rabidbacon
PapaOso
CitrusArms
Xaltwind
Remram
ColdAtlas
princess
Damycles
KingofSerpentsAelwin Lelland
The previous year
The Kheales Kingdom
Aelwin was marching alongside fellow guards as well as several knights as the men made their way back to their homeland, having escorted their liege on a diplomatic mission. King Andres Philip Sherriden the III was riding inside a carriage pulled by two horses. The carriage was a small and light one, making the journey swifter than a heavier contraption would allow, but no less royal for it; its dark wood engraved beautifully with Kheales’ crown symbols and tastefully accented with silver. His entourage consisted of some of his best and most trusted men (the others left behind to guard the Kingdom left in the hands of the designated regent), half riding in front of him and half behind him.
And good that their ruler had such protection, as the men travelling with him had already fended off several bandits. To add to the matter, some of those attacking groups certainly hadn’t been a coincidence; there were, after all, plenty of other factions that wouldn’t mind weakening a nearby Kingdom, and if a royal man was slain while traversing neutral grounds, or even while already in his own territory, well that was just the dangers of the roads, wasn’t it? As if proving such a line of thinking, a loud “HO!” stopped their procession, and shortly after, sounds of clanging metal followed. Aelwin dismounted his horse, quickly untied his shield from where it was fastened to the side of his mount, and drew his weapon, turning to their left flank, assessing the situation instead of rushing straight up to the front. His decision was proven correctly when arrows flew at them from the relative safety of a nearby forest-line. The men in the back of the carriage quickly went in position to guard the left flank from the assault, shielding both themselves and the horses, while also advancing steadily on their enemy’s position.
Al was just finishing off the last of the archers alongside his companions, when he saw a blur in his periphery. He turned to see a single enemy somehow having pushed through the front, some ways away to his right. Aelwin frowned, not as much worried about his King, who could surely fend himself off from a single lunatic – which was proven moments later, as the carriage’s doors smacked directly into the face of the assailant, his neck severed soon after by a quite composed Andres. Nonetheless, the men who had disposed of the archers rushed back to the carriage, aware that they had likely been attacked from more sides than two, or perhaps by a greater number of opponents than they initially expected. Either way, with the archers gone, the King’s men dispatched the remaining bandits in melee without much of a problem. But it was during this clean-up operation that Aelwin felt a headache unlike any other in magnitude suddenly pound through his head, as information poured into his mind from Gods know where. He collapsed with a cry, and was approached by worried kinsmen, some minutes later even by the King, as he had apparently been informed that one of his men may have been poisoned as a consequence of a foul enemy tactic. If he were able to, Al would have laughed at the irony of such a suspicion.
As it was, he tried to convey to his liege what the situation was. “My liege, a vision! The world…It’s in danger. Ahhh,” he moaned and doubled over in pain as the overload of the revelation was not yet done.
The King gestured to one of his men with a frown, and was informed the following: “He’s burning up, your Majesty. A very high fever, possibly poison. It may be lethal; we need an expert.”
Andres nodded. “Let us return to Kheales swiftly. I will have him ride with me. Bring him.”
“My Lord!” Aelwin cried in distress, having heard him. “I couldn’t possibly, not in the royal carriage, I can ride on my own,” he babbled some more, but was ignored, and unceremoniously but still incredibly carefully hauled over to the carriage and deposited inside. The King seemed to ignore him as Aelwin tried to warn him once again, and only glanced at him once to give him the order to rest until they arrived back home.
And that is how he found himself at his sister’s home, who had taken him in temporarily as he “recovered” and now he was as hale and hearty as he possibly could be – not that he had ever suffered from anything apart the Awakening, but the King had ordered him rest and so Al rested. He was admittedly somewhat disgruntled at having been forced away from his duties for almost a week, however he had quite enjoyed playing with little 3-year old Elisa now that he had more time to act the proper uncle. Thankfully Isiah Guillan, Signe’s husband, hadn’t minded and had even involved in several discussions regarding securing this or that merchant pathway and such. Aelwin also took the time to think and plan hard regarding what he would have to do over the next year…that was all the time he had before he would have to leave his beloved Kingdom behind to rid the world of a threat he would not wish to see anyone, but especially not his loved ones, suffer from.
