Long before Oryx’ time the Realm was ruled by a king called Skuld. He was in fact the very first king of the Realm in its history as before the many tribes and races lived in mostly peaceful coexistence without any ambition to impose their rule on others. Skuld on the other hand was through and through belligerent and thirsty for power. Two perfect ingredients in the recipe for the subjugation of the other inhabitants of the Realm - a meal fit to sate his hunger for battle. The conquest of the Realm was finished quickly as Skuld possessed the only organized army and swiftly crushed his unprepared opposition.
Thus a state of relative peace returned to the Realm. Some tribes like the very prideful trolls were extremely displeased being under the foreign rulership of Skuld but they dared not to defy his reign in the face of his military dominance.
Years passed by and Skuld’s wife gave birth to a daughter. Giving new life exhausted her so much that she lost her own days after in childbed. This loss lead to a further deterioration of Skuld’s mental well-being and he pushed away thoughts of grief and fled into plans to annex even more land. As his only remaining close relative and thus successor to his throne he wanted to raise his daughter to become a strong and authoritative queen.
In line with his plans for his daughter he named her Victoria and gave her two dogs who would guard and protect her at all time so that nothing bad should happen to her. Since their job to keep the heiress to the throne safe meant to ensure the glory and guard the fate of his dynasty, Skuld decided to name the dogs such - Fate and Glory.
Victoria was not fond of the future her father planned for her. The tutors teaching her strategic battlefield formations bored her and she felt repelled by Skuld’s monologues about scheming and the “proper treatment” of his subjects. She much preferred spending her childhood playing with her dogs outside in the royal gardens. One day when Skuld gave an audience to another noble family, the Ruthvens, Victoria snuck out of the palace and went into the garden in order to eschew the boring conversations. However, this afternoon it was not as quiet as usual there. Joyous barking was to be heard even though her dogs were right next to her. Investigating the situation she found another child of her age playing with three large black dogs. Despite their imposing appearance and red eyes they treated their master - a pale boy with long blonde hair - with utmost care and affection. Noticing Victoria the boy introduced himself as Alexander Ruthven and asked whether their dogs could play together. The princess was glad to meet someone of her age and happily agreed.
The two quickly became friends and frequently met to either play with their dogs outside or spend time reading together in the expansive library of Ruthven manor. In stark contrast to Victoria’s father, Alexander was peaceful, never getting involved into any brawls like other boys, and was a passionate philanthrope. When he grew old enough Alexander joined the Order of St. Abraham - a priest order that vowed to bring healing and purification the the people and their land. Victoria liked to joke that the symbolic peace-white attire made her pale friend look like “the ghost of Ruthven manor”. Yet despite her occasional mocking remarks she was extremely proud of Alexander who excelled at his self-proclaimed destiny of being a healer. He even received the order’s highest honour by being given the wand of St. Abraham himself for his miraculous healing of the most skilled huntress and commander in Skuld´s army who got mortally wounded in a battle. The huntress was already considered as good as dead but in a last act of desperation she was brought to Ruthven manor and Alexander tended to her for weeks and she eventually fully recovered.
His daughter had already reached marriageable age and Skuld realized the upbringing did not have the effect he desired. Victoria would not be the strict and martial ruler his kingdom required. Unless her husband, the future king, would possess these qualities. Thus Skuld wanted to find the best warrior who did not fear enemy nor death. And the method he devised in order to reach that goal was much to his taste.
A tournament was announced to be held at the court of the king. The winner would get to wed Victoria and thus become the next king of the Realm. Yet the duels in the tournament would only end if one of the opponents died. So all participants would pay with their life as entry fee except for the one that would emerge victorious as the next king. Not only did this mean that only the most dedicated and fearless would enter the tournament but it also had the secondary effect that Skuld could enjoy watching relentless battles that he delighted in so much.
All members of the court and army of Skuld and many other curious spectators were in the audience when the tournament began. In a special loge Skuld was seated on the throne and next to him sat Victoria already in a white wedding dress flanked by children with baskets filled with purple flowers - the bridesmaids- and her trusty guardian dogs. The prize presented in plain view for the competitors. An unhappy woman about to witness how a killing stranger gets proclaimed as her husband.
