The castle itself defied the imagination. The stupifying scale on which it existed stung the consciousness of those who had never previously confronted such mindrending proportions. The colossal grandeur of such gargantuan massiveness sent reeling the minds of the thousands who lived in it. Torchlight surged from a thousand windows. It was an edifice that mocked reason and jeered at reality. The walls were blacker than the blackest night. The brillant color of the gardens seemed to be swirling into it, continually flooding into it like great whirlpool, but unable to make a perceptable difference in the intense consuming blackness of the castle. Unimaginably tall towers soared into the heavens and goaded the sky. The jet black pinnacles against the pelagic blueness resembled holes cut out of the sky itself. The interior of the castle conveyed some sense of its true proportions. One of the ten smaller entrences was about 50 feet wide and the ceiling was some 50 feet high. Hanging down from the upper reaches were a large number of multi-colored banners captured from other armies during battle. On the walls was a detailed bas relief of Barmoth's history. Lining the walls were marble busts of former leaders of Barmoth. The air smelled of phyphastis, rare herb known for is medicinal properties.
One of the many antechambers that led to the main throne room happened to overlook the back garden. There was a huge polished black desk at which sat Prince Luther. As always, he was dressed in black. He had a black cape, black leather boots, and a few gold chains. From his left hip hung a sword with a silver hilt in a black leather sheath. He had short black hair and steely gray eyes that could stare into a man's soul. At this momment, they focused at the waves of color beyond the window, and then focused on the room before him. The drapes which were tied back were of velvet. The floor was carpeted with worn layers of velvet. On the far side of the room was a table covered with a satin table cloth, on which there were three large golden goblets ornamented with rubies and emeralds. In the corner to his right was a large oaken chest with three heavy padlocks. Engraved on the lid was a picture of a knight killing a dragon. Hanging on the wall to his right were two crossed swords and a shield that displayed an image of a green griffon. On the wall to his left was a faded tapestry from a far away land. It depicted a forest scene of a woman and unicorn. It had been made by the Sumaria people had lived far to the west.
On the desk before Luther was a crystal goblet that contained an effervescent blue liquid. He reached out and picked it up. His right hand wore two gold rings set with a diamond and a ruby respectively. The liquid smells sweet but it burns your throat. It is Xylafare, the fermented roots of the Karathar bush. This is a strange bush that grows far to the north. Throughout its life it will build up extremely flammable substances within it. Eventually the heat of the midday sun causes it to burst into flame and cause a raging brush fire. The roots remain underground unscythed and dormant for 500 years after which the plant will sprout again. Having cleared the terrain of its rivals, it no longer has to fight over water and nutrients. The walls of the room were paneled in black wood. The wood was from the Yameray tree which grows to the west in what was recently the Mathekis Empire and is noted for its black color. The Yameray tree is closely related to the Taverah bush whose leaves contain one of the most hallucinogenic substances known. If someone smells the leaves they'll suddenly believe that their skin is peeling off. In combination with other narcotics, more pleasant hallucinations can be induced. The chest contains treasure such as gold, silver, and galvorn. Galvorn is a valuable metal sought for the purpose of making suits of armor. Galvorn is as strong as steel, light as aluminum, and as shiny as silver.
Luther put down the glass and leaned back uneasily in the ermine lined chair. He drummed his fingers uneasily on the desk. The best thing to do would be to attack Yavin before the end of the month. That way, if the war lasted three months it could be successfully completed before the onslaught of winter. Yur has three moons, Magratheria, Lunas, and Selene. The logistics behind almost every single calender system ever developed have been unimaginably complicated. Roughly speaking however, in the Barmothian calender there are usually 14 months a year that usually average 24 days each. Some people believe that it is good to attack during winter because the enemy is put at a disadvantage. Luther knew that the attackers would be put at a greater disadvantage than the defenders. Luther was not optimistic that they would be ready to attack before the end of the month. In order to completely subdue the enemy, he must have the majority of Barmoth's military at his disposal. However, at present, the majority of the army remains in what had been the Mathekis Empire. He had hoped to pull them out immediately. Unfortnately, the civil wars, ethnic warfare, and unrest in the region had gotton much of the army caught up in local fighting. As soon as possible, he would pull them out of the region and position himself to attach Yavin.
