[center] [h1][b][u]Brundt[/u][/b][/h1] [/center] [hr] The walls of Ketrefa were like nothing Brundt had ever seen before. The wooden palisade around Thyma had been maybe ten feet high at most. But the walls of Ketrefa were easily six times that, and made of solid stone. Brundt could not imagine any force on this world that might break them, and it made him wonder why his village thought some oak logs would protect them from people who lived in a place such as this. It couldn’t even protect them from other tribes… The boy cast his eyes downward, as he once more thought of all that happened. His home, destroyed. Some druids left him at another village, only for him to be taken from there as well. He would have tried to run, or perhaps make another attempt at fighting, yet before they took him… Cadien had spoken inside his mind. Cadien, his father’s god. The God of Perfection had told him to be calm, that the warriors of Ketrefa would take him elsewhere, and that he must go with their leader. He was told that he had to be strong, and that he must learn all he could. For his trials were not over, but his siblings still lived. It was a lot for an eight year-old boy to take in, and he had spent most of the trip walking in morose silence, glancing briefly at the leader - Milos - or the warrior, Gelo, who was always behind him to ensure he would not try to run. He had been told he would be safe if he did not resist, but it was hard to feel safe while constantly being watched by strangers. Now they had arrived. As they approached the gates, the standard-bearer held Ketrefa’s banner high, and the great doors swung open… [hr] Milos knelt before his king, hoping that none noticed the small bead of sweat which slowly oozed down his temple. Gelo and Brundt knelt behind him as well, the boy having been confused about the process, until Gelo simply placed a hand on the child’s shoulder and firmly pushed him down. “Your majesty,” Milos began. In the absence of a Lord-Captain, commanders were to report directly to the King. “I have returned from an expedition in the east. I regret to inform you that we failed to acquire any plunder.” Some seemed pleasantly surprised by this. No doubt while he was away and his father was dead, some had been conspiring for ways to claim the rank of Lord-Captain for themselves. The fact that he had failed to obtain a single crop or slave on a raiding expedition would only make whatever they planned far more easy. But Milos held his tongue, and awaited the King’s judgement. From atop the looming gilded throne, beside which tall magical fires cast their glow across the court, the corpulent mass of the king leaned forwards. Amurat III, King of Ketrefa and rightful Sovereign of all Humanity, loosed an open scowl as he spoke, jowls waggling, “You tell me you’ve failed, and yet I see a slave brought here. Before [i]me.[/i] Tell me, Milos Karras, why you throw filth upon my floor and lie to me about its presence?” “I speak the truth, your majesty,” Milos said, keeping his tone neutral, even as he felt a sense of outrage at the King’s accusation. “This boy is no slave.” He then took a deep-breath, steeling himself for whatever might happen next. “I am adopting him into House Karras.” A violent silence gripped the room as the eyes of the entire royal court fell upon the disfigured boy. Nobles felt their attention shift between the foreign child, and the king, as they braced themselves for what could only be a legendary anger from their ruler. After all, Amurat was not a man known for his joy. Not for fifteen years, anyway. It was to their surprise, then, that the grotesque mass of flesh that had once been a handsome young king began to laugh in that wheezing manner which could only be imitated by those upon whose lungs rest the weight of a number of men, “You’re doing what? Adopting that, that damaged barbarian? Hah!” The court held their breath as the king laughed until tears began to run off the folds of his face. Eventually, long after the man had exhausted his breath and then some, he eyed Milos more seriously and inhaled, “It’s an amusing joke, but not one a Lord-Captain should make. Maybe you’d be better suited as my fool, and that boy as your idiot assistant. You’re lucky your father never failed me, Karras. If he’d not been as capable as he was I’d have you exiled for this offense.” With great effort Amurat gripped the armrests of his throne and heaved himself upright. The room shook slightly as his bulk impacted the ground, and he pointed at the scarred boy, “I’ll let you keep that [i]thing[/i] as a favour to your house. If they see it that way. Your title though? It is forfeit. You aren’t fit to lead this city's armies, you aren’t even fit to lead raids. Keep your lands, but surrender your sword. That is the price of failure.” Milos bore the King’s mockery in cold silence, his teeth grinding in rage, but he had not been allowed to reveal the true reason he adopted the boy, and so he was forced to hold his tongue. But that final insult? That was too much. In a flash, Milos rose to his feet and drew his sword… ...then dropped it to the ground. The blade clattered across the stone floor. “Very well,” the young noble spoke through grit teeth. “There is my sword.” The King grunted and waved Milos off, showing as little regard for the man as he might for his slaves. There was a susurration, but none spoke. One man, near the back of the room, stepped out while attentions were diverted, but beyond that? The only movement was an enterprising guard gathering Milo’s sword and stowing it at his side like a souvenir. Milos turned and walked out, ignoring the dozens of eyes on his back. Gelo had turned as pale as a ghost, but regained his wits and followed, ushering Brundt along. The trio approached the large double doors they had first entered through, and instead of waiting for the servants to do so, Milos pushed them open himself. Then the three disappeared from the court, which was now eager to turn to other matters. As they turned into the hallway a man in polished, if aged, bronze mail stopped them. The Captain of the Gates, Trehe Manzprius, was as recognizable by his armour as his face. A face that was still young, even if its bearer was in the grips of middle age. The Captain’s blue eyes appraised Milos and Brundt carefully before speaking, “I’m sorry, Milos. It was a greater punishment than you deserved. I don’t understand why you’d risk all this for that boy, but I do grasp the sentiment. Your father was a good man, and I owed him before he died. If you need anything... Well. You understand.” Milos’s pride initially compelled him to object to such an offer, but he had enough sense to avoid doing so. The reality was, he had lost almost everything. He had his lands, but he had been forbidden from leading raids. He would never hold a military position and again, and all his friends or allies would soon desert him. “I will keep that in mind,” he said softly. “Good day, Captain.” And with those words, the newly-disgraced nobleman carried on toward the exit. [hr] [hider=Post Summary] Brundt arrives in Ketrefa and is like: “shit that’s a big wall.” Anyway it turns out that yes, Cadien did speak to him and tell him to go with Milos, which is why he didn’t fight back or try to escape during the trip. Anyhow, Milos reports that his raid was a failure, which pisses the King off. Milos then declares his intention to adopt Brundt into his household, which the King actually has a giggle at. The King then proceeds to tell Milos that he has basically killed his chances at becoming Lord-Captain, and is also forbidden from leading any more raids. Having just had all his hopes and dreams crushed, Milos leaves the room. Then the Captain-of-the-Gates pulls him aside and is basically like: “yeah what you just did was dumb but you’re a good guy so let me know if you need anything.” [/hider] [hider=Prestige Summary] [u]Brundt[/u] [b]Beginning:[/b] 14 +4 for 7500+ character post. [b]Ending:[/b] 18 [/hider]