The Knights

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"What is a Warden?"

This might seem like a relatively effortless question to answer for some, but let's take a moment to realize the fundamental factors that make someone a Warden. Most were simply called the "Vanguard," or the foremost in any advancing army. Essentially, Wardens went into battle with one singular objective: to weaken the enemy. Seems simple enough, right? Well, from an uninformed perspective. But, in reality, it was much more demanding than it sounded.

For example, all Wardens are molded to become versatile, roaming battlegrounds with impressive longswords while stomping out any resistance in their path. Predominantly veterans in offense and defense, these knights were given orders to defend strategic positions or push ahead of their peers to capture one. In a siege, they had two choices: protect the ram or focus on capturing ramparts. Sometimes, however, Wardens could get into brawls or duels with enemies isolated from their legions, bringing a little more variety into the mix.

Simply put, these guys were constantly in endless, monotonous combat.

Some even felt prejudiced, having to be always first on and last off the field. Occasionally, this leads to Warden casualties being the highest apart from the soldiers sent with them into battle. Sadly, none could complain; being the spearhead and whining about being put sooner ahead of their peers in warfare wouldn't make sense. It was their entire purpose, after all.

Wardens were usually given two choices after donning some armor and acquiring their signature weaponry: become a mercenary or full-time combatant in a legion. Of course, the latter was often the case since mercenary work usually transitioned to full-time soldiery, whether forced into conscription or due to lack of work elsewhere.

This story, nonetheless, pertains to a particular knight having found employment in the most hated and weakest faction in Ashfeld, the Blackstone Legion.

It was ironic to say the Blackstones were the most powerless faction in Ashfeld, mainly because of their past. Nowadays, they were only shadows of their former selves, not a single stronghold nor enough resources to fight a battle with even the slightest bit of significance.

This begs the question: why would he decide to join this faction then?

...

...

...

For the money, obviously.

The compensation for his services this time around was much higher than usual, which, combined with his budget beginning to dwindle daily, made him a little desperate for money. He was unemployed, penniless, and had nowhere to call his home. Currently, he was camping with a pair of the Blackstones he had acquainted himself with throughout his career. Both of them were like him: Wardens.

The first fellow was named "Ouros." To many, he was the most pleasing person you would enjoy having around; the 7'5 feet giant was good-natured and honest, as a true knight should be. He even played music in his free time, but that's something to talk about for another time. Ouros was ginger-haired with bushy mutton chops and olive-green eyes; exceptionally unique characteristics in Ashfeld. His armor was "Arcturus" and bore Blackstone symbols on his standards and back.

The second was "Gaits," someone our protagonist had met several times before while looking for work. For background, they occasionally worked together, but it typically didn't last very long since their employers often died or had nothing to pay them with, forcing the two to go their separate ways to find themselves work again. It wasn't long until their duration together blossomed into a comradeship, leading both of them to decide to find work jointly. His appearance, unlike Ouros, was as average as they come; he had brown hair, a full beard, and light brown eyes. His armor was "Haedus" and shared the same symbols on his standards and back as Ouros.

Now... there is him.

He dubbed himself "Loren" since everyone he has ever met only sees him wearing the "Loran" armor variant. As expected, he had the same symbols on his standards and back as Ouros and Gaites. Besides that, he had a forbearing, straightforward demeanor, causing many to conclude he was an old and seasoned warrior; however, this was not the case.

Loren was truthfully still a young man, twenty-three years old and reasonably decent looking for someone who hadn't been scarred by war; both of his friends were a year or so younger than he was. Loren's eyes were a stoical, golden orange with a slightly darker shade bordering their edges; his striking iris had stunned many who saw them for the first time. Finally, his head and facial hair were short and charcoal black, maintained daily to prevent being caught in his helmet.

But enough of this illustrative prattling for now...

It's time for their story to begin.

