Knights of Tafos

You are a squire to a dead knight - as were your father and grandmother before you. Today, for the first time in generations, the councilors reached an agreement - the invaders cannot be reasoned with; unseal the tombs.

Foreword: Once again, a piece inspired by r/WritingPrompts on Reddit.

Ours is a solemn duty. We serve a lineage that ended generations ago, but the oaths our ancestors swore generations ago still carry weight. Though many of our family leave to find a life apart from the duty, they always return in the end, to see that our sacred tasks are still done. Over the ages, we have become the keepers of memory, not just of our fallen patrons, but of the kingdom's old traditions.

Of course, ours is a kingdom in name only. The sovereign is a figurehead, with nominal power granted them by the Royal Council, themselves advised and guided by the Electorate, as old traditions give way to new ways, but families such as ours have always maintained the old ways, because we know the day will come when they will be needed. 

We have never been conquered. In days of old, our armies were a force to be reckoned with, trained to exacting and harsh standards, able to stand up to the greatest of foes, led by the Knights of Tafos. A solitary Knight was capable of slaying a score of men single-handedly in scarcely the time to speak of their capability. A battalion of them could defeat an army. The Tafosi Knights were the reason our kingdom rose above the others. None could overcome them.

As time passed, other means of influence and power rose to eclipse that martial might. Diplomacy and economics replaced knights and armies. Our military shrank in size, though still maintained its strict training regimen. The knightly lineages all passed into history, leaving only families like ours to remember them. And still the kingdom stood, for none would risk the instability of an economic collapse if they tried to move upon us. Such was the influence our kingdom held on the world markets.

Until now, at least.

A warlock had breached the veil and called forth a vast demon army, and nations had fallen to their march. What did demons care for commerce, when all they wanted was blood? What good would diplomacy do, when there were no words that could sway them?

I knew the day would come when we were needed. I had already dressed accordingly, the mantle draped over my shoulders, the staff of office gripped in my hand as I opened the door and coolly regarded the person on the other side. "Councilor," I greeted him.

"Madame Sexton," he bowed his head. "I had hoped a day like this might never come."

"If I recall correctly," I felt my lips twitch in a smirk, "you didn't hope. You told me it would never happen."

He had the good grace to flush with embarrassment, bowing lower. "I did say that. I was most unkind in the things I said about you, and your family."

"Me and mine have endured such ridicule and scorn for generations," I raised a hand and bid him rise. "We overlook such things, but to mock and demean the memory of House Tafos is something else entirely."

The councilor took a deep breath, but then squared his shoulders. "All attempts at forestalling the invaders have failed. The time has come. The Council and Sovereign are of one mind. Madame Sexton, unseal the tombs."

I nodded slowly, then turned and walked down the hall, beckoning him to follow. Down into the basement of the manor, and then down further still, into hewn stone passageways, lighting the torches as I went, murmuring the words of our vows and oaths as I went. The councilor was silent, though I could feel his urge to speak growing. Whenever I heard an intake of breath and the beginnings of a vocalization, I raised a finger to silence him and continued onward. He at least recognized that this was not a time or place for empty words.

At last we came to the end of the walk, into a vast chamber with only a solitary brazier awaiting us. I waited until the councilor caught up, and then clapped the end of my staff on the stone floor. Once, twice, three times, and the ancient witchlights flared to life, allowing us both to see the enormous space, with all of the stone-wrought tombs facing outward. "Behold, Councilor. This has been in the care of my family since before my grandmother's grandmother's grandmother. Welcome to the Crypt of House Tafos."

Each tomb's slab had been shaped to show the likeness of its occupant. Adorned in armor, the sigil of their families carved exactingly. Once, long ago, precious metals had been filigreed into the stone, and these had been looked after even in the lean times, when such gold and silver and platinum might have been worth so much. To take these from our charges would have been unthinkable.

The councilor was sweating, even in this cool chamber. "What do we need to--?"

"Sh-h-h," I raised a finger again, then walked to the brazier. With my free hand, I reached into the pouch on my belt, drawing out a handful of powder, casting it into the flames, which flared blue, then green, then white. My eyes squinted against the heat, lifting my voice. "Noble Knights of Tafos, remember your oaths, and heed my words! Your kingdom calls upon you in its time of need!"

The tombs shook, the grind of stone on stone filling the air as the first slab swung ponderously open. An armored figure emerged into the pale light, gleaming where cobwebs did not hang. Two pale blue eyes glowed from within the helm as it turned to regard us, and it walked over to the brazier. Even with the light of the flames directly in front of it, the helm's interior remained in shadow. The colors of the Knight's family still vibrant, the sigil shining on the plate.

I dropped to a knee, bowing my head, clasping my fist over my heart. "My Lord Sathin, it is this one's honest pleasure to serve." Beside me, the councilor belatedly dropped to a knee and shakily lowered his gaze under the Knight's glare.

"Who are you, child?" The Knight's voice echoed from his helm, addressing me. "I do not recognize you."

"I am Wren Magest, daughter of Corbin Magest, son of Magret Archone, last of her line."

Sir Sathin's gaze seemed to look into the air. "As in Raven Archone?"

"Your last squire in your living days," I confirmed. "It has been many, many generations since then, my Lord."

I did not need to lift my gaze to see the councilor gawping as more Knights emerged from their tombs, forming ranks behind Sir Sathin. All still wearing their helms, each one lit from within by two glowing eyelights.

Sathin looked down at me again. "Has the kingdom e'er fallen?" 

"We have never been conquered." To my surprise, this came from the councilor, who had lowered his gaze again. "Even after the need for knights ended, the kingdom has stood proud."

The Knights turned their gazes to him as one. He blanched, but his voice was firm. "I have not been kind in the words I've used about you and yours, milord. But I am honorable enough to admit I was wrong to say them, and acknowledge our need. The kingdom needs you."

"So say we all," I intoned.

"We will never forsake our oaths. So long as the kingdom stands, we will e'er serve." Sir Sathin turned to the ranks behind him. "House Tafos!" His voice bellowing to his comrades. "We march to war!"

And the roar that came back thundered off the walls. "VAE VICTIS!"