Paragon of Destruction

The discovery caused Arran no small amount of worry. While he could conceal his abilities from Knights, he hadn’t expected to encounter two dozen of them so soon after entering the Imperium.

He did not know exactly how strong Knights were, but he was certain they weren’t weak — at least as strong as Grandmasters, and possibly beyond even that.

With enemies like those around, there would be no chance of escape if he was discovered.

Until now, he had hoped that even if things went awry, he would have the ability to escape. But now, after finding two dozen Knights in the very first place he visited in the Imperium, he knew that would not be an option.

And there was another problem, too.

He carried the Knight’s ring he’d received in the battlefield outside his void ring, because if he needed it, retrieving it from his void ring would immediately mark him as a mage.

Yet the ring was made from starmetal. And if he came close enough to the Knights in the fortress, their shards of Living Shadow would allow them to Sense it with ease.

He briefly considered storing it in his void ring, but after a moment, he rejected the idea. While having the Knight’s ring be discovered would interfere with his plans, not having it when he needed it might cost him his life. And between those things, the choice was an easy one.

As the group approached the fortress, however, Arran realized that the ring might not be detected after all. Because behind the stronghold’s massive walls, there were hundreds of pieces of starmetal — weapons and jewelry both, with no small amount of rings among them.

The discovery offered Arran only partial relief. While it meant he might not yet have to reveal his hidden, it also meant the Hunters were better equipped than he had expected.

His thoughts were interrupted when a group of people emerged from the stronghold’s gate. There were about thirty, each wearing thick metal armor. Yet despite their bulky protection, they approached Arran’s group at a jog — Body Refiners, then.

Arran watched them approach silently, his eyes focused on the new group’s weapons and armor. While well-crafted, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about it. It was thicker than most armor, magic should still tear through it with ease.

That, at least, was a small relief to Arran. If even the Hunters’ normal soldiers had been outfitted with starmetal weapons and armor, he might have given up hope for the Ninth Valley’s chances altogether.

The group of soldiers came to halt near the Hunters who had accompanied the borderlanders, and the leaders of the two groups exchanged some quick words. Arran could not hear what was said, but he tensed up when the Hunters’ leader pointed at him.

Yet the soldiers’ leader merely gave Arran a passing glance, then turned his eyes back to the other man. From his disinterested expression, it seemed he did not find the presence of a Body Refiner among the borderlanders noteworthy.

The two men barely talked for a minute, after which the Hunters’ leader abruptly turned around. He raised his hand and made a gesture that was unfamiliar to Arran, and without giving either the borderlanders or the soldiers so much as another glance, the Hunters departed, setting off back toward the border.

As the group of Hunters left, the soldiers’ leader turned his attention to the borderlanders. A heavy-set man with cropped dark hair, he had an unfriendly face, and he looked at the people before him with cold eyes.

"Outsiders!" he called out. "Follow me!"

The borderlanders did as they were told, following behind the group of soldiers as they made their way back to the fortress’s heavy gate.

When they neared the fortress, Arran felt some awe as he finally got a good look at the walls. They were a good fifty feet high, and up close, he saw that they were fashioned from an unnaturally smooth type of rock.

Barely fifty paces, the soldiers’ leader suddenly shouted, "Halt!"

As the group came to a stop, and Arran looked at the large man with a puzzled expression. He’d expected that they would enter the fortress. Large enough to hold thousands, it was certainly enough to take in a few hundred borderlanders.

"Outsiders, line up!" the man called.

Arran wasn’t the only one who was confused by this turn of events, and a ripple of chaos went through the group of borderlanders as they formed an unsteady line. Evidently, this wasn’t enough to satisfy the soldiers’ leader, and he ordered his men to put the borderlanders in line — something they did with brusque efficiency.

After that, several minutes passed without anything happening, the borderlanders standing in line with nonplussed expressions as they waited for what would come next.

Arran realized what was to happen well before the others, as he Sensed a shard of Living Shadow moving their way within the fortress’s walls.

An inspection, then. And one that would certainly reveal the Knight’s ring.

Yet when the person carrying the shard of Living Shadow emerged from the gate, Arran frowned in surprise. He had expected to see a Knight, but the person who came forth looked wholly different.

It was a tall, gray-haired man, dressed in a white robe. Though there was a Living Shadow dagger at his side, that was the only weapon he carried. Rather than a warrior, the man looked more like a scholar — or even a mage.

Arran eyed the man uncertainly. While the tall man’s clothes and movements did not necessarily mean he wasn’t a Knight, the impression Arran got was that this man was no warrior. Yet if he wasn’t, Arran had no idea what else he might be.

The white-robed man walked toward the borderlanders at an unhurried pace, moving with the authority of someone who expected to be obeyed. And indeed, the soldiers bowed as he approached, a hint of reverence in the eyes of some.

Since Arran was at the very front of the line of borderlanders, he was the first to face the white-robed man. Yet the reaction he expected did not come. Instead, the man merely gave him a studious look, then moved on.

The man slowly made his way past the rest of the group, facing each person several seconds before moving on. Unlike the others, Arran knew what the man was doing — using his Living Shadow dagger to check for mages.

It took nearly a quarter-hour before the gray-haired man had inspected all the borderlanders, and as expected, he found no mages among them — if there were any, Arran would have Sensed them long ago.

Then, having finished his inspection, the white-robed man made his way back along the line. Yet just as Arran was starting to believe he’d somehow escaped notice, the white-robed man glanced at him.

"You, come with me." It was a simple order, said in a tone that brooked no objection. "The rest of you, wait here."

Arran suppressed his desire to curse in frustration. Instead, he gave the man a polite nod, then followed him through the opened gate.

