"By my right as the Duke of Arvannone, by the power granted to me by the King, and the by the will of the Gods, I summon thee to serve as Baron of Gavony! Rise to your station, Murtagh Drakenmoore, and be recognized!"
It was a surreal experience, being gifted the Sword of Galaden on this day, the day of Murtagh's coronation. He felt the weight of the sheathed blade in his hands, realizing to his surprise that it was not a broken heirloom, but a well forged sword that happened to be used for ceremony. He would be able to admire it later, but right now he was far more focused on Duke Saville, who loomed over him with his scepter, granted to him by the Bishop of the Holy Sepulcher. Murtagh rose as he was bid, his new sword now in his hands and his head held high for all to see. The view was overwhelming, and he realized he would have rather looked upon an army of brigands or monsters rather than people whom he might disappoint.
Among the Grand Hall of the Duke's Palace, row upon row and balcony upon balcony were filled with aristocrats and commoners, merchants and laborers, locals and foreigners. The chamber was hallowed, built with whitestone and furnished with tapestries of green and gold, and a red carpet that lined its vast entirety. As the music reached its crescendo, Murtagh was filled with a purpose that rose in his breast. Perhaps he had truly earned this, even if he felt unworthy. The golden light of the sun that pierced the stained glass windows shimmered on the silks of those that watched him, and he bowed before the congregation of citizens, truly humbled by this magnificent honor.
That was but two days ago.
Now he sat upon a horse, waiting patiently as six men-at-arms milled about and played dice along the road. Yesterday it had rained hard, and the humidity still caught his skin and made the road's a bit tricky. Had he not tamed the land himself (as best as one could), he would have felt it a dangerous journey. No doubt it always would be, which was why he was given the land, he realized. To keep it under control so that trade may pass through freely. He supposed his life as a Baron would not be too dissimilar as a sellsword...hopefully.
Murtagh had insisted on inspecting Skycrest himself, but by the Duke's decree, he had to bring his majesty's niece along. They had met once, briefly, and he recalled her in the crowd at the coronation. But otherwise she was a complete enigma to him. Pretty, smart, and assigned to help him. He knew a lot of lads who would have loved the idea of going to an abandoned keep alone with such a woman, but he was all business. This was the beginning of his legacy. He wasn't about to waste it on frivolity or a wandering eye. Murtagh was, if nothing else, goal oriented. It was how he got into his new position.
He heard another horse's whinny, and he turned to see his new companion approaching. He hoped this wouldn't be a long trip...