The Battle

[Wolf]

The old warrior watches the pigeon he has dispatched to the Emperor disappear into the night sky.

Pulling his sword from its scabbard he begins his methodical routine of polishing the ancient blade.

Sighing to himself, he stares into the flickering light of the candle at his side.  His mind drifts back over battles long ago...

***....Fire burned about the ramparts and smoke poured from the windows of Lioness castle.  The weary Centurion, his face covered in ash, blood caked upon his once golden armor walks out through the portcullis and approaches the Emperor's tent.

The sentries standing guard salute and draw the curtain aside.  The warrior stops to remove his helm and ducks into the tent.

The soft glow of candlelight illuminates the simple trappings of the Emperor's field tent.  The warrior waits a moment for his eyes to adjust and takes stock of his Emperor. His Liege Lord sits quietly at his writing desk, head bowed, his hands folded over the parchment layed out across the desk.

The warrior stand silently awaiting his Emperor's attention.  Without raising his head, a whisper escapes his Emperor's lips,

"Is it done?" he asks.

The warrior looks at the dancing shadows the burning castle sends playing across the outside of the tent.

"It is m'Lord" he answers quitely.

A small shudder passes through the Emperor as he acknowledges the statement.

"Report Centurion." he commands, rising from his desk and turning to face his soldier.

The warrior falters, he had seen much in the service of the Empire. Had fought in many campaigns, but none as difficult as this.

Steeling himself, he draws himself up. "M'Lord, the mages met heavy resistance from the Lioness defenses. The reports were validated, their strength in the arcane arts has grown considerably. The Legion assaulted the main gate and breached the walls as planned.  The fighting was fierce. Heavy casualties were taken by both sides.  Those that surrendered have been escorted to Britain as instructed. M'Lord... there were precious few that layed down their swords."

"Would you have done less Centurion, had the roles been reversed?" the Emperor asked.

"In truth M'Lord you know I would not. An oath is an oath. The same all my brethren swore. For Honor and Empire."

The Emperor nods. "And so it is with those sworn to Lioness. Come Centurion sit a while."

The warrior removes his gauntlets and draws up a chair opposite his Emperor. "May I speak frankly M'Lord?" he asks.

"I would expect no less Wolf, although I believe I may know what troubles you."

Taking a breath Wolf looks at his Emperor. "Why? M'Lord, did Lioness not fight alongside the Empire? I admit I did not know the family well, yet they strike me not as an enemy of the Empire.  To bring such a battle to a noble house.." the warrior shakes his head, "I just do not understand".

The Emperor looks at Wolf, sadness in his eyes. "This is no fairytale land we live in Wolf.  The forces that would destroy our fabric often use tools, even un-wittingly, to their ends.  Such was the case with Lioness.  Though it pains me to take such action, the alternative was....unthinkable.  Left unchecked, the seed would have grown and taken root. If that were allowed to happen then all would be at risk.  No Wolf, tonight was destined.  Though we weep for the fallen, this night was a necessity.  Tell me. What of the ruling family?"

Wolf clears his throat. "Lord Lioness was taken by an arrow from his wife's bow.  The Lady took herself within the fire in the bowels of the keep. M'Lord, they were so sure that their cause was just."

"And therein lies the downfall of house Lioness. And what of of the Children?" the Emperor asked

"M'Lord, we found no remnants of the chldren, nor the brother. We do not know what befell them"

The Emperor smiles, confusing the warrior.  "As it was meant to be. That is all Wolf. Steel yourself and the Legion though difficult know that it was the course layed before us. Now go and rest."

"M'Lord". the warrior rises, bowing to his Emperor he pushes through the curtains and into the night air.

Looking up at the still burning castle, the warrior walks off to obey his Emperor's command.****

Stirring from his memories, Wolf notes the candle has burned low in its holder.  Shaking himself he looks down at the gleaming sword before him.  Would that it not have to be this way he thinks to himself.  Ahhh, Triston, when will our swords cross?

Rising from his chair, the old warrior leans forward and blows out the candle.

May the Gods forgive us my brother.