mediocrehobbit with Honour of Reason: chapter one.

The night was terribly eerie. The Autumn winds whistled about the ramparts like the soft voice of spirits. It didn't matter that the stars were in plenty. They cast cold light upon the sentries stalking back and forth. Men with fearful faces clutched bright torches, eyes darting about worriedly. The youngest guards went as far as patrolling the castle walls in pairs should they come upon it as Barnardo and Francisco had the nights before. Their wild claims had spread throughout the Shield like smallpox and every squire, knight and palace guard feared the Night Watch. When Sir Kygore chose the men for the task, each day half the men chosen would become ill or incapacitated in some form.

Brilyn Cstorm had been surprised when the old knight approached him to put some reason into the guards' heads. He accepted, eager to see the creature that so frightened men of the Shield. He had seen the Shield fight fearsome bands of Dardria Thorn knights, battle with a savage Fire drake. Never in his wildest dreams, had he expected them to shy from a rumour of a spectre. What harm could the dead do? Besides, spirits of the dead did not roam the ramparts of a castle. Even ghosts of kings. Brilyn supposed Barnardo and Francisco had been terribly tired when they saw the 'ghost of King Maxum'. Still, he was eager to get some air upon the castle walls, and he was content to help Sir Kygore. Bri knew how thick-headed knights and sentries could be. It was one of the reasons he decided to follow the path of a scholar.

Sir Kygore was waiting at the East tower. His face was weary; dark smudges were beneath his grey eyes and his greying beard and hair exaggerated the old knight's exhaustion. Brilyn offered him a kindly smile. "It is good to see you, Sir Kygore. I pray you are faring well?"

The old man laughed. It was throaty and loud, and it shook his barrel chest viciously.

"I would fare better if my men weren't afraid of the winds."

"The Winter gales are almost upon us, Sir. Perhaps it is the cold that frightens them?"

Sir Kygore chuckled and patted Bri's shoulder. "You're a quick-witted lad. I need young men like you in the Shield."

Brilyn smiled courteously. "I am flattered, Sir, but I fear my place is among scrolls and books. I was never much use with a sword or a crossbow."

The knight sighed. "Con told me you would say that. Well, I pray you find dusty books fulfilling."

Brilyn was unsure how to answer. He was used to being criticized for his choice. Not many men turned from the sword to the quill. Not many men have wits about them. Bri cleared his throat politely. "How can I help you with this issue, Sir?"

The knight smiled. "I've got Roe, my squire, waiting up there for you. He'll lead you to two knuckleheads who claimed to have seen this spectre - Barnardo and Francisco, I wager. They'll probably try and show you this 'ghost'. The rest is up to you, my young lord."

Brilyn nodded, bid Kygore goodnight and entered the East tower. It was pitch black, save for the small candles lit upon the stone stairs. The entirety of the castle walls were crafted of enormous sandstone blocks, so unlike the smoothed sandstone of the actual castle. Bri began to ascend the spiralling staircase, heart thumping. The inside of the tower was silent, except for the soft sound of his breath and footsteps. The candles upon the stairs had only been placed there a few weeks before, as a symbol of mourning. The candles were perched upon small silver candle sticks. It reminded Bri of King Maxum's funeral.

The Isle of Maidora was notorious for the beautiful funerals they held. A King's funeral was extraordinary. Brilyn could still see it; the king's body laid in an ornate skiff, while thousands of people splashed into the sea, releasing tiny candles onto the dark waters. The candles were held above water by Maidora's Coven of Mages. They rarely performed magic on a large scale, so it had been a memorable sight. Thousands of tiny lights floated above the waves, transforming the sea into an ocean of dreams. It had been almost wonderful, until Brilyn had spotted Prince Conlaed. The sorrow upon his face had been sickening.

