“Father, I could—”

“You went to my nobles behind my back! You think yourself above me!” “No, Father. I would never do anything that displeased you—” “But, Gavril,” the king interrupted angrily, “you already have. During my absence you have walked perilously close to both heresy and treason. I believe it is all because of this accursed sword.”

“No,” Gavril whispered, staring at his father in horror. He reached out. “Please forgive me. I will put Tanengard away, lock it away, and I will not use it until I face the forces of darkness.”

“What?!”

“Father, you don’t understand. In the uplands, where the Nonkind roam and attack, there is need of weapons such as these. When men of other lands use them they do not become tainted. I swear to you that I will put Tanengard away and use it only if I cross the Charva to—to defeat the enemies of Mandria.” The king’s eyes narrowed. “You mean, when you cross the Charva to attack Klad.”

“No!”

“I know your ambitions. You want conquest, my son. You are content with nothing I have offered you. You are greedy and ambitious.” The king shook his head. “Do you honestly expect me to believe these feeble assurances you offer? This sword will fester you and corrupt you further. No matter what you claim, I do not think you can withstand its temptations.”

“I can. I can,” Gavril said desperately. He took a step forward. “Please, sire, have mercy. I know your heart is kind and just.”

Verence’s face twisted with pain. “Mercy? Aye, that will I grant you.”

Holding Tanengard, he strode over to the church and climbed its crumbling steps.  Gavril watched his father without comprehension, but Dain suddenly jumped off his horse.