyes of my Brethren?  







Ivory clad in Gold her statue stands thirty nine feet tall, before a shimmering pool in the heart of our Shrine.

Grey Eyed Pallas Athene, Lady of Wisdom and Justice, Lady of Reason

She who holds Winged Victory in her Hand, she who Wields the Spear and Wears the Aegis.

                             Her Knights serve her with Devotion, Her True Paladins gladly offer up their lives.



To my great relief Theramenes raised his gnarled hands in greeting as I knelt before him. Time is the thief who steals from us all, but our Archon's  eyes still shone brightly despite his great age;  eyes which missed little of the world around him.  Theramenes wore no armour now, but his presence was undimmed, his renown still resplendent;  his deeds still remembered and revered.   We never forgot what we owed our High Archon, all those sacrifces he had made or the last headlong charge he led those long years ago, weary men on foundered horses, their lances shattered, their shields riven, a charge to face down the very heart of the storm.  Noble Theramenes saved us all that day yet  victory comes at a price. It was little wonder our High Archon rarely left his chambers any more. 


I had never expected an audience with the Hero of our Order.  His words astounded me even more.  "This is your hour Cadan Dalmas. Dark rumours are stirring from the South, eager whispers of an old name, never quite forgotten. You already know of Phandelver?  Good, that is something,” High ArchonTheramenes paused and his eyes seemed to lose their genial sparkle. “If long lost Phandelver is found once more, if the Forge of Lazair Glas  is set in motion once again, if evil hands are guiding that forge and foundry? Yes, I can see you understand young Knight.  Our poor realm barely survived that last foul onslaught; if those Orcs were to return in great numbers and wielding Weapons of Power how could we hope to withstand them? You will locate forgotten Phandelver, enter, investigate and report."


 For a long heartbeat I could not find the words for any reply. All my waking life I have longed to serve honourably, yet when this moment came I felt more trepidation than pride; dread that my youth and inexperience would cost us dearly and fear my skill or my courage would not stand the test when it came.  A Paladin's life is a life of service but how by the Stars and the Moon could I be judged ready for such a mission?  How?


Wise Theramenes was known for seeing into men's hearts. His stern eyes grew kind for a moment, his worn hands rested on my mail clad shoulders as he gave me his blessing.  "If we had more to spare I would gladly send more with you young Dalmas, but you know how fatally thin our Order is spread. Be of good Cheer and Firm Courage, and honour the Lady.  You have our trust, you carry all our hopes.  I appreciate you are yet to take your final vows but this mission is urgent and may not be delayed.


"We cannot despatch a whole company with you;  such numbers would betray our intentions before we had found the prize.  There are many possible locations for lost Phandelver, we must search each and every one and this venture will divide our scant forces even more."  Archon Theramanes sighed.  "I remember the old days when we reckoned the number of our lances by the hundred, those days our name alone was enough to hold the Darkness at a distance.  A great tragedy  The Long Night.  So much lost, so much still to be rebuilt. All things must change and few for the better.  And wizened old men live too much in the past, eh Dalmas?"


The High Archon smiled warmly.  "You will not be alone Cadan Dalmas, you shall have companions on the road and beyond. One comes recommended by our friends among the Dwarves, the others I hope will prove equally worthy.   You will travel openly but you will not seem on any official errand. If fortune favours you, this Quest will be completed before you attract any undue attention. but Dalmas, you must not reveal our reason for seeking Phandelver, not yet at any rate."


             My Archon paused, a smile twisted his stern mouth.   "And Cadan Dalmas..."


"Sir?"


"Make sure your bedroll and pack are waxed against the damp, keep your whetstone close and a bag of fine sand and vinegar for buffing rust from your mail.  May your sword never stick in her scabbard and Cadan, be careful to keep your tinderbox stocked and ready. See I do not forget my own years in the Wilds! I also hope you will find space for your treasured book amid your kit.  We all acknowledge your hard endeavours in the Hall of Scholars, yet I am also quite aware of your devotion to the Malorian Chronicles.  No do not blush Cadan Dalmas!  Even though not all your hours in the Library were spent in study I have no doubt you will still find much strength and guidance from that tragic history of noble Artorius.  May his chivalrous example serve you well."   


I walked from the High Chamber with deep gratitude for so kindly and wise a Master.  A leader who knows the harsh realities of life and tempers them with a tolerant humour few outside our Order would ever anticipate. I would carry more than my sword and shield on this quest. Under my mail rested a small silver locket slung around my neck, inside the hymn I had composed to Grey-Eyed Pallas Athene herself.  A talisman of faith, a simple promise come what may.






Athene ever maiden.

Athene of the shining eyes

Athene who stands in the front rank of battle

She who gives courage and wisdom to men

Be with your sons this day

In our living or dying let nothing shame you.





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