Mirror of the Past

Bray 6- The burning darkness

THIS IS THE END OF ACT I

Bray strode down through the corridor, passing door upon door, a hundred of the King's Guard walking around him. Their steel clad feet thumping hard down, the marble almost shaking from the power in each and every pair of feet. All the men were clad in pristine white armour, lined with golden trim. They had all worn their full helms, only slits of their eyes showing. Thick cloaks billowed around their ankles, all perfectly white and spotless. All the servants within the King's palace hiding and keeping out of sight. The procession was led by the oldest soldier, Ser Corsp. His huge shoulders swaying with each step he took. The men behind him following the same pattern of his movement, feet all moving as one body.

The wide doors ahead were wide open, the silence beyond it heavy and cold, almost as if a breeze was flowing out of the room. No one shuffled if they felt it, none of the soldiers broke their stride as they walked on, past the two guards who raised their heavy spears to allow them to pass and through into the large waiting chamber. To join the other nine hundred identically dressed men already assembled, standing perfectly straight in groups of one hundred just like Bray's group.

No sooner had Bray arrived back in the Citadel, scouts had rode past him, calling back all of the King's Guard to attend to the king that night. No one knew why, people speculated they were beginning another war but the general knowledge was the High King had defeated all of his enemies and reigned supreme in the world. Regardless, they had polished their armour, sharpened their swords and washed their cloaks. They trimmed their hair, their beards and cleaned themselves up.

Bray had been sent into the last group, the veterans or those specially chosen by the King to represent him personally. An honour he had not expected. The Competition. Was the only thing Bray could think of to gain him the recognition. Or the battle of the valley. Where he had saved his regiment's flank from being overrun. Whatever it was, I'm here to serve him in any way he needs me.

Ser Corsp stopped and stamped his feet once on the marble floor in front of the King's dias, his advisors sitting around him, all looking slightly scared. The High King on the other hand, Bray noticed, had a vicious look of hunger in his eyes, like he was about to become a God himself. Corsp raised his heavy claymore in front of him and dropped the point of it towards the floor and bowed, the other men, including Bray, mirroring his movements precisely.

The High King nodded and the men moved towards a richly dressed steward in a white and gold robe, indicating where they were to stand. It seemed they would be in the middle of the other nine groups, directly in front of the High King's dias, and as such they marched towards the door they entered from and turned, all of them resting their large swords on the floor and leaning slightly on them. Sweat streaking down Bray's face and back, the room far too close and humid to be comfortable for any of the armoured men. Don't pass out. Don't pass out. Bray repeated in his head, knowing others were probably thinking the exact same thing.

The High King stood up and thumped his hand on the table in front of him, his eyes feverish bright, a sly grin almost halfway up his wrinkled face. "Tonight. History will change." He looked around the room, snarling at his Guard, and almost laughing manically. "We will change." He gestured with one wrinkled arm at the thousand soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder in the great hall. "We will become stronger. Become greater." His voice was growing louder and he shouted the last phrase, spittle spraying out of his mouth. "Become Gods!" Not knowing the mind of the king, the soldiers knew their duty and raised their voices in unison, stamping their feet, cheering.