All times are UTC [ DST ]




Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 13 posts ]  Go to page Previous  1, 2
Author Message
  Offline
PostPosted: November 2nd, 2016, 3:32 am 
User avatar
King

Joined: May 31st, 2015, 3:32 am
Posts: 846
I want more! This is so good :)

_________________
Scrios V
King of Perth, Brother of Valyria


Top
 Profile  
Reply with quote  
  Offline
PostPosted: August 12th, 2017, 1:24 am 
User avatar
Duke

Joined: May 30th, 2015, 5:52 pm
Posts: 522
Location: Stirling, Scotland
It occurs to me that I never posted the end of Ainmire's story. I wrote this lore last year when I was publishing these but there are two parts I never published online. I think I should publish them for completeness, even if it is ancient history.
Apologies for the numerous postings lately, I'm trying to get my lore back on track.

Year 527 of the Emperor, Tide 00|05, second year

His eyes fluttered open, but there was no light before him. There was never light in his eyes. He struggled again, but it was useless. He knew this now. He was too sore to move, and too exhausted to care about the pain. A loud crash would have made him jump if he had the energy. A blinding light filled his vision as a flaming torch came into view. The man holding it sneered as he peered at him. He said something, but the words meant nothing. There was a flash of a needle and he felt pain prick his arm, a long line filling with red that led to a glass vial. The steady drip...drip...filled the room. His vision turned dark again and the pain subsided once more.

A hand touched his neck and lifted his head. Cool water trickled over his lips and he coughed, struggling to take in the soft, clear liquid. It tasted as nothing he had ever felt before. Lips by his ear, whisperings he knew not what, then the hand was gone and his head fell limply again.

This time, there was bread. Torn into small chunks and moistened in a broth. It slipped through his throat as again, that hand held his neck. Cool water touched his lips, and again his head fell limp.

When he opened his eyes next his eyes focused on the face before him. It was young, but hidden by a clothe draped from ear to ear. He held the broth before him again and offered the soaked bread, chunk by chunk, then poured water into his mouth.

"Stay strong, brother," his words stirred something in his gut, "Soon," He closed his eyes again and the pain subsided.

When next he stirred, strength returned to his limbs. He lifted his head and pain filled his body. He winced and a hand touched his shoulder. More water touched his lips, then the voice.

"Can you stand?" He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. "Very well. The others need another day as well, but after that we must move, I cannot buy you any more time..."

When next the man returned, he carried a sword at his waist. He was not certain if the man had carried it always, he had never noticed it, but the man kept a hand on it as if expecting trouble. He held a jug of water to his lips and he drank greedily, then placed a hand on his back.

"I'm going to cut you loose. I need you to stand now." There was an urgency in his voice which could not be denied. He braced his legs, trying to flatten his soles against the stone floor. The rope snapped in a single, clean swipe of the man's sword and his arm fell, useless at his side. He staggered, but the man's hand held him steady and he cut the other rope. He struggled to stand, then leaned all his weight into the man who supported him. He laid him gently to the ground, then offered the water again. "What is your name?" The man asked.

"Volsen..." He breathed.

"Volsen, I am Pyrencian. You have been held prisoner here, kept for your blood. There are others here, we are going to escape tonight. I have killed the guards, but we haven't much time. I need you to stand." Volsen shook his head. "What is your blood line?" Volsen struggled to think, to clear his mind of the pain which filled his body. A strong hand gripped his shoulder. "Brother, I won't leave you here. What is your blood line?"

"S...Sera-dos." The man's breath caught, then he gripped Volsen's hand.

"We are blood brothers then. You must fight now. Come!" He hauled Volsen to his feet. He shook, but remained standing. Carefully they crept to the door and out into a long hall with torches that lined the walls. They moved from cell to cell, freeing a dozen more Pyrencians. The man led them all up the steps and into a low ceilinged room where two men lay motionless at a table covered in food and mead. The freed men and women fell upon the table in a ravenous hunger, Volsen included, and the man let them, before calling for them to grab what they could and follow him.

Volsen thought for a moment, then decided it was best to listen to him; he had released them after all, he must be a friend. He hurried to follow and the others did likewise. They ran up more steps, then the man held up a hand and they all halted. He crept around the corner and they could hear muffled talking. Then there was a loud clash, a shout, and muffled sounds of struggle, and silence. The man appears suddenly and waved them to follow. Volsen paused before the two fallen men, his mind clearing. He scooped up the fallen blade, still half-in it's sheath, then followed.

They passed through a doorway and into the cool night air. The frozen wind chilled them to the bone, but Volsen barely noticed. The feel of wind on his face, of fresh, clean air. He smiled despite himself. The man waved them to follow and they hurried behind a stack of crates, then skirted the outer edge of a wide courtyard before they reached the edge of a pier. The man paused then and turned to them.

