A vignette that lays out the mythos of The Boldel Order, in the Blackguards series. The Boldel Order has long been a nuisance to some, and a sanctuary for others... Here is how it all came to be.
Oh how the winds of change blow. The rich and affluent cater to themselves, spending their wealth on position and stature and opulence. What of the impoverished and down trodden? Those whom life has dealt losing hand? The meager ends to a laborers calloused palm. What happens to these people. The ones toiling away their lives only to be looked over and disregarded. The only reminder of their existance is a mound of earth, laden by a simple slab of granite within a burial ground. Listen now as I tell of our birth. The first thorn. The spark to which heralded our triumph.
Years ago, in the province of Highmarsh our forefathers fell like a rampant shadow over the great city of wealth, Ebon. As history tells, chronicled within Imperial Library, that a great uprising occurred amongst the baronies of Ebon. Heroically our brothers and sisters, under the guise of nights embrace laid to ruin plantations and extravagant mansions that dotted the fertile landscape surrounding the city. The barons, that reign over Ebon's sprawl, slowly lost their fields and barns, by the torch and fork. Pleading to the Imperial council of Wynfel, Ebon's resplendant sought help to stop these crimes. Whomever or whatever was responsible for these acts was a mystery. The marble walls of Ebon began to overflow, laborers and their families displaced by the destruction which occurred nightly, flooding taverns and alleys, seeking out shelter and food.
Now swelling with displaced, the mobilization of Ebons city guard wore thin. The forces were split between policing the rowdiness of the homeless, and safe guarding outlying properties against the invisible aggressors. The downtrodden, penniless and hungry, could only remain peaceful for so long, before violence took over the pristine streets. Many clashes broke out, farmer against guard. Quashed quickly, men and women fell by the might of Ebon swords. Those escaping would descend into the vast network of sewers beneath the regal city, refugees of this injustice.
Ebon pleaded again to the Imperial State for relief. Not relief for the laborers, but for their now crushed economy, a cindered and charred. Wealth is a vile disease that often destroys compassion. Wynfel responded with nothing more than a tribunal, sending inquisitors to Ebon to unmask the vigilante acts that continued.
In a final display to Ebon and Wynfel, our forefathers set to blaze the Great Cathedral of Ebon. Ascending from the sewers a force of laborers poured out into the cool night, pillaging and overtaking the cathedral. Promptly, the city guard responded with force in what would become the single most bloody conflict in the provinces history. Many brothers lost their lives in this fight, while still others escaped into the sewers that night, leaving the towering cathedral a burning beacon of our strength.
Yet a single man remained, captured by the guard and held. Edin Boldel, a simple man, farmer and our patriarch.
A tribunal was called by the Wynfel magistrates, to be displayed publicly within Ebon's walls. The High Magistrate, Poter Mulavey, reigned over the trial of Edin Boldel. Edin was prepared prior to the high display before a furious Ebon, questioned and beaten repeatedly behind closed doors. The information, which Mulavey wished to extract would not come, a confession to these acts. Edin's spirit could not be broken though. With nothing other than this single silent farmer, Mulaveys' hand was forced. Much to the disappointment of the Ebon nobles, Edin was sentenced to death for his crimes during the burning of the cathedral.
On the day of the execution, and before the crowds of Ebon's citizens, Edin Boldel stood atop the gallows hastily erected outside the city walls. Allowed his last final words, as was standard, Edin spoke his last words.
"As I stand here, facing my own mortality, know this.
Men and women regardless of their place in this world,
shall always fight against what they find injust. You may
try to break their spirit, with sword or word, but never
will it tremble. I have no regrets or remorse for my acts
done in this life, and may it be known that I
will forever try to right the wrongs of your society in
the shadow of my death"
The execution was completed promptly, Edin's body left on display on the gallows for the day. Curiously indeed, was that during that following night his body was cut down and taken away mysteriously.
The story continued though. After the execution of Edin, properties were again pillaged, stripped of wealth and value by the invisible vandals. Stories came and stories passed about these events. There was no answer it seemed, other than hypothetical ideas that it was the laborers. Or perhaps some bandits that took residence in the area. Some stories even claimed that the acts playing out were Boldel's spirit itself, returned from death. Today we do continue, spread far and wide over the countryside, working in shadows and righting the wrongs of their failed society.
This my brothers and sisters is the story of our beginnings. May the shadows of Edin's sacrifice guide us to our victory.
Scrivener of the Guild Boldel