The Consequences of My Dearest Beliefs

[Titania]

In the dark of night, as shadows wax and the sun fades, a message finds itself posted upon the front of Ymirholl. It is written in flowing script, vibrantly and carefully drawn together by one who has likely spent a fair bit of time of their skills in calligraphy. It is planted on the door with a single nail, and upon it, reads thus:

Old friend. Old enemy. Bartholomew Wilkins. Inheritor of Jokul. True Giant. Lord of the Sundered Enclave.

I, Ysayl dul Vique, lastborne of my line, Knight Umbra of Aphros, challenge you. Once before, we dueled, when you questioned my competence long ago, when both of us were but nascent magi. Such a distant memory, and yet so much has happened since, hasn't it?

Now comes something far better to test ourselves upon. Something far more worthy than a mere personal insult. We will battle for our ideals.

You would bring peace, to Meranthe, at the cost of war. I ask you now, to raise your steel and harden your heart, and fight to prove you have the strength to do so. Prove to me that your will is great enough, that your cause is righteous enough, that your soul is strong enough. Show me the conviction of the Heir of Jokul, the one who would uphold the will of Amier and unite the worshippers of the Pantheon.

As for me? I fight for what I stand for. My own beliefs. That of loyalty, for I am sworn to serve Aphros and the Oracle unto my dying breath, and I shan't ever dare break such a vow, even now. What good is ones' oath, if it breaks under the first true test of it? My honor and my dignity both would never allow me to turn my back to my home, when once before, when the Fel came to burn it, I was not yet strong enough, not enough a magi to even stand in its' defense.

You who holds the flame of light, I would match with my own, borne of shadow. Let us see whose burns hotter.

I challenge you, Bartholomew Wilkins, to an honor duel. We will meet at a neutral location, and we will fight until we can no longer.

Do not keep me waiting.

Ysayl dul Vique challenges Bartholomew Wilkins to a Deadly 3 duel.

[erside]

There is not much else to be seen other than a fiery gaze from the sky upon Aphros, from far away. A response perhaps, or perhaps a warning denoting the challenge's acceptance.

And so I look onwards and see a ghost show at my doorstep. Someone I thought long gone from my life once more rises.

I, Bartomeus Wilkinsonn, last scholar of Jokul's teachings, Grandmaster of Many, and True Giant, accept your challenge. Spiteful as you are, I will battle you and showcase the difference between Divinity and shadow. You are admirable, but your very nature impedes your progress.

It is not I who waged war, and you are foolish to blame me for it. Peace will come through Meranthe, be it by my word or by the hand of those who wish it as well. Aphros is an unfortunate accident which could've been avoided, one that I tried to avoid. Should it not have been for the ones you call allies, it would've been avoided. Many have tested my conviction, and many have failed. I will never lay down and be your stepping stone.

Enarr will guide my fire, Ualdir will give me victory, Nemea will temper my will, Chireus will alight my flame, Athelios will cast his judgement, Aschea her mercy. May Vdali reign disaster upon you, Gala will see this battle through. May Mestra inspire your spirit in battle, and may Caius stave off our end for just a while longer.

Ymir Witnesses us, Shadowborn. But it is I who will shine brighter.

Old Enemy, Old Friend. I will measure how far you have grown, and if you have fallen from the pedestal I had once put you on.

We will meet in war.

Bartholomew Wilkins accepts Ysayl Dul Vique's challenge.
Date: Sunday, 7th of January.

[GSM]

"Bartholomew won't be making a show today.

I will.

x

I don't know much of this feud between you two, and frankly, I'd rather we don't have this conversation at all.

There's bigger problems on the horizon than what's basically a magi pissing contest.

Big man has bigger problems to solve, and as his chosen representative, as his Champion-

As the Arbiter of Ymirholl and as the scion of Chireus, blessed be his silvered wings of utmost radiance,

x

I, Shevaun Maroth, will fight in his stead.

Until we can no longer."

Shevaun stands in Bartholomew's stead, in his absence.

[Titania]

"He insults me in this way?"

"He dares name a champion without my permission, without informing me until the day of?"

"I cast no aspersions upon your honor, Shevaun, Imperfect-Slayer, noble warrior of Aegis. You answer where you were asked, and that I cannot begrudge you for. Where I cast aspersions towards is to Bartholomew Wilkins."

"The absolute gall of this man. 'Ualdir grant me victory'. 'We will meet in war'. 'It is I who will shine brighter'. And then he proceeds to name a champion without even bothering to tell me he was? Because he's busy, is that it? He chose the bloody date! Busy my orichalcum-forged arse."

"To give a little bit of context for you, Shevaun, for this is not your fight, and I regret that you have been dragged unto what should have been a meeting of two spirits, that we may better understand each other, and that I may decide if the path I am on is righteous-- Bartholomew Wilkins is someone I have feuded with and held some rivalry towards throughout most of my time on Meranthe. When Jokul marched on Unreality, I asked him to stand for his beliefs. When he insulted my competence, I challenged him to prove his words true. When he sought to intervene in the life of another, to stop them from making a decision that was rightfully theirs, I stopped him."

"When I forged the weapon Defiance, on Jokul's own anvil, swearing that I would follow the will of Athelios, no matter where it may lead, Bartholomew Wilkins was there. He paid attendance. He heard my vow."

"He does me the dishonor of calling a CHAMPION? I challenged him to this duel that he may show me the true mettle of his beliefs. I chose him to open my heart to, to give the opportunity to convince me of his views in the way we have for all of our time knowing each other. He answered with a letter clearly proclaiming he would be fighting me himself, and I have been preparing myself to reach out to Athelios, to listen to him and to my God, and decide based on our spat if the path I walk is righteous, or if there are truly better avenues for me."

"I suppose if he hasn't even the time for me, he's made clear enough that there was never any path for me but the one I walk. That my offer, my desire, the fullness of my heart being laid bare for him that he may show me the strength of spirit and the mettle of the Inheritor of Jokul, has gone unanswered. To that, Shevaun, I am sorry to inform you that there will be no bout."

"To Bartholomew Wilkins, however..."

"I hope that your descendants forget your name, you turgid mongrel. I hope that your gravestone is pissed on by a demon. I hope that you remember the day you fled the field against me every time you dare call yourself inheritor of Jokul. You are not even a sliver of the man who marched on Unreality because of a disagreement. You can't bring yourself to face ONE MAGE, who is OPENLY OFFERING to let you prove her wrong. I spit on your honor. I spit on your lineage. I spit on your every breath. You are a worm, unfit for the very equipment you bare, you yellow coward. You sit on a throne you do not deserve, and you have no right to call yourself anything more than a middling carpenter. You are an embarassment to giantkind, your honor is a joke, and any respect I had for you is now gone. May your name be used as an insult for generations to come. May your legacy be drowned."

"You insult the pantheon by daring to imply that you represent them. May Ualdir bring you destruction. May Nemea grant you no succor. May Athelios cast his judgement upon you. May Vdali render your name from history's weave that no other may ever need to know of the coward known as Bartholomew Wilkins."

"Athelios guide, Shevaun. May the righteous prevail in this war, for we will not meet in arms today."