The Vampire & Her Witch

”If you could present the Herd Masters with a prize of greater value than Lord Tybal’s head, would you be willing to spare his life?”

Nyrielle frowned when Aspakos stepped forward with a proposal of his own. This was a peace brokered by her darling, Ashlynn. Aspakos only had one role to play as a champion, and as far as Nyrielle was concerned, he’d played it beautifully.

It was all well and good that the previous matches had ended without a loss of life, but in this, Nyrielle agreed with Dirar. Some debts demanded blood. Besides, Tybal’s death would remove a problematic lord from her darling’s domain without her having to invent excuses to exile him or send hunters to track him down for fleeing.

”Aspakos,” Nyrielle said, her midnight blue eyes flashing in the cold light of the winter night. ”It isn’t your place to bargain here,” she warned.

”I’m not bargaining,” Aspakos said, refuting Nyrielle directly. ”Her Dominion challenged me to build peace here,” he said, glancing briefly at Ashlynn. ”I’ve been working toward that goal all night. If you command me to give it up, I will obey,” he said, bowing his head. ”But given the chance, I would like to see if I can meet the challenge the Evergreen Empress set for me,” he said.

”I should pluck you for defying me,” Nyrielle said, glaring at the feathered sorcerer. ”But if you can achieve my darling’s aims, you can still be forgiven.”

”A quarter of an hour’s indulgence, Your Eternity,” Aspakos said, raising a taloned hand in submission. ”Not more than that,” Aspakos said, bowing to Nyrielle before turning back to the lords of the Aleese and the Southern Steppe.

”Lord Dirar,” Aspakos said, addressing the Lord of the Southern Steppe in a tone befitting a peer rather than that of a mere champion. As he spoke, a weight settled on his shoulders that made the cold air feel heavy and oppressive, and his voice echoed in the ears of everyone within a hundred paces of the stone platform.

”Are you familiar with the Sovereign of Wanderers and his scattered gifts?” Aspakos asked.

”I’ve heard the legends,” Dirar said carefully. ”Wandering Stars are omens of good fortune and ill, of peace, prosperity, and of chaos or war. The blessings and curses of the Wandering Stars can fall anywhere, and none have ever known whether it is chance or design that bestows them,” Dirar said, turning his gaze to Reynold.

”You don’t mean...” Dirar said, his eyes going wide in shock.

”The signs are there,” Aspakos said, nodding at the lord of the Southern Steppe. ”You saw one tonight for yourself, and you heard what Lord Reynold had to say. He is a man meant to wander, and wherever his path leads, greatness will follow. Like a comet across the heavens, those who are close to him will benefit greatly, especially those who follow in his wake,” Aspakos said.

”Even his father recognizes it,” Aspakos said, turning his dark gaze on Tybal Aleese. ”He may not understand what he sees, but he knows that the greatest hope for his line rests on young Reynold’s shoulders.”

”Why else would he offer up his own life to keep his son from following you when following you shouldn’t harm his interests at all?” Aspakos asked rhetorically. ”Had you won all three challenges, you had even committed to allowing Reynold to rule Aleese in your name. What his father is sacrificing himself for isn’t just his son’s freedom; it’s the right to control his son’s destiny, and with it, the destiny of those who follow him.”

”Nonsense,” Tybal snorted. ”Blasphemous nonsense. My son’s life and his freedom are worth far more than my own. Even a blind man can see that he’ll make a better lord for our people than I would. But he cannot hope to give our people their brightest future if he’s bound to the orders of our oldest enemy. That isn’t destiny, that’s common sense,” he snorted.

”The Heavens do not care whether you believe in them or not,” Aspakos said. ”Destiny doesn’t care whether you’re aware of it or not. Both will find you, no matter how deeply you bury your head in the sand.”

”Aspakos,” Ashlynn said. ”Are you saying that Reynold has been visited by the Sovereign of Wanderers, or a member of their Celestial Court?” Ashlynn asked, trembling at the thought that a true Oracle might be wandering the world.

”No,” Aspakos said, shaking his head. ”Nothing so exaggerated as that. More like... If you were to plant a Witchwood Tree somewhere random, and a hundred years from now, a pair of lovers met in secret beneath its boughs and conceived a child, and that child was strengthened by the Witchwood tree...”

”You would have moved on long ago,” Aspakos said. ”You may even have forgotten about the tree you left behind, but its blessings would still flow into the world.”

”I see,” Ashlynn said, deflating slightly. If they could have added a Sovereign to their struggle against the Saints of the Church, it would have been a tremendous shift in the balance of power, but it seemed like that was too much to hope for.

”Lord Reynold, come here,” Aspakos said, using the spear in his hand to point to a spot on the ground directly in front of him. ”Trust that I have your best interests at heart,” he added in a softer voice heard only by the young lord.

”I do not expect you to believe my words alone,” Aspakos told Dirar. ”But I can prove that Reynold’s value far exceeds the value of his father’s life.”

”Whether it does or not matters little,” Dirar said. ”Unless Tybal allows me to take him as my apprentice, and it seems unlikely that he will.”

”He will,” Aspakos said cryptically. ”But first, we must reveal an important truth,” he said, refusing to rush despite the weight of Nyrielle’s stare burrowing into the back of his neck.

”In the Kingdom of Gaal,” Aspakos said. ”Knights and lords like Reynold dedicate themselves to the First Warrior. They swear five oaths when they take the title of Knight, but the ritual they use is incomplete and powerless,” he explained. ”Only those known as Templars receive any power from their oaths, and they are bound by more than just the five the First Warrior demands,” Aspakos said.

”Tell me, Reynold,” Aspakos said. ”Do you take your oaths as a knight seriously? Have you done your best to live your life by them?”

”I take my oaths very seriously,” Reynold said. ”Without them, a knight is nothing more than a sellsword in fine armor.”

”What were the virtues you swore to uphold, Lord Reynold?” Aspakos asked.

”Courage, Compassion, Integrity, Justice, and Fortitude,” Reynold answered smoothly, each word coming easily to his lips. ”At times, I may have fallen short, but I’ve always done my best to live by them.”

”And which is most important to you?” Aspakos asked.

”Courage,” Reynold said without hesitation. ”It requires courage to hold to the others in the face of adversity. Without courage and conviction, everything else falls apart.”

”Spoken like a true warrior,” Aspakos praised, drawing grudging nods of agreement from the members of the Stone Guard standing nearby, many of whom took the First Warrior as one of the constellations they strove to master.

”Now, are you willing to bind your fate to those ideals?” Aspakos asked. ”Will you wager your life that you will never break your vows, and accept the curses that follow if you do?”

”Will you take the first step on the path of the First Warrior and become the first Sorcerer Knight of the Bloodroot Empire?”