A Solitary Stone

                                                                                                        Prologue

 

In the last Great War, the balance of power shifted greatly.  It was not just a war of men, but of gods as well.  So much was lost, so much was destroyed; the losses were devastating.  Gods were destroyed, entire cultures were destroyed, countries were wiped off the map, and the good men who were lost were incalculable.
 

 And now, here we are five hundred years later.  War is again upon us; but I guess the question is, did we learn anything from the last one?  And again, good men are asked to stand up for what they believe, to fight for what is right, to give their lives if necessary, to defend those who cannot defend themselves.  But I fear for all of us, the evil is so great, so strong, can we once again triumph over it?  Will the good that remains be enough?  Can we win?  Are we strong enough?

 

                                                                                                            I

 

Capital City of Bretony spreads out from the base of the mountain and climbs halfway up.  At the very top of the city is the palace of the King, a beautiful majestic looking castle, very large and sprawling, with beautiful grounds.  To the right of the palace is the fortress of his army, the State Knights of Bretony.  It's a massive fortress that can house several thousand men.  It is a stark, strictly useful looking fortress.  There is no beauty or elegance about it.  The grounds are large and have many facilities for training troops.  The massive forge supplies weapons and armor to the soldiers and Knights.  To the left of the palace is the great Temple of Athena, the patron goddess of Bretony.  It is a beautiful white stone building with a spire nearly as tall as the palace.  From each corner of the Temple fly the flags of Athena and to either side of the great entryway hang long blue banners.

 

On the other side of the valley, at the top of the hill, a solitary figure stands looking across the valley watching the light fade from Capital City.  A long sigh escapes the figure, "Why me?"

 

At the fortress of the State Knights of Bretony, men started arriving yesterday and were still arriving even now two hours after dawn.  Upon entering the fortress, they found themselves in a square entryway with tables lining the right and left walls. Upon them, there are statues and relics of past wars. Crossing through the entryway and then climbing four slightly rounded steps is the Great Hall, a room with many long tables which could seat two thousand men.  In the Great Hall the walls are lined with the banners of all of the previous Generals of the State Knights of Bretony.  On the right wall there are two single doors; likewise on the left. On the far wall is a large platform, perhaps two feet off the ground.  On the platform to the far back right is the banner of the King, to the left is the banner of General Grey Stone, the current head of the State Knights of Bretony.  To either side of the platform is a single door.

 

Not only was every seat in the Great Hall taken, but there were also quite a few men standing as well. The knights were becoming restless. Every man wondered and many speculated why General Grey Stone had called this meeting. Those who cared to notice realized that there wasn't a man in the room under the rank of captain. They also realized that many of the heads of garrisons throughout the country were present. Here and there, could be spotted the crests of noble families, worn by their personal knights. This puzzled those who cared to notice.  Knights of Lords and the Knights of State did not come together in meetings.

 

General Grey Stone, a tall, distinguished looking man with bronze skin, his shoulder length silvery gray hair - with occasional streaks of raven black running through it - pulled back in a queue, his eyes still vivid blue at nearly sixty years of age, entered from the door to the left of the platform.  Women still found him a dangerously good looking man and men still found him an intimidating figure.  As he climbed the steps, approached the center, and turned to face the knights, a silence fell over the room.  Every face turned toward him.  "I know I've kept you waiting.  I will try to be as brief as possible. As many of you know, for the past twenty or so years, the Barbarian lands have been plunged in Civil War.  This Civil War has now begun to threaten our borders and cost Breton lives.  The King has decided that we can no longer turn a blind eye to what is happening on our borders.  It is time we put a stop to it.  In other words, it is time we go back to war.  Many of you may not be aware of the fact that I am nearly sixty years of age.  That makes me an old man and war is not for the old .  War is for the young.  Young men like you, and for that reason I have decided that I shall remain here and command the forces at home.  So it is the duty of another man to command you in this war.  The King and I have discussed the situation and it has been decided that the best candidate for the job is Brigadier General Eric 'Black' Stone.  General Stone, if you would please come up here; I will give you your orders."

 

As General Grey Stone had walked into the Great Hall, a cloaked and helmed figure stepped through the entryway at the foot of the steps leading into the room. The figure paused, arrested by what he saw. The Knight moved swiftly and quietly to the right wall of the entryway, then mounting the first two steps, rested his foot upon the third step.  He shifted the clasp of his cloak to his left shoulder to better conceal his surcoat, and rested his left hand upon the hilt of his sword, which was now exposed through the gap of his cloak.  He remained there in the shadows.

 

From the second row of tables, a Knight stood and mounted the steps.  He approached General Grey Stone and as the two men stood side by side, their family resemblance was undeniable.  The only thing that separated them, besides some thirty years, was hair color, for Black Stone's was still rich, raven black.  They were virtually identical, but this was true of all but one of Grey Stone's eight sons.

 

General Grey Stone handed a document to the new General Black Stone, who took it and read it swiftly.  He turned to his predecessor and nodded.  "The orders are read and understood.  I hereby relieve you of command of the Army of the King of Bretony."

