Merrik’s Tale
The king placed his arm around Merrik, the old bard had trouble with stairs of late. It shocked him to discover how well the bard’s robes hid the weight loss.
‘Merrik, it would please me to see you perform one last time before the court. They all bicker and gossip about whom I will pick to replace you. I would like to remind them one last time that you cannot be replaced, that when you have passed none among us will have lived during the age of the hero kings.’
‘I believe you should pick Fingold, he has the voice and he has a sharp…’
‘Stop’ interrupted the king. ‘I am sorry Merrik, I know your opinion on Fingold. I also know that you are distracting me from getting your commitment to recite the Mabinogin.’
The old bard watched the king for a moment, his thoughts taken to another king in another age. His king. His age.
‘I will do it, but not for your court. I will do for the memory of your grandfather. I’ he paused ‘We would all do well to remember his strengths’ the old bard’s gaze held the kings for a moment ‘and his weaknesses. The tale will serve you well in the future.’
The king laughed at the bard’s forwardness. ‘I often forget that those who watched me suckle from the Queen-mother, rarely grant me politeness’.
‘I often forget that if my king catches me on the stairs he will hold me here forever with useless wagging of his tongue. However do you manage the kingdom sire?’
Startled the king realized that they were on the same step where the conversation had begun. After he helped Merrik to his room the king closed the door, but not before Merrik had another spell of coughing. ‘Do not worry, young kingling. I have it by Royal decree that I must perform in less than a fortnight’.
The grand hall was packed for the chilly celebration of Sojen’s birth. Fires burned in the great hearths, allowing all present to momentarily forget that winter would soon be upon them. Merrik entered after the meal. As always he wore the old robes of his office as Master Herald. The bard shuffled towards the stage that had been built for this evening’s tale. Although it violated tradition, the king came down from the head table to help his old mentor onto the stage.
‘My lords and ladies, the king has asked me to share the tales of the Mabinogion with you this evening’ began Merrik. He paused for a moment to judge the crowd. His vision was fading, but the bard could see well enough, even had his sight been completely gone. The hall was filled with fops and sycophants who knew nothing of war or of sacrifice. The unworthy youth that must support his king’s heir. Merrik wondered if he would have thought anymore of himself, he wondered what his mentor Donnel must of thought of him seven decades ago in this very chamber. Did Donnel feel the same sense of guilt to be leaving the world in such incapable hands?
‘The Mabinogin is your Legacy, it was for this.’ He lifted his arms to sweep in the crowd…’For you. Most youngsters ask me to skip ahead to the ’Good Stuff’ and in my youth I have done so from time to time, but tonight I will tell the tale in it’s entirety. The Mabinogin begins before the Hero Kings were born, or even before their parents were brought into this land. It is as old as death, but that story has yet to tale its tale. We are more interested in the Hero Kings and Middea, and THAT story begins in the year 1051, on the night of the Black Battle; the night that Cindares and Nydara struggled near what is now called the Battleford. The battle between brother and sister is only the catalyst of our story, but know this, these two Elder Beings, these Celestine, hated each other more than you can fathom. When they came together in battle, it would not…nay, it could not end until a life was destroyed.
The life of an Elder Being is a reflection of the Flame of Eternity, it touches the Primal essence of all things, the sacred fire that animates us and gives life. A piece of that true essence is housed within the Elder Beings, whether they be Ennwrathi or Celestine. When a container for that shard of divine essence was destroyed it sought to rekindle itself, and the Flame of Eternity is truly enduring. Many women heavy with child awoke suddenly that night, these babes were to become the Hero Kings.
At first, many lived life as you or I might, some as noble born and others as commoner. Eventually, all of these children would recognize their heritage, else they perished. King Sorin Ragnerik had ruled for nearly two decades when it was discovered what these children could become. Many blame King Sorin for the tribulations that followed, but those who knew the king believed his motives were pure in the beginning. What king could resist endowing his bloodline with the powers of the gods? King Sorin was a man of duty, and his duty was to the kingdom, not his 8-year-old son and heir. None know for sure if Rafn was truly from the king’s loins, but all know that a minor noble woman named Risha Lind had long been the King’s mistress. She birthed Rafn on the Night of the Black Battle, making him one of the Blooded.’
