The cool breeze of the evening was a welcomed change from the heat of the day upon the battlements. The oncoming moonlight faintly illuminated the lands surrounding the Amethyst Kindred's southernmost bastion: the Autumn Citadel. The robes and cloaks of the elite blade-guards on the outer wall moved subtly with the delicate flow of the wind. From his position on the battlements over the main gate, Blade-Master Bollud observed his troops at their posts with pride; he had trained these fine warriors for many years and he knew they wouldn't dishonour him.

The whole day had been particularly quiet. There hadn't been a great battle anywhere near the fortress for almost half an age. But there hadn't even been the chirping of birds during the hours of light that day, and the air had been quite still. Now, with the slight wind blowing over the region, the background noise was comforting.

The shrill whistle from the gatehouse signalled the changing of the guard over the seven sections of walls, and Bollud saw the relief in the eyes of the blade-guards. Unfortunately for Bollud, this whistle did not mean relief for him: the departing blade-guards who had finished their duty were being replaced by more of Bollud's troops, and he would need to direct these new soldiers in their guard-shift as well. At least the movement of troops helped break-up the monotonousness of the evening.

This new company was Bollud's seventh and final regiment, thus when the whistle sounded next he would be able to leave the walls, another period of guarding complete. As the new troops took their positions over the walls, Bollud went back to his thoughts. He did not mind these last few hours of guarding now that the breeze had come; it had made it easier to think and to meditate. But his thoughts were not meant to stray far from his current position; he was guarding after all. He thought about the significance of the silence during the day. What could it mean?

Bollud squinted over the Aithel Plains to the south, straining to see if there was something foreboding outside of the protected borders of the Amethyst Kindred. His searching blue eyes revealed nothing. That plain had been the same desolate place for decades. Although no news had been heard outside of the Amethyst Kindred realm for a long time, no news usually meant good news. There had been no news of clashing armies, no civil wars, no deadly spreading diseases. Bollud was confident that the Kindred Scouts in the southlands would have reported if something were amiss.

In some ways, he wished he were still a scout instead of being a Blade-Master. Not being confined to stand atop a wall to organise troops, being able to change the scenery frequently; those days were always enjoyable. He remembered his time watching over the East Wood with his friend, Elion. To occasionally speak with the people of other kingdoms and gather information of the southlands. They would enjoy meals warmed by a small campfire, enjoy some friendly duelling with sticks and they even wrote songs in those days, inspired by the forest. Even after Elion became a Sage and would no longer scout with him, Bollud used to play a small harp, the sound of which filled the whole woodland with music. He had not played that harp for many years.

By now, Bollud's thoughts had wandered quite far from his place of duty over the gate, and in his mind, he rebuked himself for it. His mind should be focused on guarding the stronghold these last few hours; a skill that hadn't quite come naturally to Bollud since his rise in position to the title of Blade-Master.

Bollud knew the reason why the title needed filling: Every castle of the Amethyst Kindred needed a Blade-Master to see to its defences. Someone needed to ensure that quality training was carried out in order to prepare the soldiers to counter the implications of the third age prophecy; particularly this southernmost fortress at the edge of the realm. He did not doubt the validity of the prophecy; all warnings should be heeded. Nor did he doubt the need for a resistance to be organised to preserve the ways of the Amethyst Kindred for ages to come. He was only concerned that he was not the correct person for the task. Had he done enough to counter such a threat? His blade-guards were some of the finest ever trained in the weapons of the Amethyst Kindred, but was this enough? Bollud felt there was something he had failed to do, that would cause swift ruin to the lands of the north.

Bollud assessed the stronghold: the walls were wide and dense. The citadel's keep was virtually impenetrable due to its carefully planned design. No, there was no fault in the fortress itself. Bollud probed his mind to think of anything he may have forgotten about, but he could think of nothing.

He thought about the words of the prophecy: did it contain clues to this feeling of inadequacy? Would it point out what he needed to do? He had been required to memorise the prophecy as part of the ritual of becoming Blade-Master, though almost all the Amethyst Kindred knew it; words of a civilisation's destruction are seldom forgotten or ignored. The prophecy was quite simply this:


< <Prophecy to be developed later> >


Even when he was first informed of the prophecy in his early years, he had always wrestled with the words irresistible force. What kind of army is so powerful, that its force is irresistible?

A member of the council of dark lords spoke the prophecy, to avenge their defeat in the War of Flame in the second age. That prophet, if he could indeed be called that, was now dead, and the enigma behind the prophecy had died with him; though he would never have revealed the meaning of the prophecy in life to the Amethyst Kindred either. The council of dark lords were the ancient nemesis of the Amethyst Kindred, always aiming to undermine their efforts of peace and justice. The dispute between the two civilisations had begun early in the first age, and there was no sight of reconcilement in the near future.

Bollud would never let the defiled armies of the council of dark lords to ever enter the courtyards of their fortress, not even if he was the last able to defend its beauty.

Bollud gripped the shaft of his halberd tight. The cruel and heartless acts of the council of dark lords over the past few ages would only be avenged when their bodies lay broken on the battlefields. Their ability to imbue sorrow in the civilisations of the world was unmatched and unwelcome.

The midnight whistle sounded. Bollud felt himself being brought back to reality from his thoughts, and the shrill sound had startled him. He tilted his head back and stretched his arms out; it was a small comfort to know that the council of dark lords had not attacked with their irresistible force this night.

Bollud looked up at the stars as his last regiment of blade-guards began to leave the walls of the Autumn Citadel, through the gatehouse to the town where they would disperse to their respective homes. But something in the celestial heavens had caught Bollud's blue eyes. "In Aithos's name, If that orange dot in the sky is a star, it is the biggest star to every appear in any of the ages" he thought. This new object in the sky meant change for the world, but to what degree? And was this change for the better or for ill?

By that stage, all of Bollud's troops had followed his gaze and were also looking at the orange dot with wonder. Even the next regiment and their Blade-Noble, who had begun to take their positions on the walls, had joined in the observation.

Bollud left the gatehouse and headed straight for the keep. Whatever this meant, Master Sage Elion would need to be made aware of its presence.