Epilogue Part 4 - The Oathbreakers
The Dawnguard was shattered, for they had broken their oaths. A knight was supposed to have honor, and the Dawngaurd was the purest a knight could ever imagine being. And yet, the Dawnguard, all of them, had forsaken their keep, Ritholon, the Fortress of Light. They were oathbreakers, all of them. Arnon sat on an old log, staring into the flames of his company's cookfire, a picked-over chicken bone in his hand. He had never been very pensive, but lately, he had become thoughtful when night reigned. What was a man without honor? The rest of his company stood nearby, bedrolls stretched out near the fire, keepsakes and supplies kept close by in their packs. They had left everything behind, wife, children, kin, and perhaps their honor. Arnon hadn’t entirely decided if every knight here could be blamed for it. One thing he knew for certain. He could find no honor in himself roaming the countryside like a pack of bandits. They unintentionally threw any town they came near into terror. They had accepted what they thought were gifts until they realized they were simply bribes to make them go away. They avoided castles and cities, and larger settlements whenever they could. They didn’t want trouble. They traveled slowly, the knights taking up odd jobs, chasing away bandits, and taking part in a few minor skirmishes between nobles. The Basthians were quarrelsome people and often took to settling disagreements with their swords. Arnon thought that was why they called themselves a republic, with kings being nominated and ratified by the cities. Although they never seemed to be able to do that without besieging and sacking a city or two. It was a perfect land for a mercenary, but Arnon was no mercenary. A shocking number, to Arnon at least, of knights had left the Dawngaurd and become mercenaries. There was no honor in that, in fact, it lessened a man’s honor to become a sell-sword. Still, hunger would drive a man to do almost anything. The stories had always said love was the most powerful emotion, and Arnon had once agreed with them until he had tasted hunger. Even now his stomach gnawed at him.
“High Captain,” Aedelon’s voice broke into his thoughts as Aedelon himself came closer to the firelight. The knights around them ceased eating, whittling, or merely staring off aimlessly into the darkness.
“High Captain of what?” Arnon said bitterly. Aedelon sighed and said nothing, as he looked around himself. “Look at us, Aedelon,” Arnon stood, his voice rising. “We have become like deer roaming in the wilderness. We have no home, no king, no honor. Our oaths have been broken.”
“Yet still, the sun rises,” Aedelon looked to the east, where the sky was gray. “We have not given up our honor Arnon.”
“We killed the king,” Arnon shouted. “We swore to protect him, and we allowed him to be slain.”
“Sometimes, doing the right thing is easy,” Aedelon said softly. “And sometimes, it can be hard to tell which is right and which is wrong. Oaths can be sworn for the wrong reasons, and then they become dishonorable. We are defined by the paths we take, not mere words.”
“But we killed him when he could do nothing,” Arnon turned, staring into the darkness with hate in his eyes. “How can you call that honorable?”
“I did what had to be done,” Aedelon’s voice came with weariness. “The king served himself, not Valos. He was corrupt, and he gathered corruption around like an untended wound gathers rot. He was tearing Arthlien apart.”
“But he wore the crown!” Arnon raged. “We swore to defend him with our very lives!”
“I always used to wonder what made a man worthy to be king,” Arnon looked to the sky, as orange, red, and pink light began to spill over it. “Was it his father’s honor, or his own? I do not wonder any longer.”
“We are starving,” Arnon turned and looked into Aedelon’s eyes. “The Dawnguard will die if we do not do something.”
“I know,” Aedelon whispered, tears springing from his eyes. “That is why I came.”
“Are we going to return?”
“No. I have found the Firstborn Paros told me to look for. The boy is with him. He is the one that was prophesied.”
Arnon drew in his breath. “The Secondborn has come? A new Soulkeeper?”
“Aye.”
There was silence as all the knights looked to their captains.
“Where is he?”
“North, he is in the north. In Elbanon.”
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