“I hear you have been eyeing folks for the role,” Oxen responded, “but what of the armor? Is their new garb being prepared? The armor we talked of? I would know its progress.”
“Slithzalien's smithies ring day and night with the sound of your armor being forged, King Oxen,” Salkar said. “In short order a transport will be arriving through our gates with it ready. It is stronger than any armor you have seen, I assure you, and if a fight breaks out the rebels will find a hard time of piercing it. This armor is forged in darkness with hatred at its core. My master has many prisoners in the north where he has taken refuge. Some of them are master armorers and these are who he has constructing the new knight's garb of Ganwin. Afterwards they will return to their cells.”
Oxen Mollish broke from these thoughts of Salkar. His mind returned to the task at hand. It was not known to him how long he had before day began to break. He continued into King Galfer's quarters.
The king was in a deep sleep. His dreams had been pleasant, but they turned now dark and terrible. It was as if a shadow lay over the man's mind, corrupting his thoughts. Visions of death and destruction filled his consciousness.
Oxen's final thoughts were, If I kill him the Weddir line is ended. The people may rise against me and tear me down. And the armor Salkar Stadeus promised me is still not within the walls of Ganwin yet. No, no I should not think these thoughts. I am becoming weak now that the moment is upon me. King Galfer Weddir, son to King Garwen, son to King Gallen must die. This is your end King Galfer. May it be swift and not filled with too much pain. Pulling out his long, shiny sword, the glint of silver reflecting the king's troubled expression, Oxen prepared for the attack. With one swift motion, he drove Deathbringer through the heart of the sleeping king. Deathbringer had taken its first victim from this earth.
The king's mouth shot open and he lay there in agony, his hand placed upon the wound. He was so young—far too young to die. Yet it did not matter to Oxen. Blood spilled, unhampered, down the sides of the bed, deep red stains forming upon the brilliant white sheets. Galfer had been slain and nothing could reverse it.
His last thoughts were of his people, of the boy he loved named Ing Roan who he had seen as a baby come into his town. Of the boy's mother Selenia Roan with her careful smile and blue eyes that matched his own. And of his relative in the east, King Heroi Smo who he hadn't seen for many fortnights. Heroi Smo, he thought, do not let my people be taken by this king-killer, this evil man. Save them, please. Galfer glimpsed the man for but a moment, but he recognized the face. It was not one of his own, it was the foreigner, Oxen Mollish from the north, the part of Eclestia that his father Garwen had spoken to him of. The shadow spreads in the north, Garwen had said, and it is a perilous place. I fear to speak too much of it for it troubles my heart. But the north of Eclestia is a foul region that has been long estranged from us. That is the far north I speak of, my son.
Mollish proceeded to leave the room. He turned around just before exiting, and gazed upon the king's helpless body, its life slowly draining from it with each passing second. Galfer’s eyes closed and he proceeded to enter another realm. That was all that Oxen needed to know. Looking at the portraits of former kings one last time, Oxen gazed upon the likeness of King Garwen. Your son is dead now and your line is ended. The last of your blood lies in the east a long way from here. The time of the Mollishs has come. I have taken what was stolen from me.
On his way out of the castle, as he shut the doors behind him, he noticed the guards were back at their posts, something that hadn't come to his mind in planning for his escape. I have killed one already, what does it matter if Deathbringer is coated with the blood of two more? With one powerful swing of his blade, he removed them of their heads. He put his sword back in its scabbard, where it would once again remain until it was needed.
The guards crumpled to the ground, leaving him uninhibited in his escape. Stepping over their fallen bodies, he made his way back to his home and the shadow that had poured over the town faded for the time being.
He had been successful. With the rise of the sun on the following day, events would be set into motion and he would soon find himself sitting at the throne, where King Galfer would no longer be seen. Never again would the townsfolk look upon the face of their late king.
The fell wind that blew in across the streets grew in intensity.
In short time, someone would come to find that the king no longer lived. The message would spread and soon all would be aware. The dark deed had been done, and its influence would travel like a virus. The intentions of the man who killed the king cannot be said, but the mystery would soon unravel, whether he just hungered for power,
