[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/H2Xwjg4.png[/img]
[I] “[b]I[/b]n this whirlwind I have but one motivation. To survive, my Prince.”[/i]
[h3][color=lightblue]S A E .[/color][/h3][/center]

	[b]T[/b]he days had gone by in agonizing, small moments. Saewine found himself wishing for respite more and more, his worries weighing on him just as badly as his physical exertions. He knew it did him no good but what else could he do, none of heartless bastards in charge would hear his pleas. They either swept him under the rug or called him a coward and threatened him with death.  

	[b]H[/b]e bit the inside of his cheek as he stared up through the thick beams of the stony building. His cot had been only a bit more comfortable than the ground but it would do for sleep. When Terryn's rolling voice startled him into sitting up and he realized the man was neither nearby nor directly in site, Saewine lowly cursed and wished him a foul end. 

	[color=lightblue][i][b]C[/b]an I not get even a moment of respite. Just one bloody-fucking second to drown in my misery.[/i][/color] he mumbled to himself.

	[b]A[/b]t the Commander's orders, he dressed himself in the armor—though it took him longer than Laurence and Warren—before hurrying out to stand at attention. His shoulders slacked as he drug himself to the position and looked dully straight ahead, his chiseled features were soaked in the rain; his shield strapped to his lax arm. 

	[b]S[/b]aewine frowned a little. Of course he was not picked for his skills, did Terryn think him some dunce.  [color=lightblue] “[b]O[/b]bviously,”[/color] he muttered in response, not thinking that Terryn had indirectly insulted the two warriors and that he had, in blunder, agreed with him.

	[b]W[/b]hile the four of them made their way to the Castle, Saewine found curiosity prancing around his mind. Just why was he tagged with these two? Was it faith? Perhaps their was something to this Monarchism thing. He had askedfor help plenty a times within the last three days. To be amongst Terryn, Warren, and this dangerous-looking brute was as safe as he could be. Not to mention, in just a short few moments, he would be within the intimidating radius of a royal figure. 

	[color=lightblue] “[b]T[/b]hank, The Monarch.”[/color] was all that slipped from his mouth. 

	[b]S[/b]tanding in front of Dorran was much more tense than he imagined. The guy was handsome even by his own standards and exuded a natural dominance. He was a bit jealous about that but maintained his composure. When Dorran's attention was brought onto him, Saewine only smiled politely and bowed; he could not be sure if his emotions would betray his calm words. [color=lightblue] “[b]H[/b]eron. And … well … he is dead.”[/color] he answered. 

	[b]W[/b]hen his turn came to explain his motivations, he was torn between Warren's own honesty, Laurence's crude answer, and his own inhibitions. Should he lie or state that: Like any coward before him, he was forced to joined the militia. Eyes to the floor, his bangs draped between the Prince and himself, Saewine finally lifted his gaze onto Dorran and took a step out of line.  

	[color=lightblue] “[b]U[/b]mm … Well,”[/color] he let out a strong breath, his emotions showing in the tension of his jaw. He let out a hard [b]hmp![/b] and quick-lived smile. [color=lightblue] “[b]I[/b] was forced by my father. In this whirlwind I have but one motivation. To survive, my Prince.”[/color] He stepped back into line, unwilling to continue showing his quickly deteriorating pride but unable to hide the harden resolve on his face.