TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering

by Andreas Hennen

  The only son of the old King, Prince Yulian, stood out among the crowd, dressed magnificently, on the back of a white steed, smiling and waiting for the Lord of the South. The prince, as bright as the sun, dressed in armour with a gilded and glittering breastplate, all adorned with stones set in the colours of the summer sky and the sea. On his chest there was an inscription, among the branches of an engraved tree. The phrase read ‘Defend the weak’, the motto of Hal Barat's army. His arms and legs and the matching the fauld and tasset were a beautiful bright blue, in contrast with the gleaming uniformity of the armour. Over the blue, floral motifs in gold budded at the ankles and covered the armour at every point. The gold helmet carried in his lap showed the features of a lion with a wide-open mouth and a severe look. But this protection, if it had been built with the aim of generating terror, it certainly disappointed its master. It made him look clumsy rather than frightening, especially because of the mane of real hair, covering the steel veil, placed to defend his neck.

  He approached the prince with open arms shouting from among the crowd:

  "What a pleasure and what an honour to be able to meet you again, my King!"

  "I thank you for your warm welcome, but above all for having sent troops to our defence," the good Lord of the South exclaimed with deep gratitude.

  "Were they useful? I suppose they won! Well, fewer dogs of Varius on this earth," commented the Prince of Hal Barat a little vulgarly.

  "You, Prince, have grown now, therefore, the succession to the throne is certain and strong in your hands!"

  "If my father thinks I'm worthy, I'll serve you to the best of my ability, but I hope I won't take over those duties for many winters yet," Yulian answered obsequiously bowing on his steed.

  "Please escort us to court! My travel companions and I have an urgent need for a warm bath, rest and if possible food. Moreover, I know the Sovereign awaits me," asked the Righteous with such energy as to disguise his supplication as an order.

  "Certainly, my King! Follow me! King Josef has been very keen to receive you since Asmoday visited us, suggesting that we look for you in the plains of the Kingdom of Varius. After that conversation my father looks like a completely different person. I'm not aware of what was discussed, but judging by the reaction it will take a great deal of effort just to survive," Yulian revealed, walking alongside the Lord of the South, who listened interestedly. His guards from Terra followed the pair, more attracted by the local beauties than by the speeches of the nobles.

  "It’s just as well he claimed that he was more accustomed to the simplicity of the inhabitants of the south," Fulk commented through gritted teeth, referring to the prince in gold armour and making the Nordic warrior grin.

  "The girls in these lands are certainly very attractive, even if they are of humble birth," Franz awkwardly commented with a rapt gaze, changing the subject.

  "But do you believe that beauty is only a prerogative of the rich? And perhaps you can indulge in the foolish illusion of being able to guess how well-off a girl is by the grace of her beautiful little face? In truth I can tell you stories of the exact opposite: in the lands of the north rich women often sit on their thrones, weighed down by their riches, wallowing and gorging themselves like seals on the rocks. Young farm girls, fisherwomen and millers have firm, sculptured bodies. Maybe their hands are like shark skin, but I don't mind at all," Gotthard said with his eyes glittering, recalling his past loves.

  "Maybe when all this is over, if I'm still alive, I'll come to visit you in the north," Franz replied, smiling.

  "Of course, but be careful, in those lands even babies can wield swords and shields, and if you do not behave well, I will not be able to save you," warned Fulk teasing the young and fiery warrior.

  They reached the foot of the wall of Castrum Leonis. It was not a typical fortress, half in stone and the rest in bricks. A tall and slender tower to the east was perfectly reflected by its twin to the west. From the top of these structures, the barren lands of Hal Barat's Kingdom could be watched over and dominated. The walls had many war machines, capable of sowing death among possible aggressors. The great stones, taken from the city walls, rested clearly at the base of the towers, low and massive, housing the defences. No decorative elements or affectations spoiled the perfect harmony of the military style, so dear to the Sovereign. I was only possible to pass one at a time across the very narrow drawbridge, preventing mass invasion.

