A Knight
Written by: RK


Bound by honor, hero's of the blade and of the heart whose sole purpose on this rock is to serve the greater good. With the bravery to stand firm and the madness to walk forward, may those who call themselves a knight sleep well tonight.


~Chapter 1 – The Flames Return~



Osul oddly enough found himself heading in the direction of his homeland one cold wintery night. The road to Bruma was merely snow, but he was far to excited to let that or the cold bother him. His breath was raged, white puffs of air escaping his mouth, but he had the energy to walk for another two days in this. He had finally gotten the lead he needed. He knew where his target was.


The road was dark save for the one torch he carried. It barely was able to stay lit in the wind and cold, yet it continued to burn as bright as the young nord's eyes. The snow crunched under the weight of his metal armor, his blade hidden by the cloak he had around him. The hood over his head shielded his eyes from most of the snow, but it still was no easy task to see much farther than how far the light of his torch reached.


Beyond the darkness of the snowstorm however, a light began to make itself known. The light of Bruma was close, and Osul couldn't wait to get inside and find who he was looking for. Nearing a fork in the road, Osul turned towards the left to head towards town.


An eery creak caught his attention before he could get father down his path, causing him to look back while his free hand reached for his sword. The storm made it impossible to see much farther than a few feet infront of him, but he could make a dim light out in a small valley not far away. Travelers, or possibly bandits? The roads weren't safe, that's for sure.


Deciding it best not to investigate, Osul faced forward and headed towards the walls of Bruma. Upon reaching the gates, two guards cast their eyes upon him. Trust was slowly being forgotten in the lands, but the small nord made sure to show no intention of aggression. Not today, he didn't need any extra trouble today.


Passing through the gates of Bruma, he found the streets bare. The homes were lit up with fires to keep the buildings warm from the northern air and snow, but the town was devoid of live save for one general store slash inn to the left of the gate. Osul waved his torch into the wind and snow, causing the flame to finally die. After storing the torch under his cloak, Osul entered the small building with sign that read Olav's Tap and Tack.


The insides of the inn was quaint...to say the most. Two small tables, a wine rack, a few steps going to a lower level room and some steps going up to an slightly raised upper level. Inside the building were just three people, all who were sitting down at the same table. They had been talking about something, but they all stopped once Osul walked in.


After taking a seat at the second table where no one else was, Osul pulled out a small pouch of gold and placed it on the table. The three men took notice, now all of them fully turning to get a look at Osul, while the young nord got a look at them.


They all looked weathered and old, two looking like they had been alive for ages while the third looked only a tad younger. The younger looking one however still had silver hair, and his eyes looked more tired than the others. Osul took out five gold coins and placed them on the table, taking an apple from the center of the table afterward.


The room was silent for a while, the sound of Osul eating his apple filling the void. It was hard for the young nord to stay calm, but he managed to just sit their and enjoy his food while the other nords looked over him carefully.


Finally one stood, walking over to Osul's table. They looked at each other, the tension in the room becoming thick. After the tense moment passed however, the old man took the coins and put them in his pocket.


“I've never seen you around here boy. What's your name and business?”


Osul finished off his apple, placing it on the clay plate infront of him. “My name is Osul...and I'm looking for someone.”


“Oh? You don't say...” The old man, presumably Olav, pulled over his chair from the other table and sat down next to the young nord. “I know everything and everyone that has anything to do with this here town. Now boy, who are ya looking for?”


Osul glanced over at the two other's in the small inn before returning his gaze to Olav. “A hero. Someone who ca-”


“There's no such thing anymore.” All those inside the Tap and Tack looked towards the youngest nord of the three older ones that had been inside from the beginning. The two oldest nords seemed to huff at their friends choice of words, but Osul was taken back by the statement.


“That's why I'm looking for a real one from before the Empire started to fall apart. Someone who was brave enough to charge into the Oblivion gates all alone!” Slamming his hand down on the table, his iron gauntlet dug into the wood as he stood up from his chair. “I need someone like that to train me, and I know they're here in Bruma!”


