A Debt of Honor

The Scales of War

“The Nentir Vale?!” Baharel Samash slammed his hands smartly, palms down, on the table in shock. “Why in Kord’s name would you want to go there?”

Krayt sat unmoving in the darkest corner of the great hall, his hood pulled over his head. He had not been home in years and what little comfort it once offered him was now replaced with an eerie unease.

“The order instructs it, brother. I need little other reason.”

“Bah! Nothing has happened there since the collapse of the Nerath Empire. It’s populated by farmers and woodcutters.” He shoved another forkful of meat into his mouth. “What could the order want there?”

“Answers.” Krayt snarled. “Word has made it to us that a Paladin Temple of Bahamut there has fallen to followers of Tiamat. There have been reports of dragons.”

“HA!” The Dragonborn let out a sharp laugh. “You should pay for more reliable informants. Trust me, if there were dragon’s in the Nentir Vale we would have heard about it. The time has come to stop this nonsense, Krayt. Stay with me, join the clan and ignite your brave dragonborn heart. You disgrace yourself slinking around with those cowards.”

“I can not stay, brother. I swore an oath and I will carry it out to my dying breath.”

“Enough!” Baharel sprung to his feet, sending his tin plate flying against the wall, scattering his dinner. “This is madness!! You never should have joined the order. They have stolen years of your life from you. And look at you now, a shadow of what once was. They are destroying you. Can you not see that?”

Krayt remained still. “I do what I must.”

Baharel’s shoulders loosened, as his head dropped he took in a deep breath. “I could always have you drafted.”

“You could try.” Krayt sneered “But Bahamut outranks anyone in your army.”

The siblings started at each other in silence, finding themselves once again at this same unending impasse.

“Well…I won’t go with you” Bahamel crossed his arms, putting his back to his older brother. “I won’t risk my commission.”

“Huh…” A smile cracked across Krayt’s face. If he knew one thing, it was which buttons to push to get what he wanted out of his younger brother. “NOW who’s the coward?”



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