"Sestranon Clearfaith and the Second Mage War" by Erik Jensen

My name is Sestranon Clearfaith. I was orphaned from birth. My father fell at the Battle of Taresh against the orcs, and my mother died during my birth. She refused help from the priests, as she blamed them for the death of my father.

I was raised by the priest who cut me from my dead mother's womb. His name was Simon Truthsayer, and he passed away three years ago. He named me Sestranon, which means "emerger," and I took my surname from my father.

I was a very lively child, and I proved to be without the patience to become a priest or a monk as Simon had originally intended. Instead, he asked to be transferred to a church just south of Crossroad Keep.

Within the mighty walls of this our finest fortification, I learned to tend to the horses. When I was old enough, I learned to wield a sword and shoot a crossbow. As most people in the fortified areas, my favourite pastime quickly became martial training. At the age of 15, I had grown strong enough to wear armour regularly. Simon gave me a suit of chain mail, and with that came the responsibility to maintain it. I wore it as often as it was practically possible, so that my young body could strengthen and prepare. I was so certain I would be an infantryman.

I was admitted into the army at 17, and I quickly rose to the rank of sergeant. Unfortunately I was unable to complete officer's school. An officer is sometimes required to sacrifice a man or a group to save others, something I could not imagine myself doing. A sergeant is allowed to complete the dangerous tasks himself, but a commissioned officer has a responsibility to stay alive and lead his troops. At 20 years, I asked for a six months furlough to think my situation through, and it was granted.

For those six months I lived as an initiate monk in the abbey that belonged to the church Simon used to run, as I knew most of the people there from my childhood. I meditated on my future, and when five months had passed I still had no idea what I would do. I was sure that Palantharis would show me my path, and he did.

One day during sermons, I noticed a particularly large man in the church. Valorians average taller than most other humans, partly owing to the fact that famines have not occurred in Valoria since the revolution. But this particular man was immense. He was no less than 2 metres tall, probably more. His hair was golden, and he was not as athletic as most Valorians. He was a bulging mass of muscles. And yet, he was as graceful and humble as any monk, and his great bass voice toned perfectly with the rest of us.

After the sermons I went to speak with him, and as I caught up with him in the porch, I saw his weapons and armour and realized what he was. His armour was a terrific full plate, apparently made of gold (although I know it is not). His helm had a red horsehair mane at a length that signified his rank as a major. His shield was immense, and was made with the same golden finish, as was his sword. The weapon was large enough that I would require the use of two hands to wield it. I knew then that this man was a Gold Falcon.

For those of you who do not know the Gold Falcons, they are a knightly order. They fight on foot, and they ride chariots to the battlefield. Their primary role is to dispose of enemy officers in the midst of battle. Gold Falcons are known to wade through six or eight ranks of enemy soldiers to reach their objective, and then return. The massive chaos they cause usually breaks down enemy lines. They also protect important guests from abroad, and sometimes they act as bodyguards for our own diplomats.

"Major?" I saluted, deeply impressed. I had never been so close to a 'Falcon before, and his presence alone was overwhelming. His eyes and face, in contrast to his martial appearance, still showed the inner peace he had gained from the sermon. His eyes fell on me, and he seemed to measure me.

"Yes… Sergeant?" I nodded briefly.

"I have two weeks of my furlough left. I am supposed to find out what my next career step will be. I was inclined to remain sergeant, but I believe my future may lie with the Gold Falcons." He smiled mildly and placed his immense hand on my shoulder.

"I came here to ask Palantharis whether or not to bring a squire on my mission to Marcanor."

Thus, I became the squire of Sir Feldronon Silverheart. We were to depart two days later.

Sir Silverheart was going to Keyann, the capital in Marcanor. Here he was to deliver an ultimatum to the Mage Guilds and await their reply. The ultimatum was for the mages to stop all activity in Valorian territory. Desecration of graves, cheating of merchants and intimidation of peaceful peasants had become a daily problem in a few minor towns around the realm. As Palantharins, we Valorians never did like wizards and mages much, but this provocation was more than we could accept from any group.

The journey to Keyann was one of the greatest things that happened in my life. It seemed that everywhere we came, someone was in need of assistance, and Sir Silverheart's striking appearance caused many people to ask him for help. Most of the time, a stern look or a few words were all that was needed to set matters straight, but we did get into a few fights.