The sun had already set. Many had entered the battleground this day with a racing heart, many were carried away from it without a heartbeat. A scream followed by the sound of a body dropping to the ground marked the end of the last fight. Without any word the last remaining competitor swung himself back into the saddle of his black horse on which he had entered the ring each time. Skuld emphatically applauded the figure clad from head to toe in an armor which completely concealed his face and and warded its owner from every hit or slash which simply glanced off without even leaving a scratch on the metal. The warrior who methodically and unflinchingly had slain one opponent after another was much to Skuld’s liking yet not so much to Victoria’s who had averted her face from the arena in disgust.
“Your prowess in battle is impressive. Congratulations on your victory, warrior. Your reward shall be…”, Skuld was in the motion of making a gesture towards his daughter but a voice from the audience interrupted him mid-sentence:
“Please allow me to challenge the champion. I wish to fight him.”, Alexander Ruthven stepped forward with trembling legs which undermined the boldness with which he uttered his request.
Skuld bursted out into roaring laughter and once he finally recovered and swept a tear of laughter from his eye he replied:
“Your decision to enter the tournament is a bit late and comes with a strange timing after you have seen how our warrior over here has slaughtered his oppenents without mercy - men who even in death looked less like a corpse than you, my dear pale young man. Yet you showed courage and I do not want to miss out on the opportunity to see my soon-to-be son-in-law win yet another fight. Your wish is granted. Daylight has already vanished and many of us might be tired so we meet here again tomorrow - that is if you do not flee over night. Don´t forget that entering the tournament is a binding decision.”
Victoria had been in a terrible mood for the entire day but that was nothing in comparison to the prospect of her dear Alexander’s impending death.
She was not the only one with tears running down her cheek. Thessal the famed huntress stole away from the seats of the other commanders and quietly vanished into the night. It was him, Alexander, who had cared about her so sweetly when she recovered from the terrible wound that he healed. Now it felt as if a new wound was torn into her chest that no medical wonder could heal. As a quickly rising talent in the army she had never really considered having a family but in Alexander’s care she fell in love with him and wanted to ask him to marry her once she found the courage to ask. Too late, he was going to die tomorrow. And if by some miracle he should win the fight, then his heart already belonged to someone else. Thessal could not bear the thought of having to witness the death of her beloved Alexander. She finally arrived at the ocean. Under the moonlight´s shine she walked into the ocean and did not halt - drowning her sorrow and herself.
“Please don´t die Alexander. You must live and become the next king.”
Alexander had his tome, ring, wand and neatly folded robe in his hands and hesitated. This went against all the convictions he had held for all these years but it was the only way he would stand a chance. He was not a fighter, he had never fought, he despised violence. He had vowed to be a healer and to bring back purity to the land. He placed the items in his hand in a chest, closed the lid and headed over to the oldest part of the library. Now it was necessary to become a killer by any means necessary. He took a heavy book bound in black leather from the shelf and opened it to a page with ancient letters and symbols. He looked again in the direction of the chest but then turned his eyes back towards the eldritch book and grabbed the dagger lying next to it.
As many times before the sound of the heavy hooves of his horse heralded the entrance of the heavily armored warrior. He dismounted his horse and unsheathed his sword, pointing it towards the other end of the arena where Lord Ruthven entered. Not in his usual white clothes and instead clad in a dark cloak as if he was already dressed for his own funeral - at least the short dagger that he brought as his only weapon seemed to clearly indicate that he had already accepted his fate.
The warrior charged and struck with his sword but Alexander dodged the attack and the next one and the one thereafter…each with incredible swiftness and agility. The sword hacked and slashed but could not make contact with Ruthven who evaded each and every move. An hour passed and this absurd dance continued with the audience unsure of what happened before their eyes. Both combatants seemed to grow tired when suddenly Ruthven stumbled and the warrior used the advantage in order to position himself above him, raise his sword in the air and bring it down on his challenger. The sword cleft right through Alexander and hit the ground. Instead of a gush of blood a swarm of bats flew in the air. The black figure dissolved and reassembled directly behind the warrior with the bone dagger at his armored throat. Like slicing mere bread the dagger cut through the armor effortlessly and cleanly seperated head and body (clean as long as you ignore all the blood).
