Erik and Arven

‘Come students, gather around the fire,’ the old Gnome declared. ‘It is time for a bit of history.’ He warmed his hands at the circular firepit in the centre of the orphanage’s classroom. Stone seats ringed the pit, two or three rows deep, and the children gathered slowly to find their place. The students were familiar with the old Gnome, but he mostly came to teach them their letters. He didn’t usually tell stories. The quizzical looks on their faces spread from child to child, until Tinkerbury himself noticed.
‘Don’t dilly dally,’ he chastised as the few stragglers finally found their way. ‘I know I don’t usually tell stories, but your teacher had to step away for a little bit, and asked if I could entertain you. And entertain you I shall, or I am not Tinkerbury Hollowhand, master of letters, and scribe to the nobles and commoners alike.’ He waved his hand dramatically with a flourish and bowed low. A few of the children snickered, but quickly stopped with the fixed eye of the Gnome upon them. ‘Who here has heard of the Exemplars?’ he asked, looking around at a sea of raised hands. ‘Good, good.’ He smiled and paused for a second. ‘Now, who here has heard of the Guardians?’ Another sea of hands shot up into the air. ‘Excellent.’ He looked at the group gathered, before continuing. ‘Now… which one is better?’ he asked, waiting for the eventual argument that would ensue. He did not have to wait long. Rings of ‘the Exemplars are true heroes; they fight evil everywhere,’ to ‘without the Guardians who would protect us at home?’
Tink smiled again, knowing he at least had their attention. ‘Now hold on everyone, before this results in a fight, who has heard of Erik and Arven?’ A small number of hands hesitantly raised into the air. Tink pointed at Thomas, a stout lad, who was no more than 7 years of age. ‘Yes, go on,’ he gestured for the boy to speak.
‘Erik and Arven are the founders of the Guardians and the Exemplars,’ Thomas squeaked. When Tink indicated for more, Thomas continued, a bit more confident. ‘They were born in Essillion, and they were brothers…right?’ he trailed off, waiting for confirmation from his teacher.
Tink paused dramatically before continuing on. ‘You are correct Thomas! Good lad.’ Thomas smiled, puffing his chest out. ‘But there is much more.’ Now the children settled in to listen to the story of Erik and Arven, their attention fully fixed on the theatrical Gnome.
Erik and Arven were brothers born in Essillion nearly five hundred years after the Fractioning of Alucar, and the birth of Curceon. The orphanage they grew up in was modest, and while not cruel, did not always have enough food, beds, or clothes for each child. Erik and Arven shared everything. They were inseparable. Everywhere they went they were always together, sharing in the material things, as well as adventures. If one of them decided to leap off a bridge into the Dragonspine, the other was quickly following suit. The helpers at the orphanage would always worry about the two boys, but somehow they always came away relatively unscathed.
While life was not easy for the two boys, they believed in their hearts that the world was a good place and they wanted to be part of making it even better. Their spirits were high, their morals strong, and their sense of adventure and determination would see them through most challenges. As they grew older they would seek to right the wrongs of those around them, often getting beaten or thwarted in the process. It never deterred them though. Doing the right things was more important.
While in their teens, their deeds and reputation caught the eye of Curceon, the God of Duty, Loyalty, and Righteousness. Curceon would occasionally visit the orphanages to inspire the children there to hope, believe, and fight for what was right. On one of these visits he came upon a group of boys, bullying a younger kid. Before he could step in he noticed that Erik and Arven had intervened and protected the boy from being beaten. In the ensuing fight, both Erik and Arven were bloodied, bruised, and outnumbered, but they never backed down. Curceon could see in their eyes the will and determination of young men that would never waver. He smiled and approached the crowd. The bullies stopped dead in their tracks and immediately bowed down at Curceon’s approach. Erik and Arven, with their backs to Curceon, had no idea what was going on and they assumed they had finally won. Weakly they turned to each other and clasped hands in victory. Then they slowly turned to see their god standing proudly behind them. Their astonishment turned to piety and they bowed their heads and knelt before him. Taking advantage of the situation, Curceon tapped them both on the shoulder and pronounced them his squires, from this day forth. The crowd cheered, and the bullies dispersed, humiliated and scared.
