THE PRICE OF VIGILANCE

by Maximillian von Fischgeist

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Prologue

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In a time forgotten, the bards sang the tragic tale of King Arkan, even then a legend already old, distant, chimerical. They sang of a noble sorcerer-king whose fabled lands came under the destructive shadow of the Force of Evil.

Arkan safeguarded his kingdom with protective magic and heroism on the field of battle. But the Evil would not relent, growing stronger as Arkan grew weaker. The war was long and grievous, and Arkan became an old man before his time, the years of ceaseless worry eroding his strength. He knew his kingdom would know no peace, that the Evil would engulf kingdoms beyond, if his life came to an end.

He appeared before his loyal subjects and promised he would ensure their safety until the end of time itself. Encouraged by their king’s confidence, they did not question that this promise would be fulfilled. For twelve weeks King Arkan did not sleep, for twelve days after he did not wake. When finally he rose from his dreams, he called together his council of sages and told them of his grave decision. Shocked, the sages pleaded with him to take some other course, but Arkan’s remaining days were not many, and he was resolved that only one entity in the Realm could grant him the power to keep the Evil at bay.

King Arkan focused the whole of his power to summon an audience with Him Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken. Some bards sang that Arkan offered his life, some that he offered his humanity, some that he offered his very soul. Many sang that whatever terrible sacrifice was demanded by the Nameless One was such that was unwise to ponder. But on one thing did they all agree - Arkan’s vigor was renewed, his power enhanced, his ability to drive away the Evil unchallenged. The Evil howled with impotent rage and vowed that Arkan and his kingdom would one day fall, but was forced to withdraw in bitter defeat.

Once again, the lands of King Arkan prospered, free of war and strife. The years stretched on and Arkan’s vigilant watch for the return of the Evil continued. He no longer slept, he no longer ate or drank, he no longer seemed to breathe. His closest friends, the people he loved and who loved him, his faithful advisors and noble courtiers, lived out their natural lives and died their natural deaths, and Arkan scarcely noticed. A generation passed, and Arkan scarcely noticed. New advisors came and went, the courtiers changed with the seasons, and Arkan scarcely noticed. The kingdom held less and less interest for him, filled with unfamiliar faces with petty dreams.

Whispers began to float on the winds: “How does King Arkan still live? His war with the Evil was won before the deaths of our great grandfathers. He is unnatural!” There were intrigues, and then uprisings, and then revolution. Arkan swatted these aside like flies. Eventually, the numbers of the people thinned, and then finally there was no one left but Arkan, all alone in his great kingdom, which slowly crumbled around him over the ages. Arkan scarcely noticed.

His vigilant watch for the return of the Evil ceased to matter. Utterly alone and tired of gazing out over a dead kingdom of decay and ruin, Arkan turned to his library, the most vast in all the Realm, but after centuries of study, he realized there was nothing more to learn. He burned his books in rage. Arkan turned his eyes to the stars, observing them, charting them, naming them, watching the cosmos swirl around him. But he found no wisdom and no comfort in the dark chaos beyond, and when even the stars themselves began to change, some sparking into life, some dimming into death, Arkan became frustrated and turned from the cosmos, focusing instead inward. But there he found nothing - no love, no care, no need, no want. And so, in empty despair, he finally gave up his last lingering hopes, and slept a dreamless sleep.

This is where the bards ended their songs. And they themselves lived their natural lives and died their natural deaths, and the legend of King Arkan was lost in the mists of forgotten time.

But one day, the Realm shifted. A growing anxiety rippled across the land with the appearance of a new presence - no, six new presences - and their enmity with the eternally brooding Force of Evil.

King Arkan awoke; he stirred. And the Realm stirred with him...