Prologue

The sky was alive with a sunset that no artist could capture with a canvas. Fiero was setting in the western horizon. The sky was colorfully ignited with every hue from the brightest yellow, most passionate red, and the deepest purple. It was a magnificent sight.

Too bad we’re going east, Leonardo thought bitterly.

A gentle breeze waltzed through the air and made the blades of lush, green grass sway and dance with a rustle, over the rolling hills of the kingdom of Azur’nth. Wild, white dandelions swirled through the air moving in perfect time with the wind.

Leonardo and Oran proceeded eastward on foot, with their backs to the sunset. They could not have asked for a better day to return home. In the distance, still several miles away, the Narblan River awaited them. Another day’s travel east was the Vernadi: headquarters of the Church in the kingdom of Azur’nth.

These men were rough, rugged and weary from travel. They were unshaven, and unkempt, sunburned, and weather-worn. They had to move at a grueling pace for they were likely pursued. It was a wonder they had not been caught and recaptured. Were it not for their vigor and stubborn determination to live, they would almost welcome death after what they had been through.

Leonardo would have to stay hidden. He would be branded as a deserter or heretic. He had done his duty as a soldier; he had protected his liege with his blood, sweat, and tears fighting for the Church. He had given four long years of his life waging a war he did not agree with. Now that he knew the truth behind the conspiracy, he could never return. The Church would have him killed quietly and pass him off as another casualty of war.

After Leonardo was certain his friend would arrive safely at the Vernadi, they would part ways forever. He would never be able to return to his life as long as the Church was the highest law of the land. He would have to start a new life—become someone else—Leonardo would be no more.

It’s not so bad, he thought to himself.

He glanced at Oran. He looked as exhausted as Leonardo felt. Oran would be able to return. Open arms would be awaiting him, celebrating his return even though he also knew what the Church was really up to. He knew the true nature behind the Ysaht people, and the reason why Sanctus Dei crusaded against them. The difference between the two of them was position. Leonardo was a soldier; Oran was a clergyman, but he was more than just any clergyman. He was the High Cleric of Yaru and son of Archbishop Vinigo Delrose, who presided over the entire kingdom of Azur’nth. He would be trusted to keep the evils of the Church secret; Leonardo would not.

Leonardo knew Oran would say nothing about what had happened while they were prisoners in Ysaht. Still, he could trust his friend to lie for him and say he was dead so that Sanctus Dei would not come after him or those he loved. He wanted to forget everything and run away, but everything he knew and believed about right and wrong told him he should proclaim the truth from the mountaintops, expose the Church’s conspiracy for the fraudulent war for greed and personal gain it was. He let out a heavy sigh of disappointment in himself. The same apathy he wanted to see cured was the very disease that afflicted him to silence. He knew the war was not his fault, but to know the truth and say nothing was cowardice.

He continued eastward, determined to put Ysaht and Sanctus Dei behind him forever. Let someone else be brave. Let someone else oppose the Church. He was firm in his decision. He hung his head in sorrow the rest of the way to the Narblan River.

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

—Edmund Burke