@Cale: love the signature. Titan A.E. Was a great movie; and Planet Bob was a great name.
@Sep: I wasn't able to access that bounties thing. Was it important/does it pertain to me? And if so, is there some way you could PM me the raw data or something? (If it's no trouble that is)
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High Sun, Rotaerus Castle
There was quite a bustling noise coming from the council room. Six Purveyors, four Mayors, and a handful of royal guards were all standing around the elongated table in the center. The powerful group of people were intermingled and talking, discussing the going ons of the Kingdom. From the pirates in the east, to the clansmen in the north, and of course the faint whispers heard from across the world. It should be noted however that international affairs are not a favorite subject of conversation in the Osterlaind. Their notorious isolationism has been one of their defining traits; and now it could be their biggest problem.
As King Arthur and Prince James walked in, every man turned and bowed, as was customary. "Please, let us begin," the King announced. At his request, the mayors and purveyors took their seats at the table.
"If I may speak your grace," Derek Goetz, the Purveyor of Justice began. The King nodded to grant him permission. "Thank you. I must say that it is highly unusual to have non-council members sitting in on a meeting; especially one that is by no means about a normal topic." He was of course referring to the mayors and the prince. As per Osterlaind law, only members of the council could vote in their meetings.
"Your point is noted," replied Arthur in a manner befitting a king. "I can assure you that they are not here to vote; I know the law as well. They are merely here to express their opinions on the matters at hand. These issues facing us, indeed face all of us. I believe the mayors should be able to speak their peace." Derek Goetz nodded in acceptance and sat back into his seat. "And on that note, we are here to discuss the resource issue, the clansmen in the northern valley, and the pirates off of the eastern shores."
The Purveyor of Industry, Edward Stevenson, and the Purveyor of Prosperity, William Caldwell began discussing the heart of the resource issue. The large problem was the isolationist ways which had their rule over the nation for many decades. At one point in time it had helped the nation; but now it was taking its toll. The economy of the Kingdom was suffering as gold deposits were becoming scarce within the mines. Add to that the issue of increasing population and continuous raiding from the north and east, the situation was not looking good.
"There are two ways to aid a failing economy your grace; war, and trade. Given the state we are in, the latter would be preferable."
The king folded his hands and leaned onto the table. He agreed wholeheartedly. "Yet who would engage in trade with a nation who has cared nothing for others? Granted, we have not committed any direct offenses towards anyone; but ignoring them can be just as insulting. I fear our ancestors ways have put us in a tough position."
"I believe there is something we can do about that," the Purveyor of Diplomacy said. Nicklas Anders pulled a letter from his robes, bearing a broken foreign seal and addressed to the King. The letter was passed down the table to Arthur, who opened it and began reading intently. His eyes grew brighter, and his demeanor seemed a bit more cheery. The letter was hopeful indeed.
"This is a letter from the Gu-shedal of Manram. He is inviting us to a celebration in honor of his birth date." Murmurs arose around the room as they discussed the opportunity. The King turned to Nicklas. "Do you believe they would be willing to engage in trade with us?"
"I see of no particular reason why not. If we attend the celebration, we could use this as both a moment to forge bonds, and perhaps cause prosperity for us and our new found friends. We have everything to gain from this." Truly, parties could be make or break moments in terms of diplomacy. There would be many foreign dignitaries and rulers attending, making it extremely convenient for a nation seeking to make friends.
"And everything to lose..." Muttered the King. "He requests we come unarmed." Again a murmuring arose, this one not so calm nor polite. For a King to go someplace without protection was unheard of. Kings in the Osterlaind had always worn swords on their hips and always had loyal guards following them, with swords on their own hips. The council members did not like this idea in the least.
Sen spoke above the rest, "my King, I strongly advise against it. Even in the name of good will and respect, one cannot be so foolish as to enter a foreign city without protection." Several others voiced their agreement with the Purveyor of Guardianship.
Arthur sat there contemplating the ramifications of each decision. "We will discuss this issue later. But I can say with surety I will be going to the land of Manram; with or without weaponry."
Sen frowned at the sound of that. "As you wish my king." He knew there was little he could do to change a kings mind.
"Now onto the matter of the clansmen. Something must be done to stop their attacks upon our people."
"Perhaps an army could be raised?" Philip Rich held the title of Purveyor of Advancement. "A small force could be sent north to deal with them once and for all."
The council began discussing the proposal immediately. Raising an army would put a minor strain on the economy; however, it would take care of the problem that's been bothering them for quite some time. Short term loss for a long term gain sounded acceptable.
"Let's put it to a vote then," Sen suggested.
The King agreed. "All in favor of raising a force of one thousand men to go north and fight the clans?" Every member of the council including the king held their hand up, voting unanimously 'yes.' "It would seem we are agreed then. Call the soldiers to arms and have the General take command of the offensive. Tell him I wish for no harm to come to women or children. Within reason, he may use whatever methods he chooses to gain victory." The messenger standing in the room bowed and left for the barracks. There he would find the General, and from there, civil defense soldiers would call up one thousand regulars out of civilian life.
