Gilnean Moon (Prologue)
Return to board index
“We are here today to honor the memories of Lord Viktor Jeret and Lady Anna Jeret,” the aged Bishop Leonard Balthazar spoke aloud, ignoring the heavy droplets of rain that fell upon him, “both of whom were noble souls that always sought the best for Gilneas and its people. For years dating back to the time of King Archibald Greymane himself, the family of Jeret has aided royal and common folk alike. With their help, Gilneas and its people have known pride and prosperity. They were some of the noblest souls ever to walk Azeroth’s lands, and shall never be forgotten.” He turned around and placed his hand on the two sealed coffins behind him, the assembled people bowing their heads in prayer as the Bishop said his blessing. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, Light to Light.”
His words spoken, King Genn Greymane stepped up to the podium, Balthazar stepping away to give his royal majesty room to speak. Greymane was a large man and both strong and young, but his thick brown hair was marred grey from age and stress. He took a deep breath and quickly gathered his thoughts before speaking. “My father always told me that a man must stand on his own,” he said, “and I have always held true to those words. Viktor and Anna, however, believed that when asked for help it is the duty of another to give that help freely and without question.”
The king of Gilneas paused and shook his head. “They were people of a different type then I, and that is what made our friendship and nation both great; the knowledge that, united as one, we can stand against all odds. That we will never falter in our goals and desires, whatever they may be.” He looked down at the two coffins. “May you find eternal rest and everlasting peace in the Light, my friends.”
The congregation silently watched on as the cemetery caretakers took the coffins and lowered them into the two graves dug side by side by the caretakers of Aderic’s Repose. The gathered congregation waited until the graves had been filled in with soil before dispersing. Three of its members, however, stayed behind. They were merely children, two boys and one girl, the oldest, one of the boys, likely being no more than thirteen and the youngest, the other boy, only eight years.
The three children looked at the two graves for what seemed like eternity, the rain drenching each of them. Their names were Ivan, Krista, and Blaine, and they were the children of the late Viktor and Anna Jeret.
And they were alone in the world.
Many years later…
“Give them no quarter! For King Greymane!” Ivan Jeret, soldier in the Gilneas Armed Forces and noble of Gilneas, briefly moved out from behind the rock he was using as cover and fired at the Northgate rebels stationed across from them. He jumped back behind the rock, just before bullets from the rebels flew over his head. He grimace as one of his fellow soldiers was shot down. “Don’t try to press the attack forward, just try and keep them from advancing themselves!”
He moved out from behind his cover just briefly enough to fire, not even hearing the scream of pain as the rebel he had been shooting at fell dead. “Sergeant!” Ivan shouted out as he looked over to where Sergeant Cleese was commanding the Gilnean assault from. “We’re outnumbered three-to-one, we need those reinforcements or we need to retreat!”
“The King won’t let us die here soldier,” Cleese said, “and we’ll win this with or without the aid of the reinforcements!” He moved out to fire, but a grenade landed just a few feet away from where he stood and detonated, sending him flying several yards away.
“Sergeant!” Ivan yelled, with a scowl and then charged out of his hiding spot into the bullet fire. His armor barely managed to deflect the bullets and more than a few managed to cut through into his body, but he continued over to where the Cleese lay on the ground. The Gilnean noble picked up the Sergeant’s wounded body and dragged him back into his cover. “Sir, are you alright?”
Cleese groaned. “Yeah, yeah I think I am,” he replied. “Just… got a hell of a lot of shrapnel in me.” He looked down at the wounds in his chest and stomach. “Damn,” he spat up a bit of blood, “thing got me good.”
“We should get you to a medic,” Ivan said, about to help Cleese back his feet.
“No, no,” Cleese replied, placing a hand on Ivan's shoulder to stop him. “I’ll be fine. Besides, trying to move again will probably just get us both killed.” He chuckled. “I owe you my career, Ivan, and now it seems I owe you my life.”
Ivan grinned and clapped the other man on the back. "Its a miracle you've lived this long, Cleese, let alone not gotten us all killed," both men laughed.
“For King Greymane!” a cry rang out from the other side of the battle field. The bullets almost immediately stopped flying on the side of the loyalists as the rebels turned their attention to the flanking attack they had just been caught off guard by.
“Well, it seems like the reinforcements have finally made it,” Cleese said. “Ivan, take the troops and lead them on. If we can catch the rebels between two full-on attacks they’ll have no choice but to surrender.”
Ivan nodded and looked around. They had suffered numerous casualties, leaving them with only about three-fifths of their original force. It would not be wise to attack, but it was a gambit that they would have to take.
“Platoons two and five; move into attack from the west,” he yelled to the soldiers. “Platoons three and four, come in from the east. The rest of you come with me!” The Gilnean men and women quickly organized themselves as Lord Jeret had commanded, and with another cry of “For Gilneas! For King Greymane!” they charged towards the rebels.
Within minutes the Northgate soldiers had surrendered, and were rounded up as prisoners of war. Ivan watched as they were loaded into a prison wagon destined for Gilneas and their trial. It was mostly for show, however, there was no doubt in Ivan's mind that each and every one of them would be found guilty.
“Filthy traitors and terrorist, all of them,” a voice came from behind Ivan, and the noble turned around to see Lord Vincent Godfrey standing behind him.
“Godfrey,” Ivan said, smiling and shaking the older man’s hand in a greeting. “Good to see you again, old friend. What are you doing here? Paying us lowly soldiers a visit, eh?”
“Yes,” Godfrey said without so much a grinning, “and no. I came with the reinforcements your Sergeant had requested in order to command these rebels to stand down. We’ve finally managed to capture Crowley and a number of his strongest supporters.”
Ivan’s eyes lit up. “Really? You aren’t just jesting now, are you old friend?” His smile widened. “Thank the Light. This madness should finally end soon now. Gilneas will
be able to return to the state of peace it deserves, then.”
“Yes,” Godfrey said with a slight nod. “It should.”
You are not logged in. Please
to post a reply or
if you don't already have an account.