The Books of Virtue and the Nine Swords - Plotline

[Garak Nightchill]

The Books of Virtue

A few centuries ago...

The elderly scribe sat patiently in the antechamber, awaiting his audience with the king.  He had spent the previous year constantly travelling the land of Britannia, seeking eight special people, and his frail body had not borne the hardships well.  But his quest was finally complete and he had returned to Britain to report his success.  When he agreed to undertake the quest he had not realised just what would be involved.  His reverie was interupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.
      "Redren Mallor! My dear fellow, it's so good to see you!" 
      Redren looked up and slowly got to his feet.  "Canton, you are looking well.  You are here to bring me before the King, yes?"
      Canton smiled sympathetically.  "I'm afraid not, old friend.  The King had to leave on urgent business and may not be back for several weeks.  I assume you are here because...?"  His sentence trailed off, as if he was afraid to dare to hope Redren had succeeded.
      Redren nodded solemnly.  "Yes, Canton.  I am here because I have found the people the King bade me find."  He frowned.  "When I agreed to do it, I failed to grasp the scope of the task, but it is finally over."
      Canton closed his eyes momentarily in relief.  "Thank the Virtues!"
      "I found eight people, each one's actions embodying one of the Virtues.  As instructed I wrote a little on each of them."  He patted a satchel lying next to him on the floor, containing eight tomes.  "You should have little trouble contacting them, though the Honourable one is currently in the Yew prison." 
      Canton raised an eyebrow.  "Yew prison?  You jest, surely?"
      Redren sighed.  "I'm afraid not.  He was one of Lord Randall's men.  True to his late master until the last, despite his revulsion for him.  But if all goes well, we can assemble these paragons swiftly and, fate willing, conclude this matter.  How goes the enlightenment?"
      Canton snorted.  "Not as well as the King would like.  It's been several years since he introduced the Virtues.  Some like Lord Blackthorn are wary of them and will not support the King.  Others have embraced them wholeheartedly.  Too wholeheartedly in some cases.  Churches have been constructed in various settlements throughout the land, and there have been confrontations between those embracing the virtues and those who havn't."
      Redren shook his head in dismay.  "The Virtues were meant to give us all a common set of guidelines to live by, not create such strife."  He paused and looked at Canton shrewdly.  "Blackthorn is still stirring up trouble, yes?"
      Canton chuckled wryly.  "Yes.  I have no idea why he is so opposed to the Virtures, and the King's vision of Order, both are tightlipped on the subject, and their friendship has been strained.  Blackthorn has been promoting his philosophy of Chaos and has even constructed a shrine similar to those the King ordered built for each Virtue."
      Redren noted the extra wrinkles his friend had gained during this troubled time and attempted to change the subject.  "Has there been any news of Shamino?"
      At this Canton brightened slightly.  "There have been several sightings of him, yes.  For years he's struggled to adapt to being cut off from his Kingdom in the Fuedal Lands, not knowing the fate of his people.  Since the Shattering of the Gem and the ensuing cataclysm, we've had no way to reach them.  He's been restless, wandering the land as a ranger.  But of late he's settled down in Skara Brae, for the time being at least."
      "I can certainly understand the need to settle down.  My old bones will be glad of a long rest," Redren muttered.
      "Don't get too comfortable.  We'll be heading to Minoc within the week.  Messages will be sent to the paragons, summoning them there."  Canton suddenly looked sharply to his left, scowling.  "Eavesdropping, Stark?"
      The newcomer smiled insolently.  "Just out for a walk, my dear fellows.  Welcome back, Mallor."  Redren nodded at him warily.  There was no love lost between Lord British's courtiers and Lord Blackthorn's.
      "So, still bent on this foolish plan of yours?"  Stark asked.
      Canton narrowed his eyes.  "You would do better to not speak so disparagingly about the King's plans."
      Stark smirked.  "King's plans, my dear Canton?  I thought this foolishness was your idea?"
      "With the King's blessing!" Canton shot back. 
      Stark didn't reply at first, instead pointedly staring at the satchel containing the books.  "Your eight books of Virtue, yes?"  He didn't wait for a reply, adding, "Anyone can write a book.  My Lord Blackthorn has commissioned several books explaining his Chaos philosophy.  One Book of Chaos opposing your eight books of Virtue.  Hardly seems fair does it?  I wonder if he intends a similar course to balance those eight swords you tiresomely demand forged?"
      Redren reddened, Canton scowled harder. 
      Stark merely smiled, unconcerned at having revealed his knowledge of their plans.  "I'll bid you both of you a good day, gentlemen."  With an exaggeratedly courteous bow, he left.

