Arcaea/Dining Hall Late 08-09/Aerywyn's Sympathy for Sparrows
The cold white had gone and through it the greenery of spring was breaking free of winters entrapment, and a young oak tree had provided a very good nest for a young bird. The sparrow flew swiftly from the young saplings extending to the walls of Nocaneb to the mighty gates, seperating itself from the search for a mate to enjoy the feeling of the wind on it's little wings. Though it was dangerous to be in the open when there were the lords of the sky on the prowl, the men who walked on top of the fortress kept them away, and there were many places to hide in the ancient walls. It placed itself on top of the ivy covered walls of the fortress, where a troop of mounted soldiers were riding through the gate.
Aerywyn watched the little sparrow settle itself amongst the ivy leaves, and was intensely intrigued when he realised that the bird was looking straight back at him. He even stopped his horse to get a better look, though only one of the men turned his head and realised their lord was still behind them. He merely shrugged and busied himself with tending to his own steed.
High above, higher than either the man or the sparrow could see, a hawk had caught sight of the sparrow's unique red crest, and circled closer the ground. It waited. Then with predatory cunning it dived, it's form hidden by the sun.
The red-crested sparrow, brave as it was, saw death approaching in the bone breaking strength of those claws, and threw itself away. Little wings flapping as hard as they could, he tumbled through the sky, certain the little sparrow was going to die.
The young lord had barely any time at all before the little sparrow had crashed into his chest, sending him reeling back in the saddle with a suprised expression. Annoyed once again at the interference of these men the hawk ascended again into the sky, searching for another hapless prey to feed upon. Whilst he was steadying himself, Aerywyn looked down at his saddle to see the little bird shiverring with fear. It's wing had been broken, and it had no idea what to do.
Aerywyn took the sparrow gently in both his hands, careful not to scare it further, and urged the grey destrier slowly on. He stroked the red crest to calm the bird with the care of an estranged child.
Aerywyn Haerthorne Banker of Arcaea
Stroking down the gray charger, Aerywyn whispered a few words of sweet nothings to the young horse. It's ears turned this way and that as he was lead away by the stableboy, but seemed to be calm enough leaving his rider. Aerywyn let a smile ease across his features, turning his face towards the sparrow cradled in the crook of his arm. The cleanest part of his cloak was bundled up to keep the bird comfortable, and to hide it from wandering eyes.
He walked into the great hall, his mind turning to the relationship between Edara and Jenred. Certainly she would marry him sometime, at least to make sure he couldn't escape from her grasp. Thus, what then? When the wedding, and where? Who will be invited? He stopped at the next set of doors, leading to the personal quarters.
How big will this thing be?
No one doubted that Jenred and Edara were well loved by the people, and the two of them seemed to have a charm that was infectious amongst the nobility. Additionally, the accolades the fell upon Jenred were staggering... it sometimes it appeared he was the sole force responsible for the rebirth of Arcaea.
Bah, theres no point gossiping with myself.
Aerywyn grinned at the thought of a group of himself, gossiping like kitchen maids. He stifled an outright laugh as he looked down at his hands. A rugged sight with the grime and dust (and blood in some places) covering his face and body, and the cold steel of the bastard sword on his back.
He would talk about the matter later. Right now he needed a nice, warm bath.
Aerywyn Haerthorne Banker of Arcaea
It was cold when he woke. So very cold...
There was no longer the steaming bath, nor the warmth and sweetness of the woman in his dream. He knew that at least, but everything else passed at the edge of his conscious mind. There was mud staining his coat and chainmail, the recent rains having made the roads treacherous indeed...
Thats right... I was... travelling? Gods...
Aerywyn shook his head, but even that caused his vision to spin violently. He bit down the rising bile, and thought he could taste blood. Red and gray spots appeared in front of his eyes. After sitting still for a few minutes he attempted to get up, but vertigo immediately assailed him, sending him crashing to the ground again. With confusion this time mingled with the pain, he felt cold, white snow beneath his head. The rolling hills, the grasslands were gone now, and above him he could see the tops of trees, covered with the same kind of blanket that smothered the earth.
Fear began his vile assault, like an old foe fighting with such renewed vigour as Aerywyn had never felt before. A wolf howled in the distance. He began shivering violently as he was sure he felt hot, foul breath on the back of his neck. Shade-like at first, the materialised from the gathering mist, and all else dissapeared. The hot fear, the sounds in the night; all were gone, and the emptiness drove the spike of fear piercing deep into his soul.
"Tirilyn... Tirilyn!", Aerywyn cried out between rasping breaths.
His brother gave him a sad smile, undisturbed by his own state so much as Aerywyn's so it seemed. Here was the younger brother, feeling the fear and horror of losing his twin again, and again, and again.
