The Last Son of Dominus: Chapter 5

It was a hard journey from Salus to the homeland of both his ancestors and the heart of the Imperium they now ruled.  For nearly a fortnight, the convoy that served and protected their prince worked timelessly to cross the boarders of the Dominus territory on time.  Though they stopped every night to either make camp or resupply, it still took a toll on everyone involved.  By day, Vieft would invite many of the common-born servants into his carriage for company and conversation–an unprecedented honor bestowed from a member of the aristocracy.  During each leg, a few would ride in his carriage and share their lives, most fearful of saying too much or somehow angering the Emperor's son.  Most were from the countless servant houses that personally served the ShadowFire family, while others were indentured servants or former refugees brought into the empire during their territorial conquests. Very few were literate or could hold conversation on the same level as one who was provided such educational opportunities from an early age, but Vieft relished the opportunity to engage them without supervision.

By night, the prince would eat and sleep under guard, the Honor Guard and Legionnaires encircled to provide security during periods of vulnerability.  The soldiers were far less conversational, focusing on either their duties for the night or sleeping in preparation for the coming day.  He would listen to their war stories and crude jokes as they ate around the fire in envy of the camaraderie they seemed to share.  Most were conscripts from a variety of origins, from farmers and their sons to apprentices taken before the end of their training.  Virtually everyone of them looked forward to the time his duty would end, though a few had decided to take the profession of arms and rise as high as the Legions would allow.

The remainder of Vieft's time was spent in weapons practice, study, or contemplation.  The Trial was an elaborate and ritualized event that would declare to the world that he had embraced his birthright and was ready to assume leadership of the Imperium should his father fall.  His physical prowess, skill with the sword, and strength of will would all be tested and failure was not an option he had the luxury to consider.  Every word would be recited with pride and confidence and every obstacle they placed before him overcame.  There were simply too many people who had invested in the future leader of the nation, and perhaps even some who died to ensure his continued life and place in the Imperium–they would not be disappointed.

Early on the twelfth day of travel, the convoy crossed the boarder into the territory of Dominus.  As the entered each city on the way to the Citadel, they were greeted by fanfare and cheering crowds the likes of which Vieft had never seen.  The roads were lined with rose petals and the citizens of Dominus all cheered and vied for better position to catch a glimpse of the prince.  Every window and rooftop was crowded with people who all welcomed him into their cities until they were no longer in sight.  The dark-haired young noble thought the welcome was a bit much, one more fit for triumphant heroes returning from an epic battle or some equivalent.  This would continue well into the day, the red standard bearing the fierce black lion of Dominus waving proudly before the group. Due to their steady pace, not stopping for even an afternoon meal, they arrived outside of the massive compound at sunset. Vieft looked outside curiously to see a massive wall of white stone that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon.

As they continued to move through the entrance, Vieft noted the heavy iron doors bearing the Imperial Crest that kept the ancient enemies of his people at bay.  The land beyond them was virtually barren without a single structure in sight.  Eventually, the barrens would explode with life as the militaristic nature of Dominus was revealed.  Houses upon houses were lit with the soft lights of golden lanterns.  Home to the numerous civilian workers and servants who enabled the Legion to function, there was great activity afoot.  Workers were on their way to their homes and families while some craftsmen continued their trades well into the night.  There was little fanfare, as the Emperor was present in the Citadel and to honor a prince over the ruler was considered a grave insult.

Further down the path were many of the barracks, home to the majority of the Imperial Legionnaires of the Black Lion, as well as the grounds where they maintained the honed skills they gained after years of training.  occasionally some of the troops would approach the convoy to greet a long absent friend before returning to their constant preparations.  Once past the last series of barracks, the carriage came to a halt.

"This way, milord," the driver said as the door opened.  Vieft exited readily, stretching arms and legs after such a long distance.  Steel-blue eyes took in the sight of a large domed structure made of the same bright stone as the outer walls.  Pillars lined the base of the great arena and statues of celebrated heroes and soldiers stood between them as the gate keepers.  The driver, bearing a lantern, motioned for an obliging prince to follow him into the massive structure.  Very few torches illuminated their path but, fortunately, the driver seemed very familiar with the shadowed surroundings. Either way, they walked in near darkness for some time before the commoner slowed and moved towards a door on the right.  The room beyond was spartan, only a bed and minimal furniture, unlike each one that the prince had inhabited before.  A modest lantern shone on a table beside the low, bare bed.

"Soon, a servant shall bring your dinner, but disturbances will be avoided at all costs tonight–you have a monumentous day ahead," the driver said before excusing himself from his prince's presence.  Vieft nodded in understanding and thanks before the others arrived to deliver his night's requirements. Once all the servants departed, Vieft sat heavily on his bed and his weary head fell into this hands.  This event was a long time in coming, an event he both anticipated and dreaded.

A knock disturbed his moment of elusive peace, to which he shouted permission to enter. Steel-blue eyes looked up quickly to the familiar face of his old friend.  Shaden's hair was longer now, though he had cut it a few times over the last few months in order to minimize upkeep.  "Worried?" he asked in a low tone.  Vieft smiled slightly and nodded–Shaden knew him well.  The nod was returned and the person the Prince had come to know as his closest friend walked about to take in his surroundings.  The faint lantern light illuminated all but the far wall, though a quick analysis would reveal nothing.

"Do you remember the day we met nearly a year ago?" Shaden inquired, still looking about the room.  "More importantly, do you remember our experience in the tomb of Alastine?"

