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Noctis
Emberdawn2 Jehan’s parting words left Guy more than a little confused. The young knight slumped in his chair, puzzling over the cryptic response that hinted at terrible loss and misery for the older, yet smooth-faced Errant. Unlike the snide retorts and saber rattling he’d expected Guy was instead handed a sincere warning, one that left his inexperienced mind reeling. He could not however follow the advice, even if he was inclined too. Ideals were important, but his brother’s life or honor could very well be at stake and he would sooner perish than crawl home defeated and empty handed.
So what if the world plagued by darkness? What if others fall from their true path and fail in their duties? If a man’s word is worth nothing, what does he have but the false luxuries and a poisoned existence. There are things in life worth dying for, and honor and holy vows are some of those noble things that I cannot forsake.
Guy’s father always contained whimsical lines for such times, Lord Guerre would set his sword point first upon the limestone floor of the chapel, the stained-glass windows casting him in rainbow hue as he spoke his words of wisdom. “An honorable man dies but once, but a coward shall perish a thousand times and more.”
“Apologies monsieur?”
Guy jerked back from his reprieve, remembering where he was. He’d spoken his father’s line aloud, and the tavern hosts wife had heard him as she approached laden by a plate of eggs and bread and a tumbler of beer. Guy eyed the dark-haired woman with interest, surprised by the presence of yet another Bretonnian this deep within Imperial borders. She’d answered in lower Bretonnian, the peasants’ tongue, and more likely than not did not fully comprehend his quotation of his father, following only to a minor degree. Indeed, what she did understand of his words probably would be quite distressing to hear in one’s home and business.
“Nothing of your concern.” Guy answered at last in Reikspiel, accepting the proffered breakfast, and placing his final penny upon the table for her to collect. “I do have a question for you however.” The woman nodded, preforming a passable bow, keeping her eyes downcast and respectful. “This sigil, do you recognize it?”
She glanced up, frowning, and then nodded once. “Yes, m’lord, I have seen it before.”
Guy’s heart skipped a beat, and he snatched the woman’s hand, making her flinch, more from shock than pain, but the intensity in the young man’s gaze kept her riveted in place, fearful that he might strike her. “I am no lord.” Guy corrected; a bit harsher than he should have been. “And I do not intend to become one, at least not for a while yet the Lady be kind. That honor is to be my brother’s, and his alone. The raven, you have seen it. When?”
“In Bretonnia, when I was still a child, I do not remember the place, there were many knights, and many banners, but the red raven stood out. It was place upon a larger flag than the others, I think, though, it was different somehow…?” she panicked seeing the twisted defeat on Guy’s face. “I do not recall why; I am sorry monsieur!”
“No,” Guy released her, slumping back in his chair forcing away his tears, that’d for a moment been ones of hope now dashed. “It was wreathed in vineyard vines perhaps, or crowned in a fleur-de-lis, the marks of my family and kin. No, I meant have you seen it recently, here in this town?”
The nervous shake of her head shattered whatever was left of his hope that is brother may have ridden through this place on his rides with the Broken Swords. “But, the Ogre’s Maw does not often host knights sir, perhaps the other establishments in town?”
Guy nodded glumly, not thrilled by the prospect of wandering from tavern to tavern asking if any of the patrons or owners had seen his brother. The emotional ups and downs as people hmmed and hawed over the inquiry left him exhausted, no matter how accustom he became with the wearisome task. Guy scooped some rapidly cooling eggs into his mouth to give himself something to do as the goodwife stepped away to tend to other customers. He would attend to that duty later, he would be in this place for a few more days no doubt, waiting for the boy he’d rescued the previous night to recover, and he still intended to deliver the vague message to the town leadership. Guy finished his breakfast his course of action decided. The mayor first, then to the healer Margueritte to see if the boy was lucid enough to answer any questions, and finally to interrogate the other taverns in Schartenfeld.
Rising Guy departed the tavern turning down the road towards the one building that domineered over all the rest, concluding this was the only place worthy of housing the local government. He was met at the door by the guardsmen, dressed in their flamboyant finery they respectfully requested he wait while someone fetched the Chamberlain.
“Recken yer late fer th’ meetin’ wit’ th’ mayor?” One asked in a version of Reikspiel that even Guy, being well educated on the tongue had trouble understanding. The knight decided it best to ignore the man than puzzle through the question and tapped his boot upon the cobbled paving impatiently. Sebastian Johan Bock (No relation to Johan Sebastian Bock) arrived just as the Breton was contemplating abandoning his goodwill quest to inform the mayor of the boy’s warning altogether.
“Ah, you must be late for the meeting with the mayor young sir.” The chamberlain chided, sounding very much annoyed that someone would arrive late for such an important occasion. Guy blinked in surprise, uncertain of what scheduled meeting he was late for, but he only shrugged, gesturing for Sebastian to lead the way. Unbeknownst to Guy he traversed the same path as the others, looking about at the Imperial architecture and gathered militia with an appraising eye as Sebastian led him through the halls and straight to the office of the esteemed mayor. A sharp triple knock, and a bid for him to enter found Guy stepping over the threshold and into the crowded space. It took him only a moment to recall Johan Sebastian Bock’s request for mercenaries and for him to recognize all their semi-familiar presence and intentions.
“Of course. Well, it is as good a time to be recruiting mercenaries.” Guy said as he squeezed into the room, rolling his eyes skyward as he figured out what meeting he was apparently late in arriving too. As if he, a Knight of Bretonnia would fight for blood gold. The mayor had just finished answering a few questions it seemed, and Guy stomped over whatever business they’d been conducting to attend to his own purpose. “I discovered a common boy on the road, starving and pathetic, he requested I see him here to Schartenfeld so that he may deliver a warning of some kind, of a danger to this town I presume. He might have more information on that front, though according to the healer he was in no condition to relay more. I thought you may wish to know, so you could prepare.”
