- 1 5th September
- 2 7th September
- 3 10th September
- 4 11th September
- 5 13th September
Autumn Day -- Cadier
Roleplay from Bennet Selemnir Message sent to everyone in The Great Halls of Luria (49 recipients) - 9 hours, 25 minutes ago Head. Ached.
He had been doing this for ever.
Bennet saw flashes of the battle. She had not said she would be here.
Regal at the head of the army. shining.
Bennet hacked. Hacked again. So close she stood. Why did she have such a hold? Years ago it was in the garden. and an empire in the balance.
Another swing of the axe. Where had he gotten it? Nomatter.
Bennet fell. The ringing in his ears was deafening. Equal parts the death of the pretender on the South Island, and equal parts Her.
Glad he was dead, but he would join him soon.
A light. A hand. Solomon, could it be?
Not a white horse. Blood and spit and grit.
His old friend, haggard, pulled him up.
"Job's not done. King, whatever that means."
They laughed and clasped hands and rejoined the battle.
Two battles in the space of roughly 14 hours. Each their own beast and equally as bloody. The fields of Farrowfield were seeded with the dead, Lurian, Goldoran and Westgardian alike. Due to the pace of the pitched battles, there was very little time to clear the field of the dead or even attempt to identify them. Yet, while the field continued to be adorned with the Anchor, the war was yet to be decided.
However, what Solomon knew was that something bothered the King of Luria after standing with him. There were rumors but he did not believe them, he would of said, surely? Whenever either of the two rulers fell, the other would pick them up. From the youngest years in Luria to now, it was always the same. They laughed as they always did, they fought with the same vigor as their youth but very far from home in Farrowfield.
It was only when the battle was finished when Solomon approached the King for a pint of Ale and to regain some vigor. To talk about old times, to talk about the matter at hand and even dare to talk about the future. Although what they said to each other may remain private, Luria and beyond knew the bond between these two.
Heavy is the head that wears the crown.
Farrowfield, at sunrise.
The morning light glinted on the mass of weapons on both sides. Swords drawn, spearheads pointing skyward like a deadly forest, arrows knocked to their bow strings. The wind was violent today, as if a gale was brewing. She saw the Novan banners snapping to and fro as the wind pulled them this way and that. In the the mass of Goldoran standards, the Novens seemed to be grouped together. Probably around their king. He was there. Although she had never personally seen the battle banners of his House, the college of heralds maintained a comprehensive record of all family and personal standards. She had taken the time to look his up in the lists before the battle.
It began with arrows, as it always did. The sky turned momentarily dark as the two volleys crossed in the middle of the field and began their deadly descent. Then the dying started. Some men screamed on both sides. Others fell silently like puppets whose strings had been cut. The old healers once told her that screams are good. Only the living scream. The ones who have a chance of being saved.
After the arrows came the crash of shields. Two battle lines meeting in the frenzy of the melee. That was her place. It had always been the place of her people. She had over one hundred men under her personal command. She rode back and forth behind them on her white warhorse, yelling encouragement. A tempting target for the enemy, no doubt. But she needed to be seen by her own side to give them greater fighting spirit.
She glanced up and flicked her eyes across the battle standards. At that moment, by some quirk of fate, a Noven banner fell. Was it his? A second glance and she was sure it was. Bennet was down. A surge in enemy troops suggested men rallying to protect their fallen king. Then there was a momentary parting in the throng and she saw Bennet with some old warrior offering him a hand up. She just saw him rise and then the flow of battle changed again and blocked her view.
He might need the attention of the healers, but he remained as safe as anyone could be in the heart of a battleground. A shout from her captain drew her attention back to her own troops. She spurred her horse on. Back to battle.
Tyra Andrasta Bluelake
Be swift and try and not get injured this time.
Solomon Greybrook Navarch of Tol Goldora Royal of Tol Goldora Duke of Mozyr
She read the letter with a smirk, and nodded to Alya and Edelyn, storing the bit of parchment between her breasts. "Might be useful when I get caught." Alya couldn't help but show some concern while she helped Tyra put on the low cut tunic over the bandages on her back, just a small chainmail piece under the fabric for protection. Edelyn helped from the front, a teenager now, but the woman was happy to spot some dry blood patch on a corner of her sleeve and dirt on her boots, showing the girl had been out experimenting even while she had been unconscious.
"Why did they get you so bad, Tyra?" The young woman asked, helping to braid her hair. "I think I might have taunted them too much." Tyra smirked and winked at her. "They got angry and chose to teach me a lesson rather than take me in. Lost my Bloody Breatsplate too when he cut the back. Can you contact the locals to try to locate it while I'm... handling my business?"
