Inside the dark space, Farchaser spoke to Sacrifice.
[Farchaser]: So, kin… do you know the story of the Oathkeepers and their suffering?
Sacrifice shook her head.
[Farchaser]: A young one, then…
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if listening to something very old.
[Farchaser]: Then perhaps it should begin with a song.
His voice lowered, quiet and heavy with memory.
[Farchaser]: We swore our oaths beneath bright skies, when hope was young, and hearts were kind. We thought our words would guard the weak and leave no soul behind. We left the havens of our birth, carried burdens willingly. Believing sacrifice was strength, and mercy would keep us free. But oaths are iron once they're heard, And iron bends to foreign hands. What once was promise freely given became the chains of distant lands. They took our vows and forged them tight, turned goodwill into silent pain.
[Farchaser]: And every promise meant to save became another link of chain. We could not break what we had sworn, though our hearts began to bleed. For an oath once spoken binds the soul, no matter who commands the deed. Now we walk beneath their weight, Heads bowed beneath a sky gone cold. Not slaves by birth… but slaves by word, To promises we once called hope. So remember this, young kin of mine: The cruelest chains are never forced. They are the ones we forge ourselves, with the best of hearts… and the worst of cost.
Farchaser opened his eyes again.
[Farchaser]: We swore those oaths to protect the innocent.
For a moment, his voice carried a bitterness that did not belong to someone merely recounting a story.
[Farchaser]: And in the end… those same oaths were used to enslave us.
Sacrifice stared at him, bewildered.
She had expected answers.
Instead, she had been given a lament.
Farchaser blinked, as if suddenly remembering something.
Then he rubbed his temple with an awkward sigh.
[Farchaser]:…I really should stop listening to that Scholar when he gets drunk.
He paused.
A faint, sheepish smile appeared.
[Farchaser]: Did I just sing the entire history of the Oathkeepers to you?
Sacrifice said nothing.
Farchaser leaned back slightly, staring into the dark.
[Farchaser]: When the Oathkeepers first came to this land… There were hundreds of them.
His voice grew distant.
[Farchaser]: Hundreds of people. Each with their own power. Their own talents. Their own hopes.
A small breath escaped him.
[Farchaser]: They helped this world without asking for anything in return.
His eyes narrowed.
[Farchaser]: And for that… they were enslaved.
Finally, Sacrifice spoke.
[Sacrifice]:…Can you please start from the beginning?
Her gaze locked onto him.
[Sacrifice]: Who are you?
A pause.
[Sacrifice]: What are you talking about?
Another pause.
[Sacrifice]: And where exactly are we?
The darkness around them seemed to press closer as the questions hung in the air.
[Farchaser]: My name is Farchaser. The first king of the Teekaz.
A brief silence followed, as if the title itself carried weight.
[Farchaser]: Second… I am speaking about people like you.
His voice lowered.
[Farchaser]: Those who swore an oath… and now must carry its burden.
The darkness shifted faintly around them.
[Farchaser]: And lastly…
He gestured into the void.
[Farchaser]: This place is the Black Crown.
A faint echo rippled outward.
[Farchaser]: The resting place of countless kings.
A dry chuckle escaped him.
[Farchaser]: They usually spend their time screaming at one another.
A pause.
[Farchaser]: But it seems… tonight they are all asleep.
He gestured into the void.
Sacrifice stared into the darkness, unsettled.
[Sacrifice]: …Bound to an oath and dragged by its burden?
He stepped closer, his tone turning patient — almost like a teacher explaining something ancient.
[Farchaser]: Every Oathkeeper carries something called a Great Burden.
A slow breath.
[Farchaser]: The stronger the oath… the heavier the burden placed upon the one who swore it.
He raised a hand, as if weighing something invisible.
[Farchaser]: Take the Protector's Oath, for example.
[Farchaser]: The more people a Protector saves… the stronger their oath becomes.
His expression darkened slightly.
[Farchaser]: But power always demands payment.
A beat.
[Farchaser]: A Protector cannot kill their enemies.
[Farchaser]: They cannot harm those who show no hostility toward them.
[Farchaser]: Even if those same people may later become the cause of suffering.
The silence thickened.
[Farchaser]: That is the nature of an oath.
Another pause.
[Farchaser]: It gives strength.
[Farchaser]: And then it takes freedom.
Farchaser looked into the darkness and smiled faintly.
[Farchaser]: When I was alive, I met five Oathkeepers.
His gaze drifted somewhere far away.
[Farchaser]: Two of them carried what are known as Great Oaths.
A brief pause.
[Farchaser]: The first was called Avenger.
[Farchaser]: The second… was Scholar.
His smile faded, replaced by something quieter.
[Farchaser]: Both of them stood beside me until the moment I died.
The darkness remained silent.
[Farchaser]: Over the years, I learned more about Oathkeepers from the other kings who dwell here.
He tapped the empty air beside him.
[Farchaser]: Compared to the Sarkaz, Oathkeepers have it far worse.
A slow breath escaped him.
[Farchaser]: A Sarkaz may still find a way to live.
[Farchaser]: But an Oathkeeper…
His voice turned colder.
[Farchaser]: …is hunted.
[Farchaser]: Killed if possible.
[Farchaser]: Enslaved if not.
A faint shrug.
[Farchaser]: It certainly didn't help that nearly ninety percent of them were Sarkaz.
Another pause.
[Farchaser]: Or that every bearer of a Great Oath eventually died.
Sacrifice leaned forward slightly.
[Sacrifice]: Who are the Great Oaths?
[Sacrifice]: And what did they do?
Farchaser chuckled quietly.
[Farchaser]: A fair question.
He folded his arms behind his back.
[Farchaser]: Great Oaths do not follow the same rules as ordinary burdens.
[Farchaser]: Their systems are… different.
[Farchaser]: And their power is easily a hundred times greater than that of a normal Oathkeeper.
His expression darkened.
[Farchaser]: There were only four of them.
[Farchaser]: And three are already dead.
The darkness grew heavier as he spoke.
[Farchaser]: One died stopping a war…
A pause.
[Farchaser]: A war that would have never begun if he had simply done nothing.
[Farchaser]: Another burned himself away curing a plague…
[Farchaser]: A plague that had been unleashed by kings.
A bitter smile crossed his face.
[Farchaser]: The third chased a monster into the sea.
[Farchaser]: A creature that never truly existed.
The silence lingered.
Sacrifice hesitated.
[Sacrifice]: And the last one?
Farchaser looked down, his voice softening.
[Farchaser]: The last…
He spoke almost like he was remembering an old poem.
[Farchaser]: His halo dimmed with passing years.
[Farchaser]: He counted graves instead of stars.
[Farchaser]: And measured time in quiet tears.
A long pause.
[Farchaser]: Then… he disappeared.
[Chapter end]