The First Goblin King

The Taking of Tremain

   
    A terrible shout and a loud din came from the courtyard below, bringing Adair back to the present. The sound of running steps could be heard in the hallway leading up to the throne room. A battered knight soon approached Adair, one of his from the Order of the Kaels. The man was bloodied and muddy, though most of the blood seemed to be not of his own. The knight's expression relayed he had troubling news.

"What tidings do you bring?" Adair brusquely asked the man.

    "There are heavy casualties, my Lord," the knight said, his hoarse voice barely audible above the clang and crash of swords striking against shields and armor coming from below. "We have lost the entirety of Cedrik's regiment, I - I don't think we will be able to hold back the next wave of Varanthians."

    "All of Cedric's regiment?" the king asked, incredulous. "How many casualties are there, Zacharious?" Adair enquired, an arm raised to mop up the blood from off his face with a tattered silk sleeve. The gash above his left brow was still pouring, running into his grey, battle weary eyes, and staining his otherwise pale cheek with harsh streaks of crimson before hitting the stones below.

The knight, clearly nervous, licked his dry lips and ran a hand through his short, dark brown hair. "I uh, would say, my Lord," the knight reluctantly began, "most all divisions but for 100 or so of Damien's knights have been lost. Our numbers are dwindling by the minute. We have already lost Kane and LeClair. Cedrik is seriously wounded and may not make it through the hour. The situation is dire, my Lord."

The king's eyes widened in disbelief. All color from his face suddenly drained away. He uttered a few sharp curses as he walked toward a row of windows on the opposite side of the throne room. Shards of glass from the busted panes crunched loudly beneath his scuffed, black leather boots. He gazed through the cracked glass, looking upon the destruction the Varanthians have wrought. There were many bodies strewn upon that mud covered ground, their glassy eyes gazing up towards the sky. Many of which were his own knights, people he had grown to know and trust over the years, people who had families and children of their own to which they would never return. He closed his eyes, growing lightheaded, and placed his hands upon the cool, granite stones of the castle wall to steady himself

Adair had expected heavy casualties, yes, but this? The weight of their lost lives suddenly came crashing down upon him, and he raised his shaking hands to his face, pressing his palms against his throbbing temples.The names and faces of the dead and dying kept flashing before his eyes, and a sudden fury began to well up from deep within him.

    "All divisions.....three thousand men," the king intoned slowly, opening his weary, grey eyes, "killed ... slain by the Empire!" And with a mighty shout that was part growl, part battle cry, the king slammed his fist through the window before him, shattering the glass. The knight recoiled from the king in surprise. "Oh, Seth shall pay dearly for this!" he blazed, seemingly oblivious to the pain from his hand, though it was bleeding quite freely. "We will fight, we must fight! Zacharious," the king exclaimed, "what is the status of the Empire's army?"

    "They have taken heavy damage, my Lord" the knight answered. "The entirety of their left flank has been decimated, save for a few who escaped into the Wildwoods. But they outnumber us still, my Lord, and are holding strong."

    The king nodded in assent. "Prepare the men, Zacharious," he said grimly, forming in his mind one last stand. "Rally them together and ... "

    "My Lord!" the knight interrupted. "The few of the Order that are left no longer have any divisions to rally! We have lost a considerable amount of men. It is over, my Lord ... the war is lost."

    "No!" the king violently shouted, "No, this is not over, Zacharious. It will never be over. Not as long as Seth walks free. We must -"

"Adair," the knight gently said, placing his hands onto the king's shoulders. "It is hopeless. You have been my king for many years, but my friend for even longer. Listen to me when I say we have lost. We must flee, before it is too late, and before you, as well as I, become just another casualty of this bloody war."