[centre][h3][color=ed1c24][i]Horath Evren Al'Montsar[/i][/color][/h3]

[img]http://i.imgur.com/tOl4DaW.png[/img]

[color=ed1c24][i]'Come, I know you are tired, but this is the way.'[/i][/color][/centre]

Night had fallen and the feast had begun. Horath sat on his knees in the small shrine, all on his own. He had thought it very strange that no orders had reached him regarding this night. At the very least, he would have thought, the Black Shields should have been patrolling the city to ensure that no suspicious things happened. But nothing had reached him, and so he had come to the assumption that he would be off-duty tonight. What better way to spend the early evening than in silent contemplation, at the mercy of the divine?

His eyes closed, he listened to his heartbeat. Over the years, he had grown used to sitting there listening to his heartbeat. It reminded him of his mortality and human frailty.
[i]Da dum da dum da dum[/i]
He could not help but wonder how amazing it was that this thing within his chest beat like this from the moment he first took breath to the very last, never stopping, so ordered.
[i]Da dum da dum da dum[/i]
Every single heartbeat was written somewhere in a book with his Lord. He knew how many there would be, and no matter how much Horath prayed or how he lived, he would not have a single heartbeat less or more. Nor could any other living being, the mare he rode, his fellow Black Shields, the greatest of kings had only so many heartbeats, and the lowliest of peasants.
[i]Da dum da dum da dum[/i]
Yes, kings and peasants would die, the peasant may have an unmarked grave and the king a great mausoleum, but all would lie in the same earth. The same worms would eat on their flesh, and when both become nothing but dust, no one would know the difference between the earth which was once a king and that which was once a peasant. Then on the glorious day, when all stand before the Lord, the king and the peasant would be judged equally. The king's status will not save him from the torment if he had done wrong, nor would the peasant's status deny him bliss if he had done right by the Lord.
[i]Da dum da dum da dum[/i]

Reaching around his neck, Horath pulled on a small leather string. From beneath his tunic came a well-carved flute. He opened his eyes and looked at it, his eyes foggy and distant. A name was carved into the flute in delicate handwriting, and he brought it to his lips and kissed the markings. There would come a day, or perhaps it would be a night not much unlike this one, when he would have his vengeance, and the Lord would have the souls of those scheming, plotting sinners. There was a great corruption upon the land. Its seeds may be small, but all great trees were once small seeds, were they not? He would uproot them before they grew too strong.

Moving the tip of the flute to his lips, he began playing a gentle tune. It was not at all melancholy, unlike the sudden turn of his emotions. The tune was rather calm, soothing. It was as though he wished to quench the fires of his anger and sadness with the cool waters of the melody. As he played and the minutes passed, the tune grew steadily louder, and Horath did not hear the footsteps which approached until they had turned into the shrine and stopped. He did not look up however, nor did he stop playing.

'By the Monarch's teeny balls, man! What in 'is name are you doin' 'ere!' the deep voice rumbled. Shocked - partly by the sudden disturbance to the peaceful night and partly due to the crude choice of language - Horath stopped playing and looked up, allowing the flute to fall against his [url=http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=20130538]leather breastplate[/url].

[color=ed1c24][i]'This is a holy place,'[/i][/color] Horath said coldly, [color=ed1c24][i]'show some respect.'[/i][/color] 
The man, carrying a black heater shield and dressed in the signature helmet of the Black Shields, took a few steps forward. Horath allowed himself to consider the attire for a few seconds. The shield was certainly to be expected - they could not be the Black Shields if they did not have black shields now, could they? But the helmet was certainly something else. It took on the shape of a [url=http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/deadliestfiction/images/b/be/Kettle_hat.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130711082241]kettle helmet[/url] on the head, but unlike normal kettle helmets, it then had [url=http://www.a2armory.com/images/leatherarmor/vikinghelmetleather.jpg]a large nasal guard which covered the eyes and nose, leaving small slits for the eyes.[/url] Sewn into the metal of the helmet was a [url=http://www.anshelmarms.com/images/armor/vikinghelm.jpg]chain mail aventail[/url] which left nothing exposed but the mouth area. This particular Black Shield wore an accompanying metal cuirass and greaves, beneath which was a chain mail hauberk. On his forearms and hands he wore leather gauntlets and at his side was a sheathed a longsword. Overall, he was prepared for the furies of battle.

Horath's own attire paled in comparison, with nothing but his leather breast plate and leather gauntlets. He had left his Black Shield attire and full-plate in the shared dorms by the few blankets he could call a bunk.
'Yeah, I know it's a holy place, smartass, but this ain't the time to be sittin' around here being all moosical, we're on duty. And you're sleepin' on the job!' he stopped a few metres from Horath and pointed at him as though he had just caught him sniffing a rat, 'get your armour on and come with me. The Commander gave me the task of makin' sure that lazy 'uns like you don'y get away with it. C'mon, c'mon,' he signaled for Horath to get walking. Having been unaware of any such duties tonight, Horath got up reluctantly, not wishing for what he thought to be an evening off to be so quickly brought to an end.

The patrolling Black Shield followed him to the dorms, and when Horath was in his gear, he told him to stick with him and give a shout if he spotted any suspicious types - or any men sleeping on the job. Clanking about in the dark alleys and streets and making the amount of racket they were, Horath was pretty sure that any suspicious types would hear them coming for miles, and any sleeping on the job would quickly wake up and look sharp before being spotted. 

They had not been walking around for more than ten minutes when his partner suddenly stopped and let out a small whistle.
'Would'ja look at that, lad,' he whispered. Horath looked at him and then in the direction he was staring. It took him a while to make out the form of what must have been a woman standing around in one of the side alleys. Noticing a potential customer, she sauntered out, allowing for both men to get a better look.
'You open for business hon?' the patrolman asked, taking a few steps towards her.
'If ye've got the means, then anythin' for yer...hon,' at her words the man let off a snicker and turned back to Horath.
'Think I'll leave the rest to you mate, make sure you don't let no one of those lazy 'uns sleep on the job, eh?' and with that he turned away and followed his lady's swaying hips.

Horath allowed himself a few moments to wonder at the irony of those last words before letting out a small sigh and continuing the patrol. He had been in the capital a good few times. Certainly not well enough to know all those dodgy alleys and routes, but he knew his way around the main streets and the outskirts, and that was good enough to carry out the duties left to him by the man, who was now certainly having himself a nice time between the thighs of that wench.

[color=ed1c24][i]'Everything good here, men?'[/i][/color] he asked a few men standing around on the eastern rim of the town. At his voice, they stood up straight and looked around.
'Uh, yeah, everything good here...' one of them responded, 'uh, sir,' he quickly added. Horath allowed himself a small smile before telling them to rest easy, he was just another Black Shield after all. They shared a few jokes, grumbled something about 'that bloody feast and those bloody blue bloods up there', before he left them to their duties and continued on. It seemed like it was going to be a quiet night, though if Horath had learnt anything from his years of traveling with the Servants, it was that quiet nights usually turned out to be the least quiet of all. May the Monarch have mercy on them all.