  Inside, through the door, there was a small and narrow garden, surmounted by crenellated internal walls. A steel portcullis, raised by two thirds, allowed a glimpse of the inner courtyard of the castle, where playful fountains threw large jets of water several meters high. Three long stone basins divided the square. In these low and luxuriant waters red fish played, hiding shyly. Among the green vegetation, mythological statues seemed to be chatting, spraying water near the visitors, who were impressed by such magnificence. The long ponds were separated by steps, on which charming sirens watched loving fauns and centaurs struggling to win the hearts of the amphibious maidens.

  "A wonderful parade ground, Prince, but I can still remember when its unadorned style had a more military-style charm," commented the Lord of the South in astonishment as he looked around.

  "Yes, my King, since Lady Bouman moved to court, we have tried to make the castle more suitable for a princess," young Yulian answered with pride.

  "But then you are betrothed? So, I must offer my most heartfelt wishes for your happiness on the occasion of your future marriage," congratulated King Godwin giving him a paternal slap on the shoulder. "Your future bride is Egon Bouman's daughter, I don't remember Lady..." the Righteous stopped, trying to bring the name of the young woman to mind.

  "Lady Felicitas," suggested the prince in blue gold armour.

  "There! I couldn’t quite recall her name. I only saw Felicitas at her baptism, I had no other occasion to meet her," the Lord of the South commented, thinking aloud.

  The small procession crossed the wooden door and left the horses to the grooms. They were surprised by the pleasant warmth reigning in the palace. Castrum Leonis's great hall still seemed as Godwin remembered it and preferred it. The spartan space was dominated by low, sturdy columns, holding cross vaults in brick, reinforced by wooden ribs, carved with rough floral decorations. In the centre of the room, which was high enough to make your head spin there was an exaggeratedly tall gold-leafed wooden throne, with a backrest that rose to touch the ceiling. The throne was composed of two maniacal lions that were fighting on the battlements of a hypothetical castle, clinging to a merlon. This was the backrest, padded and lined with blue velvet. Wrought iron candelabra surrounded the columns in groups of four, illuminating the dark room. The only other light came from a rose window behind the throne. To the sides, in succession, statues of heroes and rulers of the city offered their proud effigies to the memory of the centuries. They were made of polychrome marble. Such care was taken to recreate their eyes, carefully setting the hard stones, following the veining, that the mass of stones seemed to be alive.

  King Josef was standing waiting, away from his throne, impatient for his guests. His figure was now lean and slightly bowed, bent by the accumulated years, almost more than anyone else. Despite his age, the King had dark coloured hair and a well-kept tidy beard to conceal its candid whiteness. The thin face framed black eyes and a slightly twisted mouth, a reminder of the years spent on the battlefields. Josef, who was dressed in red velvet, prostrated himself before his Sovereign without weapons or protection, as if the times offered no threat of battle.

  "Well, my King, luckily you're safe," congratulated the host.

  "Certainly we are alive, thanks to your intrepid men, who threw themselves into the fray to help us all," replied King Godwin, bowing in return.

  The old Josef did not hesitate and with a nod, set off with a firm quick step, making his way to a smaller more private room to talk, but before starting out he noted:

  "Who do we have here? Gotthard
, son of Gottwald, Prince of Stahldorf. Well, he seems to be the least goat-like of the Gotzsons, apart from young Gottlod, still too prone to stubbornness. Come, you can join us in our talk." After walking around the Nordic prince, another man caught his interest came to see him. "Fulk, you are a reasonable man, come and join our group, better to have clear though opposed views than be buried by indulgent flattery."

  The wise King Josef invited the two external counsellors to the court. He no longer knew exactly whom he could trust. He deeply offended his son by excluding him from the elect. They sat in a small, bare white plastered room, dominated by a huge crackling fireplace. Godwin was the first to ask:

  "My dear Josef, should I believe that I have been nurturing snakes in my bosom in the Kingdoms of the South?