There were those in the military that believed that Barmoth should now concentrate her efforts on subduing the warring factions within what had been the Mathekis Empire. Luther was well aware that the region was now a cauldron of boiling hostility that would be pointless to immesh themselves in at this time. There was a loud knock on the heavy oaken doors behind him. Irritated at being disturbed, Luther turned the chair around to face the door. The sound of the chair scraping across the floor alerted whoever it was that Luther was prepared to take audience. As the door opened, its hinges creaked. It was Gromcus, his second in command, who speaks immediately.
"M'lord, News from da front. Fourth division got out. They get 'ere t'mmorow. Some sorta break inda fight 'as lowd our forces t'geh back soonuh den 'spected"
"Are you serious? This is excellent! The fourth division is highly trained and mostly heavy cavalry. Tommorow we will be in a position to begin preparation for the attack. If this luck keeps up, we could conceivably mount the offensive by the end of the week!"
His mind was racing with plans that would have to be made. This was to good to be true. He picked the glass of Xylafare and downed most of it.
About 400 miles away on the southern slopes of the Carpathian Mountains rose the majestic form of Valorius Castle. Silhouetted against the heaving red sky of dawn, the spires and pinnacles soared zenithward. The turrets with flapping pennants prod and goad the morning clouds. From these towers you can see nearly the entirety of Yavin stretching out beneath you and out to the horizon. The giant castle clung to its mountain like a starfish. It maintained an aurea of surreal mystery while embodying pastoral serenity. The palacial fortress thrust upward with almost faerie-like splendor. The farmers who plow the fertile fields to the south tell stories describing how it's not really there at all but appears and disappears with each passing fog bank or full moon. They also weave tales relating how King Gareth is really a changling and that faerie blood courses through his veins. It's not difficult to see how such stories could arise when witnessing the surrealistic majesty of this fabled castle.
The interior was luxuriously furnished. There were articles of antique furniture from all over the world. There was a chair supposedly fashioned by the mythical people called Nakoks out of the bone of a Koa-Toa, which is an intelligent sea-creature similar to a whale. The floor of the main meeting room was carpeted with exotic rugs from the far east. In the middle of the table was a large urn-like object from the land on the southern shore of the Azure Sea. Strange designs were painted on its sides, and within the vessel burned an indentified incense whose fumes had an intoxicating effect on those present. Exotic wallhangings hung on the walls. Seated at the long table were twenty of the Knights of Yavin. At the head of the table was King Gareth. He was 35, had brown hair and a short beard. A simple gold crown encircled his head. His name was synonymous with honesty, justice and courage. Gareth believed hat knights should take their code of behavoir and ethics quite literally, should strive to be paragons of virtue, honor, and etiquette, and should protect all those who need protection. He felt people in general should have the right to live without fear of repression or servitude.
The greatest knight in Yavin was Laverdere. He was Gareth's best friend and was renowned as a great warrior far beyond the boundaries of Yavin. He was enormously physically strong. He could lift a full grown bull to his shoulders and simultaneously carry on intelligent conversation. His respiration caused muscles to ripple across his chest. He wore dazzling gold armor, and a helmet that sported two long horns. He sat to the right of the King. More than once he had risked his life to save Yavin. Laveredere was in the process of training a 13 year old boy to become a knight, who was currently down below in the stables getting Laveredere's horse ready. Also present was a priest named Zorick. He wore black robes and a square black headress. He had a long white beard and leaned on a staff. The gathered knights chatted amongst themselves and then silenced themselves as Gareth stood to speak.
"Friends, comrades, you are well aware that it is not for celebration that we've gathered here today. I have kept you throughly briefed on the potential danger to the kingdom represented by the actions or intentions of our neighbors to the west, the Republic of Barmoth. I have full reason to believe that they not only have military designs on our kingdom, but are now unfortunately in a position to put those plans into action."
Gareth paused. The room was silent and all eyes were upon him. He continued.
"I believe it only prudent to prepare for a possible confrontation. I have explored the possibilities as to what the ramifications of such a war might include. Let me be completely frank with you. Every man in Barmoth serves in the military. Therefore they have three times our manpower. Their troops are very highly trained. Any farmers we recruit on short notice would have no expirence. They will probably attack us with a highly disciplined fighting force of at least 10,000 men. We have only 100 knights and we might be able to raise about 3000 farmers to serve in battle who know nothing about warfare. I believe that I am only being realistic when I state that I do not believe that the odds would be in our favor. Does anybody have any suggestion as to what course of action would be the wisest for us to take under these circumstances?"
There was a long pause as those assembled absorbed the King's words. People hoped to themselves that it couldn't be as bad as all that but deep down knew it really was.