Both the girls nodded at that, and the warrior hugged them both. "Be safe and ready to jump on the ship when I head out. I don't want any of you staying behind, hear me?" "Yes, Lady Tyra" They replied, almost giggling, with the rote learned over years travelling around.
Autumn Day -- Irvington
Bennet laughed, a little louder than he would have liked. That would be the drink in hand. Of which he had lost count. Rare did he imbibe but occasion and the splitting headache from the previous battle seemed to excuse it just this once.
Solomon sat across from him as they chatted. Victory lent itself to good moods, both of them knew that from experience. But more than that it felt like older times on more familiar soil. Simpler in a way. If equally as taxing. At least the blood on his hands back then had been that of beasts and monsters. So it goes.
"Tell me, my friend," Bennet asked pouring another. "I sense something on your mind. I suspect it two be twofold. For one, a there is a weight on you I do not recognize even from my last expedition here. Be that of the robes of leadership, or something more. The lands here are vast and complicated, and the problems equally so. If you trust my ear I would lend it. I also feel the weight of a nagging question on your mind. Ask it in friendship and I will give you what answers I can."
Did that sound pretentious? Bennet chuckled to himself. He knew he always sounded a little pretentious.
Autumn Evening -- Giask
Tiresome and tiresome and tiresome.
These squabbles and such related have come up now every few months. While at war no less. Perhaps I am to blame. I have never seen Luria under my leadership to be a realm that need be micromanaged. That has not been the case until recently. Feudal law stands and our lords, standing above all other on this continent, should be able to come together and act as adults. The schism and re-merger seems to have changed this fundamental nature.
A strong parent is needed to right the ship when the crew are acting as children.
Though the body is strong my patience is no longer willing. Those here that have known me for years know that I am a simple man of action. Internal politicking numbs the mind.
That said, I say thus:
The faith you have all put in me to lead this realm through all of our struggles in recent years, growings and waning of Empire, has warmed my heart beyond measure. I have sought to be a force of stability if nothing else - after the run of Kings and Emperors we have had with wild egos and lofty ill-fated ambitions. My goal has been to be a calming force, allowing Lurian nobility to govern itself whilst myself operating on the international stage to secure our future. Much of that work goes unnoticed, which is understandable. So it goes.
As such, when The Wrath returns from it's expedition I will be, with great heaviness of heart and insecurity, be stepping down from the position of Suzerain King. Decisions about our future future must be made in the coming days, and it feels irresponsible to do so for a realm that is so clearly changing.
I will be stepping back into my position as Duke of Moon Hall and supporting whomever becomes successor however I can. In addition to a seat on the military council, I will be operating as an ambassador of Luria in my continued capacity navigating this war. Something to be discussed in detail with my successor.
A shock this may seem to many. To some it may not. A tide is turning in this realm, and unlike my predecessors I have humility enough to recognize that I am no longer the man to facilitate it.
Suzerain King of Luria Nova
Royal of Luria Nova
Duke of Moon Hall
Margrave of Askileon Purlieus
Lurian Hall Ruler of The Great Halls of Luria
Bennet dispatched his scribe.
Heavy felt his hand. He had always made his decisions out of ambition, he was aware enough to admit. Something else pulled him now. Something he had never wished to feel.
For once the road ahead was unclear.
Autumn Evening -- Askileon
When Wassgandr first met him, he only viewed Bennet as a temporary ruler who was there to stabilize the realm. But over the past few years, he found that Bennet was a level headed man who brought stability to Nova when she needed the most.
He was not a great captain like those who came before but he was a good captain who navigated Nova through the turbulent water that is the imperial politics against the tall waves such as Alessio and Sevastian.
Rulers like Bennet are often forgotten by historians as their reigns leave little to be excited for but those who live under their rules appreciate the peace and stability brought by them. It was under him where the military was reorganized and Askileon became the most prosperous and developed city in Dwilight's history.
Despite his tendency to trust people too easily, he did not make any big mistake which cost Luria any huge loss. Hopefully his successor will be at least half as good as he was.
Autumn Evening == Askileon Purlieus
Bennet set down his pen. His wrist ached. Not the ache of a sword but something deeper. Sadder.
He shook his head. His shoulders and knees cracked as he stood.
When did he become so old. So tired. A young man he was. In age and mind. But his bones felt it in ways he had never expected.
A footnote in history, he would become. He knew this. But an important one. He hoped at least.
"Better than you left it." His uncle's words echoed in his mind. Repeated by his cousin Feldric over and over. Such a pretentious bastard, he was.
They would get along much better now than when he had left him. There was some irony there. But no matter.
Another letter. This goal would be achieved if it killed him.
Poor men and those raised up had already tried.