Saga of 5 Ages: The 12 Rings of the Emperor - Tales 1 & 2
The Magistrate - Chapter 5

T he magistrate was dying.

Not of disease, not of infection, not of injury. The magistrate was dying simply of old age and, quite possibly, a broken heart. He had lost his emperor, perhaps to betrayal. He had lost his empire, the place he had served and called home for over half a century. And, most poignantly, he had lost so many friends and companions who had thrown in their lot with him as he pursued his quest to seek the cause of the fall of Diathilos. Now, he had but a few cryptic answers to show for his suffering and the suffering of those who had followed him. His burden was heavy and his guilt was overwhelming. He barely spoke to those around him any more, scarcely able to look them in the eyes. He simply mumbled to himself as he continued to scribble in his journal, examining the clues and analyzing their meanings. This search for answers was all he had left. It was the only thing keeping him alive and he was determined to replace meaning in it all.

But each day became more difficult. After the encounter with the dragon, Quintus and Jiya, with Falanx in tow, had run off to replace Naleth and Captain Petronus in a desperate attempt to warn them to stay hidden. They knew they couldn’t outrun the dragon, but they made haste all the same. Fortunately, they had found the two of them, along with the captain’s last remaining soldier, unharmed. Naleth’s party had actually been on its way back to warn Quintus of the dragon’s approach. There was a tearful reunion and a quick ceremony for the dead soldier before they headed back towards the mountainous terrain of the Imperial Range.

That had been the last day that Quintus was able to walk.

Either the strain of the encounter or the subsequent running had been too much for the magistrate’s failing body. Luckily, Captain Petronus and his soldier were able to scavenge some wood and boards to create a makeshift litter for the old judge. From then on, they carried Quintus in as dignified a manner as they could manage. Once they reached the relative safety of the towering cliffs, the true struggle began. Quintus had become a liability. Should the party come across another dangerous foe, they would be unable to run or hide. Plus, Naleth had come all this way, to the other side of the fallen empire to replace his family and he had not even been able to penetrate the outskirts of Tar Kezra where they - and he - had once lived. The party was also dangerously low on food. And what of the magistrate? It would be totally unacceptable to Naleth to bury him out here in the devastation of the D’losian wilderness when the time came. And the quest? Would they continue after his passing?

“We must go to Baltriss,” stated Naleth in a hushed tone, away from Jiya and the magistrate.

“Why Baltriss?” asked Dorian. “I do not like the idea of marching into Kalistad any more than I like the idea of staying here.”

“Baltriss is the nearest city,” clarified Naleth. “It is the only place we will be able to replace food and care for the magistrate.”

“Perhaps,” responded the captain, “but safety is another matter. Have you forgotten that the Emperor D’kovna conscripts all manner of humanoids and foul beasts for his army?”

“I know,” said Naleth somberly, “I remember my lessons.”

“And that is assuming we can navigate these mountains and replace an unguarded pass from which to enter Kalistad without being captured or killed by overzealous border guards.”

“I know,” repeated Naleth.

“Not to mention the fact that we still have to carry the magistrate and hunt for food on our way to Baltriss.”

“If I had my wish I would carry him all the way back to Thir Adha so he could at least die in peace near his own home!” spat Naleth. “But we dont have the time and neither does he.”

“What about your family?” asked Dorian. “Dont you want to keep searching for them?”

“My family is dead,” said Naleth flatly. “Or they escaped to Baltriss. Either way, everything we need is there. We have no other choice.”

Captain Petronus sighed. He knew the boy was right, though he could hardly call Naleth Orie a boy any more. Not only was Naleth married but he had matured so much in the space of a year that he barely recognized the young lad. Naleth had lost his family and was near to losing his mentor. He had fought against man and beast with fervor despite the fact that he no longer had a home. Though Dorian Petronus was older and more experienced, he felt that Naleth was in charge of the party moreso than himself. The boy would have quite an impressive destiny ahead of him once this was all over. The captain saw strength in the young man, more than he had seen in some of his own soldiers. But it was more akin to a strength of character than a strength of body or battle. Indeed, this one had learned his lessons well from the old judge and he would no doubt become a leader of men in one form or another.