Sir Laverdere spoke.
"Your Majesty, is there any possibility that war could be avoided?"
"I believe that one should always go to any lengths to avoid war and the loss of life. I have done everything in my personal power to find a diplomatic solution. I have sent three messengers to Barmoth, carrying the proposal for a treaty between our nations. I have pointed out that they do not want to lose the lives of their young men, and I suggested that we share mineral rights in the area. None of the messengers returned. Sources tell me that they are adamant in their intentions of conquest, and don't view this as a negotiable point. They have merely been waiting for the right time to attack us, and have already made up their mind that they would do so."
One of the lesser knights, Sir Hector, spoke up.
"Your Majesty,would it be a great dishonor for us to surrender if it would mean saving a large number of lives?"
"If we were to surrender, Yavin would cease to exist. It would be taken within the boundaries of the greater Barmoth nation. We would be subjugated. The Knighthood would be disbanded for they would view it as politically dangerous. We have sworn to lay down our lives to protect the people from tyranny and repression. We would have failed."
"Sire, won't we fail anyway. From what you describe, if we lay down our lives, we loose them. Most of us will be killed, and the people will be subjugated anyway. Is that not what you're saying?"
There ensued an uneasy silence that remained unbroken for several minutes.
"Would it be possible for us to move somewhere else? We could move the population somewhere safe?" Hector asked.
"That's unfeasible. Besides, where could you go?" Laverdere responded.
Again the King spoke.
"I believe that you are aware that we face our direst hour. There does not appear to be any way we could possibly win this war, nor does there appear to be any foreseeable way of avoiding it. We have sworn to protect the people from danger. When they need us the most, we are unable to help them."
Sir Laverdere spoke.
"Your Majesty, you have described how we are unable to defeat the enemy militarily. Surely, that can not be true. I have found that all enemies, even the strongest, have some sort of weakness which once utilized could bring about their downfall."
"I fail to see any flaw in the Barmothian military. Their generals are brilliant military strategists. The soldiers are very highly trained and fiercely loyal. The soldiers are very highly paid, and there is no chance of instigating a mutiny. Indeed, the population of Barmoth, despite their austeric living conditions, are not unhappy with their government."
"Your Majesty, you have described how the two sides are very unevenly matched. They have over three times our number of troops. Their troops are very well trained and seasoned veterans, while the infantry we raise would have no expirence. Surely there is something we can do to make the battle more even sided. There must be something we can do to make it more fair. There must be something we have, or could get, that they don't have that could give us an edge. Rack your brains to think up something. You won't have time to think up something later."
Laverdere's words pierced the souls of those present. When he finished, the silence seemed to ring in the aftermath.
Zorick the priest had been standing silently in the background behind the King's throne. Suddenly he motions his hand to get everyone's attention and speaks.
"Deep in the bowels of Yur. Unseen by the eyes of men for one hundred Ages lies that which was forged in the fiery depths of the Underworld and in the deepest recesses of a man's soul. Forged by the great god Hephesteus. Wielded by Gathmorgen, he who saw the edge of Forever, is the legendary Sword of Zameron! He who hath the sword of flame hath the fire of Hephesteus in his eyes and the strength of the Gods behind him."
There was a long silence as all present stared at the priest, whom most agreed was slightly odd. The King spoke first.
"Are you suggesting that we try to gain possession of the legendary Sword of Zameron?"
The priest's eyes conveyed an affirmative response. The general reaction was mixed.
Laveredere responded.
"I do not want to appear disrespectful, but you can not expect me to actually believe that there physically exists a Sword of Zameron. I am not trying to offend you in any way. Most of the myths are allegories and are not intended to be taken literally. We are talking about reality, our own survival, not religion or faith. I'm saying that if I believed that there existed a Sword of Zameron, I would be the first to try to find it, but I don't think there is one."
The King spoke.
"Let's assume for the moment that there does exist a Sword of Zameron, and let's assume that we can find it. Would it really help us win this war? Presumably, the Gods wouldn't suddenly appear on the battlefield and vanquish our enemies? Besides, I have always felt that if magic does exist, it can not be controlled by men. Even assuming many things that we can not assume, this could backfire easily."
Sir Hector spoke up.
"I feel that even if we could find the sword, we would not have the right to remove it. I believe that the Gods should be revered, and similarly, artifacts such as the Sword of Zameron should be left alone. Who are we to decide that we are worthy to use it to save ourselves? Aren't we being self-motivated if our purpose is to save ourselves, and is that a valid reason to disturb this sacred object?"
