Champion of a Lost Cause

The northern road winds beside a neglected imperial waystation. Twelve soldiers saddle horses and load pack wagons while High Marshal High Marshal stands beside Numet, his silver jaw catching the weak dawn.

Syr Veyr leaves the abandoned lodge behind and approaches across the frost-dark grass. He raises one hand toward the waiting column, his expression resigned but wary.

The soldiers turn as one, hands settling on spear shafts and sword hilts. High Marshal lifts his armored hand before panic becomes violence, keeping Numet close at his side.

The column obeys, though the soldiers remain poised around the wagons. High Marshal’s gaze fixes on Effruin, guarded and searching, while Syr Veyr stands aside beneath the gray dawn.

Effruin stops before the waiting column and unfastens the borrowed imperial coat. He lets it slide from his shoulders onto the frost-dark grass, then removes the helmet and sets it beside the coat.

The disguise falls away completely, exposing his drow features, missing arm, monk’s clothing, and the scars marking him as an escaped slave. Those scars make the soldiers’ contempt immediate, but they do not command his posture.

For an instant, the old pressure of collars and commands catches in Effruin’s breath. His fury steadies him, denying the family-shaped obedience that once taught him to bow.

He places the helmet atop the coat and steps clear of both. The Willpower that carried him through bondage holds firm now, while his status as a slave turns every watching stare into contempt he refuses to answer.

The soldiers keep their weapons ready but do not advance. Numet watches Effruin with troubled attention, while Syr Veyr lowers his hand and leaves the revealed fugitive to face High Marshal openly.

The words leave Effruin quietly, though honestly. Effruin is reminded of his travels and companionship with Grahamin, despite his rivalry.

Numet hesitates, troubled, but Grahamin’s command sends him after Syr Veyr toward the waystation’s far side. With that, the son is removed from view.

The Chimera Hide Wineskin steadies Effruin’s breathing with liquor and alchemical heat. Vengeance’s Mark fixes on Grahamin, while Resists Blood Ties strips the old bond of every claim; his intent stands clear, and Grahamin steps away from the column.

Effruin leaves Neglected Imperial Waystation behind and arrives at Dimension of pure darkness.

The shadow sphere opens without light or sound. Darkness folds around Effruin and Grahamin, carrying them beyond the wagons, the road, and every watching eye.

They stand upon a level surface that feels like cold stone, though no horizon, ceiling, or wall exists. Pure darkness presses close, swallowing distance and muffling the world beyond it.

The sphere hangs above Effruin’s remaining hand, its black surface now threaded with dim violet fractures. A narrow circle of darkness surrounds the two duelists, sealing them away from escape or interruption.

Grahamin draws his weapon and settles into a guarded stance. The enchanted silver of his lower jaw catches the sphere’s faint violet glow, while his attention remains fixed on Effruin alone.

The sphere’s extra gift reveals itself: within this sealed darkness, sound and motion do not travel beyond the realm. No witness will see the final duel, and no command will summon aid. Effruin and Grahamin are truly alone.