749 BC Northern England
A father sat, dying upon his throne, unprepared to name his
successor and future king of the people. The eldest of the three, Rinehart
Blackbane swore claim to the throne, he being the stronger, older and more experienced
of the three in battle. His fighting arm was uncontested in the kingdom. The
second brother, Amon BarGrey, understanding his elders strength, conceded his
claim to the throne, knowing that single handedly he could not defeat his
brother. It would take time and planning to take what by intelligence, he
deemed his own.
The third brother, Aodhan Whitehand was like his elder in
strength, and though not as experienced in battle, felt that the kingdom should
be divided amongst them, and that together, with an alliance, they could defend
their rightful kingdoms.
But power is not shared lightly…
Before the king died, he called his three sons to him. “My sons, my sons, I soon go to meet the gods, and you are
left with my kingdom.” Aodhan and Rinehart smiled while Amon shrugged. “But
this kingdom shall not be given to one of you, but to the three, to Rinehart,
the north, to Amon, from western shore to eastern shore, to Aodhan, the south.
These three kingdoms will be unified equally by all three and you will be known
as the clan of the three brothers.” He motioned to a servant who stood vigil
next to his throne. The servant held a red pennant with three knots. “These
knots represent you and your kingdom. As long as you are unified, your success
will be limitless, but if one of you falls, then does the kingdom. Rule wisely.”
The debate concerning the successor was decided and the
three brothers accepted it graciously.
Two weeks after the kings funeral, the three brothers counseled
in their great hall about what portions of the castle would belong to whom,
what resources would be traded amongst the three new kingdoms and the division
of military to each kingdom.
As they were debating, and old sorcerer walked into their
hall. He was a short, scraggly man, with missing teeth and stiff tangled hair.
Rinehart stood and approached the man.
“What do you want? You were not invited to this council.”
“I may not have been invited by you, but I was invited.” Rinehart
looked at each of his brothers, who shook their heads, signaling that neither
of them had invited the man. “By your father…”
“But he has been dead two weeks. How is it he invited you.”
Both Amon and Aodhan shook their heads at each other smiled. Aodhan was the
first to speak up.
“He was invited to this council prior to our father’s
passing. He is meant to be here.”
Rinehart pretended to understand, but it was clear by his
blank expression that he failed to grasp his father’s foresight.
“Your father was blessed with a gift given to him from the
gods, one that I am going to pass to you three, and it shall be the last gift
that is ever given to this world.”
“And what is this gift sorcerer?” Amon asked skeptically.
“It is the power to control others. It was what gave your
father his overwhelming success in battle, and if used wisely, will defend your
kingdom from the many afflictions that are to come. But there is a choice within this gift. You
may choose to control another completely, or control a populous partially,
driving their desires, passions, and motives, but not their actions. Imagine
leading an entire army without fear.”
“I wish to control many,” Rinehart said.
“As do I,” Aodhan followed.
“And you Amon, what is your choice?” the sorcerer asked.
Amon smiled.
“I choose one.”
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