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Chapter 1 - The Knights

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Somewhere in Ashfeld…

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It was dark, really dark. One would've only seen as far as three feet if they had a light beside them. There was also a cool breeze that sent shivers down Ouros' body; the rigid armor he wore and the fact it was the middle of winter made him feel even colder, with only a dimly lit fire to keep him warm.

It was honestly a blessing that one of his pals, Gaits, quickly started the fire earlier with some flint and the steel from his longsword. The night would've been unbearable if that weren't the case.

"Mmmm..." The sharp crackling of the small fire was enough to make Gaits fall asleep almost instantly, and as he snored quietly, unknowingly made Ouros' sleepiness take some control.

Ouros let out a big yawn and blinked slowly as he stared into the fire, enjoying the peace and quiet as best he could, for the wind was blowing in every way, making any genuine shuteye almost impossible. And then, in a split second, he thought he might have heard something coming up from behind him. At that time, as quickly as he could, Ouros turned around, grasping his longsword tightly, considering it to be a predator or an intruder that had entered the camp. Luckily, the 6'5 man he saw waived away any concerns.

It was Loren, and he was carrying on his back three white rabbits.

'Oh, great, it's just him...' Ouros thought thankfully, believing tonight he and his comrades wouldn't have anything to eat.

Loren had preoccupied himself with hunting during the remote camp's construction, having caught a few hares using only his blade. Sadly, they were pretty chopped up since all he had to use was his longsword, but he supposed it didn't matter since food was food.

"Ugh…" Loren groaned, grabbing a seat next to Ouros on a log he was sitting on and placing his bounties beside him. "I gotta be honest, Ouros. Winter is a bitch. I thought I'd never find anything out here in this weather."

"Me too. I'm kinda amazed you found something in this storm at all," Ouros agreed, rubbing his hands together to try and warm up some more, blowing slowly into his palms to generate some degree of warmth. Suddenly, a piece of frost entered his helmet through its visor. "GAH-" He exclaimed, shaking his head in frustration; winter, indeed, was a bitch.

Meanwhile, Loren had already skinned one of his hares, shoved a stick right through its body, and began twisting and turning the meat at different tilts to cook it evenly over the fire. He glanced up and saw that Ouros had removed his helmet, steadily rubbing his eyes from the hail that pinched one of them just a second ago.

"You good?"

"Ah, yeah. I'm not blind or anything," Ouros replied, putting back on his helmet and moving his hands close to the fire. It may not be discernible to many, but Loren knew that some of his friend's shudders weren't from the cold.

"Today was a mess, wasn't it?"

Ouros heard his friend speak, looked up from the fire, and nodded timidly. "I... didn't think today was going to be a bloodbath..." He said, shifting in his seat a little.

"Yeah, me neither," Loren replied, shaking his head in displeasure. "If only that second gate hadn't-"

"Shut behind us," Ouros said, finishing the sentence with a heavy sigh, full of woe and remorse. "So many died afterward..."

Loren, Ouros, and Gaits had partaken in a breach; their contract was to assist in capturing a fortress possessed by a rival legion. However, their warlord abandoned them after the second gate locked behind them, lowering morale exponentially, which led to total chaos.

The job was completed, but the cost was too great; it was undoubtedly a pyrrhic victory. Only later, the three discovered their commander was killed, along with the many others who tried to escape the massacre.

"Yeah," Loren said, pulling his dinner close to his face and checking if it was cooked long enough. "It's dreadful, but not everyone can survive a battle like that, sadly."

He then removed his helmet and bit the flesh from his cooked rabbit. It tasted good but could've been better; a little seasoning would do the trick. Then, after finishing his meal, Loren went to his quarters and laid flat on the ground, staring up at space and the stars. Unexpectedly, a comet shot through the atmosphere, slowly and unimpeded.

'That's a sight to see.'

He wanted to wish for many things: a home, a warm bed, and maybe a long-lasting profession that didn't make him have so many brushes with death. Only time would tell, he was still young, and nothing was set in stone.