"Of course I do," Vieft replied, vividly remembering both events brought up.  Shaden was dressed much of the same way he had been that first day, in brown and black robes. They had trained a great deal since then, Caron using him as an example and assistant trainer. The blonde young man was a far better swordsman than Vieft had imaged for someone their age, but he benefited greatly from their pairing.  It all seemed so long ago now as Vieft looked back on it–even the terrible acts during their time in Izibelica has blurred and lost its impact.

"The prince I knew them substituted his fears and apprehensions with remarkable courage and unconquerable will.  We have suffered together for countless days and I have watched your skills grow.  Be confident in your victory in the morning for it shall be your day of triumph."

Vieft nodded and watched his friend sit in a wooden chair across from him. "We are brothers, are we not?" Shaden asked in a soft voice, ensuring that his pale blue eyes met with that of Vieft's.  The prince nodded and tilted his head in confusion. "You told me once that you have received visions in the past. I had a vision of sorts, through a dream concerning you."

"Oh?" Vieft replied, leaning in to focus both eyes and ears on Shaden.  His mother had told him since he was a small boy to consider his dreams and that of others.

"Yes. It was of you and a man with a silver mask."

The prince's blood ran cold at the mention of the vision that had plagued him for far too long.  Yet before he could respond, a knock upon the door broke his trance.

"I should leave," Shaden sighed as he stood up.  Those pale blue eyes locked upon him for a moment to lend strength to his words.  "Trust no one, Vieft. Those who love you most will be the cause of your demise."

Vieft was speechless as his friend moved to the door to open it.  A familiar voice said his name in surprise, then inquired of her brother's arrival.  Alis had arrived, carrying his supper on a silver tray.  Respectfully, Shaden took his leave to allow the siblings time to visit before the Trial.  "Take care and may luck be on your side upon the marrow, though I doubt you shall need it."

Once the door was closed, Alis tilted her head momentarily in wonder of what had just transpired.  Her azure gaze then fell upon her troubled brother and she offered a smile of encouragement.  "What troubles you, Emor?"

"Nothing," Vieft smiled slightly to her, gesturing to the seat across from him.  She respectfully declined, setting the tray of hearty soup, bread, and wine upon the seat Shaden had sat in only moments before.

"I do not plan on staying long enough for your food to cool. I only come to share something with you." The princess moved to her younger brother, pulling up her pale amber skirt before kneeling down before Vieft.  She looked up to him with sparkling blue eyes full of hope and admiration. "I believe  that in order to fully embrace one's destiny is to embrace one's heritage.  Do you know of those who came before you?"

Alis closed her eyes, nodded and sighed.  "I see." Opening them again, she paused in deep thought before speaking again. "Our Sovereign is correct.  Our blood stretches far into the past of Gentara, spanning from the far west to the Isle of Shintar and from the crown of the world to its belly.  Great kings, warriors, and swordsmen forged a proud and noble heritage, one you are to receive tomorrow, just as your fathers had generations ago.  They would be proud of their youngest prince and future king."

As usual, his sisters words lifted his spirits and eased his fears. Her hands clasped his and she kissed his knuckle gently.  "Courageous and just shall be the reign of Vieft one day.  When that day comes, all of Gentara will surely rejoice."

"You speak too highly of me," Vieft said with a wide smile. "I am no king and whatever the future holds will be met with each sunrise."

"Wise as well," Alis whispered before hesitating.  The ShadowFire heir could tell she had more she wished to divulge other than praises, but they all died before they could be expressed.  Instead she rose back to her feet, leaned over and placed a kiss upon his brow.  "Eat, for you still have a trying day ahead.

As she drew near to the door, Vieft called out to her, "You will be there tomorrow?" He already knew the answer, though the added reassurance would only give him greater confidence.

I would not miss it for anything, Emor," she said with a smile before exiting.  The prince smiled, then began to eat and perform the rest of his preparations before slipping into a light, fitful sleep, anxious of the test to come.
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At mid-morning, the prince of Dominus stood in the archway leading to the floor of the arena–his proving ground.  The dark-haired young man was the true image of a warrior, his hair braided and pulled back into a tight tail, dressed in a red tunic and a wide leather belt to provide the best stability possible.  Leather bracers were laced about his forearms and his sandals were laced as tightly as he could bare.  He was ready.

Vieft marched into the open arena with wide, purposeful strides.  Determination burning in his eyes as he looked about the place.  A few medics stood by in case the worst would happen, as did a number of people he did not recognize.  Generals and dignitaries, perhaps, he thought to himself but refused to be distracted by their presence.  Eventually, he stopped in the middle of the arena and set his steel-blue eyes to the balcony before him, one which projected out to cast a shadow on the entrance that would lead below the arena.  After stopping, Vieft hesitated and searched his mind for the words he had studied religiously for months.

"Hear me, majestic Emperor of Dominus! Answer my call to audience, that I might prove my worth to his grace as both a son of Dominus and a warrior worthy of the Imperium!"

From the edge of the balcony, a man dressed in crimson and gold looked down upon the prince. "Who dares to demand audience from the Grand Emperor Magnis?" he bellowed in response. His features could barely be determined from the distance and angle from which Vieft could survey.

"I am Vieft, Prince of Dominus and Heir of the Imperial Throne!"

There was a pause from above, as if there was some deliberation. Then three figures stepped to the forefront.  The ShadowFire heir instantly identified them as his sister, mother, and the Emperor himself.  At first, he began to fear what was to come, but them he could feel the radiant warmth of his mother's and sister's smiles upon his face.

"What is your request, Prince Vieft?" the master of the ceremony called down.

"My proper place and recognition! My very birthright and destiny given to me sixteen autumns ago!"

"Who will speak for his boy from the House of ShadowFire?"

