Chronicle of Cadan Dalmas, Knight
Being the Chronicle of Cadan Dalmas, KnightBEING a 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.
-o0o---o0o----o0o---o0o----o0o---o0o----o0o---o0o----o0o---o0o---
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.
-o0o- -o0o- -o0o-
No comments:
Post a Comment