“The twelve rings of the emperor!” Quintus suddenly blurted out.

Naleth came to the side of the magistrate who was lying down on the stretcher. Naleth was worried about him since his speech had become more disjointed lately. His mind was going, as well as his body, and there was no way to stop it. Jiya brought him some water and Falanx nuzzled the magistrate’s hand.

“You must remember, Naleth,” wheezed Quintus, “The twelve rings of the emperor.”

“I dont understand, sir,” said Naleth.

“There was magic involved,” responded the magistrate, “They all disappeared at once. Together.”

Naleth looked at Quintus with puzzlement and sympathy.

“See here,” said Quintus as he opened his journal and pointed to several drawings. “These are their sigils. One for each member of the Emperor’s Inner Circle.”

Naleth studied the rough sketches. They made no sense to him.

“We must replace these rings and these sigils,” explained Quintus, “Only then will the emperor return and the empire be restored!”

“But sir, we have no idea where these rings are,” said Naleth. “They could be anywhere.”

“Ah, my boy, we need not replace them all,” assured Quintus, “we need only replace one of them, for that one will lead us to the others if they are not indeed nearby.”

Jiya gave Naleth a sidelong glance, but he didn’t catch it. She was worried for her husband and didnt like to see him suffer as he watched his mentor’s faculties slowly begin to fade. She was even more worried that he was still buying into the old man’s crazy words. Jiya wrestled with her emotions; should she take Naleth away from this ludicrous search once the magistrate was gone? Or should she allow him to see it through and support him in his quest? Once the old man died the decision would likely be made for her. She held her tongue for now.

“We should be on our way,” said Naleth, standing. “Captain, help me carry the magistrate.”

Dorian lifted the front end of the litter as Naleth supported the back. Falanx and the soldier took the point, scouting ahead as far as possible, all the while heading in a northeasterly direction, again into the mountains and out of Diathilos.

“What is Kalistad like?” asked Jiya, walking beside the ailing judge, keeping an eye on his condition. Captain Petronus started to answer but Quintus cut him off.

“It is a cold and barren place, my dear, filled with icy tundras and colossal glaciers. The climate is harsh all year round, and yet, this is where human civilization began.”

“What do you mean?” inquired Jiya, genuinely interested, never having had historical lessons.

“All of our race came from Kalistad,” explained Quintus. “From there, we migrated and sought out more hospitable places to live. And thus Diathilos was founded.”

“The dothiks and the ethulin were around long before we were,” put in Naleth, having a bit of knowledge on the subject.

“Emperor D’Kovna was not happy about the settlers that emigrated,” continued Quintus. “To this day, he still resents those of us from Diathilos, and Gylanth as well.”

“Why would he hold that against us?” asked Jiya. “If Kalistad is that bad of a place to live, why would he force us to stay? Why would he stay himself?”

“Power, my dear,” answered Quintus. “An empire without populace has no power at all.”

“And that’s why he recruits sub-humans to fill his ranks,” added Dorian. “They are easier to control.”

“Yes, power,” confirmed Quintus, “Power...” The magistrate paused in deep thought. Jiya looked at him as he bounced along, trying to make sure that he wasn’t dying before her eyes.

“We should go to Baltriss,” said Quintus at length. “We may replace answers there.”

“We are, sir,” responded Naleth.

“Excellent,” said Quintus. “You are wise beyond your years, boy.”

Naleth should have smiled at the compliment, but didn’t. In a way, he wished he was still innocent and naive, and not carrying his mentor and friend to his final resting place in a harsh, foreign land.

The party trudged on.

