Warlords Of The Oaken Chalice

The Oaken Chalice: Here For The Claiming

The Oaken Chalice sees all. It saw when The Gods' Chosen was impaled by The Merciless's spear. It watched while the armies of the four Warlords slaughtered each other, switching sides and alliances, dying without even knowing for what they fought.

The blood pooled on the plinth under the Oaken Chalice, the throne room empty, save for one who was unable to leave. And then another entered the room.

"I am here!" announced The Demon Knight. "I am here to claim to Oaken Chalice and its power!"

"Not while I still live," said The Merciless.

"Nor I," added The Bloodbath.

A weak voice whispered almost inaudibly. The Warlords might have heard it, if they wanted to. But they were more concerned with each other at that moment.

"Please, stop this madness," it said. "Terkias, you are my brother! They are your friends! Stay your sword!"

The Demon Knight held his weapon before him, outstretched, swinging gently between his foes, eyeing them to see who would attack first. Then, simultaneously, they leapt at him, spear and sword. He dodged the spear, spun around swinging his blade down through the air, connecting with steel as The Bloodbath parried, holding with all his strength. The Demon Knight looked down on his enemy as he flailed, weakening, but in that moment he felt the spear pierce through his back.

He dropped to his knees, tasted blood as it began to fill in his mouth. He watched The Bloodbath rise before him, sword ready.

"Please, no," he begged, sputtering blood. "Wincel. We were friends..."

But it didn't stop The Bloodbath from beheading him. One easy swing of the blade, and The Demon Knight's body fell limp, five feet away from the head.

"Please stop," came the weak voice, but the Warlords couldn't hear him. "You two are betrothed. Bound. Try to remember."

The two Warlords circled each other, weapons ready. Not a word between them, just an understanding. The truce was over, and only one could remain standing, the Oaken Chalice the prize.

The Merciless rushed forward, stabbing her spear forward, but The Bloodbath dodged, swinging his sword down in time only to catch air. He watched cautiously, stepping around slowly in time with his adversary. She eyed him, spear held forward, ready to thrust if he made a false move.

"Please... stop."

The Bloodbath leapt forward, jabbing his blade low, but The Merciless was ready, and she simultaneously dodged his sword while thrusting her spear into his shoulder. He fell back in pain with his back against a wall. He felt the blood spilling from his shoulder, his life leaking away. He felt his strength failing.

The Merciless stepped forward, bringing her spear ready to end his life. Suddenly he saw her differently. Saw something he had forgotten.

"Wait!" he said. "Reliasse, wait!"

He glanced around the room. He saw the dead body of The Demon Knight, his empty eyes looking back from his decapitated head.

"Terkias?"

Then he saw the plinth, stained blood red. The Oaken Chalice sat atop. At its foot, a man lay crumpled. Thin, weak, almost unmoving.

"My King?" he gasped. "What? What happened?"

"Hurt her!" whispered the King. "She must understand."

Wincel looked back up in time to see the spear thrust through his heart. He choked as blood filled his lungs. His vision faded slowly, his wife blurred before him. In his hand, he still gripped the pommel of his sword.

"My love," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

The Merciless leaned forward to listen to his last words, and with his failing strength, he raised the sword, and ran it through her stomach. Shocked, she stepped back, and fell to her knees, holding the blade with both hands. She looked at The Bloodbath, and she saw him.

"Wincel! No!" she screamed.

"Not now," croaked the King. "You must destroy it! I am too weak. You must do it for me! Destroy the Oaken Chalice."

Reliasse wiped the tears. She understood. She understood everything now. The Gods' Chosen... Akran's dying words when she had killed him. Terkias's dying words. Wincel's dying words.

"How long has it been?" she asked the King.

"Seven days," he whispered.

"Seven days? The kingdom fell in seven days? Your generals all killed one another in one week?"

"Seven days," he said. "All for my greed. I thought I could wield it. No one can. You must destroy it!"

Reliasse was in extreme pain, shaking as her blood leaked from her belly. Her husband and her old friend lay dead in the room, the King close to death, and she too was not far away. On the plinth, the Oaken Chalice sat, commanding the room, destroying the kingdom.

She stumbled towards it until she was within arms' reach. She could feel it trying to control her, trying to win her back. But its power was over the strong, not the weak, and she was close to death. She screamed in agony as she drew the sword from her belly, and with all her strength, she swung the blade at the Oaken Chalice.

It shattered like glass, it exploded like fire, it vanished like shadow in the sun. She could feel it was destroyed, even as her heart struggled with its last few beats. She looked at the King. He gazed back at her with empty eyes.

"Thank you," he croaked, lifting a dagger to his own chest. "You haven't saved our kingdom. But you have saved many more to come."