The palace glistened in the sunlight, it's ivory facade polished so fine that it almost reflected light back onto any who stared at it. Towers jutted up haphazardly at various places on the castle roof, the structures serving as vantage points for archers as well as excellent hiding places for deeds that the royal family wouldn't want exposed to their adoring public. To be fair, the royal family had engendered a peaceful and prosperous reign ever since they had seized power from King Larien forty years ago...and yet, rumors about their illicit affairs behind closed doors leaked through to the commoners, pubs and inns across the Kingdom crawling with what the Prince did to this other Princess and what the King had told to one of the ambassadors of Nagalyen, the most gracious and conservative Elven realm known to all. In all honesty, Volgorl despised the controversy that surrounded the royal family.
How ironic it was then that he had been invited to become a member.
A few months ago, the Rakya tribe had deemed the entire Kingdom a blight upon the land and attempted to conduct a religious cleanse, sweeping through villages and burning whatever and whoever they could to ashes. They were closing in quickly on the capital city and the King was getting desperate, so he sent Volgorl's unit down to intercept the raiders as a distraction. Essentially, Vol led one hundred soldiers on a suicide mission to ensure that the rest of the army had a chance to mobilize and pick off whatever Vol and his unit hadn't taken care of. By some stroke of magic or luck or divinity, Vol and his unit managed to catch the raiders by surprise and slaughtered the whole company, inspiring fear in the Rakya. Vol was commissioned to lead the charge into Rakya territory a week later and a campaign in the south occurred for two months which finally broke the Rakya's back, the tribe surrendering after thousands of casualties on both sides. A weary, bloodied Volgorl was greeted by his King on his return with an invitation to marry one of his daughters and become a part of the royal bloodline for his heroic actions. He had wanted to turn it down so desperately, but he knew that if one was given an invitation of this magnitude, one should not turn it down.
"Captain Volgorl!"
Vol's piercing aqua irises peered down to one of the royal servants who had intercepted him at the entrance of the palace.
"Please go inside, my lord. I shall take your mount."
"I can lead it to the stable myself."
"But my lo..."
"Thank you, but I'll lead him there." Vol dismounted from his steed and clapped his hand on the servant's shoulder, shooting him a half smile.
"After all, you probably have preparations to make for yet another feast, eh?" Without a word, the servant scuttled off.
His horse situated in the royal stable, Vol entered into the palace, his broad shoulders at attention. He smoothed his short ash brown hair back, the hair rebelliously going forward once more. He could lead men into battle and yet his own hair couldn't be tamed. Sighing to himself, he continued to stroll forward into the main hall. The grandiose nature of the hall was explicit: gold and purple drapes hanging on the walls, ornate carvings lining the silk carpet that ran down the center of the room and up the marble staircase. He noted that a young woman of comely appearance stood at the top of the staircase..