"I speak for him!" a voice called out from the northeastern section of the arena's seating.  There stood a figure Vieft had not seen in years, an old and weathered man dressed in white robes.  He was Ecurd, the scholarly sage who had provided his academic teachings over many years.  "A brilliant mind who had unlimited capacity for knowledge and wisdom! This Prince of scroll and quill shall write the future with a steady hand and an able mind!"

"I speak for him!" Another voice called out, this time from the northwestern section of the seating.  There stood Pennock in full dress uniform.  Layers of crimson, gold and burgundy covered his body and multiple awards gleamed in the sunlight.  "A talented practitioner of soldiering skills with great potential to lead the Legions of this glorious Imperium! This prince of cunning and courage shall bring the lands to submission and obedience, bringing order to chaos wherever Dominus reigns!"

"I object!" an all too familiar voice called from the southern-most part of the upper arena.  "One cannot rule if he cannot defend himself, Milord!" Caron called out, his dress uniform virtually black–a shadow even in the bright sun's light.  "A weak king is quickly overcome by his enemies!"

"What say you, Prince Vieft?" the robed man said.

"Test me! I stand ready and will not be denied!"

"Very well! Forward!" On command, three men stepped out from the crowd and began to approach Vieft.  "For this test of strength and battle prowess, three of the territory's best shall face the prince in unarmed combat!"

Nodding in response, he turned towards the three men. They looked roughly the same age, though their bare chests and shoulders were much larger, suggesting they were probably Legionnaires fresh from training.  This was what he trained so hard for under Pennock–for this very moment.  The prince slipped his arms out of his tunic, baring his chest as was customary for such competition.  For the better part of an hour, Vieft brawled with the three men, mostly one-on-one, but occasionally, he would face multiple opponents at once.  Knees delivered to his stomach and ribs would leave him grasping for air and struggling harder to remain dominant and in possession of what advantages he could find.  At the end of each bout, however, Vieft stood proud and seemingly ready for his next challenge.  Finally, the master of ceremonies clapped several times to show favor from the royal party.

"The Prince has displayed the will to fight and overcome his enemies even through fatigue and pain. What say you now, Master Caron?"

"An able fighter with only his body to attack and defend is admirable, but still falls when put to the blade! If he cannot defend and triumph with the sword, he cannot protect his lands and its people!"

Caron smiled darkly as the script repeated the earlier test.  Vieft had come a long way in the art of swordsmanship under his tutelage, but his final test would trouble try the boy's mettle.  As the prince turned to face the Imperial Enforcer, Caron stepped to the side to reveal someone who was least expected of all.

Shaden? Vieft reeled in astonishment.  His friend stood just beyond, dressed in light leather armor.  A weapon was strapped to his hip, which was quickly loosed from its scabbard.  Once drawn, Caron tossed a thin longsword to the prince's feet.  Upon its landing, Shaden took a full sprint, his weapon at the ready.  The longsword was claimed in time to deflect a downward slash from the thin swordsman whose eyes held no love for his friend.  Shaden's barrage was far more intense then they had ever been during practice, putting the Prince on the defense immediately and kept him there. In truth, the ShadowFire heir was hesitant about counterattacking against the pale-eyed warrior.  They were both taught to dispatch enemies quickly and effectively–especially the more dangerous that enemy was.  Still, Vieft blocked and evaded the swift, relentless onslaught of Shaden's sword.

The two broke contact briefly and squared off.  Both were panting softly from their exertions and sized the other up.  Slowly, they circled each other and prepared to seize the decisive moment that would claim victory for one of them.  Vieft brought his longsword into a low guard, the blade held at his right leg with its tip pointed to the ground and Shaden's blade was lifted high to strike down his opponent.  The blonde swordsman twisted the blade in such a way to reflect the sun's brilliance into the eyes of the prince, choosing the moment of greatest vulnerability to strike with a downward slash.

It was instinct alone that saved Vieft from defeat. As his eyes began to narrow to filter out the glare, his body tensed and his weapon brought up to block the strike the moment it was initiated.  The two blades met with  clang of metal upon metal, but the momentum of the prince's blade was greater and threw off that of his opponent.  Vieft immediately saw the opportunity to win and seized it. Already off-balanced from the failed strike, the ShadowFire rushed forward and drove his shoulder hard into Shaden's chest, who stumbled back before losing his footing.  Before he could regain his composure to take the defensive, Vieft's blade was leveled to his neck.  The prince stood over his friend triumphantly, lowering his blade once it was clear to whom the victor was.

"Well met, Prince of Dominus!" a voice called down from above.  Shaden bore a proud smile and accepted assistance from his only friend.  "The Emperor is content with your performance this day! Stand forth and bow before your liege!"

Vieft did as requested, taking a single knee and bowing his head in respect.  The Emperor stood at the edge and cast his eyes upon the young prince.

"Long ago, the men of our honored clan were taught to make war from birth. Their skill was unparalleled and their valor legendary.  Theirs were the hands of law and their legacy was given to you at birth.  Now you must face the same trials that every ShadowFire warrior has overcome for generations.  Do you commit yourself to this course willingly and without reservation?"

"I do!" Vieft responded without hesitation.

"Then we will continue this at the gates of the Citadel! Make haste, young prince, and we shall await your arrival!"

The figures on the balcony and Vieft's former instructors all departed from sight, leaving the two young nobles alone in the middle of the arena.  Those gathered began to depart as well, the last of them a Legionnaire carrying a large pack on his back, a breastplate in one hand and a large wooden shield in the other.

