[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/sSxnBjE.gif[/img][/center] [center][color=#808080][x] [x] [x][/color][/center] [center][color=#808080][i]Along the banks of the Trorane River, River's End | Some weeks past[/i][/color][/center] [center][color=CC5500][i]#CC5500[/i][/color] [color=#808080]&[/color] [color=6495ED][i]#6495ED[/i][/color][/center] [color=#808080][color=CC5500]“Lift, man! Lift!”[/color] Valerius Kenra hissed through gritted teeth. Sweat dripped from the hair about his eyes. The knuckles of his large hands were white with strain, clutching the haft of the carriage axle as his broad shoulders pressed into the underside of the disabled vehicle. The stitching of his obliques and the horseshoe of his triceps filled the white cloth of his sweat-sheer tunic like wind filling a wetted sail. From his place at the working end of the log that was levering up the wheel, the Master of the Hunt Silas Vane gave his lord a plaintive grunt of effort as his only reply. [color=6495ED]“You’ll never get the wheel on lifting only that high, brother.”[/color] Through the salty haze of his strain, Valerius managed to turn his head just enough to look up at his sister. [color=CC5500]“Perhaps…” [/color]he wheezed, [color=CC5500]“…if you could return to your place as silent ballast in the [i]other[/i] carriage you could let us finish?”[/color] For the barest of moments, Lyra Kenra regarded her brother’s words and predicament before moving to add her own weight to lifting the carriage. From behind her, a slight [color=FFFFFF]“Eep!”[/color] of dismay came from one of Lyra’s handmaidens as the eldest daughter of House Kenra placed herself into harm’s way. Dismayed though the servants all were at the sight of the stubborn Kenran’s handiwork, there was no doubt that the addition of Lyra’s muscle was making a difference. The carriage with its damaged wheel moved askew just high enough of the rut for a manservant to lug the part from the axle, and for the replacement to be slammed home. What should have been a triumphal occasion was dashed, however, as the sound of rending cordage and the hiss of lacquered wood sliding from atop the tilted carriage was subsequently followed by a distinct thump and splash. Eyes wide, Valerius wriggled from beneath the carriage as it settled upon its new wheel. The gathered servants gaped in disbelief as Valerius sprinted his way to the far side of the carriage, and to the banks of the blue-green ribbon that was the river Trorane. Floating briskly downriver, and back towards Brackmere and the sea, was Valerius’ finery trunk. The tall knight and lordling of Kenra dragged his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. His hazel eyes followed the trunk, full of all his best robes and adornments, wind its way down the river like the most expensive autumn leaf the Trorane had ever floated. [color=FFFFFF]“Ah,”[/color] said Silas, coming to stand beside his lord as he slapped the dirt from his hands. [color=FFFFFF]“That’s one way to get out of a ball, milord.”[/color] The master of the hunt softened his jibe with a wry, but genuine, smile. [color=FFFFFF]“I can ride after it, if ya like? It’s possible it’ll get hung up at Walker’s Turn downriver, which isn’t too far back.”[/color] Valerius removed his hands from his dark hair, the locks pinned back across his scalp from the mixture of sweat and axle grease. Lungs still working from exertion and now exasperation, Valerius merely scowled for a time then, at last, he smiled. Not looking to Silas, he clapped the man on the back between his well-formed shoulders. [color=CC5500]“No need, my friend. Boreal wanted that trunk for a reason, and I shall not doubt their reasoning.”[/color] Valerius withdrew his hand, and hitched up his trousers, but not before ensuring that he had wiped a significant amount of grease onto Silas’ back. [color=CC5500]“The ladies of the Black Citadel will just have to take me as I am—riding clothes and all.”[/color] He met Silas’ skeptical gaze. [color=CC5500]“Please prepare our departure. We’ll be leaving shortly.”[/color] Not waiting for the huntsman’s answer, Valerious knelt at the side of the river. Reaching down, he washed his hands in the silt and sand of the bank, letting the cool water drain some of the heat from his aching fingers. [color=CC5500][i]Is every force meant to be against me, Lacra?[/i][/color] he thought, addressing the force of the river’s waters. With his elbows resting upon his bent knees, no reply was forthcoming. Behind him, Valerius could hear the bustle of the house train crescendoing as the retinue of servants, guards, and beasts of burden prepared themselves for the resumption of the journey down the King’s Road. Valerius did not hurry himself to join them. The retinue was still weeks away from the Valley of Kings. A few more minutes with his thoughts would not harm his journey any more than fate had already done. As he continued to wash himself in the river, Valerius scoffed at the thought. [color=CC5500][i]Fate, indeed.