Loren then turned to look at his friend again, still by the fire, looking into the flames, before speaking again; Ouros was still shaking profusely.

"Don't be so down," Loren said upliftingly, causing Ouros to stare back at him. "When you took down those archers, you still saved a lot of people, right? You're still the same ole' goody-two-shoes like you always been."

"Uhm, what's that mean?" Ouros asked curiously, seeming eager to discover what Loren was getting at. "Same ole' goody two-shoes…?"

"I mean, you're still rational. You haven't gone psycho or crazy. You still hold true to your values and what you believe a knight should do and be. Saving lives, code of honor, etc." That news made Ouros feel slightly better, even compelling him to smile a little.

"Oi, don't start thinking you're a cut above me and Gaits, alright? You can still get as fierce as us sometimes," Loren reminded, pointing at him accusingly.

"Huh, when have I ever?" Ouros was surprised and a little shocked at the fact he was being called fierce, something others often reminded him he was the complete opposite of.

"Okay, lemme think..." Loren said, cupping his chin. "Oh yeah, that time you-"

"Can you guys stop being so loud?" Groaned the voice of Gaits, having awakened from his slumber. "I can't even get any shuteye after today? How grand…"

"Oh- Sorry, Gaits!" Ouros apologized, causing the drowsy knight to groan in annoyance once again.

"I just said keep it down, stop talking."

"... My bad…"

Gaits got up and stretched a little, having not fully awakened from sleep. "And to answer your question. How about the time when you fractured someone's fucking ribcage with your sword? That shit was brutal."

Upon hearing this, Ouros got up from his seat and started stammering, trying to defend his past actions. "H-Hey, wait! That was-"

"You literally shoved your sword right into him, and then after he fell down, proceeded to pull the sword upwards," Gaits went to demonstrate using his longsword, causing the other two to immediately avert their eyes. "And rip his entire goddamn torso open!"

Loren moaned loudly as he slowly remembered the memory as the most gruesome execution he had ever witnessed; how could such a person as Ouros do something so bloodthirsty?

"I could hear his bones crack, man!" Gaits remarked further on the incident, persisting his demonstration.

"Don't remind me, Gaits!" Loren requested, turning his body away from them. "Aw shit, now that's probably all I'm gonna be thinking about tonight…"

"Oh-ho, man; what made you have to kill him like that anyway?" Gaits questioned. "C'mon, spit it out!"

"Well... you see... my sword got stuck... and…"

"Ah..." Gaits voiced, expressing his understanding of the circumstances now. Apparently, the longsword got stuck. Like, really, really stuck in the ribcage. "Understandable. I would've quite frankly done the same in your shoes."

"That sounds horrible..."

"Oh, whatever. I'm callin' it a day now- wait, what time is it anyway?"

"It's midnight..." Loren answered, still thinking about the execution.

"Right, well, I'm going back to bed. See you, gentlemen, in the morning," Gaits made his goodbye by waiving his arm nonchalantly as he returned to the sack. Ouros, feeling the sleepiness set in, went to bed as well. Funny enough, neither ate the hares Loren had brought back, which just barely irritated him.

Besides that, Loren, who was still awake, returned his gaze back to the stars in the sky. Fixated on several in particular that, once connected, made a tower with roots that grew longer and longer beneath it. And above this tower was what seemed to be a crown.

'That's fetching.'

Loren stared at the constellation for several seconds before falling asleep to the crickets and blowing winds. However, as he and his companions slept, three entities watched them from beyond the clouds…

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Cloud District...?

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"Well, well, well, well, well…" Spoke a voice; one that sounded old and wise. "Looks like we found our champions."

"Them?" Spoke another skeptically; this one's voice was young yet insightful. "Do you think they're up to it?"

"I do believe they would fit in perfectly. Oh look, that one already saw your sign in the stars, see?" Said a final whose voice could come off as trustful or confident.

