Dubhaine Family/Cathal/Roleplays/1011/August
Contents
August 11th -- Alebad
Cathal sat upon the throne of Minas Thalion and pondered the future. Across his lap the blade Inescapable Doom lay sheathed, a reminder of the purpose with which he had entered these lands, and upon his head sat the simple circlet of the Imperial Lordship.
Strange were the ways of fate, or more accurately, strange were the ways of the Gods.
In a former age he had fought as Alebad's ally, the General who held her southern flank when her own knights would not do so. The sorrow of those days hung heavy in his thoughts, the thousands who died at his command in the fields of Abaka to prove a point of principle.
He remembered a time when those memories had torn at his heart like an eagle's talons, before the cleansing fire of the Flesh Incorruptible had healed him of all hurts.
"Your Excellency," a herald burst into the chamber, panting and breathless.
Cathal turned his attention to the young guardsman, probably no more than sixteen years of age.
"I bring... a... message from the... captain of... the guard..." deep gasps shook his body, turning his words into a series of disjointed fragments.
"Take a deep breath lad and calm yourself, I have known of Lord Aepyornis' coming these past two days", Cathal stood and hooked the scabbard to his belt, the sword lost to sight amidst the folds of his plain woollen cloak.
"But my Lord, his herald has only just arrived to announce his approach!" The page pulled himself upright, his mouth hanging half-open.
The palace was a hive of activity, servants scurrying too and fro on the many errands attendant on a great banquet. Tonight Alebad paid host not only to Count Aepyornis of Helsera, a priest accounted wise beyond his years, but also to Ambassador Gellin from Giblot.
Such an event had not been held in all the years since the foundation of the realm and as ever where ignorance reigns, rumour and wild speculation filled the void.
"My dear old friend," Cathal stood waiting at the gate as the priest approached, "the people of Minas Thalion welcome you. I've had rooms prepared in my private chambers that you may rest from your labours, and tomorrow I shall hold such a feast in your honour as men shall sing of unto the ninth generation."