"And what of the piracy epidemic sire?" The mayor of Moltosaere knew all to well of this problem. For months now the coastal villages of his city had been raided and ransacked. "The navy is not large enough to deal with the increasing threat."
The king sighed, he had momentarily forgot there was more than two problems. He wondered if there was ever a king who had it better, for he would surely trade places with that man. "Would raising the navies numbers be prudent?"
The Purveyor of Industry raised his head, "I believe it would your grace. It would give the craftsmen in Caederon a boost in production; that should at least help the local economy."
"However, having to supply those ships and then pay the crews thereof would be an added problem," the Purveyor of Prosperity interjected.
"So a modest number then?" The king suggested. "Should twenty ships dedicated to protecting the Moltosaere coast suffice?"
The mayor nodded his head, "I believe it might you grace."
"All in favor of a twenty ship expansion to the navy?" Again, they all voted 'yes.' "Then if there is nothing more to discuss, this meeting is over. If my son and Nicklas would both meet me in private; we must discuss the issue of the trip to Manram."
There was quite a bustling noise coming from the council room. Six Purveyors, four Mayors, and a handful of royal guards were all standing around the elongated table in the center. The powerful group of people were intermingled and talking, discussing the going ons of the Kingdom. From the pirates in the east, to the clansmen in the north, and of course the faint whispers heard from across the world. It should be noted however that international affairs are not a favorite subject of conversation in the Osterlaind. Their notorious isolationism has been one of their defining traits; and now it could be their biggest problem.
As King Arthur and Prince James walked in, every man turned and bowed, as was customary. "Please, let us begin," the King announced. At his request, the mayors and purveyors took their seats at the table.
"If I may speak your grace," Derek Goetz, the Purveyor of Justice began. The King nodded to grant him permission. "Thank you. I must say that it is highly unusual to have non-council members sitting in on a meeting; especially one that is by no means about a normal topic." He was of course referring to the mayors and the prince. As per Osterlaind law, only members of the council could vote in their meetings.
"Your point is noted," replied Arthur in a manner befitting a king. "I can assure you that they are not here to vote; I know the law as well. They are merely here to express their opinions on the matters at hand. These issues facing us, indeed face all of us. I believe the mayors should be able to speak their peace." Derek Goetz nodded in acceptance and sat back into his seat. "And on that note, we are here to discuss the resource issue, the clansmen in the northern valley, and the pirates off of the eastern shores."
The Purveyor of Industry, Edward Stevenson, and the Purveyor of Prosperity, William Caldwell began discussing the heart of the resource issue. The large problem was the isolationist ways which had their rule over the nation for many decades. At one point in time it had helped the nation; but now it was taking its toll. The economy of the Kingdom was suffering as gold deposits were becoming scarce within the mines. Add to that the issue of increasing population and continuous raiding from the north and east, the situation was not looking good.
"There are two ways to aid a failing economy your grace; war, and trade. Given the state we are in, the latter would be preferable."
The king folded his hands and leaned onto the table. He agreed wholeheartedly. "Yet who would engage in trade with a nation who has cared nothing for others? Granted, we have not committed any direct offenses towards anyone; but ignoring them can be just as insulting. I fear our ancestors ways have put us in a tough position."
"I believe there is something we can do about that," the Purveyor of Diplomacy said. Nicklas Anders pulled a letter from his robes, bearing a broken foreign seal and addressed to the King. The letter was passed down the table to Arthur, who opened it and began reading intently. His eyes grew brighter, and his demeanor seemed a bit more cheery. The letter was hopeful indeed.
"This is a letter from the Gu-shedal of Manram. He is inviting us to a celebration in honor of his birth date." Murmurs arose around the room as they discussed the opportunity. The King turned to Nicklas. "Do you believe they would be willing to engage in trade with us?"
"I see of no particular reason why not. If we attend the celebration, we could use this as both a moment to forge bonds, and perhaps cause prosperity for us and our new found friends. We have everything to gain from this." Truly, parties could be make or break moments in terms of diplomacy. There would be many foreign dignitaries and rulers attending, making it extremely convenient for a nation seeking to make friends.
"And everything to lose..." Muttered the King. "He requests we come unarmed." Again a murmuring arose, this one not so calm nor polite. For a King to go someplace without protection was unheard of. Kings in the Osterlaind had always worn swords on their hips and always had loyal guards following them, with swords on their own hips. The council members did not like this idea in the least.
Sen spoke above the rest, "my King, I strongly advise against it. Even in the name of good will and respect, one cannot be so foolish as to enter a foreign city without protection." Several others voiced their agreement with the Purveyor of Guardianship.
Arthur sat there contemplating the ramifications of each decision. "We will discuss this issue later. But I can say with surety I will be going to the land of Manram; with or without weaponry."
Sen frowned at the sound of that. "As you wish my king." He knew there was little he could do to change a kings mind.
"Now onto the matter of the clansmen. Something must be done to stop their attacks upon our people."
"Perhaps an army could be raised?" Philip Rich held the title of Purveyor of Advancement. "A small force could be sent north to deal with them once and for all."