Then he was gone. Aerywyn was left alone again, like all those times as a child wandering lost across the fields and forests in his dreams. His throat was painfully dry, and he felt the hot tears streaming down his face. He raised his arm to get a better look at, and cringed at the sight where the long gash was now encrusted with mud and blood. No doubt the infection had weakened his mind, and Aerywyn cursed it.
But there was no time to idle on his thoughts now. It would only get worse if he did not head out soon, and his men were no doubt looking for him. Throwing up his hood to hide his reddened eyes, Aerywyn limped away, searching for his horse and his men.
Aerywyn Haerthorne Banker of Arcaea
Normally the map room was kept in a relatively ordered fashion, and although the dust upon the shelves was rarely disturbed, it was easy enough to navigate. However as Aerywyn had poured over the old scrolls, unravelling aged parchment, discovering engravings, and even penned some of his own revised copies over the inaccuracies of previous ones. The result was that by the time he was exhausted from it all, he was practically buried amidst the chaos he himself had wrought.
The majority of the council had left the meeting room long before, but even now Aerywyn could hear Euran’s rough voice, discussing matters and passing about information with Mar. He smiled at the thought of the young man, handling the business of running an army and even being on the council at such an age… in his mind, he hoped the lad would do well in the days to come.
His eyelids were growing very heavy now, he noticed. It was hard to stop them from falling, and it was far too much effort now to find a proper place to sleep. He’d have to leave soon, to talk to Nihilius… but before he could stop it, Aerywyn began drifting into dreams.
The chair seemed comfy enough.
Aerywyn Haerthorne Imperial Chancellor of Arcaea
The tall grasses of the plain swayed as subjects to the will of the wind. The rider could feel them brushing past his leg as the gray charger lead the way at a slow pace. Rising from behind him, the sun set the open steppes aflame with golden fire, and the thought did not give Aerywyn any peace of mind. War would set these lands and men’s hearts on fire. It seemed inevitable in way, for in his own heart he knew he could never abide by Keffer, and after the insults they had suffered, the invasion was the last straw.
Aerywyn let loose a long and weary breath, releasing his tightened grip on the reins. Anger did little good for the soul. He thought of Cypreana, and something she had said to him once, tears brimming at her eyes…
War is a man’s desire, not a woman’s…
“Sir?”, a rider to the side of him asked curiously.
The Chancellor waved away his concern, raising his head to look to the west with a stern gaze.
“Go ahead, and take this letter to Lord Nihilius”.
Aerywyn Haerthorne Imperial Chancellor of Arcaea
Her favour was upon his arm, and he made sure it would stay there. It was hidden beneath his armour and his clothes, tied firmly against the bare skin on the shield side, a sign of a woman’s protection.
Aerywyn promised to himself that he would not remove it until he returned home safe again.
Aerywyn Haerthorne Imperial Chancellor of Arcaea
Aerywyn was doubled over, laughing uncontrollably as he saw the banner that was above the rabble charging towards them. After a quick engagement, they were surrounded, cut down, and the noble was thrown into a bag.
"Oh... Keffer... revenge has never been so sweet..."
He would have to remind Madelena that Keffer would be getting some highly esteemed visitors later tonight.
Aerywyn Haerthorne Imperial Chancellor of Arcaea
The sound of cloven hooves echoed through the mist that sometimes rose from the river to swamp the lands beneath the castle Lantze. When they had finally broken free of it, the sun was fast warming the earth and dispelling the gauze, although some of it still wafted about the dew covered grass and rocks, swirling around the legs of horses. Above them flew a half-naked dryad, swathed in green cloth with budding horns protruding from her green hair, the standard gripped firmly in the captains hand.
They carried little, not wishing to be weighed down by any unnecessary equipment, and they wore steel cuirasses, and chain and leather, instead of the heavy plate of the knights, and the tall lances were forsaken in favour of a lighter lance and various hand weapons. Even Aerywyn himself had left behind the the extra gear, and they all slept rough on cloaks and saddle bags.
Raiders.
Yet regardless of that, hanging from the saddle of the grey charger was a leather bag for a mandolin, as well as a helm crafted with a pair of tall horns, carved from bone and decorated with a design of leaves.
His hair had grown back somewhat from the wedding, and it seemed as if he rode at the head of a band of pagan riders, galloping out of the mist, from the land itself, with animalistic fury and rage and the primal bellows of war. But his eyes were calm, softened by a sight that they could not see yet.
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The cooking fires about the castle were being lit now, and the sun seemed to get lower and lower on the horizon. With the mandolin slung against his side, Aerywyn made his way about the campfires, looking for pair of blue eyes, and a sight of the Rosinni banner…
Aerywyn Haerthorne Imperial Chancellor of Arcaea