The two older nords glanced at each other, giving a slight nod. The two then went down the few steps to the lower level room and closed the door behind them. The other sat there, looking over the young Osul who was huffing as he caught his breath back from getting so excited. Finally, the man closed his eyes, resting on his elbow.


“Oh? You know the Champion of Cyrodiil is here? How's that?”


Osul pulled his chair back under him, opening up his cloak so it would be easier to sit. “A mage called Fiiriel told me. I helped him gather ingredients for some of his potions he's creating on the side in exchange for helping me find you.”


The man visibly winced when the name Fiiriel was said, but it escaped the eyes of Osul. “Damn thief...”


“Hmm? You say something?”


“...you still haven't told me why you need to be trained so badly.”


Osul took a step back, as if he didn't want to answer that question. “Th-that's for me to know, stranger.”


“Tch, fine. At any rate, the Champion of Cyrodiil is long dead. You won't find him here or anywhere else, so you should just give up. Go home boy.”


Gripping the edge of the table, Osul grit his teeth together. Of all the nerve, who did this guy... “Hey, what's your name anyway...?”


The man's sharp eyes looked straight into Osul's. It was hard to explain, but the young nord could feel something tugging on him whenever this guy looked right at him. Like he was in some form of danger whenever he was close to this guy. Who exactly was this guy? Could he be him?


“Boy...we may be nords, but its polite to give your name first. Right?”


Osul's back straightened almost instantly, his body knowing well enough to respect this man before his brain could figure out why. “M-my name is Osul.”


“Hmph. That's better. Now you can leave without feeling bad about being rude.”


A glare crossed over Osul's face, a frustrated growl escaping from between his teeth. “What was that you said about being polite even though we're nords?”


The old man stood, heading to the door. As he took his cloak from a nearby hanger, he turned back to face Osul. “I'm old, so I get to be rude.”


Osul blinked, silent for a moment before turning back around to face where the other two old men had gone to. As if this guy was the Champion of Cyrodiil. There was just no way. The man probably lives up in Cloud Ruler Temple anyway. Tomorrow, tomorrow he would head up there to find the man to train him.


The man took one look back at Osul, turned to face the door and walked out into the blistering cold storm that was yet to let up. After the one man left, the older two came back out. One also bid Olav farewell, leaving soon after coming back out. Osul handed over the thirty pieces of gold needed for a room and headed to the back to make use of the warm room he just payed for.


-AK-


The next morning, Osul kept good on his promise to himself. Early in the morning, he quickly grabbed a bite to eat and then left the Tap and Tack. The snow storm from the night before had ended, but the freshly fallen snow would make movement in the town slow until it was taken care off. Wrapping his faded dark green cloak around himself, Osul started towards the north end of Bruma.


Just as he crossed the snowy road however, a familiar face from the night before emerged from the home just as he was about to pass it. The man was dressed in the same gray cloak as the night before, and he still had that same look on his face. Like he was tired.


Osul was quiet for a moment, looking at the old man as he continued to just look back. Finally, Osul just faced forward and continued on towards where he was headed. The man watched him for a while, quiet as thoughts ran though his head as fast as his eyes darted over the boy. After Osul has made it quite a ways away, the man simply turned and continued on his way as well.


Soon Osul found himself outside the north gate of Bruma, a statue which he had been hoping to see for a while now. The statue of the Champion of Cyrodiil, the Hero of Kavatch, and the Savior of Bruma. The man who had held back the waves of Oblivion itself. Unconsciously, Osul's hands gripped into a fist, excitement flowing through his blood.


“All right! Let's find this guy. There's no way I'm going to take no for an answer!”


Things didn't go as planned however, and as the day was waning Osul's stomach was growling in order to tell him that he was hungry. Whatever was left of the Blades wouldn't let him into Cloud Ruler Temple. It was frustrating but it was believable. After the Oblivion crisis, with no Emperor the Blades had no purpose to serve. Not to mention they took the blame for the way things ended up as well. After the politicians decided on it, the Blades were found to be a suitable scapegoat for the whole situation.


