The Circle

by Kurt Maroske

My dear friend and companion,
Gabriel,

In my study I stand, through window peering, attempting to scrye some method, some reason, some hidden meaning of the previous night’s events. Surely, Helena realised her mistake, could foresee the harm in her actions! But, for some unbeknownst reason, she continued with her mad scheme. The upstart shall surely toll the death-knell of this proud family. I know not what to make of her. Her winsome ways must be tempered, yet I know not how. I fear to speak out against her, lest her vengeance devour me. So much power for such a young one. Far too much power, if I may speak my mind so.

I endeavour to meet with you, in secret if it must be so, before the coming moonwatch. For ‘tis then we must strike! Lucious and his trollop will suspect nothing, assuming that we move with speed, and precision. Once again, our foes shall tremble at the name of Seradar!

I pray that this finds you favourably,

Your’s dearly,
Vincent

* * *

The Circle

The Speaker sat alone. He sat in his ornate position above the remainder of the circle. This, and this alone, set him apart from the houses. His grey robes, his clean-shaven face, his pale, unmarked hands… all of this was nothing more, nothing less, than any other in the circle. His role was, after all, to serve as a junction, a meeting point for the houses, not to govern them. ‘No ruler am I’, he mused,’ I am but an adjudicator to their petty squabbling. At any time, another could take my place… and yet, I am disturbed not. That…. Is the life, of the speaker….’

He often had these thoughts before a gathering of the circle. In his old age, he began to wish that time would take it’s toll, and that Maleth would usurp his position. One so bold and vibrant would do the circle a world of good. But, as it stood, he would chair the circle to the best of his ability.

The moon was now clearly visible through the chamber’s skylight, a sign that the circle would be called to order. Pillars of marble snaked towards the dome of the structure, with ornate carvings of fantastic beasts protruding from them, apparently with no rhyme or reason. The dome of the chamber, made entirely of stained glass, seemed to bathe the circle in an otherworldly glow. Etched into this glass, was the story of Vorash, the great serpent, of his rise, and of his fall. Throughout the chamber, other signs of reverence were placed. Every member of the circle owed allegiance to Vorash, even before his own house.

‘I call the gathering of the circle’, the Speaker proclaimed boldly, as he rose, ‘to order’. The members of the circle stood in their place, and cupped their hands in a silent reverie. ‘I call forth a representative of each house, to pledge their allegiance before Vorash.

‘Sir Speaker, if I may’, spoke the caustic tongued Pollux, son of the head of House Deinoch,’ But no representative of house Seradar stands. If mine eyes do not mistake me, house Seradar is not represented at all’. Pollux barely restrained a chortle. It was well known that the houses of Seradar and Deinoch were the most bitter of rivals.

‘Well noted’ replied the Speaker, in a passive tone. He certainly was not the only one who found Pollux insufferable.

Suddenly, the door to the chamber burst open.

* * *

‘You may wish to withdraw your statement, oh prince of Deinoch’ Came an alluring feminine voice. Walking solemnly into the chamber, came the representatives of house Seradar. Lucious, the head of the house walked slowly to his place near the Speaker. Flanking him was his daughter, Princess Helena, well-corseted in her flowing black dress, and Corinth, his champion. The knight wore a sword at his side, as did the champion of each house, the only weapons allowed into the chambers. In the event of a quarrel, Corinth would fight to the death to defend his lord’s virtue.

Next in line came Vincent and Gabriel, whom many considered to be the true power behind house Seradar. Gabriel was both a scholar and a warrior, many times risking his life in both the pursuit of knowledge, and the honour of his house. Vincent, on the other hand, was a political schemer, and spent a great deal of his time defending the actions of the house against the accusations of the Deinoch. They were said to be lovers, but to see them in the circle, one could not picture any form of passion from either of the two, such was their cold and haughty demeanour.

‘Without further drama, may I please call a representative of each house to come forth?’ The Speaker once more attempted to begin the gathering of the circle.

The champion of each house stepped forward, except for Alanoss, who were notably absent. At the foot of the Speaker they knelt, and pledged their swords to Vorash, to their house, and to themselves. They then returned to the sides of their lords.

‘The gathering may now commence.’ Commanded the Speaker, whose withered frame seemed to gain some sort of strength at the thought that there may finally be some progress.

‘In that case’ came a low, serpentine voice,’ may we please discuss, my lord, the tithe of last moonwatch. If I may recall, house Seradar did not present a tithe to our great lord Vorash….’

