(by Alex Baker)
Some time ago, in a country that does not really exist anymore, a man once stood upon the battlements of a castle and surveyed his handiwork. In appearance, this man could best have been described as 'striking,' or 'memorable.' Never handsome, even by his own admission. His graying blond hair fell to just below the nape of his neck, and stirred lightly in the early summer eve's breeze. Piercing blue eyes over a hawked nose and firm jaw was framed by graying blond hair, falling to just below the nape of his neck, and stirring lightly in the early summer eve's breeze.
Draped in battle-scarred silver armor, the man who stood vigil over a blasted heath filled with the bodies of his enemies was filled with sorrow at the carnage laid before him. 'This is,' he thought, 'my fault. After all, I was the one who ordered it.'
"Lord Ja'nort?"
The Knight Commander of the Armies of Furiondi turned wearily at the sound of his name. Walking slowly towards him in the dusky red twilight was the last man he really needed to see now. Unfortunately, Ja'nort could not feign that he did not hear or notice him. The aura of power and authority that surrounded Bretonius like a palpable shield announced his presence long before his gravely voice did. Ja'nort sighed miserably. He knew why his father's old tutor was here.
Determined to make the best show of it as possible, and also determined not to show his uneasiness in the presence of the Archmage of Time, Ja'nort drew himself up to his full imposing height and readied himself. It did not help. All the preparation in the Flannae would do nothing to blunt the impact of those flint gray eyes blazing up at him.
"My Lord Bretonius. I'm sorry, but I cannot say that I am happy to see you."
Bretonius harumphed and muttered "No-one ever is..." under his breath as he finished approaching. For a moment, his attention was captured by the aftermath of the wholesale bloodshed that had occurred earlier that day. Proud pennants lay ground into the earth turned muddy with the blood that had soaked into it. It upset Bretonius to see the dead.
'So many.' he thought, 'So many. Gods, I am so tired of the plan. How many more of my countrymen must I sacrifice?' Bretonius spared a glance at the stocky Oeridian next to him. 'How many more of my friends, as well?' Turning to Ja'nort, he said aloud, "I don't blame you. Is it as bad as it looks?"
"We still hold the land, but it won't be for long if they hit us again like that." Ja'nort had not taken his eyes from the horizon. He scanned the mountains to the north, trying to guess where the next attempt would come from. "Iuz won't be giving up now. Not when they're this close to finishing us off." Ja'nort turned his pale, haggard face to Bretonius'. "I guess I'll have to go through with it after all."
Bretonius laid a hand upon Ja'nort's muscled arm. Neither of them needed to discuss what was going to happen before dawn. That prophecy was laid out for him long before I was even born, thought Bretonius. But it will save lives. "Have you made your preparations?"
Ja'nort nodded. "Genevive and I have already decided what we'll tell Dano when he's older. It's best that no one knows I've had a son. That way the information won't get back to the wrong people." The knight ran a shaking, gauntleted hand through his thinning hair. "It pains me to think that Dano won't know anything about me until he's much older, but I suppose that's the way it has to be."
Bretonius, the mage who had faced down demi-gods and demons, wished at that moment he could be anywhere but there. He had done many hard things in his long, long life, but this filled him with such revulsion and loathing as he had never felt before. 'Gods take this!' he thought. 'There has to be something I can do. I'll not let...'
The wizard never got to finish the thought. A sudden blast of discordant horns shattered the stillness that had settled over the killing fields. Startled, Ja'nort and Bretonius looked out into the deepening darkness to see a mass of humanoid shapes stepping out of the coolness of the evening. Both men could clearly see the standard they bore; the reviled personal banner of the Scourge of the North, Iuz. Leading the still-undefined throng was a tall, imposing figure on horseback. The only details either of them could pick out was the enormous golden crown sitting on the cowled brow and the huge sword strapped to the side of the mount. Bretonius and Ja'nort glanced at each other briefly. Both men knew this person only too well.
When the rider had drawn closer to the gates of the keep, the horns sounded again. The shape raised one long, armored arm and gestured imperiously toward the parapets. "SO," boomed out a strong, strident voice, "OLD FRIEND. WE MEET AGAIN. YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT. COME YOU TO ME AND MY FORCES SHALL RETIRE FROM THE FIELD."
Bretonius had not yet removed his hand from Ja'nort's arm. Now, he gripped tighter. "You don't have to go." he said in his most compelling voice. "We'll figure something else out..." He knew the futility of his words as soon as he said them, but he decided to try anyway. And true to form, the paladin shot him a look as if to say, What? And break my word?
Ja'nort turned back to the spectral rider and called out "I shall do as you ask, as long as you give me your personal pledge that the bargain shall be kept by your forces!"
A peculiar hissing sound issued forth from the ranks assembled behind the tall figure. Bretonius knew it for what it was. Laughing. He decided not to say anything to Ja'nort.
With a languid wave, the man in the crown banished the noise as quickly as it started. "OF COURSE. MY WORD IS MY BOND. COME DOWN NOW, AND LET US BEGIN. I GROW...RESTLESS."
Jaņort straightened, and turned from the sight on the field. He would have walked off in the direction of the gates, but another sight stopped him. Beyond Bretonius, in the courtyard of the keep and along every available inch of parapet and wall, stood the rest of his beleaguered command. Even the wounded were there, some propped into a standing position. At some unseen command, every one of them rendered their commander a perfect salute.
Masking the emotions roiling in his breast, Ja'nort returned his men's salute, tears streaming down his cheeks. Straightening, he began to descend to the gates. Before he could move more than a foot or two, he felt Bretonius' hand pull him to a stop. Leaning close, the mage whispered into his friend's ear "Your son will one day know what you did here, today. I swear it."
Swallowing, Ja'nort resumed his slow, stately march to the gatehouse. Without looking back, he stepped through to the horde awaiting him. The exultant wailing and hissing that came back from the bloody grounds chilled every man there to the bone. When the bravest of them finally found the courage to venture to the gate, all of the unholy army had removed from the field. Bretonius was gone as well, though no one would notice for some time.
From The Histories of the Flannae, 2nd ed.
"...thus did the Commander of the Armies of Furyondi, Ja'nort, fulfill his bargain with the General of the Forces of Iuz. Giving himself into the hands of his enemies, his ability to withstand the soul-shattering tortures of Iuz himself delayed the final attack on Furyondi's northern border long enough to evacuate what remained of his decimated army. This would ultimately buy the Greyhawk Armies enough time to stop Iuz's forces along..."
Excerpt from a letter from Lord Ja'nort to his wife, Genevive.
"...will not be long. Even now, the last of my forces have withdrawn from the field of battle back into the keep. I see no alternative but to agree to the Dark Lord's demands. My only hope is that he will keep his side of the bargain.
Do not weep, my beloved wife. One day, we will be together again. I swear to you on the name of our son, I will return to you again..."
Excerpt from a letter from Lord Bretonius to The Council of Seven.
"Well, he's done it. The forces are withdrawing, and it looks as if we'll get away clean. I hate this. And right now, I hate myself even more. I hope you lot are happy."
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