Embrace, Outside the Brynhild capital.

"Aye! Gate Bearers!" The Gate Ringer, the man who kept watch atop the wall, screamed loudly while shaking a brass bell in one of his hands. From several sections of the wall came busting out with Gate Bearers, all fierce in appearance, with bows and quivers locked into the curves of their glove-covered fingers. Their faces were lined with grave worry and sanded down with urgency.

Armored men and women upon ironclad war horses had approached the gate. Their numbers were likely in the hundreds. They looked like soldiers and their colors were that of Ereignfall-red, blue, and white. The Gate Bearers took notice of that and even made out the sigil of the eagle which was being held by some of the soldiers. The distance from atop the wall to the ground was fairly large but the soldiers were shouting loudly, loudly enough for the Gate Bearers to hear. There was this panicky dread in their coarse yells. The men atop the wall understood that these were soldiers from Ereignfall but they were still very alarmed and skeptical due to the soldiers' frantic behaviors and appearances. They were wailing wildly like banshees, and their horses, which were drenched in blood and charred fur were spooked, could hardly stand still.

"Stop! Who dares approach the capital," the Gate Bearers shouted in unison to the soldiers down below.

"What business do you have for coming to the capital," a young-looking Gate Bearer shouted.

Some of the Gate Bearers were commenting on how foul the soldiers had appeared, some even mocking them for that very reason, saying that they looked like grizzled bears stuffed into padded leather armor.

"My Name Is Brais Bessarion! I am the chosen king of Ereignfall! Ally to the Menhara name! Son of Sir. Toryiant Bessarion IV! Lord of the August Hills and the rightfully named Iron King! And I am the man who will put my sword between your eyes if you do not open this damned gate!" It was clear to the Gate Bearers that this king was panicked, perhaps more so than the soldiers who rode beside him.

The Gate Bearers did not appreciate the king's unwarranted threat.

"Where is Sir. Arthur! I was told he was still a Gate Bearer upon the capital's wall! I wish to speak to someone with authority and sense," Brais yelled aloud.

"Who do you believe you are speaking to! If your intentions are to start conflict with us, then you are the one without sense, Iron King! !" One young Gate Bearer said, looking down upon the angry king.

The perplexed king looked down and sighed. He fixed his posture upon his black steed and said, "I did not mean to speak to you in such a way but there is a pressing matter! I just need to be let inside immediately to speak with the Emperor!"

Suddenly, through all of the chaos came a voice more commanding than all of the others. He walked to the edge of the wall and looked down at all the commotion. He was an elderly man with a uniform that was different from all the other Gate Bearers.

"Iron King! What business do you have to march so rudely upon my wall," the elderly man shouted!

"You have not been told? We sent three riders ahead of us to foretell of our arrival!"

"No such riders have come to our part of the wall and what were we supposed to be told of," the old Gate Bearer asked. "Begin to make sense, Iron King!"

Brais slowed down and collected his breath. He recognized the voice. He placed an arm above his eyes and tried to make out the figure who was speaking to him but there was a slight drizzle of rain that started recently so it was difficult but he could make out some of the old man's features and from there he began to speak. "You are Sir. Arthur Matthews, yes! My father served alongside side you for many years! He told me that you were an honorable and trustworthy man."

The old Gate Bearer nodded and shouted down to the Iron King that he was indeed Arthur Matthews. "Yes, I served many years with your father. He was a good man! But, that is not of consequence now and if you believe that is all that it will take to enter through my gates then your father must not have told you enough about me! You have yet to answer my question, Iron King, and my patience grows weary! Why have you come to the capital and why do your soldiers look as they do?"

"My soldiers have been riding from Ereignfall for the better part of two days now. There has been an attack on Arcadia and we have been riding for Brynhild ever since to warn the Emperor and declare martial law in the empire."

"What group of men were foolish enough to attempt an attack on Arcadia!"

"These were not men, Sir. Arthur...I do not know whether you will believe us or not but there is only truth and honor in my words. Arcadia, two nights past, was attacked by Deathknights!"

The Gate Bearers appeared startled. The mere mention of that word sent shivers down their spines.

"We rode in through the Colossal Snowpeak Woods and we met the Gate Bearers on the outer wall of Sindirin and we informed them of the same thing we are telling you now! If my words and honor are not enough, you can send a rider to the southern wall and confirm it although I do not suggest it. These Deathknights are more indeed real! They are large fiery beasts just like the legends said. I did not believe it myself...but it is happening! Some of my soldiers stayed with the Gate Bearers and are fighting alongside them as we speak, fighting tirelessly from having them advance further into the empire! Arcadia may be lost for now...but there is still a chance to save the lives of millions so now, please, I need to be let inside!"