The council began discussing the proposal immediately. Raising an army would put a minor strain on the economy; however, it would take care of the problem that's been bothering them for quite some time. Short term loss for a long term gain sounded acceptable.
"Let's put it to a vote then," Sen suggested.
The King agreed. "All in favor of raising a force of one thousand men to go north and fight the clans?" Every member of the council including the king held their hand up, voting unanimously 'yes.' "It would seem we are agreed then. Call the soldiers to arms and have the General take command of the offensive. Tell him I wish for no harm to come to women or children. Within reason, he may use whatever methods he chooses to gain victory." The messenger standing in the room bowed and left for the barracks. There he would find the General, and from there, civil defense soldiers would call up one thousand regulars out of civilian life.
"And what of the piracy epidemic sire?" The mayor of Moltosaere knew all to well of this problem. For months now the coastal villages of his city had been raided and ransacked. "The navy is not large enough to deal with the increasing threat."
The king sighed, he had momentarily forgot there was more than two problems. He wondered if there was ever a king who had it better, for he would surely trade places with that man. "Would raising the navies numbers be prudent?"
The Purveyor of Industry raised his head, "I believe it would your grace. It would give the craftsmen in Caederon a boost in production; that should at least help the local economy."
"However, having to supply those ships and then pay the crews thereof would be an added problem," the Purveyor of Prosperity interjected.
"So a modest number then?" The king suggested. "Should twenty ships dedicated to protecting the Moltosaere coast suffice?"
The mayor nodded his head, "I believe it might you grace."
"All in favor of a twenty ship expansion to the navy?" Again, they all voted 'yes.' "Then if there is nothing more to discuss, this meeting is over. If my son and Nicklas would both meet me in private; we must discuss the issue of the trip to Manram."
Sep said
Well you should all join Loretta.She's rich.
Good enough for me.
And, awesome, more bounty hunters. I can almost see the Rebels quaking in their boots saying: "This is getting out of hand; now there are two of them." Haha.
Morning, Rotaerus Castle
The sun had made its appearance, and it was shining through the large window within the Kings bedchamber. The glaring rays fell upon his eyes, not giving a care in the world who he was or what he was. Arthur had learned long ago that a king could do nothing to damper the suns brightness. He had woken hours earlier to get ready for the meeting, and afterwards had decided to sit and enjoy the view. The rain had left the city looking glum and dark, but as the sun shined down from the sky, everything seemed to be cheering up. People were going about their day, animals were coming out of their shelters, life continued where it had left off.
He turned to the woman still laying in bed. Her long auburn hair fell like cascading water over her shoulders. Her soft and light skin looked so lovely in this light, his eyes couldn't wander elsewhere if they tried. Arthur never dared to wake her, he always found her to be such a beautiful sleeper. It was times like this when he would reminisce of events gone by, of the life they had lived these past several years. He thought of the four children they'd had, of the lives they'd lead, of the future they'd have. It was these moments he wanted to last forever.
It wasn't to be as a knock came at the door and Caitlyn began to stir. She raised her head gently to see what was going on, yawning and stretching her arms. "Don't get up, my love." Arthur leaned over the bed and kissed her forehead softly, brushing her hair to the side as he did. She smiled from below and looked up at him with her forest green eyes.
"Whoever it is, tell them they have my royal displeasure. I was having the most amazing dream."
"I'll be sure to throw them from the tallest tower personally," he said in a playful tone, cracking a smile. "I am the king after all." He got up from the bed and walked to the door, opening it quietly so as not to disturb her further. Once it was closed with him on the other side, he saw who it was that had knocked. "Captain, I am afraid I'm going to have to throw you from a tall tower. The Queen asked for it personally; you'll understand won't you?"
"But of course your grace. Anything for the women we love." The captain of the royal guard was a respected friend to the King, for good and obvious reason. One wanted to be in good graces with the man whose life was sworn to protect his.
They shared a brief laugh over their peculiar humor, "what did you need to tell me?"
"You asked me to inform you when your son, the prince, returned. He was just seen entering the castles gate with six of our guards," the commander reported.
The king was a bit confused, "six? Did he not leave with nine?" The king had always been the protective sort. If James had left with a smaller detail than he liked, someone would be in trouble.
The commanders cheery attitude turned somber. "He did your grace. I'm afraid the other three might have fallen. I'll know more once I speak with the men."
The king nodded solemnly. "Please make sure you find out." The death of three royal guards was no small thing. They were supposed to be the best soldiers the Kingdom could produce. For one of them to fall in combat was a most distressing thought. It was especially grievous for the king. Arthur deplored death, especially that of his own people. Something about it always left a sour taste in his mouth.
As if able to read minds, the commander spoke, "all men die. It's only natural."
The king nodded again, responding, "yes. But it's never an easy thing to deal with." He didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Excuse me, I wish to see my son." The commander bowed as the king took his leave. His son had been away for three weeks, and he was most interested in seeing what the north had brought about in his firstborn.
As he walked the halls of the great castle, he passed servants and guards going about their business. The castle was immense; it'd be a confusing building to navigate if the king hadn't grown up in it. He remembered back to the days of his youth, running the halls with his brother. They would play games and pretend to be men like Jonathan the Uniter, and Frederick the Strong. Their father, Robert the Restorer, always disapproved of their foolishness. Not because he was against playing around, but because Arthur and his brother typically got into trouble when they did.
