Lord Soth (4 page)

The keep had been designed by Knight Soth himself, who’d wanted to create a fitting tribute not only to those
Solamnic Knights who had so bravely fallen in battle over the ages, but to his numerous uncles and cousins, all of them knights, who had died when the great plagues swept across Solamnia in the latter years of the Age of Might. Therefore the keep had been constructed in the shape of a rose, its towers, battlements and ramparts curling out from its center like the petals of a flower under the warm light of the mid-morning sun. Closer to the ground, a long column twisted up from the earth with portholes and windows dotting the structure at various points, their intricate and decorative brickwork giving the column the appearance of having thorns. Protecting the keep was a high and thick stone wall which, ringing the structure with a solid line of defense against even the most persistent attacker, at the same time created a spacious courtyard on the grounds for the training of knights and for the conducting of ceremonies and other festivities.

And finally, surrounding the keep was a deep and dark chasm, said to be bottomless but in reality no more than a hundred or so feet deep. The only entrance to the keep was across a sturdy drawbridge which spanned the chasm and led visitors through a well guarded gatehouse. The gatehouse featured a heavy steel portcullis fashioned in the shape of interlocking swords and adorned with small crowns and large roses. The overall design of the keep made it both a wonder to behold and an impregnable fortress. As a result, plans had been made to designate the keep as the strategic headquarters of the Knights of the Rose, the highest order of the Solamnic Knights.

But despite its many wonders, the most unique of all of the keep’s features was its color. At Knight Soth’s insistence, the keep had been built from a rose-colored granite popularly referred to as “bloodstone” which had been quarried from a very rich vein in the heart of the Dargaard Mountains. When he had first hinted that the keep should be made of the crimson stone, the cutters and masons rebelled knowing all too well that bloodstone
was the hardest of all building materials to work with. But now, mere months after its completion, all agreed that the additional effort and hard work had been more than worthwhile.

The keep was a thing of beauty and a source of pride to all the people of Knightlund. It was also a structure worthy of its most noble inhabitant, Knight Loren Soth, currently a Knight of the Sword and a great and noble soldier for the cause of Good.

The mood around the estate on this morning was a spirited one as a carnival-like atmosphere had pervaded all of the proceedings in and around Dargaard Keep for the past few weeks. What else could be expected as one of Solamnia’s greatest knights prepared to be wed?

And, with a higher concentration of knights and noblemen than could be found even on the greatest of battlefields, the merchants and tradesmen of Solamnia had all flocked to Dargaard Keep, setting up shop weeks in advance, trying to secure the best spots in which to sell their wares to the wedding guests they hoped would all be in a spending mood.

On the grounds just west of the keep, blacksmiths and other skilled tradesmen were selling newly forged armor and swords, all of which glinted with gold, silver and brass accents and shone blindingly bright beneath the hot morning sun. Many of them had already done great business, selling all that they had brought and taking orders for more custom-made articles. Around the back of the keep, tailors and seamstresses sold resplendent garments suitable for wearing to the wedding ceremony of a knight, while still others were busy making new clothes specifically ordered for the occasion.

The rest of the crowd was filled out by jugglers, conjurers, minstrels and bards, and an assortment of other fortune tellers, con artists and prestidigitators. Busiest of these were the herbalists who purported to be selling all varieties of love potions, the potency of which were verified nightly by
some of the more amorous of the wedding’s guests.

But while the mood outside was festive, within the walls of the keep’s courtyard there was an event underway, the tone of which was somewhat more subdued.

“Knight Soth, please come forward,” said Lord Olthar Uth Wistan, High Warrior, and one of the presiding knights on the assembled Rose Knights Council. Olthar sat at one end of a group of five knights seated at the high table which was elevated atop a wooden platform positioned against one of the courtyard’s inside walls. At Olthar’s immediate left were two elderly Knights of the Rose, both of whom had long since retired from their active knightly duties. Oren Brightblade and Dag Kurrold had both been asked to sit on the Rose Knights Council out of respect for their long years of distinguished service to the knighthood. Both had accepted the honorary appointment with pleasure.