Merrik looked out meeting the gaze of one of the young Knights, his bearing much like that of Kristan in his youth. The bard saw other vacant eyes in the crowd. He chuckled. I hate explaining stories.
‘A wave from the sea appears to be moving only when it breaks, but long before that the force of the wave is traveling towards the shore. Though it was not seen, does not negate its existence, the same is true with the Blooded. Shadows and dark things had been in motion long before Nydara’s death, and there was whispering among those who celebrated the Flame Eternal. Few knew the extent of the shadow war taking place while these children grew into their heritage, the beginning of the Anathema.
Most stories date the beginning of the Anathema as the early spring of 1057, when King Sorin divorced his wife Janiece and disinherited his son Andris. He went against the advice of his councilors and immediately married a minor noble woman from the Lind family, she was to become the most reviled queen in the history of Middea: Queen Risha. The heir to the Triple Crown was her son Rafn. Friends of King Sorin claim that the deed festered in him until his end. When he divorced Janiece he offended the greatest magnate of the lands, Duke Rhys Mithrandall, Margrave of the East, Earl of Claypool and Tristor, and Marshall-General of all Middea. The powerful duke took steps to ensure that his daughter and grandson were safely escorted from the capitol of Middea, Chandra, to the Duchy of Wingate. Though this black deed was done in the interest of the kingdom, it would forever set the Dukes of Wingate against the Ragnerik kings.
The Margrave of the East was engaged in a war with the Palatinate of Lorain, and to busy to press his grievances with the king for several years, but his court faction soon found itself distinctly out of favor. With the Margrave busy elsewhere the king moved unopposed.
In 1060, Queen Risha announced the opening of the School of Peers. The school was open to all children of age with Rafn and care was taken to bring children from all over the Triple Kingdoms, so that the young prince might learn more about his countrymen.’ Merrik paused for a drink. The bitter wine was laced with essence of odnium. He hated how the drink dulled his wits, but feared he would be unable to continue without it.
‘So, this then is the beginning of the Hero Kings. In order to understand the Hero Kings, you must understand what happened at the School of Peers. The school was used to find other children who might be Blooded, those who proved to have the spark in them were separated from the others.
What these children, my friends, endured they would not confide in me. Even in old age, as death crept up on those lucky enough to embrace the specter gently, these men still wept when reminded of the school. I know some, bits and pieces given away over drink and such. Many were kept isolated seeing no others except for Prince Rafn, and their trainers. They were allowed to visit with one friend, usually a girl or boy of their age chosen by their trainers. They were denied names; instead they were called by the weapon they were to train with that day. Many times they would be forgotten in their cell for days at a time with no food or water, only to have the prince rescue them. The trainers would frequently beat them, many of the children died from these beatings. I asked a trainer once what caused him to beat such defenseless children, and he told me that all of the trainers drew straws at breakfast each morning to see who would beat their charge that day. It was completely random, the beatings were to teach the children that life was suffering, and the only time they would not suffer was when they were with the prince. If the beatings had been for discipline, the children would have learned to tolerate it for their perceived infractions of the rules, by making the beatings random it forced the children into a state of complete submission. Nothing they could do would change the pain; only the Prince could make it stop.
As the children grew they were forced to do cruel things, at first to animals and then to criminals. The prince would often be at hand to watch them kill, if they failed to do so he would look saddened and explain that because they had disobeyed him he would be unable to visit them for the next several months. This statement frequently broke the children, but those who accepted their fate were beaten more frequently than usual. When the Prince returned he would ask that they perform the task set before them so that he could continue to visit them. Eventually most of the children killed whatever they were asked to kill, without question, without hesitation. When they were done with their grizzly task they would look for the Prince to see if they had pleased him.
