laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

Sunlight beat upon the hard packed earth which had become the marketplace in Anderslough as Bernard, in his newly conjured disguise as much younger and vibrant, walked towards the front door to the baron’s keep. His vowed dedication to the Ring’s cause would now be public, to a degree, as he tried his best to secure the future of one of his charges, Lericanin of Anderslough. The teenager had been more interesting as he grew into a man as his lust for the opposite sex had now landed the farmer’s son in the dungeon as he awaited his sentence by his latest desire’s uncle. A man who was not known for mercy.

Bernard sighed as he pushed the heavy oaken door open which creaked and alarmed the elder servant who alertly turned to note the intruder.

“May I help you,” his widened, blue eyes and hoary head told of many years of devoted service.

“I need to see Sir Howard, Duke of Kecel.”

“Is he expecting you, sir,” the tanned, wrinkled face turned to him more directly.

“No. But, I’m on the business of someone he can’t deny. Lead me to him, sir.”

Straightening, the confused herald paused. “On who’s business are you?”

“The Ring.” Two words that encapsulated everything this world feared and respected. “Now lead me to him.”

A hesitant nod, then the robed man turned as he continued on his course through a nearby door and into the immense, well appointed room lit moreso by the gaping hearth than the four tall, bullet-shaped windows.

“My lord, you have a visitor,” the herald announced which prompted the well groomed, dark haired man sitting within the leather bound chair to turn.

“I have more important things to tend to just now, Alfred. Have them appear at a more appropriate time.”

The comment spurred Bernard to step forward, motion to the herald to leave the room and then eye the baron’s guest. Quietly, he waited several moments for the elderly man to depart as the duke stood, his silver studded, black leather coat eclipsed the blazing fire behind him as the middle-aged man squared on the mysterious visitor before him.

“Who are you, sir,” Sir Howard inquired.

“My name is of no importance to you. What is important at this very moment is the life of the young man in the dungeon. One Lericanin of Anderslough. You are to give him leniency, do you understand?”

Brow furrowed, the duke’s confusion reigned over reason. “On who’s authority do you instruct me thus?”

“The Ring. It’s been directed to me that this man has a larger role to play, irregardless of his...appetites.”

“They expect me to stand by and allow this commoner to soil my niece’s chastity and my house’s honor? I’ll not have it, sir. I cannot.”

“You will,” Bernard stepped forward, stressing his point. “Neither her chastity nor your house’s honor has been affronted by this action, I assure you. You will also never divulge that we had this conversation, am I understood?”
Bernard’s blood pumped at the nervous excitement with the full uses of his powerful station. He had never had to face a noble in such a way before. Hesitantly, the veteran of many battles nodded, his glare able to pierce any normal soul and command them to their knees.

“What would you suggest my pardon be,” the duke queried through clenched teeth.

“Anything but death. They’ll be watching so I bid you good day, sir.” With that, Bernard turned and left the room.

He could feel the duke’s eyes boring holes through his leather jacket and silk shirt as the messenger left the keep and closed the heavy door behind him. As he descended the wide, stone steps it finally occured to him how epic in scale this mission had become. His liaison to the Ring, the winged champion whose spectral beauty and strength was unrivaled by any spell the archmage could conjure, had been informed that in the years to come, a special group of individuals would come from all walks of life and nationalities to take part in a war whose final outcome would rest the future of their race.

The Second Dark Age had begun.