"Yeah, yeah, I see," The second voice remarked, turning to face the other two; their plan was about to commence.

"Alright then… Let's run it."

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Some ye-ye ass road in Ashfeld: Few Hours Later...

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The next day was, thankfully for the three, a lot less eventful than the day previous. This time there wasn't a concern about if they actually going to get killed. Instead, they simply walked on the side of the road without a care in the world, listening to one tune his lute; it was Ouros, by the way. And since their boss died in the siege yesterday, they now had to look for work again.

Luckily, Gaits said he uncovered the warlord's stash inside a tree, taking it before it was found by anyone else and distributing it evenly as best he could to Ouros and Loren. It was disappointing to see how much they got because of their shitty day beforehand, but beggars can't be choosers. It was now all the money they had left.

"I can't believe this is all we got to make it even," Gaits complained, counting his money; it amounted to 50 bronze, 5 silver, and 1 gold coin. "Motherfucker- We're supposed to get five times this!"

"I knew I should've never trusted that charlatan…" Loren murmured, pissed off at his foolishness for having made a contract with his former employer; its temptation was too overwhelming. "It was certainly too good to be true."

"Don't worry, guys," Ouros spoke as optimistically as Loren did the night before. "It may not be as much as we had hoped, but we still got paid nonetheless. And Loren, didn't you say you didn't care how much you got paid?"

"That was before I had to fight tooth and nail to survive a breach, Ouros. This here?" Loren said, holding his payment up for both of them to see. "Is not worth my services," He concluded begrudgingly, shoving the pouch of coins back into his satchel.

"Whatever, man. Let's just quit our bitching and get moving. I heard there might be some employment near-"

"PRETIOSAS TUAS DEDE AUT TE NECABO!"

Suddenly, a loud shout in Latin could be heard coming out of the bushes ahead of them. Twenty bandits appeared, each swinging around a footman's flail and charging at the three Wardens; they were Conquerers.

"OH FUCK-" Ouros cried, swearing out of nowhere.

"That's a fuck ton-! Wait, you swear now?!" Gaits yelled, turning his head to look at Ouros in disbelief.

The two got into the "Schluessel" fighting stance but were stopped unexpectedly by Loren, who grabbed both of their shoulders and began shoving them back up the road. "We can't fight that many, so let's get the fuck outta here!" He yelled, running with them as a brigade of Conquerers followed behind.

"Why are they attacking us?!" Ouros questioned, periodically looking back to see the bandits gaining ground; their armor existed for resistance, not mobility. "Oh, Christ-! They're getting closer, guys!"

Loren was at the moment trying to think of a plan to get them away from the bastards, as they would surely kill all three of them once surrounded. They might've had a greater chance if they were a bit more prepared, but this was just insane; twenty Conquerers at one time? That was unheard of.

Then... it happened.

Right as the three ran through some shrubbery to try and escape into what they thought had been the forest, the ground -for some reason- suddenly felt unusually a little too... not there at all. Loren, Ouros, and Gaits began plummeting down into a ravine, darker than any evening and more bottomless than any ocean they had ever seen before.

"HOLY SHIT!" Loren shouted, gradually getting unhearable as he and his friends fell deeper into the abyss.

"MATRIS DEI!" Ouros screamed, having spoken -and learned the language- out of nowhere.

"AYO, WHAT THE FU-?!" Gaits hollered, more focused on the fact that Ouros had spoken a vocabulary he had no prior knowledge of. "YOU SPEAK LATIN NOW?! SINCE WHEN?!"

All of their screams could be heard by the highwaymen above, who chortled at the sight of some unfortunate souls falling to their presumed deaths.

However, what they did not expect to see was a large, circular rift in space and time to appear right beneath the men that had just fallen into the ravine, disappearing with a loud pop once all three of them entered it.

The Conquerers looked at each other in bafflement before returning to their hiding spot; it was only later that day that each one decided not to drink ever again.

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Cloud District again...?