I had never seen a 'Falcon in action before, and I was impressed. He never killed anyone, but he struck with such speed, accuracy and power that he could destroy enemy weapons while people held them in their hands. He would move slowly towards the enemy, and then stop about three metres away, raising his sword slightly. Then the world would stand still, as he took a step forward and struck. Once he had done that, the world would seem to catch up again. He told me that this move is known as the 'Golden Strike'.

We arrived in Keyann after three weeks. We got a room each, and then we went to deliver the ultimatum. I was nervous for the first time since I hooked up with my new superior. I know that wizards can kill with a mumble and a stare, so I stayed close to Sir Silverheart. He seemed as confident as ever, however. The Mage Guild was a tower in the better part of town. It was built from black stones, and ominous glows of green and orange came from some of the windows. The gate was open, and it had two large stone statues flanking it. Sir Silverheart explained to me that they were enchanted, and that the wizards could command them to attack intruders.

A man in his mid thirties stopped us at the gate. He wore a dark blue robe, which I later learned is the mandatory uniform for members of the Mage Guild.

"Halt! What is your business here?" He seemed confident enough, although his two stone guardians seemed far less impressive than the golden giant standing next to me. Sir Silverheart removed his helmet and I held it. His deep voice and stern looks seemed to take some of the confidence out of the young mage.

"I am an official messenger sent by the High Priest of Valoria. I bear a message to the guild master, and you would do well to let me see him at once." His calm demeanour was almost as frightening as his combat skills. The young mage seemed to think his situation through. He then allowed us inside, and said something to an armed servant inside the tower. The servant ran further inside.

We were shown to the guild master's office after mere minutes. He was not as old as I had expected. He must have been sixty at the most. His dark mane showed a few hints of grey. His grey eyes were piercing, and he wore a dark blue robe with a yellow stripe to signify his rank.

"You bear a message to me?" His voice was cold and full of hatred. Sir Silverheart gave him the official document without a word. The master controlled that the seal was unbroken, an act of provocation against the messenger.

"Leave."

"We will remain in the city until we have your answer. You have three weeks." The two awe-inspiring men gazed at each other for a while. Then we left.

I was very relieved to have made it out without incident. Sir Silverheart, on the other hand, was very quiet and seemed to be thinking about something. I was happy to leave the worries with him, and he seemed content to take them as well.

"Take the rest of the day off. If something happens, I'll be in my room." Sir Silverheart went to his room, no doubt to pray and meditate on whatever was on his mind. I felt hungry and asked the innkeeper for something particular to the region. The mood in the common room was light. It was late afternoon, and the regulars were beginning to stop by.

I was served a steaming dish I could identify only as meat and potatoes and a large mug of some sort of spicy ale. I had never tasted anything like that meal, and my mood led me to be less critical than I would otherwise have been. As I ate I looked around to get an impression of the clientele. I was surprised to see a half elf and a hobgoblin. My state of mind, and the beginning effects from the ale, caused me to see their presence as a positive sign. Since they were here, we must be in an inn that was somewhat more tolerant than the rest of this kingdom. I finished my meal and drank up, and went to get another drink.

Before that point, I had never been drunk. In Valoria, and especially in the fortified areas, the only reason that we know of drunkenness is that we use a light ale when clean water is difficult to come by. In Crossroad Keep there are several wells, and all produce cold, clear water. They were blessed by the High Priest just after construction, and whatever effect it holds still remains.

So I had no idea what that feeling was. My head seemed lighter, it became easier to laugh, and all reservations apparently escaped me. I began chatting with anyone nearby, in the smidgen of Marcanorian I knew. I didn't notice many problems in the communication, and when I did, I thought it hilarious.

If I had not been drunk, I would have seen a beautiful young woman enter the common room, moving over to sit with the half elf. I would have seen the half elf talk to her and nod in my direction. I would have seen him get up and leave. And I would have seen that the hobgoblin had observed the development closely, and I would have seen him get up and leave, too. But all I saw was a very feminine woman smiling at me from across the room, a woman whose beauty was amplified by my condition. Or maybe it was just my normal resistance that had left me. Whatever the case, I eventually made my way over to her.

She was in most cases a typical Marcanorian. These people are generally small, and most have straight black hair and dark eyes. Had I not been drunk, I would have pondered that though she was dressed in a peasant's blouse, her hands were fine and delicate. Instead I saw it as a miracle. I should have been suspicious since she spoke Valorian. I thought it had to be fate.

