Exiled Family/Alex/The Fate of Widfara

Out of this world and zooming at a stupidly high speed through the uncharted racetracks of destiny, through which every thread intertwined with his own was another twist of fate. As he passed through Alex... or rather, his essence, for the body was by now long in the ground and lying cold... could see his most vivid memories... childhood, arguing with Widfara while Gorch had tried to calm them both down, with San watching from a distance always fighting with the other kids in the towns of Ejarr Puutl and responsible for not a few incidents there... His setting out into the world with a troop of archers and high hopes for the future... His declaration of the hero, charging unordered westwards only to be stopped dead in his tricks by the omen of the volcano, and the bad tidings... The founding and rise of the II... the assault on Ubent, charging forward and scattering the enemy with his cavalry units... and of course, finally his appointment as the general of Itorunt.

But there were the memories he was less proud of. His brothers betrayal of Itorunt, and the southern alliance as a whole stuck out. His inability to hunt down Widfara stung at his conscience and he knew that he had been partly responsible for not keeping a closer eye on Widfara.

Eventually the threads stopped, and the essence floated, perceiving a tunnel of some description. Irritated with his lack of bearings, Alex wished that the view was something corporeal only to be suddenly crashed into a solid world.

"What the..."

Standing himself up, and dusting himself down, Alex proceeded to advance towards a bright chamber... he had a sense that knowledge would be revealed there, though he knew not what...

Entering the bright room, he suddenly was disorientated. Staring around in confusion, he grasped his sword hilt.

"What is this place? Why am I here?"

A voice projected out of nowhere... and old voice, a wise voice, but with a definite undertone of malice and certainly not of a noble.

"Ah... Alex. the genius of the family, the one who would never do a thing to betray his honour or his realm... am I right?

But of course I am. Ah, memories. You would be looking for your brother, I suppose, to avenge whatever wrong he did to you? Hah."

Alex, at the mention of his brother, was instantly wary. Of course it was obvious what this unnamed spirit was referring to but Alex had not got to where he was without some grounding in the powers of deception.

"Who? Gorch?"

"Don't be stupid!" the voice sounded irritated. "You know who I mean. Ah, your poor, dead brother... Widfara?"

"Well you know it... not where is he!"

"Haha... so fleeting, the lives of mortals... a pity it was not his time to go just then. I suppose you don't know what happened to him then? While you were practically *celebrating* his death... what a pity. And you so renowned for your knowledge of the world."

The voice laughed again, and the malicious undercurrent became ever more clear.

"Here... take a look," the voice continued conversationally, "you might learn something of your "allies", as you consider them..."

Alex's view was suddenly filled with views from an external angle; he could only assume that there had been no way any human had seen this yet he appeared to be inside a memory.

The visions were all centered around Widfara... writing messages that were covertly sent to the north... a rogue assault on the city of Westmoor... and finally...

"This one you should find... *most* interesting" the voice whispered with barely disguised glee.

The view changed to a dark room. Only a few men were present, all weathered nobles with a haggard look on their face from long battles and stress from a siege that was going on.

In the middle of the table a crest of Oligarch was visible, near a map, and some discussions going on...

"Will you agree to do this? Both of you? This is the only way to ensure our legacy lives on. Operation Full coverage the first has been thwarted due to our southern base of operations being rumbled... but Al Mesomedia lives on. Can I count on your support?"

The other two men were silent, but nodding. The other spoke up, in a higher voice.

"Certainly I will agree... my home is here and I will not suffer it to fall so easily... but our newcomer... will he agree?"

The view turned on Widfara who looked up, smiling darkly.

"I am honoured." he said. "Now let the plans begin."

Alex withdrew from the vision, and looked confused. The voice took on a serious note, now treating him like a moron.

"So I suppose you are still wondering where he is?"

Alex, aghast at his failure to cover this contingency, nodded wordlessly.

The view changed... showing the region of Troyes, the place of many battles...

A procession was travelling through the lands, visible even from the clouds.

The view zoomed down upon some coffin bearers that were proceeding south. Suddenly the procession stopped... and then as they withdrew the coffin exploded. And out of it came an all too familiar figure... even if he was badly decomposed.

"Oh no." Alex was speechless, as he saw his dead brother come out of a coffin and start wreaking total destruction on his former cage, striking fear into the hearts of most of the attendants.

"Oh yes," the voice was saying, with a certain air of smug satisfaction, "well, I couldn't let a genuine prophet of Tor go unavenged now could I?"

Alex was more worried about what this meant for Widfara's plans... could it be that Widfara was really there for that reason?