It was during the period of conflict, a period before the Blood was such, when Sir Valdemar Darkholm walked the lands we now call Duskholm to appoint a merchant to Duke. The previous lord of the land had marched to war, taking provisions and soldiers, leaving unruled hungry people behind. Trusted information had reached the dark and devoted figure but something was clearly missing in the reports: as he arrived, he saw no signs of violence, famine, or rebellion. The Duke knew his people, but the order he saw as he walked the cities and major settlements was witness to some kind of intervention. Duke Valdemar was no stranger to humility, and since no Count, Mayor or Baron was to be found - all of them wounded or dead in the bloodbaths of the mainland - he approached a simple peasant. The woman, in humble words pointed out that a large caravan traveled the lands with each change of moon, mediating conflicts, and feeding those who had lost it all to the war effort.

The shining chevalier followed the roads that meandered through the counties, guarded only by a few of his dark knights, finding only peace and well fed people in his pilgrimage. After a few days, he approached the first caravan. An apprentice mentioned he had been commanded by his Master, Arpiar, to travel the main road of the duchy in search of hungry homes, using his grain to feed them, and his personal guard to end quarrels. The Duke nodded, approving, and left without a word.

Duke Valdemar Darkholm followed the road then, intrigued, and after a week, he found another caravan. Arpiar’s wife, Llandona, told him about her husband, worried, that in his quest to take care of people he would forget their own mouths to feed. She explained she had solved a few quarrels, punished one thief, and filled the granaries of three settlements. The Duke put a hand over the woman’s shoulder, removed his helmet, and locked eyes with her: ‘You have done well’ - he said, and turned around, the flight of his cape almost covering the dim light of curiosity sparking in his shrouded heart.

At last, he found Arpiar under a dying sun. He ordered his guards to stop a man as the crowd of hungry citizens yelled 'Thief!' in an accusatory chorus. Duke Valdemar listened silent and distant to the trial, unnoticed by an almost starving middle aged man, who spoke with the voice of a summer storm. He remained still, when the merchant and his mercenaries decided to execute the man, in front of his knights, and only when the crowd disbanded, he approached the man. Arpiar looked at the Duke, and sighed relieved, falling to his knee and bowing his head deeply. “I must be punished, my lord. - He said in a serene tone - I have been acting as your rule, and I am nothing but a servant. It has been a season since the lands were with loyal Counts and the Duke, and I took it upon myself to help the lands find peace, shelter, and food. I am nothing but a humble merchant, and certainly not the Duke.”

Duke Valdemar Darkholm waited, silently drinking in his words, uncovering his face to show no expression but the glimmer in his golden eyes. He moved his cape over and let silence weight on the true words the man had spoken, waiting in silence until the sun fell under the horizon. He knew of Justice, he knew of Sacrifice, he knew of Loyalty and in the darkness, he made the man thrive with an ever so discreet bow of his head, and an answer, cold as they had always been.

“Leadership is not a position or a title, it is action and example, is it not, Duke Arpiar?”

Graphics are just decorative, my submission is the story.