The wind rose over the mountains then blew down across the snow-covered fields. The wind swirled around the trees of the great forest. It blew around the burned and abandoned buildings of the town, carrying the smell of smoke and carrion with it. It blew into the camp, swirling around the tents and causing the flaps to billow.

Urdoon Camnode lifted his head from studying the maps before him and turned to look into that wind. He was an older man, the hair at his temples graying. He wore a dark blue tunic, with a little silver scrollwork worked on the cuffs and collar, under armor that was once smooth and brilliantly reflective, but now was dented and dull. The wind blew his tied back hair back, causing the two battle-braids, which hung on either side of his head, to whip back.

He smelled the smoke and carrion on the wind and silently spoke a prayer for those people who had been killed. He had brought his force, under orders from the High Lord, and had attacked the enemy force that had been stationed here. The citizens of the village had come in defense of those men, and he had been forced to order them killed along with the rest. This was a war after all, but he still did not like it. Duty was heavier than a mountain. He stood staring off into the wind.

The man standing across the table from Urdoon was a much younger under-lieutenant who was considered by most of his superiors as the ‘perfect’ soldier. He followed the Order’s beliefs unwaveringly and never questioned even the most seemingly pointless or brutal orders. He now stood watching the Lord Captain Commander, watching him struggle with himself about the deaths of all the innocents. The young man wasn’t bothered in the least by the slaughter that had ensued the day before.

Urdoon sighed quietly to himself then slowly turned back to the maps and the young under-lieutenant who had come to give a report. Without really thinking about it, Urdoon reached out and caught a map that the wind had blown off the table. They young officer blinks once in astonishment at the quick, seemingly reflexive movement of the older man, but that was the only sign that he had even seen it. Urdoon shakes his head slightly and sets the map back down on the table. “Yes, Knight Berad? What is it?”

The young officer stiffens slightly, looking straight ahead, over Urdoon’s head. “Lord Captain Commander, our scouts have returned and it seems that there is another contingency of the enemy not far to the north of here. If the scout’s estimation of their numbers can be believed then they have more than fifteen hundred men stationed up there, though he may have exaggerated slightly.” The young officer’s tone says that this is probably the case. “What are your orders?”

Urdoon sighs and looks down at the maps again. He studies the area to the north of them, which was close to mountainous but now quite. He shakes his head slowly then lifts his head and looks at Berad “What might you be counseling, Knight Berad?”

The young man bows his head slightly, as was proper. “My place is not to counsel but to follow your orders, Lord Captain Commander.” He straightens again and continues to look straight ahead.

Urdoon shakes his head slightly and looked at the young officer with a gaze that would have made even the stiffest street tough step back. “I did ask you a question, Knight Berad. You will be answering it. What might you be counseling in this situation?”

Berad stayed silent for a long moment. Though he had not outwardly shown any reaction to Urdoon’s hard gaze, it had still shaken him, as it would any man, but it also made him feel the spark of hatred ignite in him. Urdoon had been cross to him because he had only done what was proper by the writ every knight was forced to learn and follow when dealing with a superior. After a moment he finally spoke “Sir, I believe that we should move in before they can muster much of a defense. The scouts report that the enemy force had just stopped there to camp. We should move in swift and hard and overpower them now, before they can gain even more reinforcements. The quicker we destroy them the faster this war will end.” He stopped and fell silent once again, staring off over Urdoon’s head.

Urdoon looked at the young officer for a long moment before lifting a wine cup that one of the camp’s many servants had brought. He took a long sip of the spiced wine then looked at Berad once again. When he finally spoke it was in the quiet voice that many of his men had long ago come to realize signified true anger in their leader. “So, Knight Berad, you do see it necessary to go on killing after yesterday’s slaughter. Do you be so eager to see more battle and bloodshed so soon?”

Again, Berad stayed silent for long moment, forcing down the rising anger that had come from the Lord Captain Commander’s sharp words. He did not relish bloodshed but he also did not baulk at it when it was necessary and as he saw it, it was necessary now. “You asked, Lord Captain Commander, and I told you what I believe is necessary. I will follow your orders, though, no matter what they are.”

Urdoon shook his head slightly, Of course, he thought, you do be the perfect soldier. You be following every order I give, but you do no be liking it. He stood slowly and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “That I did…and you did be telling me what you did think…now do leave me…I do have much to consider…” With that he turned away from the young knight and began walking away, into the woods. He often took walks to clear his head, and every one of his men knew never to bother him while he was on one.