"Greetings, Lords, he said with a smile and a bow.  The soldier was little older than Vieft, though he carried himself with the discipline of his profession.  He set the equipment and a sword from his hip down before his prince before stepping back and speaking again.  "These are the tools given for your trials that you are to carry on your journey.  An escort shall await you outside and we shall depart whenever you are ready."

After receiving a nod and word of acknowledgement, the soldier took his leave. Vieft took a deep breath to still his nerves.  Shaden knelt to the pack to examine its contents and calling them out as he saw them.  "A dagger, tinderbox, lantern, rope, a satchel of medicine, and what appears to be a set of various tools."

Vieft nodded, thinking over what was within as he donned the bronze breastplate.  The sword and shield were strapped onto the page and Shaden assisted his friend with its burden.

"It seems that our journey together is at an end for now," Shaden informed the prince with a hint of sadness.  He got a similar reaction, though Vieft also looked disappointed. They had grown close over the course of their training, but that remained the only reason Shaden had stayed in the palace for so long.  With the conclusion of their duel, his part in Vieft's training was over, as was his obligation to the Imperium.

"What shall you do now?" The dark-haired prince asked, his eyes meeting that of his friend.

"I journey to the House of Nimor at dawn.  Upon my arrival, I am uncertain as to what I shall do from there."

A nod of acknowledgement was given and Shaden's hand was placed upon Vieft's burdened shoulders.  "Great deeds shall follow you, Prince Vieft of Dominus.  If you shall ever need my aid, you have but to ask for it, and I shall honor you. We are brothers, you and I, and kin are loyal to one another."

Both men smiled and clasped the others hand tightly.  "Well met, brother, and farewell," Vieft responded and received the same in return. As the exchange ended, Shaden departed into the shadowy section under the balcony and Vieft turned to the entrance of the arena to begin his journey to the renowned Citadel of Dominus.
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Sweat covered young Vieft from head to foot, his dark hair matted on his brow. For miles, he climbed the inclined trail that led to the imposing structure of the citadel.  Troops of all sorts, invading, defending, foreign and domestic, had journeyed along the same path on the road to war.  The escort's horses trotted on all sides of the ailing prince, far enough away to defend but not interfere with his trial.

Vieft's mind wandered constantly, usually to keep his mind off the pain in his feet, legs, and shoulders.  His thought dwelled on many things, from the mystery of his coming trial to Shaden's departure, to the words of his sister the night before.  As the sun burned brightly n the skies above, all he knew for sure is that every moment was uncertain, but he would not allow himself to fail–not now and not ever.

Pushing himself harder, his steel-blue eyes caught a glimpse of the Citadel and the Imperial banners waving in the gentle breeze.  Though his muscles ached with each step, he would not succumb to the pain.  At twilight, he stood before the abyssal canyon that stretched on around the massive stone stronghold, seemingly etched out of the mountain itself.  Just beyond were the massive doors to seal off the home of the ShadowFire from all those unwelcome, and the royal family whole waited faithfully for their youngest to arrive.

"Welcome, Prince of Dominus!" the master of ceremonies called out from the watchtower. "It was upon the foundation of this citadel that your forbearers created an Empire through the forging of its champions.  That forge now awaits you, deep below this stronghold.  Are you prepared?"

"I am," Vieft called out in response.  A signal was given and the drawbridge lowered to allow Vieft and his escort entrance to the outer citadel.  The prince was ushered in where the mouthpiece met him.  He was a husky, middle-aged man who appeared to enjoy his prosperity.  He smiled widely at the young man, drenched in sweat and grinding his teeth, who had endured so much in one day only to face a greater challenge still.

"Rest a moment and drink," he advised, to which the ShadowFire heir quickly obliged. Vieft set the pack down as gently as he was able then gulped down the watered wine offered to him greedily, satisfying the thirst that had plagued him.  Regaining his composure, the wineskin was returned and a more formal greeting exchanged.

"I admired your determination, your highness," the gentleman praised as he patted the young man's sweaty shoulder. Vieft winced, but managed a word of thanks.  "Your final trial is one of mind and will where your previous tests here focused on your physical prowess. One-thousand paces north from where we now stand you shall find the entrance to the Crucible of Darus, a War Chief from long ago.  Upon the other side of this maze and series of tests, you shall emerge from the depths a man, surrounded by family, united to your heritage.  I wish you the best of luck, Prince Vieft."

The man bowed low, knowing that when this young man completed this final task, he would be next in line to the Dominion throne.  Vieft returned the gesture and allowed him to depart before turning his gaze north where his journey would quickly resume.  The path was steep–steeper and far more treacherous than it had been to reach the Citadel.  More than once he lost his footing, nearly tumbling back down the trail and even off the entire mountain. The distance was accurate enough, the narrow cut in the cliff suggesting a shaft that led deeper into the heart of the mountain.  Vieft entered with great caution, sidestepping down the narrow shaft for a quarter mile before it widened to shoulder length, though the next quarter mile was still made difficult by his armor and equipment.  Once the tunnel opened into a wide cavern, the pack was dropped and a moment of rest was taken.  Taking the opportunity to study his surroundings, the Prince was amazed at the beauty around him that was hidden by the darkness.  Lamplight glistened on the surface of luminous amber crystals, each one absorbing the light and feeding it to the next.  Soon the entire cavern was bright, saturated in soft golden light.

