Looking out of his window, Veryacano stood alone in his chambers. Away from the others in a secluded corner, his chambers did not have much of a view. All he could see was the trees covering the cliffs of the valley. His room was not brightly lit, a few scattered candles around the room cast flickering light about. He turned about to face the door when two deep knocks was heard on the door.
‘‘Come in.’’ He said.
Door swung open and stern looking Daegond entered the room. His black swan surcoat was well maintained as always. He bore the badge of the Hammer, a black hammer upon anvil on a red field. His face was stone.
He snapped a casual salute. ‘‘My Lord. You sent for me?’’
Veryacano returned the salute lightly. He eyed the warrior for a moment. As he walked towards the chair behind his desk, he said, ‘‘Shut the door.’’
The table was covered with maps and lists and books. There was a single candle on one side of the table and a bottle of ink and quill on the other. When he placed one arm on the table, Daegond had closed the door and stood before him, waiting to hear what he had to say.
He looked tense. In truth, Hound of the Hammer was always tense. A life of fighting as a soldier had forged him into steel. Cold and ruthless. His hard temperament was not fitting the eldar of the vale. Many distasted his presence and only his brothers in arms seemed to enjoy his company.
Veryacano lifted his head and looked up at Daegond. The lord did not seem to be in a good mood. ‘‘I summoned you to talk about your misconduct at the tourney.’’
‘‘Misconduct?’’ Daegond tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. ‘‘Even though I had won, you disqualified me in my first fight and promoted everyone but me!’’ His voice was full of scorn and when he finished his sentence, he had gathered his brows.
Veryacano did not seem to be touched by that. Another would assume he would be angered at such words but he kept a serious face instead. He furrowed his brow replied in a calm voice. ‘‘You did not fight fair. I would expect better of you.’’ He looked at the warrior in disappointment.
Daegond had not missed that last look. It was obvious he was holding back his anger. Grinding his teeth, he started, ‘‘About rules of the fight, you said…’’
‘‘I said fight honorably.’’ Veryacano interrupted. Settling back in his chair he looked at him with questioning eyes and asked silently, ‘‘Did I not?’’
Daegond blasted out, ‘‘Everyone saw it! It was a fair fight and I had won!’’ He gestured aggressively with his hands.
Lord suddenly frowned, leaning forward he slammed his fist on the table, causing the ink bottle to fall down the table, spilling the dark blue ink all over the wooden floor. Paying no mind to that, he barked loudly, ‘‘I decide who wins. It was an unarmed fight but as soon as your nose was bloodied you grabbed your weapon.’’ His eyes were fixed on the warrior.
Just as Daegond opened his mouth to answer he continued, ‘‘I have tolerated your lack of discipline long enough but my patience is over.’’ In a stern voice he continued, ‘‘I am pulling you out of first company of the Hammer.’’
The warrior’s face turned red. ‘‘You cannot separate me from my brothers in arms because of a simple tourney fight!’’ His face was bitter.
‘‘I just did.’’
Daegond did not seem intimidated but worried instead. Openly shouting he replied, ‘‘My brothers, they will not stand for it!’’
Veryacano placed both hands on the table and rose to his feet. His voice bore no doubt. ‘‘I give the orders here, only I. And when I say you won’t fight in my unit, so it will be.’’
Daegond clenched his fists to his side and hissed, ‘‘No. You cannot make me do this.’’
Veryacano was truly out of patience and he locked his eyes on the warrior and he stirred. As he paced towards Daegond with tall steps, he stepped on the fallen ink bottle and it cracked to pieces under his stout weight.
Now the Lord towered over the warrior. He was taller than him and he looked down on Daegond. In thrusting words he said, ‘‘I am Master of the Hammer and Successor to your lord. Are you disobeying me?’’
Daegond grunted in contempt. He had mutiny in his eyes.
‘‘Very well..’’ Veryacano said, ripping the Hammer Order badge and the Swan locket from his uniform.
‘‘Daegond the Hound, Thou art exiled. Be gone!’’
Daegond’s eyes opened wide and fury was in them. He spoke bitter words from his broken heart, ‘‘I have always fought for the glory of our people and our house. I have given up everything for it. Is this how you reward me?’’
Veryacano raised his chin and narrowed his eyes, but said naught.
After a long pause ‘‘So be it…’’ Daegond said, and stormed out of the room.
Veryacano watched him leave and sat back down in his chair. Long he sat there staring at the broken pieces of the ink bottle, brooding in dark thought. It was not only the ink bottle that was shattered, but also something else. A brotherhood.