He carried no weapon with him on these walks. He did not think he needed one. He normally did not go far from the camps, so few enemies would venture near, but also he thought that he could handle any brigands that might wander near without a blade. So, as always, he went on his walk without a weapon of any kind.

He wandered through the woods, lost in his thoughts. He had already killed hundreds of innocents the day before, now more were coming. He sighed quietly, shaking his head slightly. He h ad not liked the idea of the invasion when the High Lord had given him the orders to advance. He had not liked it, but, as any other soldier would have, he followed the orders he was given without question. He had not wanted to end up dead like the last man who had questioned the High Lord. He sighs again at his following blindly without question then looked up to see where he was in proximity to the camp. He turned in a small circle but could not see the camp through the trees.

“Light! How far from the camp do I be?” As he spoke another sound caught his attention. It was the sound of something rummaging through the bushes off to the side. Bandits and the like he could handle, but the sounds coming from the bushes hinted at something other than human, and that was something he didn’t want to have to face without a blade. He turned and began walking as quietly and quickly away as he could in the direction he had thought the camp was. The sounds followed him, and he soon started to run. Even though he was older than most soldiers and wore heavy armor, he could outrun most of his men and soon he had lost whatever had been following him. He looks around for a long moment, trying to get his bearings. He had never been to this part of the forest on any of his other, numerous, walks. Off to one side is a cave, which looks to be deep. He turns away from it and begins to head back away from it, hoping to find some kind of landmark he remembered to get him back to the camp.

Ahead of him the bushes rustled slightly and he stopped, wondering if the thing that had been following him had caught up. Out of the bushes stepped a man in the livery of one of the enemy soldiers. He stopped and stared at Urdoon for a long moment. They stared at each other, neither of them sure what to do, then the nameless soldier let out a cry of alarm and answering cries were heard coming from almost all around them.

Urdoon let out an oath that under any other circumstance he would not have used then turned and ran as fast as he could back up towards the cave. By the number of answering calls there were at least fifteen other men with the soldier. Two or three bandits he could handle without his sword, four or five he could do with a blade, seven or eight might be more of a challenge, but fifteen was too great a number for him to deal with no matter what kind of weapon he had. When he got to the cave he paused for a moment, unsure if he should enter, but the sounds of the quickly approaching enemy soldiers spurred him on and he entered, hoping to loose them in the cave.

The cave as it turned out, as Urdoon had hoped it would, was actually the entrance to a large series of tunnels. He ran in and took the first turn he came to. He continued to go into the cave, being careful to keep track of what turns he made and keeping to a pattern that made sense to him, so that once the soldiers were gone he could find his way out of the tunnels again. As he went deeper and deeper he knew that the soldiers had probably gone by now, but something was drawing him deeper into the natural catacombs. After what seemed like hours the darkness of the cave began to give was to a dim red glow. When he finally noticed the strange unearthly glow he stopped, wondering what might lie ahead. As he hesitated he heard voices coming towards him from down the tunnel. Without thinking he charged ahead, through the red-tinted tunnel and into a cavern lit by the same strange red light.

The cavern was strange. The walls of it did not seem to be naturally formed; they were too smooth, as if carved out of the living stone. Black shapes were carved into the floor of the cavern, forming a circle of strange runes. At the center of the strange circle was an altar, carved with a relief of what seemed a man, but perhaps was some kind of demon, slaying armies of men. On the top of the altar was the source of the strange red light. Lying on the top of that demonic altar was a sword. It was a dull black from pommel to hilt; the blade itself was black as well, but an oilier, reflective black and the light was radiating from the edge of the blade.

Urdoon stopped and stared in wonder at the blade, not sure whether it was some kind of holy object or an object of the darkest pits of hell. He felt the urge to move forwards again and this time it was stronger. He began to move forward again, with slow, shuffling steps. As he got the altar he could almost feel the sword pulsing with…could be expectation?

Again he heard voices coming down the tunnel and without considering the consequences he reached out and grabbed the sword, spinning to face the mouth of the cavern. As his hand came in contact with the sword he felt as if something had twisted around his heart, squeezing momentarily but he ignored it, not really thinking about it as he prepared to face the men who had come, in all probability to kill him. The glow of the sword brightened slightly as he thought of the men approaching, as if in anticipation, but this too he did not notice.