The voice belonged to Castor, the even more insidious sister of Pollux, and princess of the Deinoch.

‘If I may so speak, I would like to inform the honourable lady of Deinoch that the Speaker is well aware of our reasons, and that it would be best if you would not meddle in the affairs of others’ Vincent’s pure voice chimed out. Behind his cool facade, his mind was attempting to fathom the Deinoch’s motivation for raising such a trivial matter.

‘I would like to inform the spokesman of Seradar,’ Castor replied, turning to face the Speaker,’ that the matter of the tithe concerns us all. If the honourable head of house Seradar will not present such a tithe, then his incompetence reflects poorly on the entire circle. Therefore, it is my right… nay, my duty, to inform the circle of his failure.’

The blood in Corinth’s veins began to boil, and he swiftly jumped from his place.

‘I beg you to withdraw your comments, oh princess of Deinoch, lest such comments be taken as an affront to my house’s honour’.

The champion of Lucious stared directly into the eyes of Ophyllian, the champion of house Deinoch. The two had crossed swords before, and neither had walked away unscathed. Ophyllian wore a crimson gash from ear to lip, as a constant reminder of Corinth’s blade. Many of the champions wore similar scars across their bodies, trophies of duels won…. and lost.

‘I will not withdraw my comment, sir knight, as I feel that the Seradar’s contempt for the tithe must be dealt with.’ Castor replied, seemingly unfazed.

‘Then I have no option other than to offer a trial by combat, my lady. I stand before you as the champion of house Seradar, and ask you to name your champion, lest I slay you where you stand.’

At this, many of the members of houses Lilliath and Morden began to stir in their seats, after all but dozing off during the squabbling between the Seradar and the Deinoch.

‘I, of course, name Ophyllian as my champion, knight of house Deinoch, and defender of the honourable Melkior’ Spoke Castor calmly, as she turned to face the man seated directly to her right.

The grim warrior rose from his seat, and made his way towards the Speaker, as did Corinth.

‘Do you both accept this most noble of duties, to defend the honour of your respective house?’ asked the Speaker, with a monotonous formailty.

‘I do’ the two warriors spoke almost in unison.

‘Then, may the trial by combat begin’…

The two combatants drew their weapons, and paced back and forth, circling each other, reading each other’s eyes. Although blades were allowed during the meeting of the circle, armour was not, so the art of combat was deadly indeed. Both champions realized that the slightest misstep, the smallest mistake, could be their last.

‘Have at you!’ cried Corinth as he lunged into action. Ophyllian brought his blade up quickly to defend against the Seradar’s attacks. With vigour before unseen, Corinth went once again onto the offensive, his blade becoming a blur about the head and shoulders of the Deinoch. Ophyllian, however, managed to parry every stroke, never removing his gaze from the eyes of his assailant. Timing the exchanges perfectly, Ophyllian began to work his way onto the offensive. With a casual grace, he spun out of the way of the Seradar blade, reversed his hold on his sword, and thrust backwards in attempt to catch his foe in the midriff. Corinth was far too cunning to be caught unawares by such a ploy, however, and sidestepped Ophyllian’s attack. Swinging his double-handed blade in a mighty arc, he slashed his foe in the shoulder, causing him to drop his weapon. Gnashing his teeth in frustration, Ophyllian grudgingly knelt before the victor, looking grimly upwards, realizing that Corinth would soon end his life.

Corinth saluted his foe with his blade, before raising it high above his head, inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and brought it down in an arc to end his opponent’s life.

* * *

‘NOOOO!’ came a cry at the last instant. Neither warrior cuold believe what they had just heard. A blur of movement, Helena thrust herself in front of Ophyllian. Corinth cocked his head to the side, staring in disbelief.

‘There will be no killing today’ came the woman’s voice, as she draped her cape over Ophyllion. ‘Sir Speaker, house Seradar concede the trial by combat.’

A gasp resounded about the chamber, as the entire circle looked on, stunned. Such a remark would lose the house of Seradar much favour, and for what gain?

With these remarks, Lucious stood, and apologised before the assembly. Walking in single file, he led Corinth and Helena from the chamber, with Vincent and Gabriel walking distantly behind. The two advisers of Lucious made their own way back to the palace, preferring not to accompany the royal entourage. Much would need to be done to remedy this night’s events…

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