 

 General Grey Stone bowed formally.  He then placed his hand on the shoulder of the younger man, leaned in close and whispered, "Please join me in my office when you are done here."  He turned, left the platform, and exited the room.

 

The new General turned to face his army, or at least a large representation of it.  He hesitated for a brief moment as his eyes scanned the banners of the Generals who had come before him. Athena, Goddess of War and Wisdom, please let me be worthy of this honor.  "Well gentlemen, our orders are very clear.  The King wants us out of the city within the week to march for the Southwest Plains and confront the enemy to put a stop to their raids on our lands.  I will meet with each section commander in turn.  To those of you who are here representing your Lords, I ask that you take a message back to them stating that whatever fighting men the nobles can spare are needed.  Many fighting men are going to be needed to win this war.  They will be receiving letters from me to formally request their aid.  You know what to do, men.  Get moving.  Dismissed."

 

As Black Stone looked at the now more than two thousand men in his command, something caught his eye at the far back the room, a cloaked figure lurking in shadow on the steps.  The figure was still helmed, which was abominably rude.  As soon as the General had dismissed the men, several men who had also noticed the figure in the shadows, arose to confront him. 

 

Black Stone left the platform and started heading towards the back of the room.  His way was hampered by many men wanting to congratulate him.  As he moved through the crowd, Black Stone did not need to look over his shoulder to know that in addition to friends and well-wishers were four of his brothers.  He soon could see ahead of him that several other men had gone to question the cloaked figure.  One Knight, a major, seemed to be the leader of the band  confronting the figure, "I don't know where you got your training as a knight, but didn't anyone teach you some manners?"

 

The cloaked Knight stepped into the room, but did not remove his helm.  He faced the Major squarely, and spoke in a clear authoritative voice, "Yes, I do recall manners and etiquette being part of my training."

 

"Then why are you displaying such bad manners now?"

 

"Bad manners?  I'm not the one trying to start a fight.  And seven on one?  You should really be ashamed of yourself, Major."

 

The Major turned red with fury and he was about to punch the cloaked knight when Black Stone's voice interfered.  "Halt, Major."  The Major turned to face his new commander.  "Is it your custom, Major, to start fights with guests in the Great Hall where we're supposed to be getting along?"

 

The Major bowed, "No, General, I'm sorry.  He's just being infuriating.  He refuses to show good manners."

 

"It appears as though our guest is not the only one who refuses to show good manners.  I believe I gave you all orders."  They all nodded.  "Then be about your business."  They all bowed and excused themselves.

 

General Black Stone turned to face the cloaked Knight.  "State your business."  Up close, Black Stone's coat of arms could clearly be seen.  It was a black hippogriff on three paws, facing left on blue background, and in the top right corner was the King's emblem.

 

The cloaked Knight bowed.  "I was ordered to deliver a message to the Commanding Officer of the Knights of the State."   As he waited, the cloaked Knight appraised the General's appearance.  By Church Knight standards, his armor was only of fair quality.  Everything else, however, was of the finest quality.  The seamstress that made his surcoat was truly an artist.

 

 Black Stone raised an eyebrow, "On whose authority are you in this hall?  Messages are to be delivered at the gate."

 

 Using his left hand, the Knight produced a letter and handed it over.  Black Stone took it and read it.  "My apologies.  I did not realize that the General had invited the Knights of Athena as well."

 

The cloaked Knight inclined his head.  "No apologies are necessary.  It seems since you are now in command, General, that my message is for you."  He produced another letter and handed it over.  Black Stone took it and read it.  He found it hard to conceal his emotions. The news was not good.  The Church Knights had suffered far more casualties than he could have even begun to imagine.  Internally, he felt a fool for having not realized it had gotten as bad as this on the borders.  For the first time, he really looked at this Knight before him, a Knight who had probably seen more battles and more action than he.  The cloak that concealed him was of shabby quality; however the armor that was visible was all black; this was deliberate, not from lack of cleaning.  And from what little Black Stone could see of his armor, it told him that these Church Knights certainly did know their business on armor construction.

 

"You may be a messenger sent by Athena, but you should still remove your helmet indoors."

 

"Now that I have delivered my message, I will be going.  So, I see no reason to remove my helm."

 

Black Stone said, "Are you always so insolent or just damned stubborn?"

 

The cloaked Knight bowed.  "I am neither being insolent nor stubborn.  I merely advise you that this, my friend, is a battle you do not wish to pick here and now."

 

Black Stone considered the earnestness of the voice that spoke.  A faceless voice, but something told him he best heed the warning.  "I may wish to pick up this conversation later.  Where are you staying the night?" 

 

The cloaked Knight sighed.  A long moment passed.  "I am unfamiliar with this city.  Perhaps you would be so good as to recommend an inn for one of modest needs.  It had been my intention to stay in the market district."

 

Black Stone considered for a moment.  "The Mad Dog Inn, I believe, will be to your liking."

 

The cloaked Knight sketched a bow.  "Then I shall seek accommodations there.  If I am unable to secure a room, I will leave word of where I shall pass the night.  Good day to you, General."  He turned on his heel and walked from the Great Hall