Erik and Arven spent the next ten years training as hard as they could, traveling with their lord, and learning all they could from him. Their dedication to protecting people at home or abroad impressed Curceon and he would often bring them with him on his campaigns to fight evil throughout the Vale of Lutien. Eventually the brothers and their god became close friends, and Curceon relied on them for many things. Erik and Arven became Curceon’s right hand men, and they never backed down from a challenge.
Many wrongs were righted, and epic quests were embarked upon, and still Erik and Arven were always together, and at their lord’s side. However, this was about to change. One day Curceon learned of a great and evil sorcerer named Findel, who was amassing power near the borders of Azdurok and Aspenshield Forest. Rumours indicated that Findel had his eye to taking Essillion and subjugating the people under his rule. Curceon’s decision seemed obvious, but the situation was not so easy for the paladin. Pristell, the Goddess of Nobility, and Curceon’s wife, was about to give birth to their son. Coupled with that, his commitment to protecting the people of Essillion made his choice even harder. He needed to ride out and meet Findel head on, breaking his power and stopping the threat before it could overtake Essillion. The protection of his wife was also of utmost importance, and the choice was difficult indeed.
Curceon sought the advice of his friends, Erik and Arven, and shared his thoughts with them. While they both agreed that Findel needed to be stopped, Curceon could not be in two places at once. Curceon smiled and agreed. He asked the two brothers if they would be willing to choose who would stay and who would go with him? Both Erik and Arven saw the gravity in the situation and readily agreed, though they knew the decision would be very difficult. They spent the entire night debating who should stay and protect Pristell and who should go with their lord and defeat the evil that threatened them. To most the glory and honour of battle alongside their god would be paramount, and the knowledge that one of them might be a footnote in history was not something to look forward to. While those thoughts did dance across their minds, the real sadness came from the fact that they would be separated during this greatest of adventures.
Finally, Erik decided that he would be the one to stay and protect their lord’s pregnant wife. He was genuinely happy for Arven to gain the honour and glory that was sure to be his, and only wished that he could share it with him. He vowed to stand his post, never waver, and protect his charge at all costs. Curceon patted him on the shoulder and smiled a knowing smile, that spoke a thousand thanks. Curceon left an elite group of guards and protectors to guard the city, before Arven and he departed to the northeast.
Erik stood his post beside Pristell, never leaving her side unattended. For almost two weeks he guarded her, never once complaining about his duty. To pass the time Pristell would teach Erik history, politics, and they even played some games. For his part, Erik showed her more insight into what being a squire and a knight for ‘normal’ people was like. At the week’s end, the midwife came in and declared it was time, and ushered Erik out of the room. He stood his ground outside the door, hopeful that everything would be fine. As he was instructed, nobody was allowed entry, and he kept true to his word.
What nobody knew, however, was that Greegis, the god of greed and corruption, and hated enemy of Curceon, had orchestrated the whole Findel event. He had gifted the sorcerer with some of his power, and set in motion a plan to lure out Curceon and his followers. Greegis planned on stealing their newborn child in the chaos.
With Curceon gone, and only Erik left behind to guard Pristell, Greegis took this time to strike. He approached the door in the guise of a handmaiden, ready to charm his way into the room. Erik simply stood his ground and with simple politeness declared, ‘I’m sorry ma’am, but none may enter until the Lady Pristell has given birth.’ Greegis, in the form of the handmaiden smiled and tried to charm Erik with a spell, to move aside. Confident in his godlike powers, Greegis assumed it had worked and Erik simply repeated the phrase, ‘I’m sorry ma’am, but none may enter until the Lady Pristell has given birth.’ Greegis retreated in defeat.
Not one to give up so easily, Greegis returned a few hours later, in the form of a beautiful lady. She seductively approached Erik, attempting to seduce him into leaving his post. Erik rebuffed her advances, and simply responded, 'I’m sorry ma’am, but none may enter until Lady Pristell has given birth.’
Taking a different tack, Greegis returned a few hours later in the guise of the King of Essillion, and demanded that Erik let him in to see Pristell. Erik responded with, ‘I’m sorry my King, but none may enter until Lady Pristell has given birth.’ Enraged, Greegis threatened treason if he didn’t move aside and Erik responded as he always did.