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'HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK' was the only thing on Loren's mind as he descended into the cavern; who'd blame him? On the other hand, his friends were more focused on logic and theologics. Specifically, Ouros' praying in Latin and Gaits' bewilderment about how Ouros fluently spoke a new language out of nowhere.

Loren had expected that the end was near; he had just fallen into a cavern and was about to meet his demise by impact in the seconds to minutes following. Yet, something he did not expect was a fucking portal to appear right in front of him and blast him with a blinding white light as he connected with it. He now found himself in a land of clouds, semi-brightness, and nothing else; only him with his solitude.

"Oh my God, is this what eternity is?" Loren said in disbelief, looking around for any signs of life other than him. That was when he saw a tree.

It was the most beautiful tree he had ever seen: tall enough to pick fruit effortlessly, leaves as colorful as spring and summer, and roots so long that they could've insinuated the tree was so ancient that it perhaps was as old as the Roman Empire.

Loren approached the tree and saw two other figures walking toward it. He quickly went for his longsword, only to realize it wasn't there anymore, which meant he had to use his fisticuffs to defend himself if necessary.

He raised his gauntlets in preparation for battle but noticed something interesting about them; they were different. His armor was supposed to be black iron, the standard material for Blackstone combatants. Right now, it was simply just iron, uncluttered and untainted. However, Loren still bore the Blackstone color scheme on his armor, something he would have to change later if he ever got out of this strange place he now found himself in.

The two other figures approaching the tree now came into view: his friends, Ouros and Gaits. "Oh, thank God," He said in relief, quickly moving towards them to ask what was going on. "Hey! Over here!"

"Huh? Loren? Is that you?" The voice belonged to Ouros, who ran over to check if his other friend was truly there with him. "It's you! You're alive!"

"Course he's alive. I'm here too, aren't I?" Gaits said, slightly smacking Ouros' head for such a seemingly witless statement. "What's going on, Loren?"

"I don't know either. I'm just as confused as you two must be," Loren claimed. "Maybe... We died?"

"Doubt it. The last thing I recall wasn't the ground - it was that shining fucking ring shit that appeared in front of us."

"Oh, yeah, I remember that..." Ouros noted, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, but what did it do exactly?" Loren questioned, still amazed by the location he found himself in. "Or where did it send us exactly..."

Suddenly, three brilliant rays of light appeared behind each knight, causing them to fall forward on their faces. Then, after turning around, they saw three entities standing before them: an old man, a young man, and a bird.

...

...

...

Yes, it was a bird; a dove, to be specific.

But let's forget about that. There were now three strange beings in front of Loren, Ouros, and Gaits, whose presence confused the three Wardens even more.

"Greetings, I am the Elder, and these are my associates, the Younger and the Wiser." The old man said, motioning to his two acquaintances. "We have a mission for you, congratulations!"

...

...

...

"We wanna go leave/We wanna go leave/We wanna go leave," The three said simultaneously, causing the Elder to laugh.

"Eager, eh? I knew you guys would be keen enough for this job!"

"WE DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT, OLD MAN!" Gaits yelled in frustration, being held back by Ouros. "SEND US BACK TO ASHFELD!"

"No can do, bub. All three of you have been assigned a task, and you're gonna complete it whether you like it or not," The Younger said firmly; this mission must be pretty important, huh?

"But- Why us, though?" Ouros asked as politely as possible; he didn't want to provoke them like Gaits with his outburst. "I mean, we aren't really that special?"

"On the contrary, my boy, you are all very peculiar indeed, but we shan't reveal anything. You'll all need to find out what makes each of you unique on your own," The Elder said with a smile. "All the more fun if it's that way, am I right?"

"Are you God?" Loren asked out of nowhere, a question that may seem too bold or audacious. "Or Gods...?"

"Yes, we are," The Wiser replied, causing all three knights to stare at the dove that just spoke. "Guys, a talking bird is nothing compared to what I just said and everything that's been going on up to this point, so listen closely."