"I'll take out the two guards. As soon as I start attacking them, you lot run to the ship. Cast off the ropes and go, don't wait for me; I'll catch up. Head west, you'll find your way to Perth that way." Volsen rejected this idea.

"But you're coming with us." He said forcefully.

"Don't wait for me," The man said simply, then stood and walked toward the guard. Volsen watched with bated breath. The man struck out and hit one man aside, but the other blocked his attack and struck him in the side. The man was ready to parry the blow and Volsen stood and ran for the boat. As he reach it, he helped the others inside and then looked back. The man had killed one man, but the one he had hit before was back on his feet, reaching for the horn on his hip. Volsen charged him.

The horn blast shook the still night air before Volsen tackled him to the ground, the noise cutting off mid-trumpet. He gripped the sword in both hands and plunged it into his chest. The man squirmed and a hand gripped Volsen's shoulder.

"Move!" He cried. Volsen leaped to his feet, leaving the sword, and followed. An arrow whipped past them, then another and they jumped into the boat just as the Pyrencians pushed the boat away with long sticks. The man reached behind a barrel and drew a bow, knocked an arrow, and took aim. In the darkness Volsen could barely see anything; the light of the moon revealed only a few shapes of what looked like watch towers. The man released the arrow and in the distance there was a dull thud, a cry, and then silence.

He lowered the bow, turning and indicated the barrel by the side of the main mast.

"That there is filled with fresh water, there's also bread in the hold below." He said simply, making his way to the helm and placing a single hand on the smooth wood.

"Please," Volsen asked, gazing up at him, "Who are you?" The man looked at him.

"A brother,"

***

Year 530 of the Emperor, Tide 00|05, fifth year

The streets were packed with noise and laughter and shouts from all directions. People filled the narrow alleys and vendors parked their wares wherever there was space. The cries of jubilant children were drowned only but the sheer number of voices clamouring for attention. The city was in chaos, and all in celebration of the new born child.

For the last five years Tremaine had trundled on, it's Duke and Duchess distraught with the loss of their only son. No one knew how, or why anyone would try to kidnap the beloved son of the Duke and Duchess, especially since no ransom had ever been offered. Amena and Marrec had been racked with grief and offered substantial rewards for his return, but no one ever stepped forward to claim them. No body had been found, and for five years the city had grown to accept the loss of the young man.

But now, only five months before, the Duke's family had announced a new child. Marrec's sister, Morgance, had been married to Seann of house Sutherland some two years prior. Now, Morgance was due for her first child, and as the sister of the current Duke, this child would be eligible for the Dukeship in Ainmire's absence.

With such a child being born, the city had found new joy and only three days prior the announcement had come of the young child's birth. It was boy, named after Morgance's father, Korneli. House Sutherland was a prominent family in Carrickshire, having risen in wealth living at Mt Foliantos as the owners of several properties in the region.

Now, the streets were filled as many hundreds of people tried to push their way to the castle where the young boy was at last being revealed to the public that very day. The people filed through the streets, but were blocked before they even entered the castle. at the fort in the centre of the city, the captain of the guard was barring the way, letting only those with permits to the docks and castle pass. Many of these were of the nobility of Tremaine and were allowed entry to the castle. Although the bridge to the castle was quieter, the energy was still palpable as they were all led to the throne room. They filled the balconies and the spaces between the pillars, and were not left waiting long before the doors opened and a hush fell.

Duke Marrec entered, Duchess Amena by his side, and they made their way to the head of the room where they sat on their marble thrones. Then Lady Morgance rounded the corner, Lord Seann on her arm, and a babe wrapped in blankets curled in the crook of her elbow. As she passed, the nobles nearest craned their necks to see the child. They reached the head of the hall and stood before the Duke and Duchess, bowing.

"Rise, brother and sister of mine," Marrec called. They did so. Morgance stepped forward, offering the child and Marrec took him. He traced a finger of the child's face, then held him out for the crowd to see.

"Let all you see here, the son of my sister, Korneli Sutherland, and know him as the..." His voice faltered, then he squared his shoulders and continued, "And knew him as the next heir to this, the Duchy of Carrickshire, in the absence of my own." He lowered the child and offered him back to Morgance. As he did so, there was a noise from the far end of the room. A man cleared his throat and Marrec paused, looking pointedly at him. He was a tall man, with a well kept beard and hair. he stood with a air of authority, though he wore simple clothes.

"Begging the intrusion, my Lord," he began, "But I'm afraid that's not entirely true."

"My Lord!" Came a cry from behind the man and the Captain of the Guard appeared, his face pale. "My Lord, pray forgive the intrusion! He is here, he is..." He was cut off as a hand touched his shoulder and pushed him aside.

Ainmire stepped forward, his face drawn, his hair long and tied back at the base of his skull, and his eyes fixed on the child in Marrec's hands. Silence fell in the hall as Amena shakily rose to her feet.