The sounds of the voices grew closer. There were two of them, talking as if they had gotten lost in the caves. As they came into the larger cavern they stopped, seeing Urdoon standing there with the strange sword, looking almost like the demon/man depicted on the relief on the altar. They stopped, their eyes growing wide in surprise and began to back away from the frightening image. A small smile spread across Urdoon’s lips but it was not his smile. He moved forward with an unnatural speed and fluidity and with three quick slices the two men lay dead at his feet and, quite surprisingly, he had slit his own hand on the blade.

He looked down at his bleeding hand, astounded that he had made such a mistake. He had not cut himself on a blade that he was wielding since before he had ever become a squire. He shook his head slightly in disbelief but passed it off as a mistake caused by his wielding a strange blade and his surprise at finding the two enemy soldiers there. Without thinking about what he was doing he raised the blade in solute to the fallen foes, as any knight would have done, but what he said was not what should have been said. “Blood given is blood repaid.” His voice did not sound like his own and as he fell silent again he saw a dim red mist rise up from the two bodies and drift towards him. The mist seeped into his bleeding hand and suddenly the wound was gone, as if it had never been; and in his head were memories that were not his own. He didn’t realize where these strange memories had come from until he looked down at the two fallen men and one of the strange memories resurfaced. It was a memory of entering the cavern, and it could have been his own save that in this strange memory he entered and looked at himself holding the strange glowing sword.

He shook his head not fully believing his own mind and began to leave the natural catacombs. He found his way out easily and as he did so twenty or so men in the livery of the enemy stepped out of the bushes. He started to turn back towards the caves but the sounds of more people stepping into the tunnel behind him stopped that action. Instead he stood facing the men ahead of him, his head held high and the strange sword held tightly in his grip, though it felt different than it had only moment before.

As he had stepped out of the cavern the sword had sensed the presence of enemies, enemies that would have recognized it, and had changed its appearance. It now looked like one of the swords that the two soldiers, who had walked into the altar room after Urdoon, had been carrying.

Out of the group of men facing Urdoon, a tall man with the golden knot of an officer on his cloak stepped forward. “We, the Guardians of the Land, do take you, Urdoon Camnode, Lord Captain Commander of the White Knighthood, who have invaded our land unfairly, under arrest until such time as peaceful negotiations can be reached.” He held up his sword and pointed it at Urdoon’s chest. “Drop your weapon and come peacefully and no harm shall come to you. Should you resist you shall be killed on the spot. You cannot hope to escape from twenty-five of the most elite of the Guardians by yourself. Surrender now.” With that the others all drew their swords and stood ready to attack if Urdoon made any move to do anything other than what he had been instructed to do.

Urdoon stood silently for a moment, listening to the leader of the men and, as the others drew their swords, he turned his head slowly, surveying the rest of them before returning his gaze to the leader. “What do your name be, Sir?” It was not what they had expected and he knew it. He really had no plan of what to do, he would not allow himself to be captured, even if he was there would be no ‘peaceful negotiations’, and he did not want to die, so he was stalling for time, hoping some of his men would come.

The leader of the men made a dismissive gesture with his blade and shook his head slightly, never taking his eyes off Urdoon. “My name has no relevance to this. But, if you must know, I am Sir Wilam, Guardian Captain.” Wilam shook his head slightly again and stepped forward, keeping his sword between him and Urdoon. “Now, will you surrender peacefully or will you die horribly?”

Urdoon looked at Wilam for a long moment then shook his head slightly “Surrender do no be an option…and I do no fear death…of any kind!” As he spoke he raised his sword, which instantly changed back to its true form, the red glow bathing everything, and struck.

The first blow missed Wilam, who dodged aside, and somehow cut Urdoon again. Without pause he spun and struck again, with unnatural speed, and Wilam fell dead. The other men, frozen at first in shock, let out a roar and charged Urdoon, all with swords drawn. Urdoon spun and his blade seemed to strike as if alive. Men fell all around him, blood gushing from hundreds of wounds. A few blows struck Urdoon but every one that did was returned ten fold on the person who had landed it.

In less time than most would have believed possible, Urdoon stood alone in the butcher’s yard that had once been the clearing in front of the cave, the blade’s glow seeming to be pulsing contentedly at his side. He looked around slowly in wonder, trying to figure out how he had been able to kill twenty-five men and only obtain minimal injuries. He looked down at his body and saw eight or nine gashes across his chest and could feel more cutting across his back. He lifted his sword wearily in solute and was about to say a prayer for these men’s souls but again the words he spoke were not his own and were not what he wanted to say. “Blood given is blood repaid.” Again, as in the altar room, a red mist rose up from every body and drifted into his wounds, which vanished instantly. He looked down at his whole body, disbelief etched across his face.