Sadly, Solamnic Grand Master Leopold Gwyn Davis had fallen ill the previous week and was bedridden and unable to attend. A seat was left empty upon the platform in his honor.

Soth stepped forward dressed in a combination of gleaming plate armor and chain mail, a scarlet cloak trailing behind him. His breastplate bore the symbol of the Order of the Sword and in contrast to the rest of his armor, it was worn and dented, evidence of just some of the heroic battles he had fought and won against the forces of Evil. He knelt in front of the high table and kept his head bowed, waiting to be spoken to.

Lord Olthar nodded to the fourth council member, signaling to the member that he was no longer presiding over the council.

The fourth member nodded, accepting control of the ceremony.

“Are you the supplicant wishing to apply to the Order of the Rose?” asked High Justice Lord Adam Caladen, who along with High Clerist Lord Cyril Mordren occupied
the remaining two spots on the five-member Rose Knights Council.

Soth looked up at the high justice and nodded.

“You may begin with your family’s lineage,” said High Justice Caladen.

“I am Loren Soth, Knight of the Sword,” he said proudly. “My family has been one of the ruling houses of Solamnia for many, many years. For generations, the Soth name has carried on the proud tradition of the Solamnic Knights, pursuing the virtues of loyalty, obedience, heroism, courage, justice and wisdom. So well have my ancestors served the knights, and so stringent is their adherence to the ways of the Oath and the Measure, that they were deeded the province of Knightlund in recognition of their years of loyal service and undying devotion to the cause of Good.” Soth paused in honor of his ancestors. “It is my intention to make sure that the same level of commitment continues under the Soth family name for many generations to come.”

A slight good-natured laugh rippled through the crowd of knights, family and guests that had gathered within the courtyard to witness the ceremony.

“While my father, Aynkell Soth, was not a knight, he has done his best to serve the Knights of Solamnia well. In addition, many of my father’s brothers—my uncles—were some of the bravest and most noble knights Solamnia has ever seen.”

“Yes,” someone called from the rear of the crowd.

“And although my father was just a humble clerk, he was never without honor, pledging loyalty to the knighthood and living his life as if he himself were bound by the code prescribed by the Oath and the Measure.” Soth raised the volume of his voice slightly as he said these words in order to prevent it from wavering. “For many years, he has acted as a most capable steward of Knightlund, ensuring that the realm would be strong and prosperous for the day that I, his only son and the one true
heir to Knightlund”—these words were also spoken loudly, almost as if they were a challenge—“became of age and the province could rightly be passed from his capable hands to mine.”

The crowd behind Soth broke into a small cheer that grew in strength until the high justice was forced to raise a hand and restore order. “And what of your deeds of honor?”

Another laugh rippled through the crowd, only now it was a little livelier. Asking Soth about his deeds of honor was like asking the great and legendary Knight Huma Dragonbane, “And what of the dragons?”

“I have led a successful expedition to Southern Ergoth to rescue two knights who had been captured and unjustly held as hostages by a band of ogres while on a peaceful journey to Qualinesti.”

Members of the Knights Council nodded, none more emphatically than Dag Kurrold, whose son Degan was one of the two knights rescued in that very raid.

“While escorting a religious pilgrimage of women to Istar to visit the Temple of the Kingpriest, my party was crossed by a band of marauding thieves in one of the passes leading through the mountains of Thoradin. During the subsequent battle, I single-handedly slew four ogres and a minotaur.” Some in the crowd gasped at the mention of a minotaur, but Soth continued. “But most important of all was that none of the women on the pilgrimage, nor any of the knights under my command, were killed or injured in the fight, while each and every one of our attackers was dispatched and the pilgrimage continued on without further incident.”

“Paladine be praised,” came a cry from somewhere in the courtyard, no doubt from one of the women who had been on the pilgrimage.

“Last spring,” continued Soth, “while traveling through Kelwick Pass on my way to Throtyl, I rescued a child from inside a burning cottage, then brought that child back to
Dargaard Keep where the healer was able to save its young life.”

