An Angel Called Eternity

The Field Rat's Banquet - Prologue:

The Twenty-Sixth Day of the Sixth Moon, 853 AD

Few are still living who can remember the Days of Silence. None in the mortal world today have ever seen the visage of an Angel and been cursed with the image of madness burned into their mind, nor have the still living seen the otherworldly creatures that sprang forth in that ancient time, still nesting in the darkest corners of the world today, preying on the dreams of the men-folk who live oh-so-slightly outside their reach.

The great heroes of that age have all been consigned to drift on the sands of time, even their greatest deeds only known to solitary monks and holy men spread across the world's breadth. Clan Aecrypt, The Brother-Kings Wulfstan and Ingulph, the Last Stand of the Priests of Arwyn, and a hundred other great tales have faded from the memory of those who now live, even though without them there would be no world left for those left behind to live in. Is it any wonder then, that the men of today have forgotten what happens when the heavens deign to look upon their world?

The heralding of the meteor shower was perhaps one of the holiest and yet inauspicious signs in all of the known world. From the frigid tundra and verdant forests of Kliskorios to the remnants of the Sotenari on Sothettar, the eyes of all turned skywards on that most unmoving of nights. It was a breathtaking sight; the heavens themselves opening up to cast their gaze upon the world they had for so long shown no interest in.

Of course, there was no single message for people to believe in when they saw this lightshow. The Khan of one of the tribes of the Skonisnomas claimed to have been visited by the spirits of the owl and the crow, who told him to unify his people for the coming of their Great Khan, though he knew it would not be him.
The Jaerl of the Scelopyrene brought together the warrior-lodges of his people and whipped them into a frenzy, his Druids whispering the wishes of the raven-god into his ears; blood and battle were demanded from the northmen, and so he roused himself from his throne of skulls, raised his arming sword and claymore high into the air, and bellowed out a mighty war cry for all his people to follow.
Further south the Sotenari knelt wherever they stood, giving praise to the Messenger-God that he may continue to deliver their prayers to the rest of that ancient and forgotten pantheon, whilst the Tildans, Alema and Dathan peoples took up arms against each other once more, the meteor shower being taken as a sign that the gods desired war on the unbelievers.
And yet our tale does not begin with any of these messages, nor does it concern itself with the thousand prophecies of the Anatolikoi on their little island.
In the Kingdoms of the Klironomoi, the priests of the Carpenter's Son called for the people to look upon this day as a day of ill omen; no good could come of these daemon-sent signs. And so, the good and the faithful, the holy and pious, took to their chapels to pray for their souls, and damn those faithless hounds that brought these inauspicious signs to their homes.

And on this day, under these inauspicious stars, a Prince was born...

Prologue

The Twenty-Fourth day of the Seventh Moon, 872 AD
Aenirhen, Northern Teleytaios, Klironomea

"I hear you're to set off on your little expedition then?"
The prince rolled his eyes, sweat dripping from his forehead. His friend's smile was twisted from the scars on his face, though no less teasing was conveyed because of it.
"I am, yes. Ser Romanos has selected those to come with me as a kind of test for them, I think. You know, see if they can take orders from me without complaint."
"Why wouldn't they take orders from you?"
Lykourgos raised an eyebrow at his friend, his tone somewhere between joking and exasperated.
"You know damn well why. There may not be any noble houses left in this kingdom, but their children still flaunt their noble blood. For them to be taking orders from a bastard like me, well... it doesn't matter anyway. Romanos seems confident that they won't cause any trouble, and he knows the six squires better than I do."
"Six squires then, is it? What does that take your temporary retinue to now? If we include the two preachers, that is."
The prince thought for a second.
"Twenty-two, all told. That'll be twenty-three in total, including me."
Elikoidi looked away.
"Twenty-four."
"Twenty-four? You're not seriously thinking of coming with me, are you?"
The spymaster rolled his eyes, as though even the thought of travelling such a distance to some ruin was beneath him.
"Don't be ridiculous. I mean I've found you a cupbearer."
Lykourgos took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.
"I've already told you I don't need a cupbearer. I'd rather keep to myself, thank you."
His friend scoffed at that.
"Oh, stop putting on that solitary act, you and I both know you're an extremely social person. Besides, this one reminds me of Alekos when you were fostered together."
There was a smirk on Elikoidi's face, and the mention of his first friend sent a pang of something through the prince that he couldn't quite identify. He quickly pushed it aside. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve.
"That's a dirty move Eli, but I'll take him with me if you insist. What family does he hail from?"
His friend smiled another twisted smile at him.
"I thought that trick might work. The boy's got some blood from the Eleutherios family, though only a couple of drops. I found him, well, my rats did, on the streets of Anaria. You'll get on well enough with him, since this one actually has a working brain between his ears. He'll do well by you."
Lykourgos nodded, not exactly thrilled to be sharing a living space with someone else, but willing to bear it nonetheless. Besides, if Elikoidi didn't think he was that bad then Lykourgos would take him at his word, given his friend's seeming inability to tolerate any form of... well, anything that annoyed him for more than a day or two.
"I leave for the Horndaal tomorrow."
"The Horndaal? Whereabouts is this ruin?"
"A week or two west of here. If the rains stay away, we should easily make it in ten days."
Elikoidi nodded.
"Well, me and Romanos will try and keep things from falling apart while you're away. Try not to get captured by any cults this time."
Lykourgos flushed red and rounded on his friend.
"That was one time! I was delirious from injury and- oh never mind, stop smirking at me damn you!"
Elikoidi let out a mirthful laugh, the scarred, blackened skin tightening around his face as he did so.
"I jest, come on. You still owe me for that, by the way.
"It's been four years now!"
The spymaster prodded him in the chest.
"And you have still yet to pay me back for it."
Lykourgos sighed. They'd played this song and dance a hundred times already, and damn him but somehow it was still fun.
"Try getting into a near-death situation and then I'll save you, how does that sound?"
"Deal. Now off you go, you've got some last-minute planning to do."
The looked at each other for a second, then began laughing. Lykourgos wasn't sure why, but he was willing to bet that Elikoidi wasn't either. They clapped each other's arms in a firm grip.
"I'll see you in a month or so, if I don't catch you as we leave."
His friend nodded.
"Im headed back to the capital tonight, so it's unlikely I'll be there. Good luck, I hope you find something that'll help with your little crisis of faith."
He shouted back at Elikoidi as he walked away.
"I told you not to call it a- oh Angels preserve me, never mind."
It didn't matter. He had more important things to busy himself with.