[i]Castle Grounds, Pelataria
Afternoon[/i]

"Damon!"

The call went unanswered, as the heir to Vetus Patriae lay at rest in the golden fields beside the castle. Though the sun was yet new, he had spent it's hours sparring - and now he deserved a rest. Still, the call persisted, louder, closer.

"Damon, where are you?"

He popped his head up, and spotted his younger sister Amelia, identifying her as the interruptor of his rest. Groaning, he got to his feet, adjusting his sword in the scabbard and brushing off any residual grass and dirt. "I'm here, Ames," he replied, taking a few steps toward her. His sister grinned - her search successful - and ran over to meet him.
"Father wanted to speak with you - something important. He's in the main hall waiting with Uncle Jonah!" 
Damon rolled his eyes. "That's Commander Peterus - the man fought hard to earn his post, he deserves to be recognized." In truth, Damon saw more of a father figure in Jonah than he ever would in Lord Cole. In his heart, a warrior's fire blazed. And though he mostly respected his father's ability to get the job done, Damon often questioned if the ends truly justified the means. 
"Yeah, yeah," his sister's voice broke him from his ruminations. "Father and [i]the Commander[/i] wish to see you." Damon nodded approvingly. Amelia was a brat sometimes, but to the eldest of the Cole children, he could see quite a bit of himself in his younger sibling. Putting aside the physicals - the same piercing black eyes and thick black hair inherited from their mother and shared with his other sister, Jules, but devoid entirely in Ames - they both shared a deep dedication to whatever job they set about doing. For Amelia, however, that task was normally to annoy Damon. But she did so with the fervent determination of a soldier of the Guard. 

Though Amelia and Damon were similar enough to be marked as siblings by the average stranger, they differed in some respects as well: in complexion, where Damon's tanned, rough skin proved a stark contrast to Juliana's porcelain features. Furthermore, Damon always made the effort to keep himself presentable, his clothes clean, his hair tidied. Ames, on the other hand, cared little about the impressions she made on others, and it took the direct order of her parents to tame the free spirit. Though quite pale in comparison to her brother, her blonde hair framed her face in gentle curls, and her father's eyes glowed with curiosity. She was only eight, but everyone knew that she was going to become quite gorgeous seven or eight years down the road. But though the two were quite unique of each other in their own rights, deep down they shared an affection for each other, and one would not betray the other if push came to shove. With a word of thanks to his younger sibling, Damon set off toward the castle.