Death of the Nameless Lord

“I should have known this form was too weak to defeat you. You are far more of a threat than Graine ever was. Pompous fool that he is, he believed he could discover the primal secrets for himself, but his arrogance actually held him from the very goal he desired. All have betrayed me, my queen, my dukes and even my servants in Mormar. The great unconquered rift lies before us, ready to devour all who tramp there unprepared. My foolish barons believe that they need but steal my knowledge and open a portal there, but they have not reached your level of primal understanding. No one will follow them, nay, but perhaps fools. But you… Yes, you will be my final revenge. To you I grant a barony in the great rift, should my lords manage to open the portal. No one will follow them, but surely they will follow and serve you. To you also I imbue the last bit of primal essence I have available in this existence, and a trinket to remember me by. If you seek power, use them for power; if glory, use them for glory.”

Soyer walked slowly down the hall towards the throne room, not even glancing at each of the dukes as he passed. The tension in the air was almost palpable… The rumors seemed true, but he had to make sure.

Far ahead, he noticed there was no waiting Lord Summoner… And as he crossed the threshold into the throne room, a cold chill ran down his back.

Arcturus was dead… It was undeniable. Graine was sure to revel in this victory… Assuming he survived.

A snicker came from down the corridor behind him… Turning, he noticed the treacherous dukes staring back at him. “There were none righteous in this fight,” Soyer thought to himself, “Evil vs Evil” he continued. “So what will you now, bard?” Marvin questioned. “Soon we will have the power of the rift, and will rule those untouched lands.” he continued. “Uncontested, unchallenged, we will finally be out from under your thumb” he finished. Soyer smiled, stared down at a small scrap of paper, a land grant apparently dropped by its intended owner. “Not so uncontested.. I’m afraid.” he interjected. “And as far your escape from my control, I’m afraid you misunderstand.” Soyer continued. Soyer turned and proceeded down the corridor past the puzzled dukes. Turning a moment, he calmly whispered…” “I don’t care…” “I never have…” “And quite probably…” “I never will…”

In a rare maniacal moment, he had let something slip… his guard was down and his tongue had wagged a bit too much.

A cold wind blew from the west. The dukes shivered.