“Hurrah!” came the faint voice of a boy, the same boy Soth had saved from the fire.

“I successfully defended the honor of Lady Wandra after accusations had been made against her chastity by a scorned suitor.”

“Enough! Enough!” cried Lord Caladen sternly, raising his hands as if Soth’s deeds were a rising tide which needed to be stanched. “You know as well as anyone here that a supplicant need only offer three honorable deeds. If we were to listen to all of the deeds on your list, Knight Soth, we might all be late for the wedding.” The high justice smiled and the tension was broken by the sound of laughter.

The tone of such council meetings was usually quite solemn, but that was usually the result of an uncertainty about a knight’s suitability for acceptance into the Order of the Rose. For Soth, however, his ascension into the highest order of the Knights of Solamnia was little more than a formality. The Knights of the Rose had been eager to bring Soth into their order for years and in fact had waived the stipulation which would have required Soth to venture on a quest to prove his loyalty to the order and its cause. Sending him on a thirty-day quest to restore something which was lost, to defeat an evil and more powerful opponent and to conduct one test of wisdom and three of generosity seemed unnecessary in Soth’s case. He had been undergoing such tests, and passing them with flying colors for years.

“Now,” said Lord Caladen. “If anyone present has any knowledge as to why this noble knight should not ascend to the Order of the Rose, or rule over Knightlund as its lord, now is your chance to be heard.”

Although Lord Caladen said the words jovially and as if they were little more than a mere formality, Soth’s heart leapt up into his throat as he waited for a faint voice to break the quiet stillness of the moment.

No one said a word.

Or perhaps dared to.

“Very well, then, Knight Soth,” Lord Caladen said rising to his feet. “Your lineage is impeccable, your deeds most honorable, and your supplication unchallenged. However, it is the custom of the Rose Knights Council to adjourn in private to determine whether a petition should be accepted or rejected, and we shall do so now.”

Lord Caladen moved away from the high table, stepped off the platform and was followed into a room just off the courtyard by Lord Cyril and Lord Olthar. Oren Brightblade and Dag Kurrold also followed the others off the platform, but they were helped down the steps by several eager Knights of the Crown who were more than willing to lend a hand to the gallant knights who had fought beside their fathers and grandfathers so many years ago.

When the Knights Council had left, Soth turned around to take a look at the gathering. To his right, seated in the small gallery reserved for honored guests, was Caradoc, who as Soth’s seneschal, would also be ascending an order of the knighthood soon, becoming a Knight of the Sword. To Caradoc’s left was Korinne Gladria, waving to her shining knight with a look that was proud, loving and somehow seductive. Soth waved back at her, then stopped as he caught sight of his father. Aynkell Soth had raised his clenched fist as a sign of congratulations, but Soth quickly looked away before it became obvious that he had seen the man and was forced to acknowledge the gesture.

Soth turned his head the other way and saw scores of his fellow knights from all three of the orders offering their congratulations and best wishes. Soth nodded to each in turn as he continued to scan the gathering. Then when he looked directly behind him, he saw a wall of bodies crammed into every available corner of the courtyard, some even sitting atop the shoulders of the more sturdy in the crowd. Even the balconies and battlements were full of onlookers and well-wishers. This was a momentous occasion
in Soth’s life and he was glad there were record numbers of people who wanted to be a witness to it.

The low murmur of voices was silenced by the opening of the door to the Rose Knights Council’s room. Oren Brightblade and Dag Kurrold were first to exit and were quickly escorted back onto the platform by the young knights who, like everyone else, were eager to hear the Rose Knights Council’s decision.

A moment later High Warrior Lord Olthar Uth Wistan, High Clerist Lord Cyril Mordren, and High Justice Lord Adam Caladen took their places at the high table.

They were all silent and their faces were strangely solemn.

Watching them take their seats, Soth was suddenly worried that things were about to go terribly wrong. Had the Knights Council been made aware of his father’s indiscretions? Had they somehow learned about the measures he had taken six months previous? If they had, it would mean his ascension to the Order of the Rose would be rejected; indeed, even his life as a Knight of Solamnia might well be over.