THE SWORD OF DESTINY

The Western Outpost

Panting as he scuttled towards the entrance to the High Iron Castles, the staggering man didn’t stop for a quick breath. His whole figure was rugged from hair to pants – a ghastly gash on his thighs still bleeding. However, his horrendous physical shape did not stop him from pacing up as fast as he could to the gates. He stumbled on a rock, face planting his head straight into a bush. The consequence put him down for a few seconds, but then he got up and staggered towards his destination, his face now horrific with multiple scratches. When he got to the gates, the men manning it exchanged confused glances then stopped him from proceeding further. They did not forget to put a respectful distance between them and the appalling man kneeling in front of them.

“I…I come bearing tragic news” he said between short gasps of breath, his eyes squinted to avoid the shiny glints of the soldiers’ armors.

“Clearly” one soldier chuckled

“I need to see lord Biorn” the man followed up quickly “its urgent”

“You can tell us and we will deliver the news…”

“He will want to hear it from me,”

“Did you not hear me? I said…”

“Just let him pass, the man looks like he got run over by a horse, he can’t do nothing to lord Biorn with more than a dozen soldiers guarding him.” The other soldier sighed as he retracted his sword.

With a loud creak, the gates to the Iron Castles were opened, revealing a grand hall. Lining the circumference of the hall up to the center, were rows of mahogany- glazed seats. At the center, was a round iron table and around it, four high seats. Currently, three men standing beside the table were immersed in a deep conversion as they chatted in hushed tones. The clatter from the gates opening drew away their attention to the man who looked like he had an interesting story to tell.

When the man came up to them, he fell on his knees either out of respect or pure fatigue. He took a moment to gather himself before raising up his head.

“My lords…” he acknowledged respectfully

One of the men, the tallest of the three, walked forward towards him. Clad in black robes drawn to a turtleneck, he looked like he was in the forty-plus years. His walk seemed to be motion powered by rebellion. He gave the impression of someone in protest against something or someone. He was lord Biorn, the lord and protector of the Iron Kingdom’s Western Outpost.

“What’s so urgent that you had to interrupt us?” he said in an unusually nasal tone

“we were attacked…”

“Clearly” another one of the men scoffed. Aged about seventy, he had a bushy moustache, which, in moments of speech, wriggled over his mouth like a moth fighting free from its cocoon. He defiantly wore a thin linen that did little to no purpose of covering his triangular-shaped physique, unminding of the slightly chilly morning hair. His expression revealed displeasure at the untimely intrusion.

“Probably bandits” the next man with a hairline that had retreated all the way back to his crown chimed

“We have soldiers guarding every village in the western Outpost” lord Biorn said “I trust they’ll handle the matter...” he turned his back towards the injured man

“No, you don’t understand” the man’s tone turned into a pleading-almost sobbing one. “They weren’t bandits… they were much worse”

“We don’t have any enemies to the west” receded hairline scoffed

“I’ve never seen men like them before…they killed everyone in my village, everyone”

“Everyone?” Lord Biorn’s face became stern

“Within minutes, the whole village was taken. They didn’t even spare the little children, or cattle, I’m the only one who survived” he broke down into silent sobs towards the end

“Did they carry any banners? House sigils?” the lord of the Western outpost inquired

“No, no my lord. They rode the largest horses I have ever seen in my life, and when they came…the ground rumbled, and the sky darkened” his eyes stared into oblivion, as if lost in his own thoughts “they slaughtered everyone like…like sport, killed without conscious…it’s like they didn’t even have souls.”

“Seven hells, the man sounds deluded, maybe he was hit too hard in the head” almost bald guy chuckled

“You have to believe me, my lords… I…. I…”

“How many men rode against your village?” lord Biorn asked, not gracing his compatriot with a glance

“They…. I didn’t…”

“Lord Biorn, the man just needs a good rest and sleep. He does not even remember his own story. Just send for him after he is well rested, and let’s continue with the plot…”

“It was an army” the injured man blurted, “An army of horsemen”

“How big?” lord Biorn questioned

“A large army”

“And they came from the West?” bushy moustache frowned “that’s unusual”

“It is. For centuries, we have never had any attacks from the West. Many maesters consider it a vast and empty barren desert land bordering the ends of the earth. No one can survive in it, much less a large army of horsemen.” receded hairline added sarcastically

“I’ll send out a rider to corroborate your…allegations” lord Biorn said while taking out a scroll from his robe’s side pocket

“I suggest you send out an army to repel them, rid the village of them before its too late” the injured man sighed “As soon as possible”

“I’m not going to heedlessly believe words of a strange man I just met a few minutes ago. Had you come in here crippled and blinded, I still wouldn’t have believed you until the allegations are proven. I won’t send any army until I get proof of an attack in the kingdom.”

“You have to believe me my lord, Please…”

“My servants will see that you are well fed and rested, you may leave” lord Biorn said dismissively, leaving no room for a further negotiation on the matter.