Shrieks were heard in the whole audience when the headless body hit the ground but one scream was louder than the others:
“Noooo! My son! You were meant to be king and free us! How did this monster overcome my magic enchantments?”, an old troll witch with twigs in her messy hair croaked at the top of her lungs.
Yet as if her beheaded son had heard her, the warrior slowly stood back up like resurrected from the dead - a golden amulet hanging on the stump of his now unprotected neck strangely glowing and then shattering into pieces.
The fight continued but now with a whole different intensity. The warrior swung his sword like a wild berserker and the previously very passive Ruthven had entered a state of bloodlust, battering the armor of the ressurrected warrior with his bone dagger. The spectators witnessed the furious frenzy of battle in awe and horror - and in the case of Skuld in sheer blissful excitement- without noticing the dark green clouds beginning to veil the sun. The gods were not at all pleased with the spectacle they were presented with. Two once-mortals who desecrated the holy sanctity of death by gaining the forbidden gift of immortality through dark magic. And a mad king obsessed with violent battles.
Sickly green rain drops poured from the ominous clouds and soaked the soil rendering it infertile except for the strange mushrooms that began rapidly sprouting. The stench of foul rot and plague permeated the air but captivated by the ongoing fight nobody except for Victoria seemed to notice despite the coughing that became more frequent in the audience.
Victoria implored her father to stop the tournament immediately but without averting his eyes from the furious combat in the arena Skuld refused her request. His rules demanded that the fight would only end with the death of one of the competitors. The princess knew that none of the two could die but she also realized that there was a third person whose death would bring an end to this terrible competition. She grabbed an axe from a nearby guard and slit her throat with a deep cut. The wailing howl of her two dogs and the shocked screams of the bridesmaids gained the attention of the spectators and even made the fighters halt in their murderous frenzy. Alexander’s and Victoria’s eyes met and she shook her head signalling him not to come to her.
After a moment of stasis the whole place sunk into chaos. The trolls among the audience took up torches and began setting the palace’s surroundings aflame while Skuld’s soldiers attempted to interfere but they were hindered by the outbreak of mass hysteria in the audience. In the tumult the pestilential mushrooms got trampled and thus even more of the plague fume got released.
Lord Ruthven had fled to his manor. He was horrified by the events he had set in motion and was deeply appalled by the bloodlust that had taken control of him in battle. Guilt weighed heavily on Alexander and even in the centuries to come he could not reconcile with his past. The past felt like his shadow that kept haunting him wherever he went. And more and more he felt this shadow, his guilt, becoming its own entity. Each night he dreamt of the moment when he saw Victoria in the bloodied white dress and when he woke up the shadow with his own facial features sat right next to his bed staring at him.
Until one night the setting of his dream was different. He stood in a garden, the sun shone brightly unobscured by green clouds and dogs frolicked and happily barked around him. Victoria stood in front of him dressed in plain girl clothes.
“We have known each other for a long time, Alexander. You are the most kind-hearted person I ever knew and that”, she said pointing at the shadow standing right next to Alexander, “is not you!”
She took his hand and they sat down on the grass and watched their dogs play.
Upon waking up Lord Ruthven headed outside with a spade. Between the other graves on his family’s private cemetery he dug another hole. Once he had finished his task he exchanged knowing glances with the familiar shadow next to him and finally gave him a nod.
When Alexander returned to the manor he was alone.
Today only an old cemetery tells of the once mighty House Skuld which once reigned the Realm. Not many dare to set foot where the castle once stood as the ground is still emitting an eerie plague green glow. It is also rumoured that the butler who buried all the plague victims, including his king, is still roaming the cemetery trying to put the souls of the forgotten who still linger in this place to their final rest.
Addendum
Who are the people in the story?
Victoria
Bridesmaids
Warrior battling Alexander
Troll witch
Ruthven’s “shadow”
Alexander’s dogs
Butler