Greegis could not contain his anger and the image of the king faded away, leaving Greegis in his true form, a weasel-like man with greasy hair, wiry mustache, and beady eyes. Claws extended from his fingers and he lashed out at the guardian’s face, but Erik was too quick and blocked the attack with his halberd. Attack after attack came at Erik, but he never lost an inch of ground, and for two hours he stood there defending the Lady Pristell. Exhaustion threatened to overtake Erik but his will and determination to duty kept him fighting. Guards stood around, gasping in awe, and unable to move or help. Greegis tried everything to defeat Erik, until finally, the clarion sound of trumpets signaled the return of Curceon to Essillion. Greegis, panting and wheezing, sneered at Erik, ‘you may have won this battle Guardian, but I will have my revenge.’ He then leapt out the window and disappeared into the night air.
Shortly after Curceon and Arven arrived on the scene, only to see Erik fall to the ground, exhaustion finally overtaking him, but his grip on his halberd never loosened. Curceon and Arven approached quickly and Erik croaked out one final time, ‘I’m sorry, but none may enter until the Lady Pristell has given birth.’ Just before consciousness left him, his eyes focused on his lord in recognition, and a weak smile came across his face. ‘Your wife is safe my lord.’ Unconsciousness took him and Erik slumped into his waiting brother’s arms.
Erik awoke in bed, a few days later, to see his brother waiting at his bedside, for Erik to rise. Joy and relief spread across both of their faces, as they hugged each other. Erik related the story to Arven, who was greatly impressed, and extremely proud. ‘Enough of that,’ Erik said definitively, ‘I want to hear about your adventures’. Arven proceeded to tell Erik what had transpired in his journey with Curceon.
Tinkerbury stood up and stretched, leaving his seat, and moving toward the table of refreshments. A commotion erupted from the children. ‘You’re not leaving are you?’ some asked. ‘You can’t stop now!’ others declared.
‘I’m just getting a drink, children. No need to get upset. I did promise you the story of Erik and Arven. There is still more to come.’ He slowly poured himself a drink of juice, taking his time to build up the drama. The children were almost frantic in their eagerness to hear the rest. Tink sat back down again and continued his tale, to the children’s relief.
As Curceon and Arven rode out, just the week prior, Arven was proud to be the one to go with their lord and friend. However, sadness still lay upon his heart at the thought of leaving his brother behind. During their travels Curceon would speak on noble actions, knightly duty, and bravery in the face of sure defeat. Arven would match Curceon story for story about Arven and Erik’s time in the orphanage. The journey was treacherous, and Findel laid many beasts and monstrosities in their path. The knights, Arven, and Curceon were able to defeat them all, with barely a loss, but not without it taking a great toll on their bodies. As they approached the tower that Findel had erected, Curceon and Arven lead the way, guiding the knights through the tower.
Fell beasts, traps, and magical threats harried the knights, until eventually it was only Curceon and Arven who made their way to the top of the tower, ready to face Findel at last. The knights below continued the fight, but their way was blocked, and the paladin and squire stood ready to do battle. A wicked smile crossed the face of Findel, a hatchet-faced man, covered in scars, and missing hair. Curceon approached, confident in his ability to defeat this hideous man. A black light flashed as Curceon approached and he suddenly faltered, shock and confusion on his face. He fell to one knee and then finally to the ground, as a large force behind Findel appeared from hidden recesses at the back of the room. ‘My lord Greegis wishes to thank you for joining us,’ Findel sneered mockingly. ‘He hopes you like his present,’ he said gesturing to the rune on the ground at Curceon’s feet, where the black light emanated. ‘He promises to take good care of your precious firstborn.’ He chuckled evilly, before sending his minions to finish off Curceon.
Arven looked around, saluted Findel with his blade and stood guard over Curceon, much as he did against the bullies on the day his lord and master made Arven and Erik his squire. Blade and spell stuck toward Curceon, hoping to defeat him in his weakened state, but Arven deflected all that came near. Time and again they tried to finish off the weakened god, but Arven prevented any attack from striking. Soon the attackers began to focus their attention on Arven, and time started to take its toll on the exhausted squire. Small strikes would break through his defenses, and then more, but he refused to fall. He thought back to the conversations Curceon and he had shared, about knightly duty, compassion, and bravery in the face of sheer defeat. He continued to take blow after blow, until thirty minutes had passed. Bloody, barely able to stand, Arven refused to fall, and then the black light began to change. Slowly it turned to a soft light, and then a bright light, blinding the evil forces attacking them. A warmth overtook him, as the form of Curceon rose, a blazing light shining brightly. Arven stayed conscious long enough to see the fell sorcerer cut down.