This announcement made the three look at each other before nodding in agreement to focus their attention on the talking bird. Whatever the bird had to say must have been critical; that much was clear.

"We need at least three warriors to go to this place called "Westeros" to stop the end of that world from a prick we like to call the "Night King." He's some asshole that popped up on our radar, and we need you guys to get rid of him, but it won't be easy; you'll need an enormous army and probably dragons to defeat him. So good luck."

...

...

...

"Motherfucker, why are you doing this to us?" Gaits made his standing on the quest very obvious.

"GAITS-" Ouros, obviously.

"Yeah, can I not do this either?" Loren asked, raising a hand in rejection of the "proposal."

"LOREN?!" You know who speaks here. "My lords, I deeply apologize on behalf of my ignorant-"

"HA HA HA! I LIKE THESE GUYS!" The Elder chuckled giddily, not seeming to understand that two of their champions had refused to go along with the assignment. "Especially that Loren fellow!" He whispered to the Wiser.

"I told you two these three weren't capable..." The Younger still needed to be convinced about their chosen champions' qualifications. After seeing two of them act like "that," the bar was set much higher.

"Me too. That Gaits fellow may be brash, but he's straightforward, which makes him trustworthy. He wouldn't make things complicated for us to apprehend in the future..." The Wiser commented, nodding in agreement with the Elder while completely ignoring the words of the Younger.

"Ugh... Why do I even bother?" The Younger said, snapping his fingers which got everyone nearby to focus on him alone. "Sigh... Look, you three are the "best" we could get from that hellhole you called home, so nut up or shut up." He then waved his hand and created a large map with the title of "Westeros and Essos," 227 locations were highlighted on said map.

"What are those scattered dots on the map?" Ouros asked.

"These dots are the locations of certain powerful and magic-infused weaponry you will have to use to kill the Night King and his army of the undead," The three Wardens shuddered a little in dread since there were so many they had to collect and that they were so far apart from each other. "Don't worry. You guys only have to find these eight specifically." The map then updated, and only 8 were glowing bright grey; each knight breathed relief.

"They're called "Valyrian Steel Swords," but we like to call them "Dragonsteel Swords" because it sounds cooler," The Elder remarked, getting a squint of disapproval from the Younger. "It's true, though..."

"Regardless, these are the only weapons that can harm the Night King and his minions, so don't lose them. Also, here, take these. They will help you find each one," The Younger said, handing Loren, Ouros, and Gaits a smaller version of the map but the locations still lit up just as bright as the original, followed by a list of the names of each sword the Wardens will be looking for.

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Vigilance - Tumbleton

Truth - Lys

Blackfyre - Tyrosh

Brightroar - Valyria

Dark Sister - Beyond the Wall

Courage se Kustikāne - Meereen

Lamentation - Dragonpit

Orphan-Maker - Starpike

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"Can... we rename some of these?" Ouros asked, looking up from the list of swords he could choose from. "Some of these sound extremely violent..."

"I have no problem with the names," Gaits remarked, taking a liking to the sword anointed as 'Orphan-Maker.' "Well, except whatever the hell this one means. 'Courage se'... what?"

"Oh, almost forgot!" The Elder said, slapping his head slightly in reaction to his forgetfulness. He snapped his fingers, and suddenly, all three felt as if they could speak another language that didn't exist in their world; Valyrian.

"What the fuck, hold on- why do I know Valyrian? Wait- How do I know what Valyrian even means?" Gaits questioned, a little dumbstruck by this newfound ability. "Umbagon, kostagon jeme shifang nyke paktot sir?" He asked in an exceptionally fluent Valyrian accent; he asked his compatriots if they could understand him right now. "HOLY QRUGH, ZIRY WORKS?!"

"Bisa iksis ribazmoqitta! Kostan ȳdragon bisa udrir flawlessly!" Ouros remarked, amazed that he could speak Valyrian so perfectly.