Steel-blue eyes caught glimpse of a stake protruding from the edge of the cliff.  Thoughts of the rope in his pack quickly came to mind and the ShadowFire began execution of his plan.  In moments, he stood before the seemingly bottomless chasm.  He paused and reflected on the magnitude of his task.  The amber light trailed down far below the cliff, but it faded at a certain point. Despite his uncertainty, Vieft secured the rope to the stake and waist, his pack on his shoulders, and began his decent.  Foot after foot, hand under hand, he traveled and negotiated the craggy wall.  His muscles burned from the additional weight, but the prince would not allow them to hamper his abilities.  After a grueling descent that pushed his body to the brink of exhaustion, his feet at last touched solid ground.  Regaining his composure and reclaiming his rope with a few sharp tugs, an intricately carved stone door caught his eye.  A stone warrior stood the same way as the raised image in the tomb and bore a striking resemblance but appeared many years younger.  A large, distinct bronze ring protruded from the figure's hand, allowing anyone who dared entered access to whatever lay beyond.  Committing himself, Vieft pulled sharply on the ring and was greeted by a rushing wind full of dust from years of neglect.

Led by the iron lantern, the prince noticed a pedestal in the middle of the otherwise unremarkable chamber.  Cobwebs were abundant as was the thick dust that covered everything, including the pedestal top, and a stone archway awaited beyond Vieft's gloved hand moved along the stone surface to reveal etchings in a script much like that used now in the Imperium.  Beyond lies the proving grounds of the Houses of ShadowFire and its finest sons and daughters. Enter these trials only by Decree of the King and there shall be but one means of escape: success.

Upon completion of his instructions, Vieft adjusted his load and continued down the path.  Once on the other side, the heavy stone door crashed shut, sealing the young man in as if it were to be his tomb.  The iron lantern was quickly lit to reveal a long, twisted hall took him to a plain wooden door and beyond it another wide chamber.  In the place of a pedestal, however, was a pit with long wooden spikes at the bottom to dispatch those who failed to overcome the obstacle. Above the pit, just outside of arms reach, was an iron keep hanging from a beam.  Vieft deemed the key important to his quest despite another door but ten yards away.  Dropping his pack and lantern, he produced the rope and tied it once again to his waist to create a harness.  The tail was thrown over the same beam, and then reunited with the working end to ensure some measure of protection should he lose his grip.  Standing at the edge of the pit, he took a deep breath, then began to climb, his hands wrapping around both parts of the rope but the only progress being made with his arms.  Straining, he quickly reached out to grab the key, tugging on the brittle rope until it broke and tossed it safely to the ground below.  With a swinging motion, he would let go of the rope at the exact moment that would land him back on the ground, hard upon his heels. Successful, he undid his rope work and replaced it for future use.

The iron key was reclaimed and soon Vieft was on his way to his next challenge.  The adjacent chamber bore murals of great warriors in battle, small groups of men and women both fighting against endless hordes of dark-faced villains. The prince took a moment to interpret the story told by the art and noticed that one stood taller and appeared brighter than the rest.  Even the representation of the knightly figure on the old and forgotten mural seemed to shimmer in the lantern light, his golden hair and armor blazing despite the surrounding darkness.  His sword was held high as he looked back upon his band and the viewer, inciting them to change forward with righteous fury.

Vieft stood in awe of the portrait and its powerful effect, but did not allow the fixation to last.  He entered the next chamber to find what appeared to be equal parts battlefield, armory, and graveyard.  The earth was built into a high mound and from that earth sprung a sword every few feet.  Some were forged by the hands of master blacksmiths, though some looked as if they dated back hundreds of years into a less civilized era.  The ShadowFire dared not touch the swords for fear of desecrating this memorial to those warriors who triumphed over their enemies and earned the privilege of being remembered in a sword graveyard such as this. To the ShadowFire family, this was among the greatest of honors.

The halls continued to wind about, eventually forking off to form two different paths–one that continued forward to the east and the other to the south.  The southern path was chosen and soon Vieft found himself walking towards another archway. Beyond was a lavish chamber with luxurious fixtures and carpeting that somehow resisted the ravages of time. In the center of the chamber stood a tall and proud warrior statute upon a dais.  His arms were extended as if awaiting something, and his expression have the same impression.

Return unto me, the Master of Swords, that blade which embodies my deeds, my life, and my very soul, the plaque read in the same archaic text as the first.  Vieft's thoughts immediately returned to the sacred sword graveyard as he pondered the task and the Sword Master’s face. There must be hundreds of swords, and it would take a great deal of time to test each one.

Perhaps, he thought to himself as he remembered the mural as well. Perhaps you were among the band in the image. If so, that may make this task easier.

The prince retraced his steps back to the room with the mural.  Those steel-blue eyes studied the faces intently, comparing them to the statue he found.  Several times he looked, but could not determine which soldier who stood for good was the one he sought.  Frustrated, he rubbed his eyes and fatigue fell upon him.  The weight on his shoulders increased significantly, though he continued to bear the burden without faltering.

Wait, he thought to himself before analyzing the portrait again. The eyes of one, the nose of another–the statue was a composite, created to represent each of the warriors present on that battlefield.  Considering this, he also studied their weapons before returning to the sword grave.  After nearly an hour of careful search, the masterfully crafted saber was unearthed from its resting place.

Moving through the halls now with a confident pace, Vieft returned to the warrior statue and returned its sword.  Once the blade was laid on, the grinding of stone on stone sent a groan through the chamber. From the base, a tile popped up and grabbed Vieft's attention.  Beneath lay a coin roughly the size of his palm which bore the Imperial Seal.  Taking in the intricate details embossed on both sides, that of a tiger's face and the Inion mountains, he stored it away and resumed his journey.