The bravest man I have known told me once that after several years of this inhumane treatment, he was brought before the Prince and told that in the next room was someone who had greatly offended the Prince and that they must die horribly. When he opened the door he found his chosen playmate, or as the trainers had begun to call them since the onset of puberty his breed mate. He told me that she took over a day to die.
The children who made it this far were called the Blood Guard, bound to the Prince in their soul. Most did not make it this far however. A few escaped on their own, but a group known as the Shield Knights secreted many away from the compound. The vast majority were slain by Prince Rafn. He began the ritual killing of Blooded children when he was nine; by the time he was twelve he had begun to ritually sacrifice other children or adults who displeased him. He told Mortimer, the dark mage who engineered most of the atrocities associated with the school, that he could tap the Elan of all beings even those who were unblooded. Most believe that at twelve Prince Rafn was already a powerful vessel of the Ennwrathi, and needed death to live. Those who died at his hands were not merely killed, Rafn turned death into an art form.
How many children the Shield Knights secreted away I do not know, but it must have been a little more than a few dozen. They began to unteach these children. They forced them into strong bonds of friendship, put them into tests where only teamwork would succeed.
Discipline was harsh under the Shield knights, but totally fair and measured. A list of rules and punishments was placed in the areas frequented by the children, it was the first thing they were taught to read. The rules never changed, and the pupils were always punished in exactly the same manner each time. The knights and their associates worked to teach a sense of responsibility and control. Children were encouraged to seek out their rightful punishment if they broke the rules and explain why they had done so. Many of the tests engineered by the knights required the breaking of the rules, giving each person power over their environment – if a child chose he could refuse a test. But refusing a test meant that he could not advance. He was allowed to pick the time and manner of his punishment.
The children were divided into groups that had complementary skills. They were housed together, fed together, and trained together. The sleeping quarters were open and had enough bunks for all but one child. The food was prepared for all but one child. The weak and the timid usually slept on the floor and went without food, until one child asked an instructor why another child must suffer just because he was weak. The Knight replied that the weak child did not have to suffer, his friends chose for him to suffer. Only they could solve the problem of the weak being denied what the strong took. Soon the children took turns in bed, and each skipped a meal at their turn. These things did not change overnight, and many scuffles among the strongest children arose from these changes. Leaders arose who help organize their and other groups.
The children were encouraged to name their ‘band’, and competition was encouraged among the differing Cohorts. Though these children had been battered, they were not broken, but it took a long time to undo the damage.
During the training, the gifts of each child were noted and encouraged. A rare few possessed the gift of magic and these were eventually sent off to the Muldegians for further training. Some went to foreign schools to learn combat; all were given every opportunity to develop their talents. Many became men and women during these years. Soon these virgin blades would have to be tested to see if they held the tempering.
Each cohort was brought to Seven Oaks where they stood beneath the great tree and given a mission, they must live as a commoner for one year and a day. Each child was given a map and a family that he or she would become part of. The weapons and armor were taken, the arcane writings stored for future use, and a warning was given to each child. The prince taught you to kill, we have given you skills, and demonstrated that you must rely on one another but we cannot teach you to be people. You will live as a common man, working the lands and animals with your hands. If you cannot do this without violence, if you seek fame or glory, if you try to rule over those who are your family you will fail. Do not return, but if you can do these things return to the tree and we will see what the future holds for you’.
Merrik looked down, he thought about the many times he had met at that monstrous old oak. Many of his friends had asked to be buried there. He had asked his king once what the significance of the tree was.
‘Merrik, for you life has always been what you planned for and worked for. We never knew what that was. The tree was our freedom. It was our secret dream, to be able to choose what we wanted.’
‘Do you youngsters understand the significance of the tree?’ Ironic in a way that under this very tree Sojen had proclaimed his people to be free. The real name of Sevenoaks, should have been Sojens Oak but some scholar somewhere made a mistake.
A few heads nodded. ‘Good, then let me tell you about the first meeting beneath the tree. I was there, and I will never forget when they came riding from out of the woods, those who passed the tests were more than men and kings, they were the sharpest blades forged by human hands and minds. It was the fall of 1075 and…….