The King spoke again.
"I fear that if we were to try to retrieve the sword, we could be upsetting some sort of delicate balance in the Cosmic Order. We could be creating some sort of imbalance between divine powers we know nothing about. Secondly, how would we begin to look for this sword anyway? Where could it possibly be? Where would we begin to look for it?"
Laverdere's squire, the 13 year old boy, whose name was John, was coming down the hall and was about to enter the room to tell the renowned knight that his horse was ready. Sensing the tension in the room however, he did not enter the room completely but stayed hidden in the shadows by the doorway.
The priest responded to the King's questions.
"It is true that there exists a delicate balance that must always be maintained. The Gods work together to preserve the balance. There is a balance between the four seasons, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. There is a balance between the four elements, Fire, Earth, Air, and Water. The Sword of Zameron was forged by Hephesteus, the God of Fire. Its essence is pure fire with only traces of the other three elements. However we should not fear any disruptive imbalance in the Cosmos. We are puny irrelevant creatures whose antics only mildly amuse the Gods. What we do can not have a profound effect on anything. The Universe is self-correcting. Any minor imbalance triggers a redistribution of the other elements which restores the balance. As far as locating the legendary Sword of Zameron, one need look no further than the ancient Scrolls of Arcania. These ancient crumbling scrolls, discovered in a cave 500 years ago, are 5000 years old, and were copies of far earlier works, which in turn were copies of far earlier works. It is believed that a few fragmentary passages, including the one relevant here, date all the way back to the Selucid Empire. It describes the exact location of the underground vault in within which the sword slumbers. It is far to the east. One must pass the Unicorn Stone, the Bridge of Tsumi, and many dangerous perils on route. It is in the dangerous mysterious land to the east, and land of magic from which few return. However, anyone in possession of the Sword of Zameron has the personal backing of the Gods themselves and will inherently reign victorious in any conflict. Any army that carries the Sword of Zameron before it can not be defeated."
King Gareth spoke.
"I do not know whether or not to believe what Zorick says. I do not know if the Sword of Zameron exists, if we can find it, or if it could help us. However, nobody else has suggested any other course of action we could take. I myself can not think of anything. If we do nothing, we will be destroyed. We would be killed, and the people will be forced into virtual slavery. I do not see any harm in attempting to locate the sword."
Sir Lavedere added.
"This is our direst hour. This is the moment of truth. We face the question of our survival. Will we continue as a nation, as an ideal, or not? I can not think of any kinks in the Barmothian armor, or anything else we could do that might save ourselves. I do not see any harm in attempting to retrieve this mythical sword if it exists. My hand is forced by the futility of our situation."
"Very well, have we reached a consensus? Now, I place before you the task of deciding which of you, my noble knights, shall set forth on the quest to locate and retrieve the enchanted Sword of Zameron. This will be a mission of great danger, but I have great faith in all of you."
Laverdere answered, "Your Majesty, I will to accept the burden of the challenge you place before us. In the past, I have succeeded where many have failed. In this time of great danger, I wish to prove myself once again in your eyes. If there is anything that I could do to save this kingdom, I would do it. Therefore I wish to take up this quest."
The King answered, "Noble Sir Laverdere, much to be commended is thee for thy valor and courage. But these are trying times ahead of us. We must prepare for the fiercest battles we've ever fought. We must organize and prepare the knights. We must recruit and train the infantry. This is an enormous task set before me. I wish you by my side, and for you to impart some of your great skill and knowledge to the other knights and raw recruits, as we prepare for this war."
"If such is his majesty's wish," said Laverdere, "If it is your belief that the best thing for the kingdom would be for me to remain by your side and aid in the orchestration of the battleplans, then so be it."
"Again, I call upon you," sounded Gareth, "To heed the need for the undertaking of this quest. Who among my noble knights wishes to take on the quest and seek the mysterious Sword of Zameron, and perhaps be the savior of the kingdom?"
Of the knights gathered, nobody else volunteered, not so much out of fear than a sense of not knowing what something of this nature entailed. Nothing like this had ever been done before.
"Noble Sir Laverdere, you know every knight in Yavin, as well as their virtues and faults. In your wise eye, whom do you believe most well suited for a quest of this nature? I will trust your provenly sound judgement."
The great knight sat for a few minutes silent.