[/i][/color] Cool river water cascaded in rivulets down his neck, pooling into the valley of his clavicle and at the crest of his chest. Leaning back upon heels, Valerius looked up into the azure sky. [color=CC5500]“Fate Upon Our Sword,” [/color]he spoke aloud, reciting the motto in hushed tones. [color=CC5500]“If only a princess’s heart could be won upon a blade…”[/color][/color] [center][sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img] [color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none[/color] [img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center] [hr] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/kyc3MYx.gif[/img][/center] [center][color=#808080][x] [x] [x][/color][/center] [center][color=#808080][i]Approaching the Black Citadel | Present day[/i][/color][/center] [center][color=CC5500][i]#CC5500[/i][/color] [color=#808080]&[/color] [color=6495ED][i]#6495ED[/i][/color][/center] [color=#808080]Navy and silver pennants fluttered upon the mountain’s breath, luffing in lazy arcs from their places atop the guard towers along the King’s Road, signifying the final leg towards the Black Citadel. Upon the same hot and oppressive sigh of air, the sounds of the Valley of Kings grew in its cacophony, adding noise and the hum of life to air thick with the odors of the same. [color=FFFFFF]“Make way! Make way, there!”[/color] A booming voice called down the busy street. The officer of the King’s Guard and his fellow Raven used the imposing size of their mounts as much as their commanding calls to clear the road ahead. Each of the warhorses upon which the honor-detail rode were twenty hands high at the shoulder, broad of neck and thick of chest. The citizenry before them flowed around their massive slate-gray forms, collectively scowling in frustration, but not dawdling. The real possibility of being trampled by lacquered hooves awaited any who did not heed the warning. From her vantage within the covered carriage, Lyra smiled at the sight of the steeds of the King’s Guard. They were Brackmere Iron-Hides, a breed of warhorse coveted across Aethoria, and native to the plains of River’s End. Exorbitantly expensive, Lyra had no doubt her uncle had some hand in convincing the Ravens of the Black Citadel that they required such mounts. This was so, even though in all her studies of Aethorian history Lyra could not recall a single recounting of a King’s Guard cavalry charge. It was comforting to Lyra that at least one pillar of House Kenra understood that power and influence was a crop that required constant tending. Altruism and charity were fruits only harvested upon the scythe of relevance. Ser Torin Kenra, Keeper of Secrets, knew this labor well. With the shadow of the Black Citadel upon her, it was a skill that Lyra vowed she would also master. As the towers and battlements of the great seat of Aethorian power drew nearer, the empty eyes of House Storvane’s snow owl sigil gazed down upon the procession of House Kenra. Shifting her attention from the King’s Guard and their chargers, Lyra lifted her eyes to follow the banners of the King’s house for a time. She ensured that the phalanx of Storvane retainers that escorted the retinue would note that she was giving the king’s symbols its due. Yet, she was also careful to not crane her neck like a gawping bumpkin—the court of Storvane would get her honor, but not her awe. It had been nearly a decade since Lyra had seen the marker of the king on anything but a royal seal. Though her father regarded King Rowan highly, Lord Garrick Kenra was a loyal and relatively far-flung vassal—there was little need for state visits or martial posturing on the part of the king when he had a loyal hound ready to heel at the sound of his whistle. [color=FFFFFF]“I hear Prince Dorian is quite handsome,”[/color] the handmaid seated beside her said to both Lyra and no one in particular, as she stuck her head out of the carriage window to gape at the mountain that was the Black Citadel. [color=6495ED]“The Peacock?”[/color] Lyra replied, reaching out to gently pull the girl back into the carriage by the sleeve of her gown. The lady of Kenra and her handmaidens had had some version of this same conversation roughly a thousand times since they had departed Brackmere, and the arc of the plot was as predictable as the procession of the sun. [color=6495ED]“You mean the accidental prince?”