The Dark Covenant

THE DELEGATES MEETING: FALLEN CROWNS

"I propose that we vote right now. His situation had no bearing on the meeting, and it was completely unexpected."

"I completely disagree. Because his actions impacted the entire kingdom, the rest of the delegates should preside over the meeting."

"That's nonsense! You're allowing strangers to decide the criminal's fate who don't even know his name! I propose that we vote right now!"

"You want to take matters into your own hands when the king isn't even here yet."

"What does it matter what the child says? We don't need his permission to sentence a treacherous crook like... This kingdom can stand on its own without him."

" Take back your words you imbecile. How dare you talk ill of our king, he might be younger than all of us but he is still your ruler!"

The antechamber devolved into chaos. Goblets were ready to be thrown into the air, fists beat the infinite dinner table, flinging food everywhere, and feet kicked the marble floor, rocking the castle to its very foundations. Drom rushed in just as their claws were poised to rip their opponents apart. He reached for his throne and flashed out his palm, erupting a wave of distortion that shook the air in the room, drawing everyone's attention and bringing the uproar to a halt before it got out of hand.

The councilmen turned their attention to the three thrones that sat on an elevated platform, with the king in the middle.

"The great Covenant keeper finally decides to come up! Taking his sweet time planning another secret excursion behind our backs!" grumbled one of the councilmen.

"I understand your rage, councilman Rovier; please accept my apologies for not telling the council of my activities! But please, bickering will not get us anywhere; let us get down and discuss this like the orderly people that we are," Drom responded.

The news of the traitor's return spread quickly across the Royal Republic, and before the cavalry could reach the gates, knowledge of the traitor's return had already spread. While completing his daily rounds in the city market, the king became aware of the situation. An unplanned meeting was arranged up right away.

In the council, all thirteen crested houses were represented. They sat around the table, with the most prominent families seated closest to the throne, including the Rovier family, which had relations to the former commander Slejj. Maidens, the female chiefs of the homes, followed the councilmen. One of the maidens was Alicia's mother. After her husband died in the Vurhanil conflict, she took over the seat of Iko.

The arrival of Alvatrone and the class of knight guards, Albert, Lora, and Alicia, aroused the ruckus once more, and it lasted longer. Martha, Alicia's mother, was all set to rush over to her daughter and give her a big hug; she was overjoyed for a moment until the man of the hour entered, escorted by two more knight guards. Shackles pulled them over the floor, breaking the valuable marble and creating strange noises in the process. His 'prodigal son' arrived a split second later, flashing lighter chains around his wrists and arms.

The entire audience fell silent, and several of the attendees felt dread take over their conscience, leaving them with only two options: run or drop their jaws to the floor. His journey from the royal entrance to the front of the chamber was every bit as dramatic as they claimed. The dragging chains' screeching noises added to the atmosphere. They stared at his blackened scar rupturing over his face, which was horrifying, to say the least.

Rovier exclaimed, "You beast!" He threw a half-filled cup at him, aiming for the deformity on his face. Daito jumped into its course, but it slammed into his face, spraying fuddle all over his otherwise flawless face.

" Protecting a snake-like him, how shameful! You are not worthy to rule us..."

" Rovier! Act as a delegate, we expect better from you." Latus Xermia, head of the Xermian family barked back. A maiden stood behind Rovier, slanting her head, doing her best to conceal her face. Her name was Marianna, Rovier's daughter, and wife to Slejj.

Even when the chalice struck his brother in the face, Drom maintained his cool, and despite his desire to sear Rovier's arms, he strove to remain calm and in control of the situation.

Drom met eyes with his long-lost brother at the same time, pausing to examine him as he recalled how he had departed and what had changed about him. He realized that a room full of furious and fearful individuals was not the best setting for a reunion, so he seized control and rescheduled it for a later date.

SOUTHERN BORDER

Unbeknownst to them, a group of knight guards sat in the open, toasting drinks to themselves and reminiscing about their earlier days. A herd of antelopes descended from the nearby hill's slopes and hurriedly passed them by, followed by a family of foxes, nocturnal animals that should have been sleeping. They were clearly fleeing from something.

Birds flew away from the general direction of the hill. The army was marching towards them when one of the soldiers noticed it. He leaped from his perch beside their tents and dashed towards the unwary group of crocked guards to warn them. In a moment, a man appeared beside him and crossed his path. It happened so quickly that the soldier didn't realize his left arm was missing till later. It had been severed from his shoulder, leaving a gaping socket where his arm had been. In a pulsing rhythm, bloodshot from his wound.

Soldiers below heard him scream, but they couldn't get out of their seats because the ground underneath them had broken apart, plummeting into an abyss. The earth and grass heaped on top of their horses swallowed and strangled them. They drew their swords and lances and awaited the arrival of the figure on his descent. He circularly swung his blades, rinsing blood-soaked blades.

Another tall, well-built man appeared from the trees, slowly approaching them and wearing a voluminous robe.

The man with the swords inquired, "How many of them should we leave alive?"

"Only one, the forgotten temples of South Angus are not far away; he should arrive by sunset, and a messenger will be dispatched to the capital before nightfall."

"Great...you heard the man, only one of you is required; who should it be?" the man asked, wiping the remainder of his blade staining his sleeveless shirt. The terrified soldiers had been cornered.

He ran across the ground as if he were treading over grass blades. He screamed jubilantly as he dismantled each of the soldiers' limbs, except for one who was at the back. He danced around the feeble troops, who frantically swung whatever weapons they could find in an attempt to defend themselves, but to no avail. They only served to provide the psychopath the joy and satisfaction of killing the resisters and dismembering a body part of his choosing. The clear field was painted with spots of splashed blood and body parts, as well as the remains of whatever was left of the protectors of the Independent States, after loops around the squad and a lot of slicing and dicing.

The smell of bile and fresh blood pervaded the entire field. "I presume you know the way to the Forgotten Temples, I want you to go there and tell them the Great Ladzgery Tyndale is on his way!" the tall, massive man said as he tapped the soldier on the back.

The soldier had no idea how he found himself dashing across the field and jumping over the corpses of his fellow knights. Although he vanished into the forest, his wailing remained audible.

The other guy drew his mask off and faced him.

"Hey, Asobi, weren't you a member of the Forgotten Temples before?"

"I'm still Lieutenant Deryleen," he responded.

"So there won't be any repercussions if I decapitate a few of your monk buddies, right?"

"I can only pray for a pleasant passage for their souls; their death will be a service to greater bidding."

"Well, well then...sweet. You know, fun fact, they're all bald, so decapitation is a lot easier...because there's no hair to get in the way!" Deryleen stated, beginning with a cruel chuckle and concluding with the same laughter. Tyndale's army marched onwards a few kilometers behind them. They'd only been away from Royal Republic for one night.