I can not recall any more details about that evening. I do remember ordering more drinks, and I think there was some gentle caressing at some point. But when we went up the stairs towards my room, my memory is with me again. It must have been the knowledge that my superior was close by that cleared something up. She must have pumped me for where Sir Silverheart's room was.

"Shouldn't you introduce me to him?" Oh, so innocent she made it sound.

"Not right now. He doesn't want to be disturbed." My voice must have cleared considerably, as my duties intruded upon my clouded mind. She ushered me on quickly.

In my room I quickly fell back into my drunkenness. I vaguely remember her naked body against mine, soft and moist lips, the warmth and the darkness, and afterwards a terrible feeling of guilt. I fell asleep with the dim realization that I must have done something horribly wrong, but I could not remember what it was at the time.

I had only the faintest headache when I woke up with the first rays of the sun on my face. I was alone, and the memories of what I had been doing slowly intruded on me. At first I remembered only the pleasant parts, but the feeling of guilt returned when I contemplated the disappearance of my first woman. I rolled over to look at my belongings. They had been searched.

I got on my feet in an instant, and put on my pants. I grabbed my short sword and opened the door, half expecting to see her running down the stairs. I realized that I didn't even know her name. Making an effort to be quiet, my heart pounding I walked down the hall. What had I done? What had I done? I knocked on the door to Sir Silverheart's room. I had not the patience to knock again, so I pushed the door open. It was not locked.

The sight that greeted me made me drop my sword, and I fell to my knees. I saw the bodies of three mages, their blue robes and flesh destroyed by the mighty swings of a 'Falcon's sword. I saw the half elf from the common room with a hole in his head as large as my fist. I saw the woman from last night near the wall. A flash of how she must have died flew through my mind: Sir Silverheart grabbed her with his left hand and threw her headfirst to the wall, causing her neck to snap.

In the middle of all this lay the mighty body of my superior, his sword still clutched in his hand. He had several cuts, and it seemed his skin had been burned many places. There was blood everywhere. I crawled to my superior's body, my sight blurred by tears. I picked up his mighty left hand and held it in mine.

I don't know how long I sat there. Why had I been so stupid? There were plenty of signs of treachery. Marcanorians were notoriously distrustful of strangers. And even failing that, how could I not have heard the sounds of combat? I should have been here, I should have defended my master with my last breath.

The gravity of the matter slowly dawned on me. I might have failed in my responsibilities, but now the mission was in my hands. The Mage Guild had arranged for my master to be murdered. I had to bring this news to Valoria, or at least die trying. But why had I been left alive?

I started to look around for clues. The half elf had been wielding twin daggers. I recognized their cuts on Sir Silverheart's body, and I realized he had been poisoned. I turned to the woman and turned her body over. I didn't look at her face as I searched her pockets and found a vial of transparent liquid. So that was why I was still alive. That liquid was meant for me once Sir Silverheart was dead. His heroic fight had saved my life. The mages had clearly underestimated him. The fight might even have ended differently if they had not caught him out of his armour.

Although it pained me greatly, I had to leave him. I had to get out of Keyann immediately and make my way home. I found the inn deserted. The mages must have arrived in full force and scared everybody off. Or maybe they used magic to conceal the sounds of the fight, but then fled without thought of concealment. Whatever the case, it gave me a good chance to escape, and so I did. I was quite concerned about passing through the city gates, since the city guards must have been bribed. Fortunately for me, the city gates were guarded by the regular army, and they made no attempt to stop me.

My journey back home was uneventful, at least for me. I now know that a squad of hobgoblins followed me all the way, fending off pursuers. They also recovered Sir Silverheart's body and weapons, and brought them to Valoria. The reason for this was that this squad's leader had been a member of the Mage Guild, and by helping us he hoped to demonstrate to the Council that he had been against this assassination. It proved to be a wise ploy, since the Second Mage War, which followed a week after my return, saw the complete destruction of the Marcanor Mage Guild.

I was selected as one in six to bear mighty Sir Silverfaith's coffin at his burial. I felt very small among three other 'Falcons and his two sons who have inherited his size. I know he must have forgiven me my failure, and the military's punishment is long over. Still, I doubt that I will forgive myself in this life.