Unkarra Gate (1st draft)

Chapter 33.1

The suns were just setting as Ronclay made his appearance before the great black gate structure leading to Unkarra. His force had marched all day overtop and down the mountainside. Leaving them behind, he took but a small personal guard with him. He approached casually, with little regard to any threat to his person. He was eager to take the measure of these foreign men, eager to make his demands, and eager to be one step closer to ripping out their hearts.

All the while he searched for the one who drove his purpose; the one who took his old life, and whose blood was destined to grace his lips.

When he reflected upon the change this old man, Bogrel, wrought on his life, he did find some gratitude for having been freed of the constraints of his weak and subjugated incarnation. He never could have become the king of men that he was now, without having been killed. He fully intended on showing his gratitude by repaying Bogrel in kind.

He wore his full armour and helm so all would know approached. Even if these foreigners did not know of his name and his kingdom, they would konw to fear him as a demon once sighting the visage upon his helm.

They knew he was coming, he had spied their scouts and could hear them scurrying. As he entered the field before the gate uncontested, he could even see men scrambling to shelter themselves within the ramshackle fortress that had been built at his command. That it had been stolen from his dominion was a point of irritation for him, one for which the foreigners would pay dearly.

As he neared, men scattered and fled, and he smiled under his helm. He and his guard came to within a half hundred steps of the wooden fort walls, and halted. He stepped forward and removed his helm.

The firelight from within the fort revealed figures standing atop the walls at the front gate, both of which were ridiculously dwarfed by the black strcture of the gate, which rose far higher than could be discerned in the dying light. One of his guard had lit a torch, which he now brought to Ronclay's side so that he could be seen. His armour reflected the reds and oranges of the fire, highlighting the black plates.

"I demand audience!" Ronclay yelled at the figures outlined in the dark atop the gate. "I am King Ronclay of Geberra, Lord of all Great Houses and chosen by the ancient gods. Who dares encroach upon my dominion?"

A large man's silhouette took the central position atop the wall. A loud voice responded. "My name is Matias of [trading company]. I have traveled from afar to engage in commerce."

It was a broken and odd sounding speech, but Ronclay understood it. "There will be no tlak. Only subjugation. I have come her to issue my demands. I will return here tomorrow evening, when you will surrender this fort, this gate, and your lives to my control. As well, if there is a Geberran in your number, one who escaped across this gate some time ago, his surrender will go a long ways for your survival."

There was several minutes of silence, during which Ronclay donned his helmet, and armed himself with a spear from one of his guards. He strode forwards with the spear, and when he threw it, a surge of power ran through him, pushing the motion of his arm faster than the eye could see. The spear traveled through the night like a dark bolt of lightning, exploding both itself and the wooden wall it contacted. Dust and wood chips flew all about, and cries were raised from within.

Ronclay smiled at the result and returned to his own force's camp.