Wayfare to an Uncertain Asylum, Chapter IV
This Chapter is Incomplete
Chapter IV - Flight for Freedom
"Our guest is no longer with us, his propsal was an insult to the greatness of The Walker in Darkness. The arrogance of his master will not be forgiven or forgotten, let this set example to any who doubt the unstoppable power of The Master."
Whisper spoke with a strong authority, though the voice he spoke with was certainly not his. He had in all ways become The Prince of the Ninth Obelisk, his voice and appearace were mirror images. His clothes were spattered with blood as was his throne room, though his servants had started cleaning the white marble. From the ceiling hung the trophy of his plot, a torseo of a man, no limbs or head to speak of. Blood dripped slowly down from the stumps that remained, no sign of missing limbs but the blood that gathered at the edges of his mouth. Though Whisper did his best not to show it, he had suffered his share of injuries fromt he battle with the other deathknight, though clearly the winner the pain that echoed through his chest with every breath was not going away anytime soon.
The group of ancient ghosts that had sat within the semi-circle with The Prince upon Whisper's arrival had now returned, some of them looked anxiously at the body that hung from the ceiling, other looked to the rotting flesh with hunger in their eyes. The trophy of his victory had served its purpose, even the most perceptive of The Prince's servants would see no physical difference between the real and the imposter, however he could not afford to have all of their attention gathered upon him. It would take time for him to gather all the knowledge that a deathknight prince such as the man he'd killed would know, he did not have much time as he knew a far greater oppounent would be arriving on the following day. He sighed as one of the drones groaned on about the insult of sending a propsal to The Walker in Darkness for what to do with his own army. He was in no mood to hear the rabblings of a ghost who had clung to life like some pathetic child to a favorite toy, if this is what he would find in the court of The Walker then perhaps he could make his stay here a long one. If only he could get by tomorrow, though would he be any safer under the guise of a rival deathknight than he was as a rogue?
"Leave me." Arkanians voice shattered the chatter among his court of ghosts, all eyes turned to him, suddenly silent. "I have no desire to hear the ramblings of the dead tonight. Make preperations for tomorrow, be sure that everything is in order for our visitor. Perhaps tomorrow you will be given the oppurtunity to prove your worth to me." As he spoke he cast his gaze at the subjects before him, slaming a balled fist down upon the arm of his throne as he finished, the vibrations echoed through the marble throne and reverberated through the floor.
His point was made and the ghosts that served him soon left the chamber, sensing that he was finally alone Arkanian let out a sigh of relief. It took some concentration for him to tap into the scattered memories of The Prince, but soon enough he was able to find what he desired. A switch at the back of the throne caused it to slide forward, revealing a secret stairway under the chamber, here he would find The Princes place of rest as well many of the documents that would provide him the information necessary to pull of this switch.
He awoke with a jolt, though he was unaware of what caused him to wake so suddenly. A look around the large dark room told him that he was still alone, the candle that he had been reading by the night before had burned out. Doccuments were strewn about the desk, some had fallen or been discarded to the floor, Arkanian had drifed to sleep at the desk and by the look of the burned out candle had slept for several hours. A single strike of flint would be enough to light the oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, casting a dull glow around the room, though it left the corners still eriely dark. Arkanian stretched slowly as tried to work the stiffnesss of sleep from his body, his ribs ached and his muscles felt weak but there was no more time for rest today. He washed up and put on The Prince's finest robes, a young deathknight like The Prince would need to work hard to fall into the favor of an expereinced abyssal general such as Shards of Basalt.
The day began quietly as the ghosts of the court were not yet awoken, though several mortal servanats were about and they fixed him a fine breakfest. He also noticed that someone had taken the care to remove the body from the rafters and clean up in it's wake, the hall had been decorated more so than it was yesterday. From the looks of things no one would ever know that a deathknight had been killed upon the floor of the throne room yesterday, Arkanian hoped that it would stay that way. Final preperations were made for the arrival of Shards of Basalt, a cermony for his arrival along with a feast was planned that would occupy the twightlight ours of the evening, afterwords would be business.
The precession that accompanied Shards of Basalt was a less impressive one than Arkanian had expected, the deathknight general rode at the head of a 9 man unit. All were dressed as fiersome warriors, Shards of Basalt's soulsteel plate was a terrifying expereince as the cold steel seemed to fill the night air with the screams of his enemies. The entire village was out to watch the arrival of The Master's heralded general, ghosts and mortals alike watched in respectful silence. Arkanian awaited his guest at the door of chamber, standing confidently at the top of the steps, surronded by his court with all of his personal guard in formation. Shards of Basalt dismounted at the steps, impossible to read the thoughts of the armor glad warrior. Intimidating in size, silent but for the grinding of his armor as he moved, the horned helmet loomed over Arkanian as his guest came to a pause before him.
"Welcome general, it is our--" The mighty open palm of the other deathknight's gauntlet struck Arkanians face with a loud crack, his cheek immediately red and the taste of blood filled his mouth. Arkanian looked to the armored figure before him, eyes filled with anger and his hand balled into a fist, his poise now hanging by a thread.
"Do not be so foolish as to look on me with anger my Prince, my next strike would do much more than an enbaresment." The figure had the booming voice one would expect for a field general, the deep tone hinted at amusement as he mocked his younger peer. "The people of this village show fear at the sign of a visitor, they should have no fear. By life or death they serve a master greater than their understanding, be sure to purge them of this fear before our next meeting."
Shards of Basalt brushed past Arkanian, who remained in a stunned silence, the doors opened for Shards of Basalt as he grew near. He entered the lavishly decorated hall, a long table was set and prepared for the feast to celebrate the visit. At one head of the table sat Shards of Basalt, at the other sat Arkanian, one side of the table was filled with those who had accompanied Shards of Basalt on his trip, the other was filled with those in the service of The Prince. Dinner was not quiet but clearly not friendly, both sides enjoyed the feast but rarely did the subjects of the deathknights mix words with the others; both deathknights were quiet with their attention fixed upon one another watching for any sign of weakness.