Prologue; Blun Ravendal
"Keep going kid" Berard said as young Thorley suddenly slowed down. "Give me a sec, some of these bars are missing." He answered. "I don't give a damn, just keep going!" Berard shouted.
Every hair on the man's body stood erect, he was scared shitless. Berard's hood shadowed his face, but Blun could sense the fear in him regardless. A sensation of cowardice, as if the man was on the verge of running.
"Managing down there, big guy?" Blun asked.
"As a pig in its pen." He answered. Blun laughed. "A pig? Well I guess you could say that."
Gerdrick smiled. Then he grinned. Then the Lord bursted out laughing. "A pig? Hilarious!" He shouted. Blun laughed too, his lips crumpling up as they formed into a disgusting grin. "Berard, you do know of your awful foolishness no?" The both of them laughed even harder. Even young Thorley let out a slight giggle.
"No Blun, I don't." The echoes of laughter spreading throughout the pit disappeared. Berard was dead serious, and so were the Ravendal brothers. "Well that's a shame," He ran his tongue over his lips, left to right to left. "You'd reckon someone'd know at least something after doing noth' but jerk it their whole life" Blun said.
"Oh but I do know something. I know something about you, Blun Ravendal." Blun's eyes shot open. "I know the reason why Blun Ravendal is no more. And I'd suggest you shut it before I have to remind you again." Berard's smile bore a sense of fulfillment as both Ravendal men turned dead silent.
"Uh guys?" Thorley shouts. "I think we've reached the bottom."
A small corridor at the bottom of the pit opened up to a large, half-globe resembling room. The flooring and walls were painted red and gray, resembling a knife, sticking through the hide of a direwolf. The room was filled with graves, structured in a grid-like pattern. The bricks surrounding the graves had crumpled, leaving a strange pattern spread all around. Tall, deep lines stretching seemingly infinitely across the room.
At the rear end of the chamber stood a dark pedestal, holding a stone sigil of sorts. The closer young Thorley looked, the more oddities he noticed. A glass-like encasing, covering the sigil. A cold wind that blew through the deep lines spread across. A subtle screeching, muddied by the thick walls.
A cloud of condensed air disappeared into the cracks of the wall as Thorley breathed out.
"Shivering already, lordling?" Berard said as he walked past him. "Nothing to fear here but a couple of old graves." The man laughed. "How do you suppose we ditch the glass, Ser Ravendal?" He asked.
"There's no merit in trying to break it. The old hag said that much… Just try and find something out of order." The nobleman unbuckled the sheath that held his sword and balanced it on the wall's rough surface.
Blun led the search, his stump blade carefully picking its way through the crevices on the floor as the man dragged it past them. A thin beam of light appeared through a crack in the ceiling, ricocheting off Blun's longsword.
The man's mind had been filled with fear and disgust for his companionship. The cold wind and shattered flooring hindered his ability of clear thinking even further. But for some reason a thought was stuck in his head. A vision. A vision of something bad happening. Something abhorrent. Blun breathed heavily as he felt his bodily temperature rise. A collection of sweat droplets slowly rode past his brow to his throat.
His pupils shrunk as he felt a thick puddle of sweat pile up on the peak of his back.
"Getting a bit too hot for you, no?" Berard mocked the man. "Would have never thunk that mugging the dead would get to your head out of all people."
"Shut it, pig." Blun huffed.
"Oh but do tell me why I should, Ravendal." Berard said.
Blun snapped.
"Because I know where you were during the war. I saw many men die. Too many for me to not be disgusted by the likes of you. We could have won the war with ease if those filthy pigs like you fought too." Blun snorted with a crazed look in his eyes. "From the moment we met I knew you were no soldier. I knew your face. But it just now clicked to me, I never forget faces like yours, the face of a deserter. When we get out of this place, I will do all in my power to have you hanged. And if no executioner will do it, then I will do you the honor myself."
Berard grabbed Blun's shoulder and whispered into his ear. "Oh but I know you won't. Matter of fact I know what I would do when that should happen. I know why you became a servant instead of a prince. The reason why you threw it all away. And so will the whole continent if you say anything regarding me. Understood?" Berard's lips twisted into a disgusting grin. "We wouldn't want everyone to know why Blun Ravendal threw it all away, would we?"