Three days in and they had run out of food. As they rose in elevation, patches of snow began to appear, so at least they had water. However, the altitude brought a new problem: cold. The party had precious little in the way of winter clothing, despite the fact that winter was still 2 months away. Most of it went to the magistrate, in an attempt to keep him as warm as possible and extend his life for just a few more days.

But they were all tired. Lack of food begat a lack of energy and so their pace slowed. None of them had ever attempted a crossing in this part of the Imperial Range, thus they had no idea where they were nor how far they had to go. The grimness of their situation set in; were the last true citizens and patriots of the empire of Diathilos about to expire? Their numbness stemmed from more than just the frigid air.

The soldier-turned-scout came running back stiffly, followed by a yapping Falanx. Captain Petronus readied his lance, sure that trouble was close behind.

“Sir, the city is in sight!” reported the soldier through chattering teeth.

“But?” prompted Petronus pessimistically.

“But it is still a day’s journey,” said the soldier.

“And?” asked Petronus, still waiting for the bad news.

“And there are guards at the foot of this hill,” confirmed the soldier. “Only two, but they are either large ogres or small giants.”

“Any way around?” prodded Petronus.

“Perhaps, but there may be picket troops as well.”

As Petronus predicted. The gods were proceeding to put every possible obstacle in their way, as if their journey hadn’t been difficult enough. To go back meant certain death by the elements or starvation. To proceed forward meant engaging a superior foe and risk being captured or killed. The party had the numbers but the enemy had the strength, something they were sorely lacking at the moment.

“We go forward,” mumbled the magistrate weakly.

“Sir?” questioned Petronus.

“We negotiate with them, as civilized beings.”

“Sir, I doubt that they are willing to listen to reason,” responded Dorian. “I also doubt that their orders include escorting desperate strangers to the capital.”

“Diplomacy will not fail us,” stated the magistrate.

“Sir, I am no diplomat,” explained Petronus. “I cannot--”

“I am still a magistrate of the empire of Diathilos and I will be accorded my right to speak as ambassador of that state!”

The reply was surprisingly strong. Here before them was an old, dying man who no longer had the strength to walk, who would likely not live to see another sunrise. And yet he shamed them all with his resolve, his strength of purpose, his pride and his nobility. They were taken aback by his sudden outburst, but its power gave them strength in return.

“We go forward,” stated Naleth, repeating the magistrate’s words.

The look in Dorian’s eyes spoke volumes, but all he said was “As you wish.”

The party trudged on.

Strangely, the encounter with the ogres was brief and without bloodshed. Naleth spoke, then Quintus spoke. The guards looked at each other, then beckoned for the party to follow them. It was an odd reaction, almost as if the ogres had been expecting them. The guards showed no signs of hostility or duplicity as they made their way towards Baltriss, which sat on the distant, glistening tundra like a great, dark corpse, blackened by the passage of time and the enigmatic power that its tyranny still held.

The party was silent for the most part, as they journeyed on, unsure what to make of the situation. They were ready for anything yet had little choice but to trust and follow their sub-human guides. As the sun set, the ogres made camp with a roaring fire, obviously unafraid of interlopers. The party felt invigorated by the warmth but the real comfort came when the ogres offered them dried meat and strange tubers. The food, though cold and uncooked, was like a banquet to them. They ate ravenously, all except Quintus, who merely thanked his hosts for their hospitality.

Afterwards, Captain Petronus and his soldier both settled into a crouching position, desperately needing sleep but unwilling to trust the ogres wholly. The magistrate slept, his breathing shallow, as Jiya continued her death watch over him. Naleth merely stared into the fire while absently stroking Falanx’s fur.

The sun had scarcely risen when the ogres awakened the party with a loud grunt. They broke camp unceremoniously and once again headed towards the city.

The party trudged on.

The spires of Baltriss rose up out of the the tundra like huge, black stalagmites. They were tall, almost impossibly tall, and while they varied in size and shape, each was adorned with many spikes and other oddities that could not be made out at a distance. The walls were equally impressive and ominous; heavy blocks of black stone, also bristling with spikes and the corpses of those who had received punishment.