It was later by the time he actually saw his son. The prince had spent the time since arriving to get cleaned up; this involved intense bathing, grooming, and of course a change of clothes. While Arthur waited, he looked around at his sons chambers. The room was full of memories of raising James. Many times were spent teaching and playing with him, spending quality moments with his child. Not a single toy remained as James grew older though. The room was now that of an adults, changing much like his own room had.
"How did you find the north? Was it what you thought it would be?" Arthur didn't have to turn to know who was behind him.
James contemplated the question. "No. It was worse. I expected fighting, I expected death, I even expected the harsh conditions, but..." His voice trailed off.
"But it's something else entirely when you actually see it; or experience it." His father turned around and got a look at him. James had tied his hair back into a ponytail and shaved his facial hair to a short stubble. He had on a set of fine clothing with the eagle of Osterlaind embroidered upon his chest. His son was only three weeks older, but the boy who left him had turned into a man. "I take it you killed a few clansmen."
James didn't want to answer the question. It wasn't that he was a coward; it was just that killing wasn't something he was used to. He turned his head and looked about the room. His silence was just as telling as giving a verbal response. "I did," he finally resigned. James had grown up hearing men talk valiantly of killing. He was so excited to get into the thick of things and prove his worth. But when the time came, there was nothing heroic, nothing glorious about the task before him. Killing was not what the songs had made it to be.
"And how did you take it?" His father asked.
"I'm afraid I got sick to my stomach. Right there on the field."
Arthur chuckled and smiled knowingly. "I did as much the first time. Only, I was able to hold it in until after the fighting; after the rage of action had passed."
James was glad to hear he wasn't the only one. "And what about the others? What about when other men died?"
"My men you mean?" James nodded. His fathers voice grew a bit more quiet on that topic. "That was even harder to cope with. I'll admit I cried when my first friend was slain; not within sight of the men of course, a king must uphold a brave image." He observed the worried look on his sons face. "It will bother you every single time, if you're anything like me that is. It's best to get used to it as much as possible." He reassured his boy. "Now, we have pressing matters to attend to. The council and mayors are all awaiting in the council room."
"Father," James started. "What's this meeting about?"
His father sighed. James could see the pain in his face, as if the words were trying their hardest to keep from coming out. "The nation is in trouble. It's not anything we can't handle I don't think." He paused. "But it is definitely the most challenging thing to face my reign." The king turned to the door and left into the hallway. "Let's not keep them waiting."
The sun had made its appearance, and it was shining through the large window within the Kings bedchamber. The glaring rays fell upon his eyes, not giving a care in the world who he was or what he was. Arthur had learned long ago that a king could do nothing to damper the suns brightness. He had woken hours earlier to get ready for the meeting, and afterwards had decided to sit and enjoy the view. The rain had left the city looking glum and dark, but as the sun shined down from the sky, everything seemed to be cheering up. People were going about their day, animals were coming out of their shelters, life continued where it had left off.
He turned to the woman still laying in bed. Her long auburn hair fell like cascading water over her shoulders. Her soft and light skin looked so lovely in this light, his eyes couldn't wander elsewhere if they tried. Arthur never dared to wake her, he always found her to be such a beautiful sleeper. It was times like this when he would reminisce of events gone by, of the life they had lived these past several years. He thought of the four children they'd had, of the lives they'd lead, of the future they'd have. It was these moments he wanted to last forever.
It wasn't to be as a knock came at the door and Caitlyn began to stir. She raised her head gently to see what was going on, yawning and stretching her arms. "Don't get up, my love." Arthur leaned over the bed and kissed her forehead softly, brushing her hair to the side as he did. She smiled from below and looked up at him with her forest green eyes.
"Whoever it is, tell them they have my royal displeasure. I was having the most amazing dream."
"I'll be sure to throw them from the tallest tower personally," he said in a playful tone, cracking a smile. "I am the king after all." He got up from the bed and walked to the door, opening it quietly so as not to disturb her further. Once it was closed with him on the other side, he saw who it was that had knocked. "Captain, I am afraid I'm going to have to throw you from a tall tower. The Queen asked for it personally; you'll understand won't you?"
"But of course your grace. Anything for the women we love." The captain of the royal guard was a respected friend to the King, for good and obvious reason. One wanted to be in good graces with the man whose life was sworn to protect his.
They shared a brief laugh over their peculiar humor, "what did you need to tell me?"
"You asked me to inform you when your son, the prince, returned. He was just seen entering the castles gate with six of our guards," the commander reported.
The king was a bit confused, "six? Did he not leave with nine?" The king had always been the protective sort. If James had left with a smaller detail than he liked, someone would be in trouble.
The commanders cheery attitude turned somber. "He did your grace. I'm afraid the other three might have fallen. I'll know more once I speak with the men."
The king nodded solemnly. "Please make sure you find out." The death of three royal guards was no small thing. They were supposed to be the best soldiers the Kingdom could produce. For one of them to fall in combat was a most distressing thought. It was especially grievous for the king. Arthur deplored death, especially that of his own people. Something about it always left a sour taste in his mouth.
