Silver Blades: Dread Handed

Prologue - The Ritual

2nd of Vazor, L.E.Y. 3251

(Two weeks before the feast of mid-winter)

Paolo.

"Sstep forward into the triglyph, Son of Epigonne," the creature hissed.

I fought to control my trembling as I stepped into the flaming trinegram.

The ritual so far had been arduous, testing my endurance and resolve. I'd been standing rigid for hours in the dark chamber, reciting oaths, chanting incantations, and ignoring the incessant dripping of cold water in the distance and the tricks my eyes played on me in the dark. When the torch flared into existence and lit the sigil carved in the floor, it blinded me for a long time. Being able to see the circular room, even dimly, reminded me how solitary my ordeal was.

The other brothers, including my sponsor, filed out of the room when the Mysteriat arrived. This ceremony was for me to endure alone, but with the way my skin crawled in its presence, I couldn't blame them for departing quickly. The red-cloaked elder stood outside the circled triglyph, pacing its perimeter as if it were a being from another plane of existence; barred entry. As if the circle were protecting me. The being was clearly not human. For one thing, it was more than twenty-one hands tall, and although I couldn't see any features clearly under its hood, the way its head hunched forward reminded me of tales of minotaurs and gnolls.

"You have sworn allegiance to the Scarlet Brotherhood," it said, voice low and menacing. I couldn't tell if it was reminding or threatening.

"Yes, Mysteriat," I answered meekly, resisting the urge to watch it pace.

"You have taken the five oaths," it continued, ignoring me. "You have studied with admirable zeal to master the first rites of our order, and have been initiated into the Court of Mirrors."

"Y-yes, Mysteriat," I said stammered, unsure whether the thing required an answer. The Mysteriat Kadus was the Scarlet Penumperor's representative of the higher mysteries and the Northwest territory. It was my first audience, and at one time I had hoped it wouldn't be my last.

"Now you seek to enter the deeper mysteries of the Brotherhood," the voice intoned, "is this true?" It was ritual; a question spoken as a statement, and one I had been coached to expect.

"Yes master," I intoned. I found my own voice shaky and difficult to force from my throat, but I took a steadying breath and went on. "I seek the knowledge and power to achieve the brotherhood's aims. I seek to make of myself an example to all mankind and assert our superiority over all who do not share in our mysteries."

"Bullssshit!" the creature hissed, and I blinked in shock. That  wasn't what Oltven said it would say.

"Liess!" it accused. "You have been a full member of the Brotherhood for less than a year. Can you truly be ready for such power?"

"I am!" I said defiantly. The Mysteriat terrified me, and the question wasn't one I was expecting, but I knew the answer in my bones. "I have sworn the oaths, and will swear more—I am ready for anything; will pay any cost to be better. To have the power only you can give me!"

"And will you be true to your oaths, once we have revealed the mysteries to you?" It stopped pacing and watched me for long moments, its unseen face nothing but dark shadow under its cowl.

"A nobleman's word is his bond," I said, shocked that the Mysteriat could doubt my resolve. I had driven myself harder than any man could, both in swordsmanship and in the occult rites of the Brotherhood. What right did any brother have to question my faith?