[Garak Nightchill]

The Eight Swords of Virtue

A chill wind blew through the rustic streets of Minoc, accosting all in it's path.  The party huddled in their cloaks but otherwise continued on their journey to the Minoc Smithy.  Minoc was a fairly new town, expanding the frontier of Britannia.  It was rumoured that many of those uncomfortable with the King's notion of one Kingdom headed out to the eastern frontier towns of Cove, Vesper and Minoc, seeking a new life. 
      The party of travellers soon reached the smithy, standing close to the roaring forges radiating a comforting heat.  One smith looked up for a moment, then laid down his tools and joined the party.  The elderly scribe, Redren Mallor took this opportunity to study the party.  He had travelled from Britannia with his old friend, the Mage Canton.  With the moongates still in flux, they had travelled to Minoc on horseback with an escort of five Royal Knights.       
      Redren gazed at each of the eight people in turn, people he had found and selected for this daunting task.  The Paragon of Honour, Paladin Sir Guy du Bois had been released from the Yew prison to attend.  He had been imprisoned for serving a lord later found to have indulged in murder and bloodshed.  Sir Guy had honoured his vow of servitude to Lord Randall despite knowing he served a monster.  Lord Randall had been slain in disgrace and Sir Guy locked up.  He was disgraced in the eyes of many, having lost everything but his Honour.   He had been escorted from the Yew prison, meeting up with the expedition in Britain.
      The Paragon of Humility, Tom Shepherd was clearly the least comfortable, and had quietly protested his inclusion.  A humble shepherd from Magincia, he was ill at ease being away from his family and flock and still slightly ill from the sea voyage. 
      The Paragon of Compassion, Connor Conradson, a bard who let his friends' murderer go free for the sake of that man's young daughter tightened the strings of his harp, having travelled with Redren's group from Britain.
      Tobus, a young mage who had travelled from the Lycaeum, was the Paragon of Honesty.  Redren's study was interupted by the Paragon of Sacrifice, Rory McCarron, a smith who had sacrificed a promising career as a warrior to take over the family business.  Apparently they were ready to proceed. 

Eight barrels of water lay ready, one in front of each of the Paragons of Virtue.  For hours Rory McCarron had patiently smelted and forged the finest steel, shaping it into eight identical swords.  As he did so Canton cast enchantment after enchantment on each of the glowing blades.  The first one was finished, and the Paragon of Honour silently sliced open his left forearm, allowing the blood to drip into the barrel of still, cool water.  Canton then cast a further spell at the water.  One of Rory's helpers then quenched the still-glowing sword into the barrel of water.  Sir Guy stood still, ignoring the rising wraith of steam that engulfed him.  After a time the blade was pulled from the water and a hilt was fastened to it.  Redren then scribed assorted runes onto the blade and solemnly handed it to Sir Guy. 

For hours this continued, for each of the eight swords.  The last to be finished was Rory's own, by which time day had turned to dusk.  Canton stood before each of the eight Paragons, each holding a sword that had been bound to themself and to the Virtue they embodied.
      "My friends, Many years have passed since the slaying of Mondain.  Lord British has forged a kingdom from the ruins of the land and has given his people a code of Virtues.  Each of you has embodied one of these virtues and has been given a sword that symbolises this virtue.  But the swords have not been fully dedicated.  The shrines have been constructed but it is still to be revealed how to complete the Dedication of the sword at the virtue.  Once this has been done each of you must visit the shrine and sanctify your blade.  Until then, the blade is vulnerable to corruption."

The following day the Paragons left on their separate ways, intending to sanctify their sword.  But time and circumstances would conspire to ensure this was not done, and the blades soon became scattered, and in time regarded only as myth.