As if able to read minds, the commander spoke, "all men die. It's only natural."
The king nodded again, responding, "yes. But it's never an easy thing to deal with." He didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Excuse me, I wish to see my son." The commander bowed as the king took his leave. His son had been away for three weeks, and he was most interested in seeing what the north had brought about in his firstborn.
As he walked the halls of the great castle, he passed servants and guards going about their business. The castle was immense; it'd be a confusing building to navigate if the king hadn't grown up in it. He remembered back to the days of his youth, running the halls with his brother. They would play games and pretend to be men like Jonathan the Uniter, and Frederick the Strong. Their father, Robert the Restorer, always disapproved of their foolishness. Not because he was against playing around, but because Arthur and his brother typically got into trouble when they did.
It was later by the time he actually saw his son. The prince had spent the time since arriving to get cleaned up; this involved intense bathing, grooming, and of course a change of clothes. While Arthur waited, he looked around at his sons chambers. The room was full of memories of raising James. Many times were spent teaching and playing with him, spending quality moments with his child. Not a single toy remained as James grew older though. The room was now that of an adults, changing much like his own room had.
"How did you find the north? Was it what you thought it would be?" Arthur didn't have to turn to know who was behind him.
James contemplated the question. "No. It was worse. I expected fighting, I expected death, I even expected the harsh conditions, but..." His voice trailed off.
"But it's something else entirely when you actually see it; or experience it." His father turned around and got a look at him. James had tied his hair back into a ponytail and shaved his facial hair to a short stubble. He had on a set of fine clothing with the eagle of Osterlaind embroidered upon his chest. His son was only three weeks older, but the boy who left him had turned into a man. "I take it you killed a few clansmen."
James didn't want to answer the question. It wasn't that he was a coward; it was just that killing wasn't something he was used to. He turned his head and looked about the room. His silence was just as telling as giving a verbal response. "I did," he finally resigned. James had grown up hearing men talk valiantly of killing. He was so excited to get into the thick of things and prove his worth. But when the time came, there was nothing heroic, nothing glorious about the task before him. Killing was not what the songs had made it to be.
"And how did you take it?" His father asked.
"I'm afraid I got sick to my stomach. Right there on the field."
Arthur chuckled and smiled knowingly. "I did as much the first time. Only, I was able to hold it in until after the fighting; after the rage of action had passed."
James was glad to hear he wasn't the only one. "And what about the others? What about when other men died?"
"My men you mean?" James nodded. His fathers voice grew a bit more quiet on that topic. "That was even harder to cope with. I'll admit I cried when my first friend was slain; not within sight of the men of course, a king must uphold a brave image." He observed the worried look on his sons face. "It will bother you every single time, if you're anything like me that is. It's best to get used to it as much as possible." He reassured his boy. "Now, we have pressing matters to attend to. The council and mayors are all awaiting in the council room."
"Father," James started. "What's this meeting about?"
His father sighed. James could see the pain in his face, as if the words were trying their hardest to keep from coming out. "The nation is in trouble. It's not anything we can't handle I don't think." He paused. "But it is definitely the most challenging thing to face my reign." The king turned to the door and left into the hallway. "Let's not keep them waiting."
AdvancedJ3lly said
....you should join the rebels....we have cookies....
Oh yeah, well we with the Empire have..... Umm.... Chocolate chip cookies!
Felix stood down as the credits were handed to him. He stuffed them into a pouch in his belt and turned back to Loretta. "A pleasure doing business with you." He never really expected to get all of what he asked for, but what he did get was good enough. He now had minimal access to this building, two grunts, and a pouch full of credits. That would certainly make his job much easier. Things looked like they were about to get busy in the lab, and something in Loretta's behavior told him it was time to leave; so Felix said his goodbye and headed for the door.
When he got topside, the two storm troopers were still standing there waiting for him. "How did it go?" One of them asked.
"It went pretty well. I got my money, and that's what matters." Felix slung his rifle down into his hands. "You guys are assigned to me now. You go where I go, you do what I tell you, and you'll be rewarded in some way or another." The two looked at each other and shrugged in acceptance. "So what are your names? And I don't mean those dumb identification numbers they give you guys."
"Friends call me Chaz," the one said.
"And I go by Geo," said the other.
"Alright, Chaz and Geo, do either of you know where the Governors Palace is?" Felix had something he needed to do, and someone he needed to see.
"Right this way," Chaz said. The trio took off down the street and began walking towards the silence. It seemed that the closer you get to an important area, the less fighting you heard. This was all probably planned out that way. One wouldn't want political and military buildings getting riddled with holes.
Felix noted that as they were all running about through the city, they didn't see many civilians. He couldn't tell if there were none, or if they were just smarter than to be out and about in a firefight. Either way, it really gave Belona a spooky ghost town feel.
Fighting could be heard farther off in the distance. There were soldiers and vehicles passing by, probably heading towards the front lines. Storm troopers, a couple of AT-STs, and a few TIE fighters were all en route. Felix felt increasingly sorry for the poor rebel sods to get hit by all of that. He hadn't seen any vehicles come down with them, and what little troops they still had were probably bruised and battered. What chance did they have?