"It cannot be..." she breathed. Morgance swiftly took the child back from Marrec as he slowly lowered his arms. Together he and Amena stepped forward, then ran through the hall, descending upon Ainmire and wrapping him in their embrace. No one spoke as audible tears filled the hall. Finally, Amena drew herself away.

"You're alive?"

"I should think so too," Ainmire nodded. "And I have returned to take my rightful place."

***

Ainmire sat on a chair opposite Amena while Marrec sifted through several drawers in a cabinet behind the desk. The unnamed man who had brought Ainmire to them stood off to the side. Amena never took her eyes from her son, still stunned her was actually here, he hand gently caressing his forearm as he rested it on the table. Finally Marrec straightened up and held out a purse which clinked. He offered it to the unnamed man, who calmly took it without word.

"This is a small thank you, for bringing Ainmire to us." Marrec explained. "Go to the administration offices and they will grant you a larger sum." The man said nothing, only stepped toward Ainmire and held out the purse. Ainmire lifted his arm from beneath Amena's hand and took the money, weighing it in his hands, then strapped it to his own belt.

"Ainmire, what are you..." Marrec began, but Ainmire interrupted curtly.

"Thank you, Marrec, but there are debts that can be paid with money, and then there are debts that cannot." Ainmire said simply, "This is rightfully mine, we agreed to that long before we arrived." He offered no further explanation, however Amena drew her arm back, no longer able to touch Ainmire's, and looked at the man.

"He is right, we cannot repay this debt with money alone. You have our eternal thanks. If you would like, I can have accommodation provided in the best inn in Tremaine," she gestured for the door.

"Oh he won't be leaving," Ainmire said simply. "Volsen is my friend; he will be staying here." Marrec frowned, however Amena smiled broadly.

"Of course, I shall have a room set up in the north wing,"

"East wing," Ainmire corrected her. "Adjacent to my own." Now Amena's smile faltered.

"But darling, I thought you would have your old room, in the east tower..."

"The east tower was always too high to climb; I will take a room in the east wing, overlooking the sea. Volsen will have the room adjacent." Marrec frowned slightly as silence fell. Ainmire did not move, only waited.

"Of course, I shall arrange for it at once." Amena smiled, then stood and called. A hand maiden answered. "Madeleine, please will you set up two adjacent rooms in the east wing for my son and his friend."

"Overlooking the sea," Ainmire added.

"Overlooking the sea," Amena smiled. The handmaiden nodded and left. "As I said, you have our eternal thanks for bringing our son back to us. However, if you will excuse us, I would like to speak with my son alone," Volsen did not move. For a moment, no one spoke until Ainmire yawned loudly and stood.

"Actually, if it would be permissible, it has been a long journey and I would like to retire," He turned curtly and walked for the door, Volsen behind him.

"Of course, we'll talk..." the door closed, "Tomorrow," Marrec instantly strode across the room and opened the door a crack, peering outside, then closed it again.

"This is unacceptable," he breathed. "The nerve of him, standing there, not saying a word,"

"Marrec," Amena pleaded.

"And Ainmire too...there's something off about him, I can feel it,"

"Marrec!" He stopped, looking to her. "He's been alone for five years. Give him time, he'll come 'round." Marrec grunted. "Please Marrec, give him space. I don't want to lose him again." He tapped a finger against his elbow, his arms crossed, then nodded once.

"Okay, I'll hold my tongue for now, but if he disrespects you like that again I'll..."

"You will do nothing," Amena said simply. "He is our son, and I will not have anything happen that will keep him from us. He just needs time." Marrec turned, inwardly shaking his head, then strode to the cabinet opposite and drew a bottle of wine, pouring it into a glasses and drinking deeply.

***

[lore off]
There was supposed to be more but life got in the way and I had to leave. This new lore I am writing is my way of getting back on track and trying to round off what I started.

_________________
Ainmire Sera-Blodh of House Flenadrison, second of his name, King in the South, Ruler of Carrickshire, and slayer of false Kings.
"The Crippled King"
"Flanders"


Top
 Profile  
Reply with quote  
  Offline
PostPosted: September 1st, 2017, 4:15 pm 
User avatar
King

Joined: May 30th, 2015, 10:17 am
Posts: 3862
Location: Stirling - Scotland
(that'd be Tide 00-05 not 01-05 if it were last year, almost 12 mercannum ago. I edited the post to reflect that! )

Good read. Thanks for posting the full story!

_________________
Petra Ravnikaar of The Veil


Top
 Profile  
Reply with quote  
Display posts from previous:  Sort by  
Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 13 posts ]  Go to page Previous  1, 2

All times are UTC [ DST ]


Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 5 guests


You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot post attachments in this forum

Search for:
Jump to:  
cron
Powered by phpBB® Forum Software © phpBB Group
Imperium - Modified by Rey phpbbmodrey