At that moment there was the sound of people crashing through the forest and moments later thirteen of his knights ran into the clearing, blades drawn, ready to do battle with a hoard of enemies. They all stopped in stunned silence at the sight that greeted them as the stepped out of the trees. After a moment of complete silence on everyone’s part one of the knights pressed through the group to stand before Urdoon. It was Berad.

He looked around the clearing for a moment, taking in the carnage around him. Then he looked up at the Lord Captain Commander, his face seemingly carved of stone. “No man…could have done this without the use of other worldly powers…” His eyes turned cold and hard as his voice rose to an official tone. “Urdoon Camnode, Lord Captain Commander, Daishan of the White Knights, I place you under arrest for violating one of our greatest strictures. You are under arrest for the use of magic in battle beyond the spells of healing which were stated in ancient times, at the founding of the Order. Relinquish your blade and come peaceably, so that your fate may be decided by the High Lord and the Blade Council.” His voice was cold and hard, as it would have been for any knight charged with the same, but there was something else in his eyes as well. A smoldering hatred, a pleasure at charging Urdoon with this crime.

Urdoon slowly looked up at Berad, a look of confusion in his eyes, which slowly changed and shifted to a look of hard determination. He met the other knight’s heard stare; saw the fire burning in his eyes, The perfect soldier…phaw… he thought. He looked down at the sword for a moment, saw that the red light that had been shining from it had been muted, nearly gone, but as he looked he saw the light flare slightly. He looked back up at Berad, gripping the hilt of the sword for a moment then nodded slightly. He lifted his sword arm, holding the blade out for Berad to take. “I do follow the strictures, and I do give myself to the mercy of the High Lord and Blade Council. You do be taking me to them now, Knight Berad, so that I do be able to be presenting my case.” The light of the sword pulsed again, this time almost angrily, and Urdoon felt something in his mind, an enmity that at that moment had grown worse, and one that did not want to leave him. As Berad reached out to take the sword from him, he felt something take control of him, his arm suddenly jerked, cutting a deep gash in his arm, then again, cutting a huge, ragged gash across Berad’s throat.

The other knights backed up, gasps escaping all of them. Urdoon turned towards them, something still controlling his actions, and that strange, alien voice spoke again, “Be gone from here, if you do not wish to die. We will slay any who come against us, this we swear. If you fly now, no more shall be harmed, though if you do not fly, you will all be slain, as these men were slain.” With that he raised the sword up, putting it between him and the knights still standing there.

After a moment’s hesitation, the knights drew their blades as one. The strictures spoke of an honorable death in battle, and to the knights, their honor was more important than their lives. Like a wave of iron the knights pressed forward, a wordless roar escaping their lips as they attacked.

Without so much as a pause Urdoon moved forward, with that same unnatural speed and fluidity he had shown before, the blade flashing exultantly as it began to cut into the knights, passing through armor as if it were paper. Urdoon spun and struck, never once relenting in his attack. Every blow struck by the knights he visited back on them ten fold. The knights were better than the others had been but he still cut them all down, and soon, much too soon to be possible, it was over. Again he was standing alone in the middle of a sea of carnage, almost every knight who had come to his aid, and subsequent arrest, lay dead. One man remained, and seeing how easily his companions were dealt with he turned and fled. Urdoon watched him go, half of him wanting to kill him on the spot, a strange half of him, the other half hoping that the knight survived to tell others not to come near him.

After the fleeing knight had gone from sight Urdoon looked around at all the dead feeling an alien sense of satisfaction. Not at the actual deaths but at what would come of the deaths, which he was not sure what was.

He looked around, wondering how he could have possibly dispatched so many men in so short a time. He shouldn’t have been able to deal with even a quarter of them on his own. Then a look of dawning comprehension crossed his face and he looked down at the glowing blade in his hand.

It do be the sword…it do be the bloody sword…

He felt an alien presence invade his mind and he heard a voice speaking to him, but through his own mouth. “We are here. We shall be here forever. We are Olath Killian. The Dark Blade. We are one now.”

He felt the presence fading back again and then he remembered the relief carved onto the strange altar in the cave. Of one man destroying armies, but the man had looked strange, as if he were something more than a man. He had seemed to be part demon, but now he understood. The man had not been a half-demon abomination, but a man possessed by the demonic sword in his hand.