[/color] Lyra said, smiling at the corners of her eyes. [color=6495ED]“Handsome he may be. Unfortunately, his betrothed would have to be wary of bastards popping up like weeds from Ashmar to Phoros for the rest of her days.”[/color] Covering their mouths, the handmaidens stifled giggles and demure sniggers at the vulgarity of their lady. As the women continued to chatter softly, Lyra leaned her head back against the velvet header of the carriage’s interior. The mirth was a welcome tonic for the tension that had been building along with the stifling heat as the delegation of House Kenra had descended into the Valley of Kings. Confident in herself though she was, this was to be the most consequential moment of Lyra’s life. The halls of Brackmere and its tangled worries seemed small and inconsequential here—as dichotomous and vast as a tied string was to a tangled net. Reaching up, Lyra smoothed her fingers absently over the embroidered sword and knot motif emblazoned across the swell of her bosom. [color=6495ED][i]Fate Upon Our Sword,[/i][/color] she thought. [color=CC5500]“We’re at the gates.”[/color] Valerius’ voice startled Lyra from her thoughts. Sitting up, Lyra looked out the window to where Valerius bent atop his own Iron-Hide steed to carry his voice inside the carriage to her. His face was sheened with sweat, hazel eyes peering with genuine care from beneath the shelf of his brow. She noted how road grime and perspiration had discolored the crimson and cobalt of his riding coat. The servants had done their best to clean and mend, but there was little that could hide such abuses. The garment, along with much of Valerius other remaining riding attire, had been pressed into near constant service for weeks after the loss of his trunk. [color=6495ED]“Thank you, brother.”[/color] She gave him a soft smile. A smile that belied the anxious thunder of her heart within her chest. [color=6495ED]“A journey over at last, only for another to begin again.”[/color] Valerius winked at her, his mouth tugging into a lopsided grin. [color=CC5500]“It’s just wine and wenches, sister,” [/color]came the oft-used reply. It was a phrase the siblings had exchanged for years, always denoting an air of extreme nonchalance when the reality was frequently anything but. She offered a knowing expression as she watched Valerius spur his horse forward, trotting headlong to the fore of the column as the open gates of the Black Citadel yawned before them. It was in her brother’s nature to charge forward, taking command, lifting his eyes up and out to the heavens and the challenge the Nine placed before him. She loved him for that nature, and it welled pride within her heart to see it. Lyra let her short nails fall to the corsetry about her waist, her fingers finding the subtle ridge amidst the boned structure of the garment where the stiletto knife was secreted. She had not meant for the entire loss of her brother’s clothing when she had nicked the cordage of the tie-down weeks ago. At most she had hoped for the large trunk to topple off, splinter, and for a few pieces of finery to be soiled by mud or wood splinters. What had occurred along the banks of the Trorane, however, had been an occurrence she could never have foreseen. Boreal, the Tempestuous Winds, and the governing force of chaos, had taken her small act and magnified it a hundred fold. Lyra felt her face flush with more than just the valley’s heat. One small act of mischief in the past had conjured up a present that had been truly unpredictable. She had left Valerius at a disadvantage now, but that alone was not what had set her color to rise about her neck. So many acts, great and small, were before her now. The machinations of the rival houses were one thing to work against, but chaos itself? No king or queen, no matter how powerful, wealthy, or loved was free of its neutral disdain. The abrupt halt of the carriage steeled Lyra, bringing her fully into the moment and out of her thoughts. A blanket of quiet fell across the courtyard as the din of the carriage’s wheels rattling across the cobbles ceased. Silence hissed inside her ears. Dust swirled about the windows, briefly obscuring the party of silhouettes that had been waiting to greet the Kenrans. Just as abruptly as the carriage’s halt did the door beside Lyra click and swing open. A set of wooden steps was placed level with the carriage’s floor, followed instantly by a finely gloved hand offered in support and greeting. [color=FFFFFF]“Milady, welcome to the Black Citadel.”[/color][/color] [center][sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img] [color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none[/color] [img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center]