Glowing Ring of Autumn/Stromhar

Stromhar

Stanmore finished scribbling the last of his missives, setting the quill aside with soft sigh, golden eyes peering up and across at the messenger standing nervously at the edge of his desk, waiting for his instruction. Wordlessly, Stanmore folded up the pieces of parchment he had inked and held them out expectantly to the messenger, who did not immediately take them. Instead, the shaking young lad seemed to be staring at the brand new facial scar that adorned Stanmore's usually flawless features.

Stan's brows furrowed, crinkling the healing wound upon his face in the process. It started just off-center to the right of his forehead, over the bridge of his (now healing) broken nose and ending in the middle of his left cheek, a terrible wound like that would likely never heal - a constant reminder of his recklessness - and apparently, an interesting thing for the messenger to ogle.

The Emperor coughed, giving the folded up papers a shake of his hand. This seemed to startle the young lad into action, who quickly snapped to attention and snatched the papers, hurtling from the room in an embarrassed sprint that nearly saw him stumbling into the hallway.

Stan sighed, and reclined back in his chair. He tented his fingers in deep thought, staring at the other hundred missives he needed to yet sought through, when his eyes caught the ring upon his wedding finger. Idly moving to begin playing with it between the fingers of his other hand, he took a moment to further inspect it.

The Glowing Ring of Autumn they called it - and it lived up to it's name. It seemed to shine with an otherworldly, soothing presence, and even the design reminded him of his beloved, Mary Anne. It had once belonged to her first love, and Stan remembered hearing her tell the story of how she tracked this small thing down to the ends of the Continent in order to once again feel closer to her old flame. He had often doubted his worth in Mary Anne's eyes. Whilst he had loved her from the moment he laid eyes on her, he always feared he was little more than second best in her estimations. He had no intention of replacing her first, but Stan hoped one day she would hold him in the same esteem.

And then she had given it to him. Made a pageant of it too. And that said everything Stanmore ever needed to hear.

He smiled to himself, replacing the ring upon his finger and giving it another final inspection, before leaning over the desk to grab his quill and return to work.