  "You would be a madman, my beloved Sire, if you were convinced of the incorruptibility of your Lords," smiling Josef answered frankly. "A young man has been hovering at the court for months. He is not very discreet but has been able to win the confidence of my young and stupid Yulian, and now wanders with his ears flapping through my cold corridors, eager for information. The messenger hawks are all exhausted, from so many messages sent by him to his homeland Torat. It has been necessary to limit their number and to read their contents.

  "All this is very worrying," Godwin exclaimed as he looked at Gotthard with a severe expression.

  "Therefore, we must presume the possible corruption of the Lord of Torat," Fulk suggested, shaking his head.

  "In any case, there are few I would trust. Since time immemorial the Kings of the South have been more attracted to anything that glitters rather than to the sacred values and vows. Asmoday himself confessed during his visit that he was not the only Inquisitor on the hunt in your land, my King," Josef worried. Then he shouted, calling for food.

  A few moments later, the table where they were sitting was transformed into a sumptuous banquet, where first fruits of the season were combined with delicacies of all kinds: from warm meat to soups and typical dishes, breads and focaccia, filling the room with their inviting aromas. Among all these delights, the hand of the great Nordic warrior was magnetically attracted to the cider jug.

  "I didn’t ever think I could find cider in these lands," Gotthard exclaimed, pouring himself a full tankard. Just as he had finished filling it, he avidly emptied it and filled it up a second time, congratulating old Josef on its excellent quality.

  Godwin preferred a sip of wine before setting out his thoughts:

  "I must recall Wiggo to his duties, we need his beasts!

  "The heretic?" exclaimed Josef, opening his eyes wide.

  "My King, you know how that madman no longer wants to obey anything or anyone. He repudiates our religion in favour of worshipping himself. He thinks he is a living God and for this reason he believes he is above any other loyalty or belief."

  "God or man, if he does not join the fight, his Juggernauts will be able to do very little, however strong they may be. The fate of men is at stake and there are many of our race who already repudiate the path of the One God or traditional religions, preferring demonic cults bearers of darkness. His army is essential to the salvation of all. We need it," Godwin answered calmly in a convinced voice, well aware of the arduous task entrusted to him by the One God.

  "Forgive me, Your Majesty, I am old, help me understand a little better, precisely what it is that threatens us," asked Josef closing his dark eyes.

  "Problems everywhere, the only apparently tranquil territory would seem to be ours," the Righteous replied bitterly and briefly, filling his mouth with a large piece of roasted meat, so big that he could no longer speak for a few moments.

  "Two days ago a hawk came from the plateau, bearing a rather bizarre note," the old King of Hal Barat began saying, but he stopped.

  "What news, don't keep us on tenterhooks, old man!" Gotthard incited.

  "My dear young Prince, it's probably the joke of some trickster. Honestly, I wouldn't give it too much weight," Josef commented smiling. He didn't have an easy smile. It looked more like the bitter laugh of someone who hopes to receive good news but is overwhelmed by evil tidings.

  "My good liege, let me decide whether to ignore the message. Given the times, nothing should be mocked or put aside lightly," the Righteous, in a severe tone, encouraged him to continue.

  "As you wish, my Sovereign," Josef obeyed by pulling a parchment out of his red jacket pocket, "I will now read to you the words of Morten Gottson, Lord of the City of Rost, first General of the Steel Ring. ‘Announce to the people devoted to you the awakening of the God of Blood. Purple tongues of serpents flash on the northwest horizon, foreshadowing the coming of the Dark Gods. From the time of last red moon, the mountains gush forth waters, which give lively a flow into the rivers of the plateau, as far as the beginning of the sacred river of Vhola. The fords and the pools will give only one verdict of death, because now the river is demanding souls, feeding on the living. Gather the armies together and be ready for the call. The time has now come, but the Emperor does not want to see what nature so forcefully reveals."

  A breathless and dense silence fell on the room, the principal theme of the news made their knees tremble. But it was what was hidden between the lines that worried their souls and crushed hearts.

  "But why does the Emperor not want to see? It's a phrase that could be punished by beheading! Morten must be out of his mind!