The most probable plan was for them to head underground so to speak. Put on civilian clothes, pretend they belong, and wage a guerrilla war. When that started, Felix would hate it. He much preferred knowing clearly who his enemies are and where they were. Rebels dressed as civilians means that anyone could be an enemy; meaning everyone will be on edge when it happens.
They were about halfway to the palace when they noticed a large amount of shuttles landing from the sky. They were all Imperial and Felix figured they were all full of troops.
"Looks like this will be a much shorter fight than it was before," Geo said.
When he got topside, the two storm troopers were still standing there waiting for him. "How did it go?" One of them asked.
"It went pretty well. I got my money, and that's what matters." Felix slung his rifle down into his hands. "You guys are assigned to me now. You go where I go, you do what I tell you, and you'll be rewarded in some way or another." The two looked at each other and shrugged in acceptance. "So what are your names? And I don't mean those dumb identification numbers they give you guys."
"Friends call me Chaz," the one said.
"And I go by Geo," said the other.
"Alright, Chaz and Geo, do either of you know where the Governors Palace is?" Felix had something he needed to do, and someone he needed to see.
"Right this way," Chaz said. The trio took off down the street and began walking towards the silence. It seemed that the closer you get to an important area, the less fighting you heard. This was all probably planned out that way. One wouldn't want political and military buildings getting riddled with holes.
Felix noted that as they were all running about through the city, they didn't see many civilians. He couldn't tell if there were none, or if they were just smarter than to be out and about in a firefight. Either way, it really gave Belona a spooky ghost town feel.
Fighting could be heard farther off in the distance. There were soldiers and vehicles passing by, probably heading towards the front lines. Storm troopers, a couple of AT-STs, and a few TIE fighters were all en route. Felix felt increasingly sorry for the poor rebel sods to get hit by all of that. He hadn't seen any vehicles come down with them, and what little troops they still had were probably bruised and battered. What chance did they have?
The most probable plan was for them to head underground so to speak. Put on civilian clothes, pretend they belong, and wage a guerrilla war. When that started, Felix would hate it. He much preferred knowing clearly who his enemies are and where they were. Rebels dressed as civilians means that anyone could be an enemy; meaning everyone will be on edge when it happens.
They were about halfway to the palace when they noticed a large amount of shuttles landing from the sky. They were all Imperial and Felix figured they were all full of troops.
"Looks like this will be a much shorter fight than it was before," Geo said.
CorinTraven said
Totally baller. I'm diggin' your tone, Front.
*bows with a wave of the hand* Thank you good sir.
Got my first post up.
Morning, The Outer Limits of Rotaerus
The morning downpour had soaked the ground, turning it to a sticky mud. The young boy was running through back alleys and small roads, going as fast as his legs would carry him. Puddles of water splashed as his bare feet slammed into them. Several of his friends were following close behind, laughing and playing as they headed to the northern gate. Someone near the bakers shop had said that soldiers were returning; and that was never a sight to miss. The boys breathing was labored and his calves began to cramp, but run he did, not stopping for even a single break. As the gate appeared in the distance, he sped up as much as he could. His bright eyes opened wide as he saw the approach of riders through the gate. But as he got a better look, these men did not look like soldiers. Soldiers wore shining armor, and travelled in great groups, appearing noble and strong. These men were wearing cloaks, which hid their yellow and black armor, as well as their faces. The cloaks themselves were soaked from the rain that had passed, their faces were bearded and dirty. These were not the sort of soldiers he had wanted to see. "Back from the northern valley they are. They been fighting clansmen it seems like," a butcher with a graying beard said. The man was wiping his hands with a dirty rag. "Nasty business that. Back when I was a volunteer I tumbled with the likes o' them." He turned to the group of young boys. "Where ya think I learned myself to cut up a pig?" He smiled and laughed as he turned back into the shop.
There was a small group surrounding the riders on both sides of the street, watching them as they passed. Their eager eyes hoping to see some grand parade; instead seeing a ratty group of seven. They would have seen ten walking in, as had walked out, but three of the group had lost their lives in the valley several weeks past. The sight surely must have been disappointing.
"We're home it would seem, sire," one of the riders, the commander of the small detail said. His moderately grown beard swayed in the slight breeze, and bobbed softly up and down as he talked. He looked to the prince riding beside him in the center of the group. The man of twenty one appeared older and unrecognizable, which is probably why the crowd wasn't cheering his name and throwing flowers. His own face was covered in an unruly growing beard; there were spots of mud and blood so caked on his face that the rain hadn't touched them.
"Indeed we are. Though it isn't the same as when we left it." The sky was dark and the clouds had dropped their rain, yet they remained overhead as if to keep people on a gloomy edge. If that was their intent, it was working.
"That's because you're not the same, if you don't mind me saying sir. Not many men go north and come back like they once were." It had been the princes idea to go north into the valley and join the sentry unit there. They had stayed for three weeks and saw what there was to see, done what there was to do.