Again the sword invaded his mind, using his voice to speak to him. “We are bound now. For all time. We feed us. We give us all we need. We feed from our sanity and our soul. This is the pact.” When the sword’s presence receded, Urdoon shook his head emphatically. “No! I did no make a pact with not flaming sword! And you will no be bloody feeding from me of anything, soul or sanity! I do be leaving you here!” And with that he stabbed the sword down into the ground at the mouth of the cave, the sword cutting into the stone as easily as it had the steel armor of the knights.

As his hand left the sword he thought that he could almost hear the sword laughing at him. He shook of the feeling and turned to follow the one knight who had survived.

When he entered the camp, instantly twenty knights, armed with crossbows and pikes, surrounded him. One of the sub-officers stepped forward. “Urdoon Camnode. You are under arrest for violating the strictures concerning magic, and for the deaths of fourteen knights of the Order.” The young sub-officer sounded confused and scared but was ready to do what needed to be done. “Will you come peaceably to your trial, or will you resist and be slain here?”

Urdoon looked at the young knight for a long moment then he bowed his head, holding his hands behind his back in a sign of surrender. “I do be giving myself over to the mercies of the High Lord and the Blade Council. Let them be deciding my Fate. Destiny did call me here, I do accept my destiny.” He stood there still as stone as two of the knights surrounding him stepped forward and bound his wrists behind his back.

The knights that bound him took him to his tent and placed him there under guard of six of the Elite. Urdoon slowly walked over to his cot and sat down on it. He knew where his secret blades were kept but he did not go to take any of them. His code of honor would not allow him to free himself. He sat there pondering any possible defense he might have for when he was taken before the Council.

He lay down on the cot, as best he could with his hands still bound behind his back, and decided to get some sleep while he could. He lay there, staring up at the roof of the tent unable to sleep. The events of the day kept running through his mind. He still wasn’t sure how he could have possibly slain all those men without still having wounds from the battle. He thoughts began to drift slowly back to the sword and the power it had given him. He shook his head, pushing those thoughts away. Finally after going through every calming exercise he knew at least twice, sleep finally came to him, though it was fitful and full of dreams of death and murder.

After a few hours the knights guarding Urdoon opened the tent flap and allowed his escort to enter. Urdoon was still asleep and on his belt was a sword sheathed in a black scabbard. They were all surprised by the appearance of the sword. Many of them had known Urdoon well and knew that he did not have a sword like that, and the others knew that when he had been brought into the tent he had no sword. The leader of the escort stepped forward and woke Urdoon by speaking his name.

He sat up and blinked the remaining tiredness from his eyes before standing slowly. His hands were still bound behind his back and the ropes had not been cut, which only added to the escort’s confusion. As he stood, Urdoon felt the weight of the sword at his hip. He looked at it in confusion and a little fear. He looked at the men that were to escort him. “Please…do release my bonds, so that I do be able to take this cursed thing off. I do swear upon my life and honor that once the blade do be off my person that I will be coming willingly.”

The leader of the escort hesitated for a moment then nodded once. One of the other knights stepped forward and undid the ropes binding Urdoon’s wrists. As soon as his hands were free they flew to the sword, moving as if to draw it. The knights all jumped back drawing their own sword. With a look of hard, desperate, concentration on his face he removed his hands from the hilt of the sword and undid the buckle holding the sword-belt on his hip. He could feel the sword trying to force his hands away, trying to make him draw the sword.

With an extreme effort of will he was able to keep his hand from the sword hilt and undid the clasp holding the sword belt on. The sword belt fell to the ground and he stepped away from it. “There do be none who do touch that sword. Is that understood? It do be a cursed thing…” With that he moved forward and allowed the guard to rebind his wrists. He followed them out and as he moved away from his tent he could feel the presence of the blade slowly fading from his mind.

As they moved every soldier of the escort kept their eyes trained on him. There were guards on either side of him, all with hands on their swords, ready should he try to make any kind of escape. There we also guards behind him all armed with loaded crossbows that were leveled at his back. There were no guards ahead of him though, because none wanted to have their back to a man who had been able to slay fifteen good knights.

They moved through a seemingly empty camp, all the other knights having been ordered to stay in their tents until Urdoon was brought before the Blade Council. The escort directed him to a newly erected tent, one that was much larger than any of the others around it. They guided him into the tent and to the center of cleared area in the middle of the tent.