The white-robed man did not speak as he guided Arran inside the fortress’s walls. Instead, he walked at a dignified pace, eyes straight ahead as he moved, as if the surroundings were unworthy of his attention.

Arran, on the other hand, eagerly seized the opportunity to study what lay within the walls, and despite his anxiousness, he found himself impressed with what he saw.

Within the walls lay a settlement the size of a small town, with numerous large, fortified buildings strewn across the area. There were soldiers, too — hundreds that Arran could see, and likely thousands more within the many buildings.

Many of the soldiers were training — sparring, drilling, and performing all manner of exercise, each group under the watchful eye of an instructor.

Although there was no time for anything but a brief glance, even that was enough for Arran to see that without exception, the soldiers were all both skilled and strong.

While these common soldiers lacked the power of Shadowflame novices, there was something in their movements that suggested they had no small amount of experience — and real experience, rather than mere practice.

Once more, Arran felt a shiver of worry as he thought about the war to come. He had barely seen a glimpse of the Imperium, and already, he’d discovered it held far more strength than he had expected.

But his worries were interrupted when he saw where the white-robed man was leading him. It was a building unlike the others within the fortress walls. Built for elegance rather than raw strength, its walls featured intricate patterns, and it was topped with a spire that appeared strangely delicate.

When they stepped inside, the contrast to the rest of the fortress was even greater.

Much of the building’s space was taken up by a spacious hall that featured several grand murals, along with a dozen expertly crafted statues placed against the walls.

To Arran’s eyes, there was something eerie about the statues — all of them faced the hall’s interior, and the faces had been crafted so that it looked as if the statues observed all who passed before them.

There were people, too. At the far end of the hall, Arran saw half a dozen robe-clad men and women kneeling before some small object that was stood upon a dais. He could not see what the object was, but it was clear that these people revered it greatly.

"Come along," the gray-haired man said — his first words since he’d ordered Arran to follow him.

Arran did as the man said, and he soon found himself in one of the side chambers of the main hall. There, the man sat down on a large wooden chair with red velvet upholstery.

"Hand it over."

The man spoke in a soft but firm voice, and without complaint or objection, Arran handed him the Knight’s ring — although the man had not said so, he understood that the ring was what had drawn the man’s interest.

The gray-haired man studied the ring for some moments, then turned his eyes back to Arran.

"How did you acquire this?"

"It was given to me," Arran replied. "By a woman — she said she was a Knight of the Imperium."

"Indeed." The gray-haired man frowned, then gave Arran a studious look. "Then I assume you understand that with this, there was no need for you to travel here as a common refugee. Yet you did so anyway. Why?"

Arran hesitated in answering, but only briefly. "I prefer to earn my own keep, instead of relying on favors."

The words earned him an unexpected look of approval from the white-robed man.

"The heavens smile on those who spurn the easy path," the man said, speaking in a practiced tone that suggested the words weren’t his own. "Very well, I will allow it. There is honor to be found in toil and labor. You may earn your citizenship along with the others."

Arran looked at the man in confusion. He understood little of what the man before him meant, but the mention of toil and labor sounded less than promising.

"After you earn your citizenship," the man continued, "consider your path carefully. The invitation you were given..." He paused mid-sentence, his expression almost seeming pained. "The Knights’ existence is necessary, but their path is a flawed one. Before you accept the invitation, you would do well to visit one of our temples. There, you may find a better path."

"If you aren’t a Knight, what are you?" Arran asked, his brow deeply furrowed as he looked at the white-robed man in front of him.

"What am I?" The man let out a cheerful laugh. "I am but a humble priest, a lowly servant of the gods."

Although Arran took care not to show his incredulity, he could not help but think that this man was anything but humble. If anything, he seemed unusually pleased with himself.

But it wouldn’t do to say so out loud. So instead, Arran feigned a thoughtful expression, then said, "I thank you for your advice, and I will consider your words carefully."

The priest gave him a pleased look, then handed back the ring. "In the years to come, as you earn your place in the Imperium, remember that no effort goes unseen by the gods. If you do, I believe you have a bright path ahead of you."

To this, Arran nodded awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. "Thank you," he said again, for want of a better response.

The priest briefly touched his hand to his forehead. "You may leave."

Arran gave the man a bow much like the one he’d seen the soldiers make. Then, somewhat uncertainly, he stepped out of the priest’s office.

There was no escort to watch him as he made his way back to the group of borderlanders, so he did not hurry in returning, instead using the opportunity to take a good look at the fortress.

When he finally stepped out of the gate again, he found the borderlanders and soldiers still waiting there. Only now, several mule-drawn carts stood among them, filled with supplies for what looked to be a long journey.

The soldiers’ captain looked at him with a deep frown as he approached.

"What did the Archon want with you?" the large man asked, some hesitation in his voice.

"There were some questions he wished to ask of me," Arran replied. "And he gave me advice for the journey ahead."

At this, the captain’s frown deepened further. "Go join the others," he said, though there was some doubt in his voice as he gave the command, as if he was suddenly uncertain of Arran’s position.

Arran did as the man said. Yet when he rejoined the borderlanders, he saw that they looked at him with uncertain eyes as well.

There was no time for any of them to ask questions, however. Almost immediately, the captain called out, "Outsiders! Prepare to depart!"

They set off moments later in a large column, with the soldiers taking the lead, the borderlanders following behind them, and a handful of soldiers guiding the carts at the back of the column.

While Arran did not know what their destination was, a frown crossed his face when he remembered the priest’s words about toil and labor. And suddenly, he wondered whether he shouldn’t have accepted the Knight’s invitation.