The prince was silent for a moment before responding. "Father always told me that one could not be a good king if they did not know their people. Share in their struggles and strife, join them in joy and celebration. He said compassion is the key to ruling well, for people will follow a compassionate ruler even unto death." The prince looked about at the small crowd as they passed. He smiled weakly at the group of young boys. "He also said, that it was a kings responsibility to fight at least once in his life before ordering others to do so on his behalf. 'How could a king command to kill an enemy if he isn't willing to do so himself' he asked me. I considered this trip a trial, and one I hope I passed."
"That you did sire. If I may speak freely, the commander of the sentry unit was awfully hesitant about letting you join us. He thought you'd get in the way as young royals tend to do in such situations. But after our first skirmish, after your steel tasted blood, that was when he respected you. That was when they all respected you."
Prince James smiled at the sound of that. He was very aware of the sentry commanders feelings when he had arrived. Knowing that in some way his fathers advice was correct, made him feel a bit more certain as to the future of his inevitable reign. But still, a nagging feeling tugged at him as if doubt itself were holding him back. Ruling was still decades off, but it was on the horizon, and that scared him to a degree. His thoughts drifted to the three knights of his personal guard whom lost their lives for him. Once king, there would be an entire nation whose lives depended on his ability. How could he be sure he was up to it?
Killing was another thing to think about. In the valley, James had killed around ten clansmen in the few skirmishes they'd had. This was the first time he'd ever taken a life, and as well as he seemed to cope with it on the outside, it was eating at him on the inside. He had wretched up his lunch after the first, and in doing so, nearly got killed. If it wasn't for his guards stepping in to protect him, he surely would've been counted among the casualties.
"Sire, look." He was pulled out of thought by the commanders voice. He was pointing forwards as five riders approached. They were in full armor, excluding one well recognizable man whose gray hair and beard James would know anywhere. The small badge on the left side of his tunic, which was in the shape of a shield, displayed the symbol of his office.
"The Purveyor of Guardianship, Sen my friend, it is good to see you."
The purveyor was looking old these days, but he acted as a man still in his thirties. The way he road a horse gave strong indication of the mans military background, and his overall fighting spirit. "My prince, it is always a pleasure to see you. I come at the request of your father. There is an emergency session of the council today and he would ask your presence." Sen looked uneasy. This meeting would not be of a normal topic, James suspected.
James looked at his own wet and dirty attire. Mud, blood, and stains of other means dotted his armor and clothing. His hair was gnarled in several places. "I will have to change clothing, I'm afraid I'm in no state to be seen currently. But afterwards I would gladly attend."
"As you wish sire. The meeting begins at high sun. I hope you've broken your fast, for there probably won't be food." That news was hard to hear. James had broken his fast over some unappealing jerky and hardened bread. Supplies hadn't come to the northern valley before they left, so it was all they could have. His stomach would be groaning during the meeting.
"That's fine. Thank you for letting me know." The purveyor nodded and turned his horse around, heading back towards the capital, probably to get ready as well. James and his party of six would be heading that same way, and the closer they got, the more likely he'd be recognized. "Let's get home quickly. I need to be prepared for the meeting as soon as possible."
The road towards the capital within the city itself was a long and beautiful one. As one gets closer to the interior of the city, they see less of wood and mud, and more of cobblestone and polished granite. The interior had better shops, better aesthetics, and better roads. Signs marked each direction clearly, so one always knew which way to go; not that the prince would get lost in his own home. Civil defense patrols walked the alleys and stood guard at important buildings, dressed in armor and carrying long pikes and short swords.
The capital surrounded a castle upon the hill, and it was another sight altogether. Built around the reign of King Jonathan, the magnificent keep had been improved upon as the years had gone by, with each King making an addition. It was something of a tradition in the House of Welles. The castle was surrounded by a low wall many yards out, built as an added defense. As James and his band rode under the gate of the low wall, he could see a group of people standing on the stairs leading to the castles main entrance. But his father was not among them.
The morning downpour had soaked the ground, turning it to a sticky mud. The young boy was running through back alleys and small roads, going as fast as his legs would carry him. Puddles of water splashed as his bare feet slammed into them. Several of his friends were following close behind, laughing and playing as they headed to the northern gate. Someone near the bakers shop had said that soldiers were returning; and that was never a sight to miss. The boys breathing was labored and his calves began to cramp, but run he did, not stopping for even a single break. As the gate appeared in the distance, he sped up as much as he could. His bright eyes opened wide as he saw the approach of riders through the gate. But as he got a better look, these men did not look like soldiers. Soldiers wore shining armor, and travelled in great groups, appearing noble and strong. These men were wearing cloaks, which hid their yellow and black armor, as well as their faces. The cloaks themselves were soaked from the rain that had passed, their faces were bearded and dirty. These were not the sort of soldiers he had wanted to see. "Back from the northern valley they are. They been fighting clansmen it seems like," a butcher with a graying beard said. The man was wiping his hands with a dirty rag. "Nasty business that. Back when I was a volunteer I tumbled with the likes o' them." He turned to the group of young boys. "Where ya think I learned myself to cut up a pig?" He smiled and laughed as he turned back into the shop.