"Issa interesting... sīr, sir skoros?" Loren asked, turning to the Gods for their answer. "Also, where specifically are you sending us?"

"Easy, we're sending you three to different parts of the world. Loren, you're going to the Flatlands, which is right over here," The Elder pointed to a land between the free cities of Pentos and Myr.

"A desert... really?"

"Trust me, you're gonna prefer that over where your tall friend getting shipped off to."

"Huh?"

"Ouros, we're sending you to the 'Land of Always Winter.' Personally, I think it'll be good for you to start seeing the worst this world has to offer early on," The Younger pointed to a completely white land, away from civilization entirely.

"WHY, ME?!" Ouros said almost pleadingly, seeing how isolated he would be. "COME ON, MAN! I'M GONNA FREEZE TO DEATH!"

"By the way, winter lasts years in the world we're sending you guys to," The Wiser noted, causing an unimaginable sentiment of dread to envelop Loren, Ouros, and Gaits' minds. "Don't fret. Winter has just ended, and the longest one we've seen so far has occurred already. I think it was about three years?"

"Yeah, it'll be a long time before that happens again, so you guys are clear!" The Elder said encouragingly. "Except Ouros, he nevertheless will be sent way up north. Sorry!" He finished with a shrug which pissed off Ouros a little more.

"QOGRALBAR!" Ouros swore, cursing the three deities silently as he began brooding, attempting to comprehend what he was getting into.

"And you, Gaits, are going to the "Goldroad," which is right here around the center of Westeros," The Wiser pointed to a route leading to a place called "Deep Den;" the map seemed to imply that the lands were green all year round. "Pretty lucky for you, am I right?"

"LET'S GO!" Gaits cheered; lucky bastard. "I TRIUMPH YET AGAIN!"

"Goddamn it..." Loren muttered, annoyed that his audacious and presumptuous pal got the best option of the three. "Can we just get the hell out of here now and be done with you people?"

"The Lands of Always Winter... are you freakin' kidding me?" Ouros was still having trouble coping with his situation; poor guy.

"Yeah, I think we've held you three long enough. Cya later," And with that farewell from the Wiser, he and the two others snapped their fingers simultaneously, causing their three champions to begin fading away.

"Oh, and I forgot to mention! We go by the name "Old Gods," so please refer to us as such from now on! AND DON'T MESS UP, NOW! GOODBYE!" The Elder called out loudly as each one of the Wardens disappeared into thin air. "Alright, who wants to play poker?" He said, pulling out a box of cards from his robe and grinning brightly at his divine associates.

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The Flatlands: 281 AC...

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In a plain of grain, grown and ready to reap, a portal appeared out of nowhere and made a loud crack as a heavily armored man appeared out of it. The man fell onto the ground with a thud, groaning loudly as he got up and dusted himself off.

Loren had made it to the new world safe and sound; however, his armor bore some further alterations.

Everything was the same except for two minor components; the color scheme and the emblems on his fabrics. The insignias were no longer the Blackstone standard "Life and Death." Instead, they were now a crown above a simple tower with roots growing underneath it. Loren's white, orange, and grey pigments that once painted his armor pieces and clothes were now green, gold, and black, almost identical to that of the Iron Legion.

Loren took a moment to check out his new duds, examining every little change down to his leather boots. Truthfully, he was impressed by the design change to his armor; it felt right.

Loren looked around at his surroundings, and unlike the portrayal on the map, everything wasn't barren and actually appeared pretty tame. In fact, the commodities of wheat he saw growing everywhere made it clear he was standing in farmland, a sign he was near civilization. 'Okay, I think I'm good. Maybe I can find somewhere to get knowledge or something... Hold on- shit, I don't have my longsword anymore...' He looked around the ground but saw no sight of his blade; not good.

"Better start finding one of those blades from the map," Loren then pulled out the desired item from his satchel and looked closely at the highlighted markers closest to him on his side of the world.