Arven accepted his fate, as the many wounds he suffered began to take hold. He feared he would not survive this fight, but he was glad he was able to see his master and friend in all of his godly glory. His last thought, before succumbing to the darkness was of his brother, and the desire to see him again. When next he awoke, he was bandaged, healing, and riding on Curceon’s horse, racing toward Essillion. ‘I am well enough, my lord, to ride,’ Arven spoke, barely a whisper. ‘We must make haste to home, and I do not want to burden your mount.’ His voice became stronger and he mounted his own horse quickly and took up the hard pace along with the remaining knights.
They approached Essillion, the clarion call of trumpets greeting their arrival, but news of Erik’s battle had reached the gates and the guards there urged Curceon and Arven to make haste to their home. As they entered the hall to Pristell’s chambers, they saw a wiry figure dive out the window, and an injured and exhausted Erik begin to slump to the floor, his halberd gripped tightly in his hand.
Tink stopped his tale, took another sip of juice, and looked around. The children were enraptured, but then they realized he had stopped and started to get concerned that the story was over. ‘Wait,’ one finally managed to get out. ‘That’s not the end is it? What happened to Erik and Arven? Was the baby ok? Did they have more adventures? Greegis got punished right?’ Question after question bombarded Tink, as he knew it would. He paused, and then held up his hand. ‘Let me continue, and I will answer your questions.’
Erik and Arven finished telling their tales, each of them immensely proud of the other’s accomplishments. They decided that it was ok that they were separated, and that it was meant to be. The important thing is that they came back together. They were reunited by their devotion to each other, to their lord, master, and friend Curceon, and to the ideals of knightly duties. They vowed to never be apart in spirit, even if their physical bodies were separated from each other.
With their recovery complete, a great feast was held in their honour, as thanks for the duties they performed. Curceon and Pristell thanked them for not only fulfilling their duties as squires, but also as friends. In honour of their deeds, Curceon and Pristell agreed to name their son Eriken, after the two greatest knights they knew. The two brothers were very proud, but it took a beat before they realized he said ‘knights’. Curceon looked at Pristell, holding their newborn son, and smiled warmly. ‘Take a knee,’ he simply said. The two brothers immediately bent down, their heads low, and accepted the honour of their god knighting them.
Curceon tapped Erik on the shoulders first, ‘I dub thee Erik the Guardian, First Commander and leader of the Guardians of Essillion. Do you accept the duties and oaths of your station?’ Erik smiled broadly, and nodded his response. ‘I do, my lord,’ he replied. ‘Then rise, Guardian, as a Knight of Essillion.’ Erik rose, and stood near to Pristell, who smiled with gratitude at her faithful protector.
Curceon tapped Arven’s shoulders next. ‘I dub thee Arven the Exemplar, Protector of the Lands and People, and Beacon of Hope. Do you accept the duties and oaths of your station?’ Arven suppressed a smile and a laugh, before answering, ‘of course, my lord, I am honoured.’ Curceon gave him a wink, ‘then rise, Exemplar, as a Knight of Essillion.’ Arven rose, and stood near Curceon. The crowd erupted in cheer and applause. Arven and Erik grasped each other’s hands in a shake, and then hugged each other warmly.
After the feast, Curceon and Pristell approached the two brothers together. They had another task for them, and one that required their special touch. It was the wish of both Curceon and Pristell, that both Arven and Erik would teach the ways of being a knight to their son, when the time was right.
‘And that is what they did. Erik and Arven, the founders of the Guardians and Exemplars, taught the god-child Eriken how to be the best version of a knight he could be.’ Tink stopped finally, before adding. ‘Okay, now I am done.’
‘But Master Hollowhand, how come the Guardians and Exemplars don’t always get along now?’ asked Thomas. If they were both brothers, aren’t they still?
Tink thought about it for a second, and asked Thomas a question. ‘Thomas, you have a brother, right?’ Thomas nodded, almost annoyed. ‘You sometimes fight, right?’ He nodded again, this time more definitively. ‘But he’s still your brother, and you are both family. You don’t have to agree all the time, but you will always be family. So it is with the Guardians and the Exemplars.' The old gnome slowly rose from his seat, dusted off his trousers, and put his glasses away.
'Now, time is up. I have some work back at the shop.'