There was a small group surrounding the riders on both sides of the street, watching them as they passed. Their eager eyes hoping to see some grand parade; instead seeing a ratty group of seven. They would have seen ten walking in, as had walked out, but three of the group had lost their lives in the valley several weeks past. The sight surely must have been disappointing.
"We're home it would seem, sire," one of the riders, the commander of the small detail said. His moderately grown beard swayed in the slight breeze, and bobbed softly up and down as he talked. He looked to the prince riding beside him in the center of the group. The man of twenty one appeared older and unrecognizable, which is probably why the crowd wasn't cheering his name and throwing flowers. His own face was covered in an unruly growing beard; there were spots of mud and blood so caked on his face that the rain hadn't touched them.
"Indeed we are. Though it isn't the same as when we left it." The sky was dark and the clouds had dropped their rain, yet they remained overhead as if to keep people on a gloomy edge. If that was their intent, it was working.
"That's because you're not the same, if you don't mind me saying sir. Not many men go north and come back like they once were." It had been the princes idea to go north into the valley and join the sentry unit there. They had stayed for three weeks and saw what there was to see, done what there was to do.
The prince was silent for a moment before responding. "Father always told me that one could not be a good king if they did not know their people. Share in their struggles and strife, join them in joy and celebration. He said compassion is the key to ruling well, for people will follow a compassionate ruler even unto death." The prince looked about at the small crowd as they passed. He smiled weakly at the group of young boys. "He also said, that it was a kings responsibility to fight at least once in his life before ordering others to do so on his behalf. 'How could a king command to kill an enemy if he isn't willing to do so himself' he asked me. I considered this trip a trial, and one I hope I passed."
"That you did sire. If I may speak freely, the commander of the sentry unit was awfully hesitant about letting you join us. He thought you'd get in the way as young royals tend to do in such situations. But after our first skirmish, after your steel tasted blood, that was when he respected you. That was when they all respected you."
Prince James smiled at the sound of that. He was very aware of the sentry commanders feelings when he had arrived. Knowing that in some way his fathers advice was correct, made him feel a bit more certain as to the future of his inevitable reign. But still, a nagging feeling tugged at him as if doubt itself were holding him back. Ruling was still decades off, but it was on the horizon, and that scared him to a degree. His thoughts drifted to the three knights of his personal guard whom lost their lives for him. Once king, there would be an entire nation whose lives depended on his ability. How could he be sure he was up to it?
Killing was another thing to think about. In the valley, James had killed around ten clansmen in the few skirmishes they'd had. This was the first time he'd ever taken a life, and as well as he seemed to cope with it on the outside, it was eating at him on the inside. He had wretched up his lunch after the first, and in doing so, nearly got killed. If it wasn't for his guards stepping in to protect him, he surely would've been counted among the casualties.
"Sire, look." He was pulled out of thought by the commanders voice. He was pointing forwards as five riders approached. They were in full armor, excluding one well recognizable man whose gray hair and beard James would know anywhere. The small badge on the left side of his tunic, which was in the shape of a shield, displayed the symbol of his office.
"The Purveyor of Guardianship, Sen my friend, it is good to see you."
The purveyor was looking old these days, but he acted as a man still in his thirties. The way he road a horse gave strong indication of the mans military background, and his overall fighting spirit. "My prince, it is always a pleasure to see you. I come at the request of your father. There is an emergency session of the council today and he would ask your presence." Sen looked uneasy. This meeting would not be of a normal topic, James suspected.
James looked at his own wet and dirty attire. Mud, blood, and stains of other means dotted his armor and clothing. His hair was gnarled in several places. "I will have to change clothing, I'm afraid I'm in no state to be seen currently. But afterwards I would gladly attend."
"As you wish sire. The meeting begins at high sun. I hope you've broken your fast, for there probably won't be food." That news was hard to hear. James had broken his fast over some unappealing jerky and hardened bread. Supplies hadn't come to the northern valley before they left, so it was all they could have. His stomach would be groaning during the meeting.
"That's fine. Thank you for letting me know." The purveyor nodded and turned his horse around, heading back towards the capital, probably to get ready as well. James and his party of six would be heading that same way, and the closer they got, the more likely he'd be recognized. "Let's get home quickly. I need to be prepared for the meeting as soon as possible."
The road towards the capital within the city itself was a long and beautiful one. As one gets closer to the interior of the city, they see less of wood and mud, and more of cobblestone and polished granite. The interior had better shops, better aesthetics, and better roads. Signs marked each direction clearly, so one always knew which way to go; not that the prince would get lost in his own home. Civil defense patrols walked the alleys and stood guard at important buildings, dressed in armor and carrying long pikes and short swords.
The capital surrounded a castle upon the hill, and it was another sight altogether. Built around the reign of King Jonathan, the magnificent keep had been improved upon as the years had gone by, with each King making an addition. It was something of a tradition in the House of Welles. The castle was surrounded by a low wall many yards out, built as an added defense. As James and his band rode under the gate of the low wall, he could see a group of people standing on the stairs leading to the castles main entrance. But his father was not among them.
Should have a post up within the next few days.
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