Sir. Arthur was puzzled and perplexed. "Deathknights you say?" There was a worrisome dread now in his voice. "I do not doubt your honor, Bessarian. I will let you inside the gate. The Survivor's Day festival is being held all day within the Solstice Arena, that is where you will find Emperor Menhara."

Sir. Arthur suddenly called out for one of his Gate Bearers. "Silas, take two men with you and show the Iron King the path to the coliseum and try not to startle the voyagers!"

The young Gate Bearer, Silas, nodded and rushed down the wall as quickly as he could. He found two men and three horses and waited for the gate to be opened.

The Iron King nodded at Sir. Arthur, showing his gratitude. He smiled as he saw the gate being dragged open.

The soldiers stormed into the capital behind their king, the gate had not even opened fully yet. The several Gate Bearers who stood by the gate after pulling it open observed them as they made their way into the capital, stunned and in awe at the haunted expressions on the faces of some soldiers who were not wearing headgear.

They followed behind Silas and two other men.

One of the soldiers shouted at the Gate Bearers to seal the gates as he rode past.

An eternity seemingly passed as the soldiers rode fiercely through the many parts of the capital into the capital. Brais had spoken little to the Gate Bearers during the breadth of their journey to the citadel, his face was fuming with focus and determination, a searing passion that not even the growing rain and cold air of Sindirin could put out. The soldiers rode carefully past denizens who wandered the streets, some of them appeared drunk while others were simply gazing at the thousands of lanterns which still lingered high in the sky, beaming upon them fleeting warm light. Brais marveled at the beauty. It was like the dawn was lit up by one million fireflies.

But many of the lanterns were being put out by the rain which was growing heavier. The clouds were turning dark and the cold air was turning into mild winds. The men scampered, forcing their horses to travel even faster past the boulevard just as their leader had done.

The soldiers were hunched down with their chests pressed flat against their horses' backs, as they built their momentum. Time was briskly passing the men while they journeyed on past the communities of Brynhilld towards the large mound that housed the citadel. The sun was beginning to climax upon the lusty red horizon which radiated against the fading, dark, blue hues. The men, all after the other, formed linearly behind each other as they rode past the boulevard into the Lion Gate, the area of the capital where the wealthy commonly lived and the area that led directly to the center of the capital that was the citadel. Sounds of rigid hooves hurriedly incised against the mosaic patterned ground that flooded the pathways of wealthy Lion Gate section.

There stood tall Shyonninn monuments of the Gods in the forefronts of the pedestrians homes throughout this area. They marveled at the beauty of this community, though panicked. Their eyes, even in the wake of a travesty, could not even find the strength to resist tearing their attention from their duties toward admiring the vast artistry that encompassed this opulent neighborhood.

"The citadel is ahead!" Brais shouted while carefully looking up at the Opal Castle as their horses climbed the broad steps which led to the top of the hill.

Silas told Brais of the nearby areas where they could leave their horses, but Brais insisted that they were going to ride to the coliseum upon their horses.

"It will startle the people!" Silas argued.

"A hundred beaten down soldiers is more than enough to startle anyone. We are not leaving our horses! I want to startle them," Brais shouted as he and his soldiers journeyed up the hill, "I want them to be afraid of the terrors that lurk just beyond these walls. They need to be awake to what is happening!"

The weary soldiers were nearly all the to the top of the hill.

"We are nearly there!" Brais shouted, seeking to motivate his tired soldiers. Brais was tired himself. They had been traveling ever since the attack and had not had a lick of rest since.

Moving up past the last few steps of the hill, they found themselves at the entrance of the southern entrance of the grand, circular coliseum.

They arrived to find the patriarch himself, Emperor Alareiks Menhara, atop his balcony sitting upon his royal seat, the same chair that was used by all of the past emperors whenever they would witness events below in the theater. He roared with a balled fist and with eyes focused on the advent that was transpiring below him in the middle of the arena. His joyous applause was mimicked by his royal family and then ensued by the thunderous cheers from the many vibrant spectators who decided to stay despite looming weather.

There were men dueling in the middle of the arena, each bathed in blood and injury. Seventeen men lied on the coliseum ground, their bodies limp and lifeless. One was dead with no eyes left within the sockets. Another had only three appendages left, his bodily fluids pouring from his cavernous bruises which pertained a crimson sanguine texture. Their wounds seemed fresh and wet, but the climate was cold so their blood began to cruor as their motionless bodies hardened in the cold. A war scythe was lodged deep into a fallen foe's severed jugular. There were two men left standing, each with a weapon in hand.

Suddenly, anguish outcry resonated across the coliseum as one of the men was struck down by a rigid halberd. The halberd pierced the man's chest, shattering every bone and muscle it touched. He fell to the ground, blood leaking down to his numbed legs. The halberd was then lifted and up. With the halberd now raised high into the air, the wielder, Sindum, the monster of Horren, as many called him, roared victoriously. He stared at his fallen enemy, a sinister look in his eyes. He weighed over three hundred pounds and stood nearly seven feet tall. He was certainly monstrous, quite befitting of his name and reputation. He originated from the harshest shire of Thykran, infamously known to everyone as Horren.

