General Volk suddenly sat up in his bed as someone knocked on the door. He was sure he had only closed his eyes for a second, but he must have fallen asleep. Looking out of the window he saw it was already dawn and he cursed quietly. Before he could reach for his sword Erin’s voice came from the other side and he relaxed. “Your …” she began, as if to search for an appropriate title to address him with. Volk stood up and he felt the pain in his shoulder even stronger than before. “Come in” he said and Erin cautiously opened the door just enough for her masked head to peek in. “‘Sir’ would be sufficient by the way” he added with a smile and beckoned her inside. As she opened the door fully she started to fumble with her hands in her deep pockets, eventually producing a keyring with three keys, one large and two smaller ones. “The keys to your room your … sir, ” Erin managed to stutter. The general took the keyring with a nod and hung it on his belt. He couldn’t sense any magic coming from the metal of the keys, which were probably made out of simple iron by the looks of it. Easy enough to copy with what he had in his trunk he thought.
She also handed him a leather scroll, secured with a brass clasp. As he took them Erin tucked her hands into her sleeves and waited. The general could see her wringing her hands, unsure what to do next. “Thank you Erin, that would be all. Would you be so kind as to fetch and accompany me to the kitchen at noon? I would appreciate something other than dried rations while I am here.” Erin nodded and he could sense her relief as he gave her something to do. “Of course sir, I will return at the noon bell.” She bowed and left, closing the door behind her. Volk locked the door and the one leading to the hall from the storage room. Then he slumped down at the writing desk. He had hoped to get a little more rest after yesterday’s events, but there is nothing to be done about that now.
He thought of the healer’s advice and opened the leather scroll. It contained several sheets of parchment with some barely legible scribbles and a lot of ink blots. Whoever wrote those lines has either been in a hurry or quite mad, maybe a little of both. Laying out the parchments on the desk he counted five pages and one caught his attention immediately. A faint aura of magic emanated from one paragraph that was different from the others. The script was neat and if the change hadn’t started mid-sentence the general might have believed it had been another person who had written this. Holding the parchment up against the light also revealed a faint golden glow visible to the naked eye, if you knew what to look for. This was indeed a document worth looking at. Still, the words were so small that the general couldn’t make them out clearly.
He hated the fact that his eyesight had deteriorated over the last months to a point where he had to use a reading aid. He only did so when nobody was looking though so that no one could question his abilities to lead more than they already did. Reaching for a small metal tube on this belt he pulled out a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. The gold hadn’t been necessary in his personal opinion, but it was a gift from a very generous and capable dwarven jewelsmith and he appreciated the compact design those expensive materials made possible. Putting the delicate frame on his nose he tried again to decipher the text. The magic in the crystal lenses enhanced the magic glow to a point where all the general could see was an almost blinding golden light. Whispering the words of deactivation the glow subsided and the script slowly came into focus. The ink was a dark brown, almost red, and the general had a feeling that it might have been blood. He would have to test his theory on another parchment later. As he read the paragraph he could almost hear a voice reading it out to him, getting louder with each word:
“In a time of conflict the voice of the Creator will descend from the realm of gods. It will be born by one who isn’t what they were born to be. It will command all who hear it and bring peace to mind and land. Those who are firm in their belief will find meaning in their own actions. Those who doubt will find purpose in giving themselves over to the voice. For those who try to use the voice for their own gain it will turn into a scream that shatters their spirit and tears their souls asunder, never to be claimed by the Creator again.”
The general’s hands shivered as he removed his spectacles and put them back into the tube. He quickly rolled up the parchments and put them in a drawer hoping that would silence the echo of the voice. It did not. On weak legs he went over to his trunk and searched for his flask. He hadn’t had a drink in months, being on the battlefield most of the time, but this was definitely an occasion to have one. Taking a quick sip he sat down on the bed again, legs shaking. As the strong liquor burned down his throat it also calmed him. Another sip and the shaking in his hands and legs stopped. “Have you come across this before?” he asked into the room. “No, sir, ” came a deep voice from the direction of the door. A vaguely human form, flickering in the air like heat haze, went over to the desk and became slightly more corporeal with each step. Reaching with one hand for the drawer it recoiled as a bright light started to shine through the cracks in the wood. “There is very powerful magic at work, you should be very cautious handling this text, sir, “ the figure said before dissipating again. “Not as easy as I might have thought, indeed.” the general said with a deep sigh, taking another sip from his flask.