Now
Kheales, Yhiwell >>> Reever, Bartla
Aelwin had been able to feel a pull to go in a certain direction for a while, however lately it was growing stronger. He knew what it meant. He had to go. He could only hope and pray his Kingdom wouldn’t suffer too greatly…but with what was to come, no part of the world was truly safe. And so, one day he requested private audience with his King after a meeting on the Kingdom’s security…
“What did you want, then, Lelland?” Andres asked after the others had left, not quite concealing his weariness, now sitting behind one of the many desks and tables littered with maps and documents.
Aelwin approached Sherriden, the other man some inches taller, paler, and as well built as any of his own knights. His long black hair reached just past his shoulders and he had a short but well-kept goatee. He had the features and bearings of a royal but was unmistakably also a warrior. Al dropped to a knee next to his liege, the proper posture for a formal occasion, and missed Sherriden’s slight frown as he did so. “I must leave for Reever, my Lord,” Aelwin said, his voice rough with regret, but determined.
He heard the harsh intake of a breath above him, then a tense silent minute followed. Sherriden finally sighed, perhaps tiredly or even in resignation. “Is this about that vision of yours?” he replied, then continued before Aelwin could get a word in edgewise. “You know, Lelland, I never imagined I might lose one of my best vassals to the fanaticism and doom-sayings of The Celestial Choir.” Al had no way he could possibly reply to that, not without being disrespectful, and kept his mouth shut while his King appeared to ponder over something. “I take it you are intent on going even if it must be in exile and as a fugitive, hmm?” Andres asked rhetorically, then tapped his fingers against the desk as he continued. “If I were any other ruler, I might have personally executed you on the spot for dereliction of duty,” he said harshly, but Aelwin suspected his tone was mainly due to his frustration, not an unassailable rage.
“Forgive me, my King,” Aelwin murmured simply, wishing the man had believed his unlikely tale. He shifted to drop into a kowtow, a position lowlier than a Head Guard had any due to ever take, but Al would rather debase himself before King Sherriden than risk a conflict with a man that was both his superior and a friend. He had to leave, certainly, but he had hopes of returning eventually.
However, before he could fully make it to position, Al was almost startled off balance by the King loudly slamming his fist to the table, and then practically roaring “STAND UP!” which Aelwin did; feet squared, hands behind his back, head bowed, but eyes staring straight and unflinching into the steely blues of the King, whose nostrils flared, now truly angry. Sherriden took several breaths and calmed himself down smoothly, then addressed Al. “Leave if you must. You have even trained a guard to take your place for exactly this situation, haven’t you,” he shook his head, though Aelwin wasn’t certain what the emotion behind the action was – not disbelief, to be sure. “Anyone with reason to know shall be notified you are leaving to Reever on a…special mission from your King.” Andres then turned back to the table he was sitting behind, seemingly done with the conversation, already perusing some documents.
“My Lord,” Aelwin said, confused and entirely caught off guard.
“Get out of my sight,” the King grumbled, but but not as harshly as he might have, perhaps even with a hint of fondness, as Al fancied to believe. Aelwin did leave, proceeding to visit his sister to say goodbye, as well as his parents, then saddled his horse, and left.
Arrival at The Limbo
He rode south, south, and further south, the journey taking days, weeks, perhaps even a month. Eventually he made it to Reever and its capital city, Bartla, where he pinpointed the pull as originating from a bar. He led his horse to a nearby stable, then entered the establishment. Apparently, only his fellow…entities occupied it currently. “Seems like I made it just in time for the meeting,” he greeted, then strode confidently to the counter, promptly sitting himself on quite a comfy stool. “Any house specialities?” he asked, having heard the owner, and apparently the manifestation of Patience, offer them drinks and food. “I’ll take your recommendations for both the meal and the beverage, should you have any,” Al addressed the white-haired male.