As he was about to impale the fallen man's skull, he screamed, "Conqueror's day, indeed" in that rough monstrous voice of his.

"Enough!" Brais Bessarion roared so loudly that everyone in the large arena looked to see who had roared so powerfully as a lion. His eyes widened in disgust by the display of inhumanity.

"Is this what the men of the Ereignfall empire have been fighting for? This is how we honor our ancestors who died trying to make this empire great? Is this what mankind has been rendered to?" The Iron King screamed angrily, his rosy-pale complexion burning red.

Brais while accompanied by his men, walked out from the entrance and into the coliseum floor. He worked his way further through the arena, keeping his distance from Sindum who stood as a beast eying the brave king. Sindum drove the halbert through the throat of the dying man then removed the weapon. He watched Brais and the soldiers, he too was keeping his distance.

"To think mankind could plummet so low...how many mistakes must we make to finally achieve what we are all looking to find? War and bloodshed are not meant to be sport! We soldiers do what we do not because we want to, it is because we have to! Freedom has a cost and that cost is sometimes war but we soldiers know to keep that on the battlefield not bring it into our homes! My father had made that clear when he pushed for the outlaw of this evil sport!"

The crowd began to censure the king of Ereignfall with uproarious and contemptuous shouts. They hurled whatever was in their hands that they deemed trash in the direction of the angry king, none fell upon him, however.

Brais Bessarion's eyes began to water as he looked up to the monarch that he served. "This is your value of life?" Though his eyes were teary, there was a spark of passion bright enough not to be extinguished by the building of briny tears.

Alareiks Menhara rose from his throne with a look of complacency and shouted back to the king of Ereignfall, "Why have you entered this far into my lands, Iron King? To mock the wishes of the one god or just to continue to shame the Menhara name as you have grown good at it, seems you have gotten it from your father! Oh, fault."

"Even the Thykran empire is withheld from such barbarity since I had last visited! You are throwing away invaluable human lives! What is the meaning of this, Emperor?" Brais yelled as he rode closer.

"You ask me the meaning of this? Why the true god Oseraphime demands we commemorate his glories, this is what distances us from demise, not your soldiers nor these walls!"

"Oseraphime? Is this the new god you burden yourself by worshipping? What happened to the old gods you always used to worship? Nevermind that! Where was your god when our empire was on the brink of civil war four years ago, nine years ago, thirty-seven years ago? It was the people who risked their lives to build these walls that you so easily mock which kept us safe! It was the people who rode out for days who helped ease the tension between the countries, not your god! So why would we ever need to pray to imaginary beings? We take matters into our own hands, that is the true and only way! We are our own gods!" Brais responded angrily and boldly.

"Imaginary being? Our own gods?" Alareiks said coldly.

"You've seemed to have forgotten your sense back in Ereignfall, Bessarion! Your father forgot where he stood and you do remember what happened to him, don't you. Yes, I'm sure you remember quite well. And these so-called precious human lives are no more than vicious killers, irredeemable criminals, and thieves! They are mere gladiators! People who have forfeited their rights to be called humans the moment they decided to sin against the true God and commit crimes upon the righteous. Each would have tried murdering you if they had the opportunity. So, to pay for their wicked choices, they give back to us by putting on a show not just for us, but for the glorious Sun God above. Maybe you need a brief reminder of what happens when you oppose a Menhara?"

Brais stood in disgust, balling his leather-covered fists tightly as the air flowed briskly around the pensive atmosphere. The crowd began to settle as the emperor's echoing voice died into silence.

Brais' first lieutenant, Amos Mander, a beautifully composed gift wrapped in bronze skin, sensing the rising escalation of their conversation, approached Brais and whispered in his ear, "There is still the matter of the Deathknights, sir."

"Damn, this headstrong bastard nearly made me forget of it," Brais released under his breath while he motioned his head away from his lieutenant and back to the direction of the emperor who sat high up above in his balcony.

Brais glared up into the decrepit eyes of his emperor, "That will not be necessary. I salute the Menhara name and whichever god or gods you so wish to worship and I mean that with my most sincere apologies, but I haven't hastened for miles from Ereignfall to shame the Menhara name!"

"Then why have you come to my empire?" Alareiks challenged him sharply.

"To warn you," Brais yelled, sighing soon afterward, his face slowly tilting further upward toward the weeping sky.

"Of?" Alareiks Menhara asked loudly, becoming impatient.

"DEATHKNIGHTS!" Brais's husky voice echoed far into the heavens and was soon ensued by a thunderous gasp and outright panic from the crowd.