John, who had been listening in the shadows, decided that the break in the conversation allowed him the opportunity to tell his master what he'd come to tell. He quietly walked up behind Laverdere.
"Sir? Brandybuck's brushed and saddled like you asked."
"What?...John?..."
The King strained to listen, "What?...John?...Do we have a Sir John?"
"No, John is my squire..."
"What?! Is this some sort of joke?"
"You misunderstand me. He just came to tell me that my horse was ready."
"Well then, who do you believe is best suited for the undertaking of this quest?" asked the King increasingly frustrated.
Again there was a long silence. Then Laverdere seemed to undergo some sort of realization. His eyes crept upwards from the small spot on the table he'd been staring at and met those of the King.
"Your Majesty, I believe the person here best suited for this quest is my loyal squire John."
The King's face fell.
"Is this some sort of joke?" he repeated, more forlornly than previously.
"Your Majesty, this is a quest to obtain what supposedly is a sacred object of the Gods. Throughout the duration of this quest, the one undertaking it will be put through a series of tests of as to whether or not they are worthy of obtaining this object. Worthiness would not be measured in physical strength or skill with a sword, but in honasty, fairness, and virtue. John has an innocence. He is unburned by the horrors of war. I believe that he is cunning enough to get through this. You ask me who is best suited for precisely this type of mission, and I give forth my humble opinion."
"If he lacks experience..."
"We all lack experience in matters such as this. Besides, whoever we send out may not return before the beginning of the war, if at all, and all knights will be sorely needed here."
"Noble Sir Laverdere, you are a courageous knight and a dear friend. You have never let me down in the past. I hear the truth in your words. I can see the logic in your decision. I find myself hoping and praying that you are correct, but I will not oppose you. I said that I would stand by your decision, and I will not oppose you."
With this, the King rose from his chair.
"Boy, come here!"
John cautiously stepped forward.
"John is it?...Young John, I place before you the opportunity to prove yourself, establish a name for yourself, and perhaps be the savior of the kingdom. I offer you the opportunity to engage in a quest to obtain the legendary Sword of Zameron. Do you accept this quest?"
John could not believe this. He had been mesmerized by what he had overheard standing in the doorway. Something like this would not take place in his wildest dreams. He could not believe his luck.
"Yes sir, it would be an honor."
"Well then, it shall be so. I hereby place upon you the quest of entering the unknown and attempting to locate the ancient legendary Sword of Zameron, forged by the God of Fore. You will be walking in the footsteps of the great heroes of a hundreds ages ago. You have the chance to save the kingdom from certain destruction. If you return with the sword, there will be a knighthood awaiting you. My blood with you goes."
John couldn't believe this. He had always dreamed of being able to prove himself in the eyes of the others. His lifelong ambition was to become a knight. Here he actually had a chance to do this. This was to good to be true. Futhermore, to do this by finding some magic sword, this was the stuff dreams were made of.
It was decided that he would leave that afternoon. The route he would have to take was outlined in the Scrolls of Arcania. John could barely read Westron, the language that was the lingua franca of the Ongash continent, much less Voluhur, the ancient language the Scrolls of Arcania were written in. Zorick read to him from the Scrolls how he must head east and pass the Unicorn Stone and the Tsumi Bridge across the Avlar River. Supplies were packed for him. He was given a backpack containing salted pork, a torch, flint and steel, a vial of oil, and other essentials. Laverdere handed him a short sword. John placed it in the scabbard on his belt. John went over the route he would take over and over in his mind. He didn't know what he was going to face. The only advise he could manage to get out of anyone was to expect the unexpected which was A) glib and B) a contradiction in terms. Laverdere told him not to risk his life needlessly, and that if he railed against an impasse, there would be no dishonor in returning home emptyhanded.
With much fanfare, John set off. The heavy iron portcullis slowly raised, and the heavy wooden doors swung open. John walked onto the narrow path that winded its way down the side of the mountain. It was a little before noon, and small brown birds twittered on the scrubgrass that lined the side of the path. As he neared the base of the mountain, the smaller shrubs gave way to larger trees. The suns sparkled through the broad green leaves above his head. As he left the mountain, he entered dense forests. Single stands of oak, alder, and everlast interspersed larger groves of cedar, gravmore, and ackleberry. The forest floor was in perpetual shadow, and was thick with rotting vegetation. Small rodents scurried over the path. Squirrels chattered at him from the branches above. He had been walking for hours, and his legs ached but he kept going. Bright blue birds fluttered in the distance.