Jeff Crook - The Rose and the Skull

Liam let the papers slide from his hands. "Four years ago today!" he whispered, stunned at this realization. He found it hard to believe that Gunthar's choice of this day, of all days, to invite the Knights of Takhisis to Sancrist was anything other than a deliberate choice. Still, perhaps the old man truly didn't remember. Liam hoped so. He looked again at the papers, noting here and there in the rambling text broken fragments of the Revised Measure of Knightly Conduct.

Over the centuries, the original Measure written by Vinas Solamnus, the founder of the Knights of Solamnia, had been amended so often that it now filled dozens of volumes. It covered every possible aspect of the life of a Knight and how he should react in almost any given situation. It was huge, unwieldy, and rigid, and had nearly led to the destruction of the Knights in the years preceding the War of the Lance. At that time, the Knighthood had grown so dependent upon the Measure for the direction of their lives, they had forgotten the Rule that accompanied it and was the foundation for their concept of honor. Est Solarus oth Mithas . My Honor is My Life.

In the afterdays, taking the lesson of Sturm Brightblade to heart, Gunthar began to revise the Measure, to make it more fluid, less demanding. What Sturm had taught them was that a man can be a great Knight without the strict guides of the Measure to direct his actions and define his responsibilities, that true and noble honor teaches the Knight his duty of its own accord. Brightblade had learned much of honor simply by listening to the old tales of Huma and the other great Knights as told him by his mother, and by taking them to heart and trying to emulate those heroes, he had rediscovered the true essence of Knighthood- Est Solarus oth Mithas -at a time when it was most needed. In those dark days before the War of the Lance, with enemies all around them, the Knights of Solamnia had seemed more concerned with fighting among themselves over points of honor. Political intrigue had become the order of the day, with various factions vying for the overall power of the Knighthood. Gunthar himself had not been exempt from this, as his position as leader was very much in doubt. But in the darkest hour, when it seemed the Knighthood might truly split, hope arrived in the form of Sturm Brightblade bearing a mysterious dragon orb, a hope not readily apparent to all, because the division in the Knighthood was most immediately defined by support for or against Squire Brightblade. Sturm's arrival seemed likely to deal a final blow to the order.

In the end, however, the arrival of the young Knight brought about a cascade of events which led to the consolidation of Gunthar's power, a turn in the fortunes of those arrayed against the forces of Takhisis, and an eventual end to the war. Sturm's ultimate sacrifice at the High Clerist's Tower helped to heal the cancer threatening to choke the Knighthood, teaching them by its example the true meaning of honor.

Liam Ehrling had been one of the Knights there that eventful day at the High Clerist's Tower, when the dragonarmies of Takhisis attacked. As a Knight of the Crown, he had served under Sturm's command and had taken part in the trap set for the blue dragons attacking them. He never forgot his pain at the realization that their victory had been purchased with the life of a man he'd admired since the first day they met. On a personal level, Sturm's example had helped make Liam the man he was today. Where before he'd been less than serious about his training and his duty, after that fateful day when the tide of the war turned, Liam devoted himself to becoming the best Knight he could possibly be. Once frivolous and given to jollity, he became serious and focused, almost single-minded in his pursuit of excellence, and absolutely devoted to the protection and preservation of the Knighthood Sturm Brightblade had given his life to save.

And now it seemed the deterioration of Gunthar's mental capacity threatened to undermine everything. Was it not enough that he had set the Knighthood on its ear by proposing and moving forward with the merging with the Knights of Takhisis, but the very document meant to help lay the foundation for the future Knighthood seemed no nearer completion than if it had never been written. Gunthar had promised its delivery by the end of the year, and Yule was swiftly approaching, only three short months away! If the state of the entire work was like that of the few sheets scattered across Gunthar's desk, the future of the Revised Measure looked bleak indeed. Liam tore at his mustaches in his frustration, glancing around the room for some sign of a more complete manuscript. The stack of papers on the desk must be Lord Gunthar's early notes, he surmised optimistically.

He heard a voice outside the door and recognized it as Lord Gunthar's, mumbling as usual. He heard him say, "Mulled wine?" as though to someone he was inviting to join him within.

"Damn, he has company," Liam softly swore. "Probably Lord Tohr." He rose from behind the desk and slipped swiftly to the window as the door opened. Liam stepped outside onto the battlements, but rather than return to his own room, he remained a moment, hidden by the curtain. He'd hoped to have a private word with his master, but now he considered the opportunity to listen to what the leaders of the two orders were planning.

The door shut, and he heard Gunthar cross the room to his bedchamber. In a few moments, he returned. There was a creaking noise, as of someone settling into one of the large comfortable leather chairs in the study.

"Risk! Nonsense, my boy!" Gunthar said, apparently in response to some comment Liam had failed to hear. He stepped closer to the window, careful so the curtain wouldn't reveal him if it blew aside.

"Many were the times your father threw his shield in front of me and stood over me, protecting me when I was down," Gunthar said.

So that's it! Liam thought. Tohr Malen's father was a Knight of Solamnia! No wonder Gunthar trusts him!

"Have you failed in the past, Sturm?" Gunthar asked his guest.

Liam's breath caught, and he wondered if he had heard right. Did Gunthar just call Tohr Malen 'Sturm?' He shuddered at such a show of mental weakness before their enemy.

"Then I have no fear for the future," Gunthar said.

Throughout all of this, Liam had not heard a single response. Tohr Malen had not struck him as being a softspoken man. Liam began to wonder just exactly to whom Gunthar was speaking.

Almost in answer to this unspoken question, Gunthar quickly followed with, "I pledge your good fortune in battle, Sturm Brightblade."

"Brightblade?" Liam gasped. He stepped into the room and found Gunthar standing alone before an empty chair, a mug raised in toast.

At Liam's sudden entrance, Gunthar turned. Without any apparent change or surprise, he said, "Ah, Liam. I was just having a little warm milk before bed. Care to join me?"

"Milord, I was… passing on the battlements and heard your voice. To whom were you speaking?" Liam asked. He walked over to the chair and examined it, finding it entirely empty.

"Speaking? Speaking?" Gunthar asked, confused. "Oh, I suppose I must have been talking to myself. Somehow, I've got into that habit. Sometimes I don't even know I am doing it."

"That must have been the case," Liam answered reservedly.

"Well, a cup of milk, then?" he asked.

"Thank you, no. I'm off to bed," Liam said. Slowly, he moved toward the door.

"Didn't come to try to change my mind, then?" Gunthar teased.

"It's too late for that, isn't it, my lord?" Liam said. "We cannot send them away honorably, now that you have brought them here, not unless they do something to betray your trust."

"Ah, Liam," Gunthar said warmly, "that is why I chose you to succeed me when I die. Your sense of honor is beyond compare."