The Phantom and the Citadel

Below is the second in a series of reports to Emperor Vesper Zuilkaarme on the strange happenings that occurred throughout Lucardia around the time of Prince Koen the Gray’s disappearance. You can read more about that disappearance here. This is an account from Grand Master Terrick of the Knights of Norn.

To His Most Illustrious Emperor, Lord of Lucardia, Keeper of the Twelve Thrones, and Father of the Realm,

By my oath as Grand Master of Norn and Warden of Your Majesty’s sacred guard, I place this report in Your august hands. It concerns a brightening of stormy skies at the Citadel and the restoration of order, for which we lamented the last time we spoke. I know your heart has been heavy with the disappearance of your son, so I hope I bring you a bit of good news.

As Your Imperial Majesty surely recalls, when I departed the citadel to be graced by your audience, Norn was troubled by what could only be called a haunting. The presence—known among the brothers as the Phantom of Norn—had vexed the citadel for months. Men vanished from their posts, whispers carried through the training halls, and even the seasoned instructors, men who were with us in the darkest times of the war, confessed unease. Though the Knights of Norn are not given to superstition, the shadow had rooted itself so deeply in the catacombs that the barracks emptied by nightfall, and the river camps became our only safe quarters. Discipline waned, and I left with a heavy heart, fearing the institution’s spirit might fracture entirely.

Upon my return, I was pleasantly surprised to find the fortress had changed. The Phantom, whose manifestations had turned even our bravest knights pale, was gone. The air that had been thick with dread was clean again, as if the very stones had exhaled. I at once summoned Commander Doran, whose courage and loyalty are beyond reproach, to account for what had transpired in my absence.

Before I had departed on my journey to Highwater, and while Swordmaster Eronius and I pored over the maps of the Northlands in search of clues to the whereabouts of your son, there arrived at my door two strangers: a girl, not yet grown, and a young man she named as her uncle. Their clothes were travel-worn, their speech foreign, and their purpose unclear. They sought my audience and offered to help in the matter of the Phantom, news of which had embarrassingly escaped the Citadel’s walls. They demanded no coin and claimed only to have been “led by voices of the unseen.” At first, I refused them, but when the girl convinced me of her power and named the dead in my past one by one—their ranks, their deeds, and the prayers last spoken over them—I permitted them passage to the catacombs led by Commander Doran.

That evening, the trio descended into the sub-vaults where the haunt had been strongest. For several hours, all within the citadel was quiet. What transpired in the depths of the old burial places of the realm’s enemies is not easy to explain, especially with my pen and not that of Commander Doran’s, but that will be difficult now, for the commander himself did not emerge from those trials unscathed. He was left crippled, his right arm shorn clean off at the elbow. He lives and bears his loss with stoic grace, declaring he would “trade both arms for the silence now restored.” I have taken care of his needs personally. The men speak his name with reverence, and his valor has rekindled the order’s spirit. The Phantom is gone, and the walls returned to their cold silence. As for the two strangers? They lived by their word. They asked for no coin, no recompense at all. They simply rode south into the unknown.

The effects upon morale have been nothing short of miraculous. Those who once shunned the barracks have returned within the walls. The clang of steel now rings from dawn till dusk, and the younglings, once timid as hares, meet their instructors’ gaze without flinching. The citadel’s forges burn through the night. The river camps stand empty, save for a few patrols. After long months of fear, poor discipline, and lost purpose, all have been restored.

To mark this renewal, and to correct the delay the haunting caused in our sacred charge, I have decreed that the Examinations of Merit shall be advanced. The tests will proceed at double pace to ensure that Your Majesty’s levies of knights are met in full and on schedule. Those who have survived their long apprenticeships in the swamps—the proving grounds of pestilence and endurance that shape all who aspire to the Mantle—are now recalled to Norn. They will demonstrate, before the masters and before the altar of the Sword and Sun, the strength and skill earned in their years of trial. The best among them, I am confident, will more than equal the worthiest knights of past generations.

In truth, Your Imperial Majesty, I believe we stand on the verge of a golden cohort. Some of these boys have been tempered by hardship beyond design—hunger, disease, the endless gray of the swamps. They have wrestled with their mortality and found it wanting. I dare to say they are among the finest the swamps have ever yielded. I foresee in them a renewal not only of Norn’s discipline but of Lucardia’s strength.

Concerning the mysterious pair who rid us of the Phantom: they vanished back into the good graces from which they sprung. Commander Doran claims the girl looked back only once, before disappearing from sight. I have ordered no pursuit. If she serves a power beyond our comprehension, it is not ours to command. Let it suffice that her intervention has delivered Your Imperial Majesty’s citadel from desecration.

I must also humbly acknowledge the grace Your Imperial Majesty showed in granting me audience amid such pressing imperial matters. Your words regarding Prince Koen remain ever in my thoughts. I have discreetly inquired among the border captains and Nornish detachments returning from Blackdown. Though none can yet speak with certainty of the prince’s fate, I have renewed the search among the veterans stationed along the frontier. Should any trace or testimony arise, it will reach Your Imperial Majesty first through my seal.

For now, Norn stands steadfast. The citadel breathes again, its halls no longer haunted by fear but resounding with prayer and purpose. The Knights of Norn renew their vows to Your Imperial Majesty and to Lucardia. Our forges blaze, our blades are true, and our loyalty unshaken. The levies will be fulfilled, and from the mire of the swamps and the fire of these examinations shall emerge knights worthy of bearing the light of Norn beneath Your Majesty’s banner.

By my hand and seal, under the sigil of the White Mantle,
Grand Master Terrick
Knight of Norn, Keeper of the Citadel,
Servant of the Emperor and the Realm.

For those who have read Koen: Quills from the Raven’s Nest, the mystery behind this report is known. I hope you enjoyed the different lens. For those who haven’t yet delved into the pages of my newest novel, here is another crumb I hope you follow.

Cheers!