Upon entering the massive gates, the party was in awe not only of the grim gargantuan architecture but also of the mixture of races that milled about its streets; humans interacted with dothiks and gnomlin; sub-humans did business with demihumans; giants mingled with goblinoids and other strange beasts that seemed to just wander the city unattended.

“I-is the emperor a giant?” stammered Jiya.

“No,” answered Petronus quietly, “But he would like to convince others that he is.”

“Power...” wheezed Quintus.

Their ogre guides meandered through the crowds, paying little attention to whether the party was following or not. In truth, they could nothing else but continue onward. Those in the crowd eyed them, some suspiciously, some hungrily, but none made a threatening move. All the while they headed towards the central structure, the grandest of buildings that could be none other than the imperial palace.

“Captain, something’s happening up ahead,” said the soldier nervously.

Petronus tried to glance past the ogres and through the eclectic crowd but saw nothing. Then Naleth noticed that a hush had come over the throng of pedestrians. The ogres stepped aside and the party could see the crowd parting ahead. The scene became surreal as a figure, cloaked and hooded in black, approached them slowly and silently, as if gliding over the cobblestones. All of the gathered citizens of Baltriss bowed or averted their eyes as he passed, giving him ample space and deference.

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that this was Emperor D’Kovna, the tyrant of Kalistad.

But it was unlike anything that Naleth or Dorian had experienced; the emperor had no attendants and no bodyguards. He wore no jewelry nor bore any heraldry upon his robes. Though his face was partially obscured by the hood, it was obvious that he wore no crown. Yet none could deny the sheer awesome power that his mere presence projected to his subjects and to those around him.

Quintus, seemingly barely lucid, motioned to Jiya, “Help me, girl.”

With Dorian and Naleth still carrying the litter, Jiya eased Quintus up onto his side. Summoning every last ounce of strength he possessed, the old judge propped himself up on one elbow, trying to face the emperor with some semblance of dignity.

“I am magistrate Quintus Magellis Baelarico,” he began, trying not to let his voice waver, “I serve the people of the city of Thir Adha and the empire of Diathilos. I come as ambassador for Emperor Iandro and I would humbly request an audience with your Imperial Majesty.”

Quintus breathed in the chill air, his breath coming in short gasps now as all waited for Emperor D’Kovna to respond. The monarch said nothing at first; he scarcely moved. Naleth wondered if the emperor was considering the magistrate’s request. Captain Petronus prepared for the worst, as he anticipated the emperor’s order to seize the party. When the emperor did finally speak, his voice was like that of the Kalisian tundra he lorded over: cold and bereft of life.

“Diathilos is no more,” stated the figure in black.

“Indeed, your majesty,” responded Quintus, “And I seek the reasons why.”

Again, there was a long pause before the emperor spoke. “Join me and we shall speak on this.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” replied Quintus, lowering his eyes.

“These words are for you alone, magistrate.”

Quintus looked up as Dorian, Naleth and Jiya looked at each other worriedly. Naleth was well-trained in ettiquette and so said nothing to the emperor’s comment, but Captain Petronus was not so bound by protocol.

“We stay with the magistrate,” he said firmly.

The tension in the air suddenly multiplied as the eyes in the surrounding crowd went wide. A peculiar heat seemed to suddenly emanate from the nearby area. Was it coming from the emperor?

Quintus held up his hand. “I would ask that my companions be given food and shelter for the duration of our discourse.”

Another long, tense pause. “So be it,” came the monarch’s subtle proclamation.

“Your honor, I wouldn’t advise---” began Dorian.

“Magistrate, you shouldn’t---” cried Jiya.

“Sir, don’t---” objected Naleth.

Quintus silenced them all with a feeble gesture. “This is where my pursuit has led me. This is where I will finally learn the truth. I must take this step alone.”

“But, sir,” pined Naleth, “There’s no guarantee that...” He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the statement.