Returning to the fork, this time the ShadowFire went east and found a door made of the same stone as the walls. Upon entering, he was amazed to find at least a dozen guardian statues.  Each was armed with some sort of weapon–a spear, sword, axe, the next more exotic than the last.  As he moved deeper into the chamber, he felt eyes watching him closely.  Vieft's senses sharpened as his uneasiness grew–which is how he dodged the blunt stone club swung at him from behind.  Looking around and reeling back from the sudden attack, he felt his blood run cold.  Nearly half of the statues dismounted from their platforms as if they were alive, so silently that they were nearly upon him before he even realized what was happening.  The young warrior rolled out of the way of a blunted strike by a broadsword, shed his pack and rolled from the path of another. Regaining his footing, he rushed to a door to the side, quickly exiting the chamber to escape further danger.

It took several long moments to regain his composure. Sweat covered his brow as he leaned against the wall opposite the door to assess his situation. With his pack laying upon the ground in the chamber and the lantern's light glowing gently from under the crack, he had only his wits and the dagger strapped to his left for defense–even the key and coin were now lost to him unless he risked his life to reclaim them. Thus far, there has been a solution, a way to overcome these obstacles. Perhaps if I search deeper... he thought to himself, surprised by how merely having a plan helped to restore his resolve.

Vieft would wander the maze-like passages for nearly an hour, doing his best to count paces to remember his way without backtracking too often. When he saw the faint light of dusk hovering over a particular door, he immediately drew near to investigate it. He found his own reflection staring back at him once he reached it, a nearly unfamiliar sight. Compelled by an unknown force, he entered to find a large mirror on the far wall of the bare, roofless chamber.  Stepping slowly, as if in a trance, he could not help but feel like another world lay beyond that mirror.  Vieft's steel-blue eyes could not be taken away as he surveyed a dark forest and in that brush lay two bodies, broken, bloody, and still as the grave.  The more gruesome of the two was not dead at al, his breathing sharp and shallow.  His back had been torn to crimson ribbons and bled profusely to stain the earth beneath him.

With but a blink to focus on the faces of the two fallen figures, the image was replaced with by a scene of greater clarity. A man knelt before the throne of a wealthy king and his court, basking in the light of day and dressed in the robes of nobility.  He faced away towards the throne as the sovereign stood to address the dignitaries gathered for what appeared to be a grand coronation.  With a smile and the raising of his hands, white rose petals began to fall from above.  A whisper called his name, like a chanting crowd.  Soon, its volume increased and the voice unified and became more real–the prince even felt breath on the back of his neck.  Unable to resist, he turned about to investigate and found... nothing.

When he looked back, he found the vision gone and his reflection staring back at him. Disappointed, the ShadowFire turned his back to depart only to feel something holding him back.  Turning his head, he found  his reflection gone and two of himself–one facing and one facing away from the mirror.  Steel-blue eyes looked to his front and found a much darker image of himself standing with cold grey eyes fixed on his. Before a single word could be uttered, a hand was to Vieft's throat and his entire body thrown to the side.  The prince landed on his back and slid to the wall, where he remained in disbelief for a long moment.  Never before had anything like this happened and his mind tried to quickly make sense of the unreal brought to reality.

The dark reflection turned to face his foe and immediately moved to reengage the prone warrior-prince.  A desperate battle ensued, Vieft realizing that this creature was far more powerful than he could fight against but he also lacked an avenue in which to flee.  Bruised and unable to harm his foe, the prince removed the dagger from his belt and drove it true between his twin's ribs.  Nothing happened–not a single drop of blood shed or inch of flesh torn.  The dark reflection smiled in amusement before disarming his foe and lifting him off of his feet with ease.

This cannot be, Vieft told himself in disbelief. Never before did he have reason to fear the supernatural,  but this doppelganger gave him plenty of cause for alarm. Then there was a whisper in the back of his mind, a voice of reason with the answer to his trouble: Do not trust all that your eyes believe.  The ShadowFire expanded his senses to their fullest and was surprised to find truth in his revelation.

"An illusion," he said aloud to bolster his courage. The creature stared dumbfounded for a moment before rearing back to strike Vieft down.  "Nothing but an illusion!" he then declared, the dark reflection dissipating like a fine mist even as its attack was executed.  The dark-haired royal stood on two feet and took inventory of himself.  Though the fight was in his mind, his body still bore the marks of struggle. The nature of his proving ground and the trial itself were finally being realized.  Steel-blue eyes looked to the mirror, now still and no more unusual than any other mirror.

Vieft quickly departed, taking his newfound knowledge back to the Chamber of Guardians, where he narrowly avoided "death" before.  Cautiously, he entered the hall, chanting a mantra to remind himself what he had encountered before was not real.  The further in he traveled without incident, the more confident he was of his safety. First, the discarded pack and lantern were reclaimed, then the glimpse of a door at the end of the hall called for investigation.  Still reserved, he moved to the old wooden door and set his hand to its handle and have it a shove.  The clang of metal on rock echoed into the dark room, where the shadows were soon dispelled by gentle lantern light.  In the center of the chamber was a waist-high pedestal with a ceramic fragment resting on it. It seemed to shine in a light, the paint reflecting a familiar design–part of the Imperial Crest, though the whole could not be found. Disappointed to find yet another clue, but indication of his progress, he left the room and the hall beyond to take up wandering the paths once again.

Not far from the Guardian's Chambers, Vieft found respite in a room with a single chest at its center. A thick iron lock was quickly opened by the key the prince had been safeguarding in his pack.  Upon closer inspection, he noticed a groove on the lock's side and a green-tipped needle poised to spring should a careless thief or desperate warrior attempt to get into its contents without a key. He shuddered with the thought of becoming a victim of the trunk's defenses.  Still, he quickly opened the chest to find a wealth of supplies, including some light provisions.  The question of how much time had already elapsed crossed Vieft's mind as he tore into a package of dried meat like a starving beast and began satisfying his nagging hunger.  Inventory was taken: one wineskin and another filled with oil for his lantern.  After eating a portion of the meat, Vieft suddenly grew tired and his jaw grew lax despite his best efforts. Before he knew it, he was face down on the ground as the room around him grew dark.