He climbed the stairs faster. Shadows reached out to snag him and pull him into oblivion. Bri dreaded to imagine the tower without the candles. He remembered reading a scroll on the history of the towers. The East and West were prison towers, while the North and South were watch towers. Five hundred years ago King Lyan the Cruel had his only heir and nephew walled up within the West tower. The story went on to say that the prince's screams went on for four days; many were convinced the king had loosed something terrible in the tower with the boy. The screams ceased on the fifth day. Legend had it that when the West tower was broken open to retrieve the boy's body, a great beast emerged from the tower and disappeared into the night. Brilyn wondered if it was that story that made the ramparts such a dark place.

He finally found the great wooden door to the outside and pushed through. Crisp night air bit at his face and the howling of wind was the dominant noise. Bri wished he'd worn a doublet instead of his thin jerkin- he was going to freeze up here. He carefully shut the door behind him and awkwardly sidled to stare over the ramparts. The stone rose above him, casting long shadows across the wall. He reached the edge of the fortification and tugged himself upward. Brilyn's soft boots moulded to the rough rock easily enough, and he pulled himself into one of the ramparts' gaps. He crouched down and peered over the edge. The wall was dizzyingly high. At least 100 feet. The city beyond was miniscule. The ground could not be seen through the darkness. In the far distance, the inky black sea sparkled like obsidian in the light of the moon.

"Milord?"

Bri jumped in surprise, almost toppling off the wall. He turned from the view, back to the wall. Below, a very young boy with curly auburn hair awaited him. The child's grey eyes were wide in fear. Brilyn offered him a warm smile and scrambled off the rampart. His feet met the ground without a sound. The boy gushed at him immediately, "Please forgive my idiocy, Milord! I almost made you fall!"

"No need," Bri replied kindly. "You are Roe, are you not?"

The boy nodded. "Yes, Milord. Follow me, Milord."

The boy beckoned him on, before scurrying forward. Brilyn followed at a steady pace. Each guard they passed was pale as snow, their eyes wide and anxious. Bri offered them cheery smiles as they passed, but they returned his compassion with glares. Fear meddled with a man's manners.

"How old are you, Roe?" Brilyn asked, distracting himself from the glares of the sentries. The boy paused for a moment. He stared confusedly at the young lord.

"Pardon, Milord?"

"What is your age?"

"E-eleven, Milord."

Brilyn chuckled. "Ah, you must be talented, especially for eleven. I am not so young as you, even only at nineteen. I hear Sir Kygore took favour to you."

The boy nodded. "Yes, Milord. My papa's a blacksmith in the city. Sir Kygore saw me using one of my papa's new rapiers. He said I was good and that he wanted me for a squire. Paid my papa three gold krakens for my service."

"You must have been very good, Roe," Brilyn answered softly. Three gold krakens? I wonder if my parents got that much for compensation when the Guardian of books whisked me away?

"Lord Brilyn! How good to finally meet you!"

Two young guards were before him. One was awfully tall, with golden locks, and an ornate crossbow in his hands. The other was slightly smaller, with straight black hair that fell just above his slim shoulders and two short swords strapped to his back. Both of them bowed. Roe pointed at the blond one, "I present Barnardo, squire to Sir Timothy," he moved his hand to the black-haired youth next, "and Francisco, sentry of the West and East towers."

Brilyn bowed his head modestly. "A pleasure to meet you both. You may take your leave, Roe." The young squire bowed, before turning on his heel.

Bri turned his attention on the two guards. "Now, gentlemen, what ails you upon the wall?"

The two exchanged nervous glances before Barnardo whispered, "We have seen a ghost, Milord. The ghost of King Maxum."

Brilyn nodded slowly. "You are certain, my friends? You were not imagining it? You were not drunk?"

The young lord bit his lip as Francisco cried, "Drunk? Heavens, no! We saw it! We truly did!"

Bri rubbed his face wearily. "Alright. Perhaps you could show me where this occurred?"

***

Brilyn followed the guards to the West tower. They both claimed that the ghost - or whatever it was- passed the West tower each night they had patrolled for the past week. The entire west side of the wall was empty. "You patrol this entire section alone?"