Sitting in a semi-circle before Urdoon was the Blade Council, twelve of the most senior members of the knighthood and the adjudicators of justice in the order. Behind them, sitting on a raised throne-like chair, was the High Lord Kardath. The High Lord was the leader of the order, the greatest knight to walk the earth since the founder of the Knights, Lord Marshal Talgaine Vendrath.

Urdoon’s escort backed away to the edges of the cleared area, now all with crossbows drawn, loaded, and leveled at him. He stood there, straight as an iron rod, watching the Council and the High Lord. The other knights began to file in, to serve as witnesses to the hearing. Once all the knights were present the Council stood and the High Councilor stepped forward. “You, Urdoon Camnode, are charged with the murder of fifteen of the Order’s finest men, among them the aspiring under-lieutenant Berad, who was to be considered for office the following winter.” The High Councilor then named all the men who had been killed by Urdoon when they had come to help him. “You are also charged with the use of battle magic, a strict violation of the strictures placed on us by the Venerable Talgaine Vendrath, not only once, but twice. These are the charges placed upon you. What have you to say?” The councilors all took their seats once more, waiting for the response of the accused.

Urdoon stood silently while the list of charges against him was spoken. When the High Councilor finished he stepped forward and made as best a bow as he could with his hands bound behind his back. “I do hear the charges that do be placed upon me and I do step forward to be making my defense.” Urdoon then told his tale, of how he had fled into the cave, how he found the blade, the whole thing. He then told the Council of the dark entity that resided within the malicious weapon.

As he told his remarkable tale, the Council began to exchange worried glances, then, as he finished his tale, some sat back, shaking their heads slightly. Quiet murmurs went up from the knights in audience. Some had heard legends of this strange blade and were quietly relaying the tail to others. A couple of the members of the Blade Council began whispering heatedly, assumedly about the fantastical tail just told them. High Lord Kardath just sat silently, looking at Urdoon, who stood straight and still, silently awaiting the Council’s decision.

Finally, the head Councilor stood and motioned for silence. The large tent instantly grew silent. “We, of the Council, have decided to take a recess to discuss this remarkable story. Urdoon Camnode, you are to remain here, under guard. Food and drink will be brought to you.” With that the Council stood as one and filed out of the tent.

Kardath remained for a time, watching Urdoon before standing and following the Council out. A chair and table were brought in for Urdoon, as well as a plate of food and a mug of spiced wine. He sat and ate in silence, his guards standing behind him, their hands resting on their swords.

About an hour passed by. Urdoon had finished his meal and it had been taken away. His guard had changed twice and was on the verge of changing again. The tent flap suddenly was pushed aside and the members of the Council appeared, moving back to the spot they had previously vacated. Behind them, Kardath came, returning to his throne. Urdoon stood, his head held high as he watched the procession. The Councilors took their places and all looked down at Urdoon, expressions ranging from cold contempt to warm apology. Once Kardath had retaken his place the Head Councilor stood. He cleared his throat and the tent went silent. “Urdoon Camnode. You have stated your case and we have agreed on a sentence. Most here believe that you were under the sway of a great evil, but that does not excuse your actions completely. Therefore, for the murder of members of the Order, we sentence you to expulsion from out ranks and exile for the rest of your natural life.”

The knights in audience remained silent, stunned at the sentence. None had ever been expelled from the Order, and certainly none had been exiled. Kardath’s face became a mask of rage and he leapt to his feet. “I, Kardath, High Lord of the Whit Knights, call for this man’s immediate execution!” A collective gasp sounded from all in attendance, never before had the High Lord gone against the judgment of the Blade Council.

The Councilor’s all stood and turned slowly towards Kardath, their eyes cold and hard. They were the true power in the Order, the only time the High Lord had ultimate control was in emergency situations. And this was certainly not one of those. The High Councilor raised his voice to be heard of the sudden commotion coming from the assembled knights. “Your orders will not be listened to Kardath. And when this is over you are to meet with us in private.” He then turned back to Urdoon. “Banished Knight Camnode. You have three hours to get your affairs in hand then you must be gone. If you are found in this camp after that, or found to be using the rank of one of the Order, you will be slain on sight. Is that understood?” Urdoon bowed once. “I do be understanding, Blade Council.” With that he turned and left the tent, to gather his things and leave. The turn his back on his entire life, his very existence. That is what they had ordered him to do, and he would to the letter. He had wronged the Order and so he must obey. That is they way of the Knight. Duty is heavier than a mountain…