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Truth - Lys

Blackfyre - Tyrosh

Brightroar - Valyria

Courage se Kustikāne - Meereen

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'So, I guess I'm doing all the work then? Awesome...' Loren immediately noticed how he was probably designated to find half of the blades on the list; an unfortunate coincidence, indeed. 'Guess I'll start with Tyrosh then.'

"Now... Where can someone such as myself find a ship?"

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The Land of Always Winter: Five Minutes Earlier...

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"Why..." Ouros moaned in despair as he lay flat on the ground, instantly knowing he was in a hellhole of ice and frost from sensing the chilliness of the snow that touched his face.

But he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

By the way, his armor changed as well. The colors became a green, white, and gold pattern, a bit different, however, from that of Loren. Ouros' symbols were now changed to a tower with roots under a yellow sun.

Eventually, Ouros got up with an annoyed sigh and glanced around at his environment. And what he saw... horrified him to a tremendous degree.

"My Gods..."

There was snow, snow, and more snow. It covered the trees, rocks, hills, mountains, and even wildlife. Almost nothing was spared from the climate of the North.

Ouros suddenly felt awfully weak in his legs and knelt on the dirt ground, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew this was where he had to find the irregular blades; it made him despise the deities that sent him to this wintery hellscape even more. But with great resolve and strength of will, Ouros got up from the ground and took out his map, darting his eyes around it to find the locations of the swords nearest to him so he could get them and get the hell out of the far north.

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Dark Sister - Beyond the Wall

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It appeared he only had to find one up north; this brought a lot of ease to his situation. "Okay, okay... it looks like I have to find only one, thank goodness..." Ouros said with a breath of relief, but... as he looked around at his surroundings again, he realized how difficult this task was going to be.

"Oh, man... how am I gonna survive this one?"

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The Goldroad: Another Five Minutes Earlier...

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Gaits stood on the side of the Goldroad, though he was still unsure of where he was on the map, which made him go to check it for clarification. "Alrighty, so I'm here..." He remarked, using his finger to pinpoint where he was exactly. "And the swords nearest to me are..."

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Vigilance - Tumbleton

Lamentation - Dragonpit

Orphan-Maker - Starpike

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"These ones," Gaits put away the map and started moving towards the closest sword to his location on the map; Vigilance. "Tumbleton, here we come!" He said jovially, believing his journey wouldn't be so bad compared to his comrades. "Even without a sword, I'll be fine in such a tame-"

"GIVE US YOUR SHIT, MOTHERFUCKER!"

"... Environment..."

About thirty highwaymen came out of nowhere and surrounded Gaits; some were heavily armored, but the rest were pretty much cannon fodder. Each one had a menacing grin and a sharp or crude piece of weaponry, while Gaits had nothing except his armor, which was -like his friends- altered in terms of color and symbols; his paints were orange, gray, and white, matching the colors of the Regal Legion, and had a tower with roots under a dove as his symbol on his back and standards.

"YOUR ANSWER?!" One of the men yelled, spitting in the direction of the knight. "SPEAK, FUCKER!"

"Welp..." Gaits muttered, cracking his knuckles loudly. "I'm totally gonna be sore when I'm done with you pricks..."

How will Gaits get out of this situation? Will Ouros find the Dark Sister? Can Loren locate a boat?! Who knows!

Find out next time in chapter two of the story: Swords and Sorrow.

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Author's Notes...

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Had to do it, boys, and you can't blame me. I mean, you just can't- it's possible. And what are you gonna do? Stop reading? Hm?

Fools... I ALONE DECIDE WHEN I CAN WRITE, YOU HEAR ME?! I AM GOD HERE; I AM OMNIPOTENT, I AM FERTILE, AND I AM THE AUTHOR.

Also, the anime story isn't getting canceled, so keep that in mind. I'm just having trouble trying to formulate ideas in my head to add to my narrative since it all just pops into my head.

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