The prince would recall broken memories of panicked packing and departing the supply room to wonder about the halls once again. Sleep's unnatural hold on Vieft remained tight before a loud twang and biting pain restored his senses.  He stood utterly still as he realized that a spear had cut through the back of his left arm and pierced his armor enough to become lodged in the bronze breastplate. Carefully, he twisted himself in a way that the spear would cause no further harm before leaning against the wall. Crimson covered much of his arm from the elbow down and the wound burned as it spilled precious blood.  Calmly, the lantern and pack were lowered and the armor carefully removed to ensure the spearhead had not pierced his side. Assured it had not, he set to work clotting, cleaning and dressing his wound using the wine he had hastily packed and the items in his medical kit.

Long moments were taken for Vieft to regain his composure and full use of his motor skills before resuming his quest.  Extra attention was given to where he stepped and his surroundings, the oozing wound on his arm a reminder of the price negligence carries. Soon enough, he found an archway and beyond it a decayed garden.  Flowers and weeds of all varieties grew about the chamber unchecked, all fed from a pool of water in the center.  It appeared that the tender had not ventured to this place in a great while, the rest being withered and dead plants that surely would have brought peace to those who traveled these grounds before.

Inspection of the pool revealed steps leading the prince to believe that the path required him to dive into the depths.  Considering the state of his equipment, he prepared to swim by tying the pack to his waist so that it would follow him to the other side.  The lantern was unsuitable for underwater travel, and would be left in a position that would give a glimmer of light below.  Once his preparations were complete, Vieft would walk into the chilled water, holding his breath before diving down below.

The channel was barely large enough for his passage, but he still found swimming manageable.  The added weight made the endeavor even more difficult, his sore muscles crying out for rest even as he pushed himself along.  Before long, his lungs began to burn, yearning for breath with the only light to illuminate the channel around him fading fast.  He would discover the end of the channel only as his fingers collided with the stone steps that would guide him into the next chamber.  As he resurfaced, Vieft would cough and gasp to replenish his oxygen and slow his thundering heart.

Once again in darkness, he pulled his pack from the watery depths and rummaged blindly for the tinderbox and wineskin of oil.  Spilling a sufficient amount on a dry area of ground, he ignited the oil using the two flint to illuminate the room around him.  Pillars lined the walls, as did elaborate murals of previous Dominion kings and lords.  A torch was quickly procured and lit to provide him a light unto his feet.

A throne room? Vieft mused as he donned his still dripping pack and moved towards the dais on which a throne was established. Humble compared to the one Magnis had made for himself and ill-suited for the wealthy kings of the lands, it did hold a feature the prince recognized.  Behind the bronze throne were fragmented pieces of the Imperial Seal.  His fragment was reunited and a click followed from behind one of the tapestries, catching the royals attention.  Lifting the heavy cloth revealed a faux wall and a dark corridor beyond. Fresh air greeted the prince, who now grew excited that his trial was nearly complete.  Sunlight lured him to the end of the path, where he would find a peculiar sight.

At the center of the cylindrical room was another pedestal and a large beast chained to its base.  Roused from its slumber, it shook out its rich red-gold fur and licked its chaps idly. Vieft stood in awe as it stretched its massive limbs, watching the muscles ripple under the surface, and yawned to display its long fierce fangs.  As it returned to its normal stance, though yellow and black eyes caught sight of the prince and instantly began to react to his presence.  It could still recall the man-flesh given days ago, abruptly ended after a routine monthly diet on criminals of the Imperium. It saw the young man before it just as it had seen the bandits–easy prey.  Keen eyes watched his every move and gave no concern to the sword and shield he wielded. Instead, its tail whipped back and forth as it assumed an aggressive posture.

With lightning fast movement, the beast sprung forward to swing at the sword-bearing man, its claws leaving deep scores on the wooden shield brought up in his defense. A hesitant jab with the sword was easily avoided and another swing was blocked by the now badly damaged shield.  The man walked in a slow circle, his eyes searching for a way to injure the beast, though each attempt proved ineffective. His mistake came when he dropped the shield more to slash at the creature, who dodged and dived forward to pounce atop the prince. To Vieft's fortune, the chain prevented the animal to go too far, but the shield was knocked from his grip completely as a result.

The dark-haired man now stood only with his sword in hand, continuing to circle with the beast.  occasionally, a jab would ensure that the beast remained circling as well its mind focused on the meal before it. Finally, another careless lunge brought the man in range to be pounced upon.  With a jerk, the beast's bound was cut short and it landed hard on its side.  Vieft gave himself a smile of satisfaction before turning to reclaim his battered shield, knowing that the plan he had created has worked without complication. A roar shook his resolve momentarily as it reverberated against the earthen walls, and he met the enraged eyes of the beast with the confidence of certain victory.  As he rushed in, it reared up on its hind legs to lash out wildly in desperate defense.  Moving in and out of its reach, Vieft could hear the strain placed on the chain as it constantly pulled against its bindings.

With a final groan, the chain gave way and dropped the beast back onto all four paws–the moment Vieft prepared for.  Before it could react, the prince moved to its side and stabbed deeply and true, drawing it to allow the bright red blood to spill forth.  It roared in pain and outrage before swinging a final time, splitting the wooden shield into several useless fragments.  Casting it aside, Vieft held his sword at the ready and slowly backed away from the fatally wounded animal.  It would snarl in protest to the pain and weakness to pursue the man who had wounded it, but eventually succumbed to its wound.  Unable to continue on, it fell heavily to the earth with rasping breaths and eyes filled with animalistic rage.