Barnardo nodded grimly. "If we had more people, they'd see the ghost too. I swear it."

Brilyn gazed around. Indeed, the West tower was not a kindly section of the wall to guard. Very few torches were ignited along the rampart, and the few that were alight constantly got snuffed out by the strong wind. Dark shadows danced across the stone. A shiver ran down Bri's spine. This is a wicked place. Barnardo led Brilyn across the wall. He stayed close to the sentries, a feeling of terror seeping into his heart. It was completely uncalled for - the dark was nothing to be frightened of. Still, the fear held a grip on him as he moved across the path. As they walked Francisco took a torch from the wall and held it himself. The end of the west wall had no light, save for the one in the guard's hand.

Brilyn moved closer to Francisco, desperate for the illumination of the fire. How the sentries could move in gloom like this every night, he couldn't understand. That's why they glared at me. While I rest in a featherbed, they are out here strolling in the dark.

Barnardo paused. The west wall was ending, branching onto the south. Bri peered into the blackness. He couldn't see any guards on the south wall.

"The South guard is changing now," Francisco explained, voice trembling. "The ghost will appear soon."

Brilyn swallowed anxiously. "It's so eerie up here. So unlike the East tower."

"Aye," Barnardo nodded. "We have the evil side."

Bri sidled closer to the torch. Cold sweat had broken out upon his top lip. Something wasn't right. He began to shiver. Brilyn envied the woolly cloaks upon the guards' broad shoulders. He flinched when Francisco patted his back. "Perhaps we should take you back, Milord. You're ice cold."

Brilyn nodded. "I thank you. I had not expected it to be so chilly atop here. I shall return tomorrow in warmer garments, if that please you."

Barnardo gave him a hearty smile. "Aye, that would please us. It was kind enough for you to come at all."

Bri let Barnardo and Francisco lead him back across the west wall. After at least two minutes of walking, something awfully peculiar occurred. All the torches - including the one in Francisco's hand - snuffed out. It was pitch black. Brilyn's breath hitched. The only light remaining was the dim moonlight. Brilyn could only just see the outline of his companions. He reached out and gripped Barnado's arm. "What's going on - "

"There it is!"

Brilyn gulped down a scream.

A figure appeared amongst shadows, shrouded by strange mist and a greenish glow. It moved like liquid, although it kept the form of a human. The being was tall and muscular, with eyes like blue ice. Its skin was illuminated, like some type of celestial being. An iron crown lay on its head, although its head did not tilt. It had a bushy beard and hair that reached its shoulders in tumbling black waves. The...the King.

The dead king watched the three companions with narrowed eyes. Bri felt Francisco draw back, trembling.

"Ask it something," Barnardo breathed while taking out his swords. Brilyn gulped. What do I say to a ghost? 'How do you fare, dead one?' or 'How is weather beyond the veil?'.

Bri stepped forward timidly. He forced his back to straighten, rolled his shoulders back, lifted his chin. With a voice far braver than he felt, Brilyn cried to the beast, "Who goes there?"

Its frown deepened. The lord pushed his terror down and squawked, "Speak now, fiend!"

The ghost glided toward him, icy eyes burning with fury. Suddenly, it turned toward the rampart sharply and disappeared into the darkness. Brilyn turned back toward the two sentries, ironically white as a ghost - perhaps even a touch green. The guards snapped out of their daze of fear and scurried to Bri's side.

"Milord," Francisco said worriedly, "You are unwell, I can see you trembling even in this darkness."

Bri gripped onto the sentry's arm. Nausea washed over him in constant tidal waves. His voice was weak as he croaked, "I fear this beast is an omen. It is known that an omen such as this means bloodshed. What kind, I have no such idea. Though all bloodshed is ill, if you ask me. Still, I believe someone should know of this dark magic."

"Who Milord?" Barnardo inquired.

Brilyn smiled tiredly. "I believe Prince Conlaed would be most interested to see his father again."