From the King’s Private Journal~

Spirits are high. This victory against The Lich was exactly what my men needed to fill them with the confidence and vigor that will win this war. News has come from one of my knights that our heroes have struck a hard blow against the demon prince, and armies from The Realms and even Moradrim have joined our cause. At last there is hope that we may defeat The Usurpers.

The dark hours had been quiet, and yet I had found no rest in my chambers. My father’s enemy was coming; I could feel it in my bones. The magical wards that our High Wizard had placed throughout the city would only keep us safe for so long once the attack began, and the men were restless, but they were ready.

I stood on the ramparts of Greymoore Castle, watching and waiting. The assault came two hours before dawn. Before my very eyes the castle gate began to… flicker. The light was drawn inward and swallowed in shadow. With power only held by foes such as the ones we faced, a new gateway had formed just within the doors that held the city closed. I heard shouts from the men upon the wall. Creatures of darkness poured through this new opening faster then I could have believed possible, bypassing our tall walls and entering the city directly.

They had come.

The Blade of Kings flashed in the glint of torches and pre-dawn starlight as I unleashed the weapon and held it high in my grasp. I began to issue commands to my soldiers. ” Pikemen to Highwall, Archers to Greywater, Knights to The Lion’s Gate.” I stood upon the ramparts and watched as the enemy broke through our defenses.

The Lich had brought an army of Wraiths and Skeletal Warriors, who when living, might have served me loyally. Their cries of anguish filled my ears, and yet the rage of my soldiers overwhelmed the sound. The enemy swept upward into the east city, their forward charge led by a horde of Demons bound by The Lich’s summoning. Our wards held them for mere moments before they were shattered, but moments were all that my men needed. Every corridor through which the dark army approached, they paid for in rains of pitch and fire arrows. When they breached the Lion’s Gate, they met Knights to the fore, and pikemen charging at their flank.

Just as the Knights met their adversary’s charge, light burst forth from within their ranks as the Knight Commanders and their weapons of war became wreathed in sacred flame. The Demonic Horde faltered a moment in their advance, and then the forces clashed. In the chaos of the battle below, I saw him for the first time.

Onto the battlements, the wraiths and their Lich King drifted, held aloft by whips of shadow. They met the fury of mage-fire and wizard born cleansing as they ascended. The spells tore through the incorporeal wraiths, and yet simply vanished when they fell upon their Master. His laughter filled the air and a terror welled up within us as he approached. It was only for the power of The High Wizard’s magik that my men held strong.

Those lucky or wealthy enough to wield spell-forged steel faced the wraiths with determination, but the common blades that most of my men held did little against their kind, and cries of those both dead and dying filled the air. It was then that Peter came bearing down upon them with righteous rage and a force of men fit to draw their attention. While Peter drew their forces away, I pressed my advantage and cut The Lich off from his main force. The weapon he unsheathed was plain, an iron dagger with a simple unmarked oaken handle, yet I had heard stories of the thing and knew that I must not let it touch me. He spoke the ancient words of power and summoned his magik to cast forth great bolts of ice. I called up arcane power of my own and broke his spell. As fast as he tore my protections down, I put them back up again. Our weapons clashed. Each time I brought my father’s blade to bare, he was just out of reach. The lich stepped forward to strike me and faded back before I could touch him. He moved like a snake, fast, deadly. I parried each of his blows with swift precision, looking for an opening, and found none. His magik was the greatest I had seen and it was then that I realized that it would take the Relic about my neck to hold against his onslaught. I finally understood what my father had seen, what he had felt. I used The Relic to call upon the strength of those who served me. Knights, Lords, Captains; I called them all to my need, to vengeance.

The Blade of Kings became little more then a blur in my hands, meeting his every attack and returning it upon him. I drove The Lich King back as the fury took hold of me. I remember my cries of war “For Rhoum, For The Heartlands, For Aleric Falconcrest!” My blade met flesh at last and the creature staggered. I could see the hate in his eyes, and the pain. He gestured and muttered a word, and then was gone. He had fled, back to his lair, back to the depths, defeated. I could hear the cheers of my men as they harried their failing enemies through the dark gate. Cries of “Sevyn, The King” and “Falconcrest” were the only sounds that remained. We had won. I had protected my own.

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