The victorious prince stood over the magnificent beast as it lay there, struggling for a few more moments of life and a few more gasps of breath.  The light slowly faded from the beast's yellow and black eyes and the last wheeze left its lungs before death finally seized its heart. Vieft's eyes lingered on the red-gold coat of fur as the bristled hairs flattened, and he suddenly felt a sense of regret for having to slay such a beautiful, albeit dangerous, creature. Still, he had to resume his mission once the threat of the beast had been removed and the pedestal quickly returned to the forefront of his mind.  He carried the still bloodied blade in his hand as he approached the anchor that once held the beast in place.  The dust was blown away and a trembling hand moved over the old stone to reveal yet another encryption for him to decipher in order for his trial to continue: Return to the King that which is his.

Vieft recited the words to himself as he struggled to read the faded words written long before he was born.  Thoughts and images ran through his mind before a smile crept onto his face as he noticed a narrow slot on the stone surface. An idea provoked him to action and, leaving his blade at the base of the pedestal, he was soon rummaging through the contents of his pack for "that which belongs to the king." The ShadowFire Prince reclaimed the coin he had been safeguarding for many hours, taking another look at the oversized token before returning to the pedestal and dropping it into the chute that would trigger a far greater change to the room. It slid roughly, the fixture grown difficult from inadequate maintenance, but rolled down until it settled into a slot designed especially for it. A click rose from the stone pedestal and the far wall before Vieft seemed to shift slightly to one side, rewarding his cunning and perseverance with a gentle breeze.

With renewed vigor, the prince quickly took his sword to the crack made, pushing with all of his might to widen the opening made and badly damaging the short sword in the process.  With a sharp push, the blade broke, falling uselessly to the ground below.  With a groan, he began trying to push the door with his bare hands, straining his already fatigued muscles for a few more inches to grant him his freedom. The stone slab proved a formidable obstacle, but not enough to keep Vieft from his goal. Exhausted, he resisted the urge to sit once the door had been moved enough to get him and his pack through.  Instead, he hoisted his burden back onto his burning shoulders and returned to the opening he had created.  Faint light from the sky above illuminated a long and gradual staircase leading back towards what he could only hope was the surface. Vieft ran to the top, drawing upon every last ounce of strength remaining in his body until he reached the surface where the fresh mountain air instantly lifted his spirits. Looking about, he found himself in a long courtyard surrounded by flowers of brilliant color and statues of warrior-kings from generations past.  The dark-haired prince stood in awe of a he had seen, of the men and occasional women who bore a striking resemblance to him as he walked along the majestic path of polished stone.  Looking above, he noticed multiple levels that towered above and a young boy who leaned over the banister in boredom.  Their eyes met for an instant before the dark-haired child jumped back in alarm.

"The Prince has returned!" the page cried out for all to hear, shouting the phrase repeatedly until horns heralded his presence. Soldiers and servants alike lined the balconies to behold their future leader, bruised, beaten, bloodied, a truly frightful sight–yet victorious as he rose from the depths and the challenges set before him to claim his new place in the Imperium.  From above came cheers and accolades in respect and admiration of his accomplishment.  At the end of the courtyard, the warm smiles of his mother and sister greeted him and gave him all the welcome he required, but it was the boisterous voice of the master of ceremonies who addressed him.

"Vieft of the House of ShadowFire, Son of Dyn, Son of Magnis, and rightful heir to the Throne of Dominus!," his voice boomed, cowing and quieting those gathered to witness history in the making.  "Kneel before both nobility and common man and pledge your undying loyalty to your people!" Upon his directive, a servant ran out to take the burden from his back and shoulder so that the fatigued young noble could oblige.

"I swear by the gods and all that is in me that I shall serve the people of Dominus, whom I love! From this day forth, I pledge loyalty and true faith in the Emperor and allegiance to the Grand Imperium forevermore!"

"Rise now, Prince ShadowFire," the robust noble greeted with a broad smile, "and claim that which was promised at birth to all who carry the blood of kings–the birthright forged and freely given by the wise and venerable kings and queens who surround you now."

Proudly, Vieft stood to his full height and suppressed a wince of pain as the crowd erupted into cheers  of rejoicing and celebration.  A gesture of the speaker's hand returned them to near silence as the short, yet monumental, ceremony was concluded.

"Let all corners of the Imperium know that this crowned prince has been sealed by his family and his people–His Highness, Vieft ShadowFire, Son of Magnis, future king of Dominus!"

At the words of the noble, the spectators above released a hearty cheer of both pride and acceptance.  Each knew in their hearts and minds that the young man before them would be a righteous and just ruler, like the kings of old.  With the rise of a new king came the hope for a brighter future still, and their fate would eventually rest in his hands.  For now, the awesome responsibility of leadership escaped Vieft, even as his eyes met all the overjoyed servants eager to please the new crowned prince.  For now, there was only the red rose petals raining from the sky and a chanting mantra praising his name. This time, the crowd's cheers would not be quieted and were heard for miles as word moved like wild fire The largest celebration in a decade and for countless years to come followed in honor of Vieft's achievement and transition from boy to manhood.  Feast upon feast, song and dance came to the newest and brightest jewel in the Realm of a Hundred Crowns.

For once in his life, the Crowned Prince was without want, living just as all those privileged with power were.  For a season, the name of the Last Son of Dominus was honored among the courts and halls of Imperial nobility and upon the lips of the common man. For a time, Vieft would know peace as he had never seen before, and would ever see again.