Dielo Prepares to Duel Cadelius

In this episode, Dielo is preparing for a duel to the death with Cadelius Strika, Duke of Strombran after a very heated argument. Dielo's religion was in question as was his loyalty to the realm. Dielo is old and has not dueled in years. Cadelius, by comparison, is much younger and is a very talented swordsman. Dielo knows that he is likely going to his death, but cannot allow the slight on his honor without saying or doing anything.

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Dielo dug around in a trunk on the equipment cart. It had been a very long time since he had needed his dueling sword. Perhaps Dietmund had stowed it in another chest. He rooted through a few more chests before his ire caught up with him.

"Dietmund!" he called out, "Where did you put my sword?!"

"My lord always has his sword with his things," the steward replied.

"Not my battle sword. That one is far too shiny for this occasion." Dielo grumbled. "I need my dueling sword. The old rapier in the black leather scabbard."

"Ah yes, of course. I will bring it right away. Does my lord wish it to be honed first?"

"NO! Its edge is sharp enough for the job."

Dietmund, alarmed by the strength of Dielo's tone regarding the sharpening and cleaning, scurried off. A few moments later, he returned, carrying an ancient-looking leather scabbard and baldric. The sable leather was scratched and worn, layers peeling in some places. It had silver fittings, but the silver was so tarnished, it was also black. When the steward handed it to his lord, Dielo grasped it with a tenderness that was suited to a mother holding her newborn babe. His aged eyes twinkled, as he slowly wrapped his fingers around the hilt.

The craftsmanship that had gone into this weapon was remarkable. The hilt itself was cast in the shape of an Upperfell Mountain Goat, its majestic curling horns the pommel. The years of rusting changed it from shining white steel to the reddish-brown color of a goat as well. The hand-protecting basket started with a basic design of parallel lines, over which was laid, in copper wire, a detailed map of the regions where Dielo grew up, stretching from Meldeen to Lurgrod. The copper had turned green over the years, so the map was still quite visible. Deep red garnets had originally been set on the map in the locations of cities, but they were now just empty settings. Slowly, reverently, Dielo pulled the weapon out of its sheath. The rust on the blade scraped a little on the way out. The sword had not been drawn in decades, and so the blade was not quite as rusted as the hilt, but it still showed signs of being very, very old. Dielo sighed softly, as though embracing an old friend that one had been separated from for a long time. Along the ricasso, the beginning of an engraving was still discernable under a thin layer of rust (for the engraving had been added decades after the sword was first forged). The entirety of it was not visible, but Dielo did not need to read it to know that it said "Dielo Filador, Seventh King of Redspan, coronated on this Seventeenth Day of March, 1007 by Shamus O'Shea, High Priest of Redspan and Duke of Sullenport. May Da Great Goat ever bless his reign." It was a relic of an age long-past and a realm long-dead, but the sword had proven itself a loyal companion over the years.

Dielo walked for miles until he found a secluded meadow in Anost. There he knelt in his ceremonial battledress, and, raising a tankard of the finest Sullenport Stout money could buy, offered a prayer to Da Great Goat. "Oh, Great Hairy and Smelly Goat," he called out. "For these past many years, I have ever been your servant and humble follower on Da Path. At dawn, I go to face one who would have your memory removed from the world. I know that your Goatliness need not be bothered with the troubles of man, and so I pray only that, should I fall, you remember your servant and lead him to Goatdom. And though they may scorn you, I pray that the lords of Strombran be ever blessed with plentiful ale and green fields, and may Rosegarden Guy ravish from behind any who would see an end to their dominion." As he finished, he took a swallow of the ale and poured the rest onto the soil, the traditional sacrifice to Da One. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he realized that this could well be his last offering to Da Great Goat. Standing up, he would have sworn he heard the gentle bleat of a goat, though his unit's riding goats were miles away, and the locals of Anost did not raise them.

Instilled with a new confidence that, live or die, he would find Goatdom, Dielo set off to begin herding his soldiers to Nazamaroth where, at dawn, he would meet Cadelius.