So what if the world plagued by darkness? What if others fall from their true path and fail in their duties? If a man’s word is worth nothing, what does he have but the false luxuries and a poisoned existence. There are things in life worth dying for, and honor and holy vows are some of those noble things that I cannot forsake.
Guy’s father always contained whimsical lines for such times, Lord Guerre would set his sword point first upon the limestone floor of the chapel, the stained-glass windows casting him in rainbow hue as he spoke his words of wisdom. “An honorable man dies but once, but a coward shall perish a thousand times and more.”
“Apologies monsieur?”
Guy jerked back from his reprieve, remembering where he was. He’d spoken his father’s line aloud, and the tavern hosts wife had heard him as she approached laden by a plate of eggs and bread and a tumbler of beer. Guy eyed the dark-haired woman with interest, surprised by the presence of yet another Bretonnian this deep within Imperial borders. She’d answered in lower Bretonnian, the peasants’ tongue, and more likely than not did not fully comprehend his quotation of his father, following only to a minor degree. Indeed, what she did understand of his words probably would be quite distressing to hear in one’s home and business.
“Nothing of your concern.” Guy answered at last in Reikspiel, accepting the proffered breakfast, and placing his final penny upon the table for her to collect. “I do have a question for you however.” The woman nodded, preforming a passable bow, keeping her eyes downcast and respectful. “This sigil, do you recognize it?”
She glanced up, frowning, and then nodded once. “Yes, m’lord, I have seen it before.”
Guy’s heart skipped a beat, and he snatched the woman’s hand, making her flinch, more from shock than pain, but the intensity in the young man’s gaze kept her riveted in place, fearful that he might strike her. “I am no lord.” Guy corrected; a bit harsher than he should have been. “And I do not intend to become one, at least not for a while yet the Lady be kind. That honor is to be my brother’s, and his alone. The raven, you have seen it. When?”
“In Bretonnia, when I was still a child, I do not remember the place, there were many knights, and many banners, but the red raven stood out. It was place upon a larger flag than the others, I think, though, it was different somehow…?” she panicked seeing the twisted defeat on Guy’s face. “I do not recall why; I am sorry monsieur!”
“No,” Guy released her, slumping back in his chair forcing away his tears, that’d for a moment been ones of hope now dashed. “It was wreathed in vineyard vines perhaps, or crowned in a fleur-de-lis, the marks of my family and kin. No, I meant have you seen it recently, here in this town?”
The nervous shake of her head shattered whatever was left of his hope that is brother may have ridden through this place on his rides with the Broken Swords. “But, the Ogre’s Maw does not often host knights sir, perhaps the other establishments in town?”
Guy nodded glumly, not thrilled by the prospect of wandering from tavern to tavern asking if any of the patrons or owners had seen his brother. The emotional ups and downs as people hmmed and hawed over the inquiry left him exhausted, no matter how accustom he became with the wearisome task. Guy scooped some rapidly cooling eggs into his mouth to give himself something to do as the goodwife stepped away to tend to other customers. He would attend to that duty later, he would be in this place for a few more days no doubt, waiting for the boy he’d rescued the previous night to recover, and he still intended to deliver the vague message to the town leadership. Guy finished his breakfast his course of action decided. The mayor first, then to the healer Margueritte to see if the boy was lucid enough to answer any questions, and finally to interrogate the other taverns in Schartenfeld.
Rising Guy departed the tavern turning down the road towards the one building that domineered over all the rest, concluding this was the only place worthy of housing the local government. He was met at the door by the guardsmen, dressed in their flamboyant finery they respectfully requested he wait while someone fetched the Chamberlain.
“Recken yer late fer th’ meetin’ wit’ th’ mayor?” One asked in a version of Reikspiel that even Guy, being well educated on the tongue had trouble understanding. The knight decided it best to ignore the man than puzzle through the question and tapped his boot upon the cobbled paving impatiently. Sebastian Johan Bock (No relation to Johan Sebastian Bock) arrived just as the Breton was contemplating abandoning his goodwill quest to inform the mayor of the boy’s warning altogether.
“Ah, you must be late for the meeting with the mayor young sir.” The chamberlain chided, sounding very much annoyed that someone would arrive late for such an important occasion. Guy blinked in surprise, uncertain of what scheduled meeting he was late for, but he only shrugged, gesturing for Sebastian to lead the way. Unbeknownst to Guy he traversed the same path as the others, looking about at the Imperial architecture and gathered militia with an appraising eye as Sebastian led him through the halls and straight to the office of the esteemed mayor. A sharp triple knock, and a bid for him to enter found Guy stepping over the threshold and into the crowded space. It took him only a moment to recall Johan Sebastian Bock’s request for mercenaries and for him to recognize all their semi-familiar presence and intentions.
“Of course. Well, it is as good a time to be recruiting mercenaries.” Guy said as he squeezed into the room, rolling his eyes skyward as he figured out what meeting he was apparently late in arriving too. As if he, a Knight of Bretonnia would fight for blood gold. The mayor had just finished answering a few questions it seemed, and Guy stomped over whatever business they’d been conducting to attend to his own purpose. “I discovered a common boy on the road, starving and pathetic, he requested I see him here to Schartenfeld so that he may deliver a warning of some kind, of a danger to this town I presume. He might have more information on that front, though according to the healer he was in no condition to relay more. I thought you may wish to know, so you could prepare.”