  "This identical message has been sent to all the Lords of the South. Therefore, I assume also to the East and to the North. Morten never gave any sign that he was losing his mind," Josef pointed out.

  "We have arrived at this situation without realizing anything," Gotthard asked, puzzled, shaking his head, drowning his thoughts in cider. "I know King Morten like every other warrior in the north, and I'm sure his heart weighed heavy as he wrote that letter. He lives to serve and protect the Emperor, if it were not true, if he had no proof of what he said, he would never have sent such a message!"

  "I agree with you, Gotthard, and I myself saw the Emperor, being manoeuvred by treacherous minds. Counsellor Dicius whispers and belittles all the alarms brought forward, throwing mud at anyone who tries to reveal the truth," Godwin said resigned, swirling his mug half full of wine.

  "At least in all this darkness some light has been shed. The enemy is hiding behind the thick walls of the fortress of the Thousand Gates. We'll have to turn our armies there," began Fulk with schematic simplicity.

  "Don't move too fast, brave Fulk, other forces are being moved where we cannot see them, beyond the mountains of the east and beyond the Nordic Sea. Lucius is not without resources, He has already changed his alliance on the chessboard of war. We were blind and deaf, too indulgent with the seed of evil. Now it is well established in our gardens," Godwin exclaimed, agitated as never before.

  "My King, seven are the days needed to gather supplies and weapons. My protectors of the Way will be at your side and I with them. I have watched too many winters from the warmth of my rooms. The time has come to dust off my armour and take it into battle," were the words of the old lion, ready to follow the young King in the task that divine providence asked of them.

  Gotthard, satisfied, beat his fists on the table, making the glasses and the white ceramic vibrate. He exclaimed as he got up:

  "Sire Godwin, I'll follow you! If it is to be war, then make sure at least it’s a glorious one!"

  To this manifestation of solidarity, the Lord of the South spoke his sacred motto:

  "God wants it, my Commanders, so let us give Him what He asks!"

  Only Fulk did not participate in the exaltation of war in that moment, but in any case made a wise decision:

  "My King, it would be better to send hawks to all your friends, asking them to prepare their armies. I don't know where, but Lucius will hit us hard, pouring ancient horrors and unstoppable fears on us."

  "We have allowed the devil to survive and grow, thriving in the shadows. The evil one is deluded if he thinks that h
e can have an easy time. But the victory will be ours, the Warrior Gods will be filled with pride watching us die in battle. If you will allow me, I ask for a hawk to send the glad news to my father at Stahldorf," rejoiced the hungry warrior Prince of the North under the puzzled eyes of King Josef, who knew little of the Nordic religion.

  "Dear boy, what good news have you heard in all this chaos, that you wish to report it cheerfully to your unhappy father?" asked Josef not knowing, whether to be surprised, intrigued or angered by such expressions of jubilation.

  "My King, I kindly ask you to limit your judgments about my family, especially my great father," Gotthard answered, frightened, staring at the old King and adding: "The men of the South are moving to war. The North will certainly unite, providing irreplaceable contribution. The East has never been simply an onlooker and will not need to be begged to join us. So, with such prospects, who could fear defeat? And if death should come, I hope it will take me battling with ten blades and leaving behind piles of enemy corpses so as to guarantee me Valhalla!"

  The good King Josef burst into laughter and commented:

  "It is a question of points of view, then: you yearn for death in battle, while we fear it!" He took a deep breath and continued: "Mighty Prince, I ask forgiveness, my judgments are affectionate. You are not aware of it, but your father and I have known each other for a long time and in all these years he never offered to give me a discount for swords and armour, that old goat!"

  The four burst into laughter, partly out of sincere humour and partly to mitigate the fear of the future. King Godwin interrupted the moment of relaxation. The time had come to eliminate a doubt, haunting his mind since the stories heard at the Abbey of Terra.

  "My good Josef, have you received my order to seal the catacombs?" asked the Lord of South with anguish, his heart gripped with fear.