Along with the Champion of Cyrodiil disappearing soon after the battle in the Imperial city, since the peoples hero was missing fingers supposedly needed to be pointed instead. With the Blades officially disbanded, they were merely allowed to hold onto the Temple because the higher ups new full well they didn't need to start a civil war after all the other things that had happened. Osul shook his head as he started back down towards Bruma. He was hungry, and he could worry about finding a way to get in later.


As he was heading back towards the Tap and Tack, he noticed the same old man from the morning and the night before. He was heading towards the Chapel. Interested, Osul decided food could wait as he followed after the strange man. As he opened the door into the building however, he found the old man no where to be found.


Confused, and sure that he saw him come in here, Osul walked in. The chapel was currently empty of everyone but himself. Taking a seat near the middle, Osul looked around the church. It was cold, but the candles and the stain glass gave off a warm feeling. The windows...this was the Chapel of Talos, right?


“Talos huh? You into the Nine boy?”


Osul nearly jumped from his seat when he looked to his side to find the old man sitting there. The man seemed to find the young nord's reaction entertaining, a slight chuckle escaped his lips as he turned to face the startled Osul. Once he regained his composure, Osul balled a fist and pointed it towards the man.


“Don't do that! I could have reacted in self defense and killed you!” Flashing his sword from under his cloak, Osul tried to act like he wasn't blushing with embarrassment. “How'd you sneak up on me anyway?”


The man replied by bursting out with laughter. Osul balled his fists tighter, but didn't move from his spot. The man had gotten him good, no need to act so childish. The man eventually calmed down, scratching his silver hair. “You sure are one green kid, aren't ya boy.”


Osul blinked, turning to face the man. He seemed to be lacking the harsh stair he had in his eyes the night before. Not able to find the right words to say, Osul grunted. “I...I am new at this, but with training I know I could be stronger.”


The man turned to face Osul, a slight grin remaining on his face. “Wouldn't that be true for everyone.”


“Well, ya...but I have the blood of my father and my father's father in me! They were proud men, and I want to be like them.”


“Then why don't you ask them to train you?”


The man seemed to ask his question more like he was saying a statement, like he had all ready guessed the answer. Osul's sudden silence was enough to confirm the man's assumptions. Standing up, the man pointed his thumb towards the door. “Follow me, boy. I have something to give to you.”


Blinking, Osul watched as the man headed towards the exit of the chapel. Finally the words sunk in, and he quickly got up and followed after. The man lead him to the house he had seen him exit earlier in the morning. Upon going in, the warmth and smell of a wood fire hit Osul.


The home was quaint. Nothing fancy, but it wasn't a poor man's house either. It was well furnished, and had tapestries of all kinds covering the walls. Books also seemed to line many of the walls. Pottery, flowers even, and fine silver ware was also to be found placed all over the house.


The man headed straight for a large chest, and opened it up. Osul looked over the man's shoulder, his mouth instantly fell open. Inside was an ebony longsword, shining proudly with its deep black face and powerful gold engraving. The man picked up the blade, holding it firmly in his right hand. Turning to Osul, he held out his other hand.


“Let me see that sword of yours.”


Osul had to blink a few times again, but the words finally did set in and quickly the boy pulled out his iron blade. The man took it from his hands before Osul could even react, and was holding both blades in his hand. Finally, the man held out the ebony longsword for the boy to take. Osul was at a loss for words.


“The sword is called Evernight. Take it, there's nothing special about it anyway.”


“F...for real? You mean to give me such a blade for free?”


Placing the iron sword in the chest from where the ebony one had come from, the man pulled out a hilt as well before closing it. Tossing the hilt to Osul, the man started to head towards the door. “Hurry up boy.”


