Morning arrived in the town of Riverwatch as the new sun sent shafts of light gleaming over Middle-Earth’s horizon. One of those shafts made it’s way through the window of the town’s fortress alighting the face of it’s newly ‘appointed’ Lord Protector. Rufius stirred grumpily and shifted his slumped over form to cut off the light from view. The movement caused a sharp pain in his head, ‘How much had he had to drink last night?’
“Who SENT YOU?” Mericc roared. His hands shook, causing beads of sweat to pour down the assassin’s face who looked perilously at the sword at his throat.
Rufius watched as the last of the town’s garrison rode out the east gate. When they had gone, the aging veteran looked to the task of taking care of the Lord Protector’s body. The crowd stood around Merigal in silent vigil, the shock of the great hero’s death almost too much to bear. Silent tears spilled down unbelieving faces, each hoping beyond hope that Merigal would rise miraculously, defeating with his formidable skill the specter of death. But it was not to be.
“It isn’t fair,” Mericc proclaimed sulkily as Rufius’s sword passed over his head. He parried the next blow then tried to thrust inside, a move that the more experienced warrior easily countered. The training barracks echoed with the sound of their blunted weapons clanking off of each other in rhythmic repetition, sweat pouring down their brows. “I should have been out there fighting with you and everyone else,” Mericc complained.
Mericc watched in dismay as his father left the room. “I’m coming as well,” He said, grabbing his dagger and running to catch up. But his father whirled on his heels fiercely and stopped him short with a glance.