“Naleth is right, sir,” put in Dorian, “You cant expect to replace everything you’ve been looking for in one place.”

“We must have faith, my friends,” uttered Quintus, barely whispering. “We must all have faith. In the gods and in ourselves.” The magistrate nudged his ledger towards Naleth, being unable to lift it any longer. “I leave this to you, my boy.” Naleth gently grasped the tome, as if it were a priceless relic, the full meaning of the magistrate’s words not lost on him.

Sensing the scene was at an end, Emperor D’Kovna turned and proceeded to head back towards the palace, looking every bit like an avatar of Nilphus, the god of death, ushering them into the final darkness.

The party trudged on.

Jiya was chilled to the bone, despite the fact that the room was warm, though there was no apparent source of heat. She gripped Naleth’s arm as they sat together in the spartan quarters, his other hand holding onto Quintus’ book firmly. Though there was food present and hunger still gnawed at their insides, neither had eaten much. Nor had either of them spoken more than a few words since entering the foreboding palace. Falanx merely moped around, sensing the maudlin tone.

Captain Petronus and his last soldier were quartered next door, but they had been uncommunicative as well, no doubt exhausted from the journey and the day’s events. They waited for hours on end, not sleeping, not eating, just waiting for word from the magistrate.

When word finally did come, it came in written form. Captain Petronus gently knocked on the door and entered bearing a scroll that had been delivered to him by the castle’s sub-human guards. The seal was still unbroken, so it had not been read yet.

Naleth looked into Dorian’s eyes as the captain handed him the scroll; he appeared to have no clue as to the magistrate’s condition as yet. Naleth stared at the scroll for several minutes, not wanting to open it. Finally, he broke the seal and unfurled the scroll, reading it very slowly, feeling numb inside and out.

My dearest Naleth,

You have been my most faithful student, my most loyal companion, my most trusted friend. You are the last generation of the greatest empire that the world of Dreganos has ever known or will ever know. You carry within you not only the memories of great Diathilos, but the sense of pride and accomplishment that goes along with having been a part of that grandest pinnacle of civilization. It is your duty to pass along these things you have experienced to others so that the memory of great Diathilos is never lost. But there will be many questions regarding its demise and you must have definitive answers to give to those who inquire. And no matter what the truth turns out to be, whether bandits or magic or beasts, you must speak honestly of these events. You must always speak honestly, of all things. For you and I serve not only Diathilos but also the truth, and Amitar is an embodiment of that truth, and his justice will prevail in this as it has always. So you must go forward to seek that truth. But do not brush aside your bride, for she is strong and her strength will give you strength in the trials ahead. Captain Petronus will need no instruction in his duty to serve you. His loyalty can always be counted on. Above all, protect the book, for its information, as I have recorded it, cannot be duplicated. It holds vital clues --the only clues-- to the downfall of our beloved empire. If it is lost, then all hope of restoring the former glory of Diathilos, either in name or in structure, will be lost with it.

As I go now to my final rest, I implore you: replace the twelve rings of the emperor. Find them and you will forever bring honor to your name, as well as my own.

May Amitar guide your path and protect you from deceit. And may you always remember that I loved you as a son.

Quintus Magellis Baelarico

Magistrate of Thir Ahda

Servant of Diathilos

Devotee of Amitar

Naleth held the letter in his hand, staring blankly at the feebly scribbled words. Jiya and Dorian held their breath, anxiously waiting for him to speak, though they could guess the tone and intent of that letter simply by examining his demeanor.

It was Jiya who broke the silence first. “Naleth?”

Naleth said nothing.

Dorian knelt to look Naleth in the eye. “Sir, what do we do?”

Naleth returned that look, his eyes full of resolve. “We go forward. For the magistrate. For Diathilos. For Amitar.”

Captain Petronus nodded. “For the magistrate. And for Diathilos.”

Falanx barked his agreement.

Jiya stifled her sobs.

The party trudged on...