Osul was quick to take advantage of the gift he was given, and soon he was following the man out the east gate. Walking down the path, Osul took note of something he hadn't seen the night before. Twisting black stone seemed to shoot out of the ground far to the right of the road near some brush. The man glanced at that as well, but quickly faced forward and continued on.


The sun finally set, its bright lights barely visibly over the mountains when the man stopped near a valley. Osul quickly remembered this place from the night before, this was where he had heard those strange sounds.


The man walked down into the valley, Osul finding himself face to face with a historic site. The battle for Bruma, the great gate, the daedric crawler...graves of the fallen...they were all here. The man stopped infront of the graves, taking a knee for a moment before standing back up to face Osul.


“This is what awaits you if you continue down this path. You will die...few adventurers get to retire like me. And even if you do manage to live, the people you got to know along the way will all die. You'll either end up dead all alone, or if you're unlucky you'll end up alive and all alone. Do you understand boy?”


“...unlucky...wait, for you...this means I was right about...”


The man folded his hands, his cloak fluttering like a cape behind him in the cool night breeze. “Ya, I'm the guy you're looking for, but I all ready told you, there's no such thing as a hero. Only people trying to survive the best way they know how.”


Osul looked down at the blade he had just been given, his hands gripping the handle. Gritting his teeth together, he looked up to the man.


“This is something I have to do.”


“You could walk away right now, live a peaceful life with a family and be content.”


“...I know I could. But, but if I walk away right now I wouldn't be able to look my father's in the face when I do finally die. I want...I want to be a knight! Something my father's could be proud of! And the only person that I want to teach me is you.”


The man looked at Osul for a long time. The black of night was all ready surrounding them, but the two continued to stare the other down. Finally, the man smiled.


“Fine boy. I can't help but like you. I'll trai-”


Right at that moment, an unbelievably forceful burst of wind hit the two. Caught off guard, they both were flung to the ground. The next thing to hit them was the light. They both looked up from the ground, finding both Bruma and High Ruler Temple replaced by a massive ball of fire. Finally the sound hit them, the sound of the exposition rocked their ears.


As the shaking of the ground subsided, the men quickly stood. Osul's mind was blank, unable to register what was going on. The veteran mind of the Champion of Cyrodiil however was fast enough to realize what was happening. But not why. Looking around, the man quickly moved past the graves he had fallen on and moved to the daedric crawler. Looking under the red head of the machine, his mouth fell open as well, his body sliding down the side of the machine as his eyes fell on his town.


Bruma. Bruma was gone.


-AK-


The flames were gone, but so was the town and Temple. The side of the mountain itself had been carved away, leaving a massive crater where the settlements had been.


Osul sat down on the ground at the edge of the crater, his eyes wide as he looked over the new landscape. It didn't even look like the place he had spent the night, the area was completely different now.


Who...why? How? The man walked up to Osul, after having investigated the center of the crater. “Damn them...they still exist?”


“...wha...who...?”


“I don't know who...but I have my guesses. As for how...parts from that strange siege thing that had gotten caught in between worlds after I closed the Grand Gate...and a sigil stone most likely to power it. Damn it...I thought taking the sigil stone from that thing would have been enough...I had no idea this was possible...”


Osul looked down, his hands shaking almost violently. Why did so many people die? That...it could have been him! He could have died...just like that.


The man looked to Osul, his fists balled. “Boy, there's nothing we can do here. We need to move before we get spotted. Listen to me, we'll find who did this, and we'll make them pay for destroying my home...!”


Osul looked up, the Champion of Cyrodiil almost glowing with something that he had never seen before. It was similar to the feeling he had the night before, that uneasy feeling of fear due to the look in this mans eyes. But now it was more than that. There was more power behind it, it was serious. It was pissed off, and it rubbed off on him


Gripping the blade he was given, Osul stood. His hands were still shaking, but because he was so mad now instead of being scared. “All right.”


“Boy, my name is Agnar. And by my old honor as a knight, we will find out who did this.”