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ladyoflorien) wrote2002-07-06 06:58 pm
ladyoflorien) wrote2002-07-06 06:58 pm
Kay, here it is.
Here's what I've gotten done on that story I posted last time.
I am frightened of the past. It haunts me in ways I cannot even describe. I am frightened to again become what I once was; enslaved to the fear of my heart. I am frightened to break free of that fear, as I am frightened that it will lay hold upon me again.
The world has changed in its ways. It holds none of the grandeur it once boasted so proudly. It has been laid barren by the intrigues of men; corrupted by their power, condemned by their greed. The old code has been all but forgotten in many lands, and in even more hearts. My time is over, and I fear what is to become of me.
In times upon times ago, I was the most fabled man this land contained. My power, dignity, and justice was well known by all, and many came from miles round simply to serve under my sword. It was a good time then. Much of the heartache these peoples carry now had been thought impossible. For Lord Richardson would protect them from fear and doubt. But, alas! Instead of protecting them from fear, he let it consume him.
I have much to regret. Often I pray that God will take pity on me, and bring me finally to rest where fear can do no further harm. Or, if his kindness does shine upon me, bring me back so that I can right the many wrongs that brought this land to ruin, and brought a Lord to his knees.
Oh, bloodthirsty land, how many must you claim before it is enough? Do not let the time of honor and truth pass. Do not let the old code fail. Bring, I pray ye, hope again to these starving peoples. Open the doors so that another may pass, more brave than even I, who surely can bring peace to this land once more.
Amen. E Requiem Dargahst me Liege.
- From the personal journal of Lord Richardson of Falhurst, "A lament to King and Country."
In the Year of Our Lord, 1296, October the First...
"He once said that hope is not far from us, even in the darkest of hours. And I stand firm to that testament. There is hope yet for this land; we saw it on the fields of Barock! Our people have heart left, and will yet to fight for the freedom that is rightfully theirs. Carrowmae' has not yet hold over these lands; we have not yet been plunged into darkness. Will you, before your time, abandon your people?"
"You have a stout heart, DeBruce. You were rightfully one of Lord Richardson's most beloved men," Lord Elwick of Eddenburings stated calmly. After a solemn pause, he finished his thoughts: "But the loss of such a man, in so grave an hour, is hardly trivial. The frontline breaks even before the first blow, our Calvary has no solidity in heart or mind. They lose faith. Without Lord Richardson to guide us, this war is already all but over."
"But it doesn't have to be that way!" Sir William DeBruce shouted, fists slamming into the hard mahogany of the table Lord Elwick was stationed behind. "I spent my entire life dedicated to the service of that man. And if there is one thing I knew about him, one great truth he imparted to me, it is that it is never over. Keep on fighting, for glory and God and country, man! Do you yield so soon? After the first sign of trouble?"
Lord Elwick raised his hands towards DeBruce pleadingly. "Calm Down, William. I too knew of the stature of Lord Richardson's honor and valiancy. So great a man was a considerable contribution to these people. And if there was half the glory and dedication and hope in my blood as was in his, then valiantly forward I would call the troops!" He then paused, lowering his eyes away from the burning pools staring back at him, and shook his head. "But I am not blind, man. The fields of Falkirk run red with the blood of our men. It is the end, Will. There is no hope left; we are a beaten people."
Sir William DeBruce stood then, turning away from the solemn Lord seated before him. He ran a heavy hand through loose, long brown hair, as his wide, unseeing eyes closed in horror. "I shall never surrender to that man," he affirmed through gritted teeth. "Not while blood still runs in my veins, not while I still draw breath. He would have never surrendered, Edward; you of all people should know that. And I have but one desire, and that is to fight this war to the end and regain peace for these people. As I live, as I stand, I will not let Falhurst fall, or our honor fail!"
Lord Elwick turned his eyes away, a deep, troubled sigh emitting from his lips. "Carrowmae's forces mass in the North; he gains power and a following every mile he marches. His army grows, William. He has become more powerful than any of the Lords could have imagined. Our force diminishes as his grows. Your stand is valiant and noble," he paused then, bringing his eyes back to William's face, still partially turned from him, "but foolish. It would be wise to form some kind of treaty with this man, rather than to go on murdering ourselves in a hopeless warfare."
DeBruce whipped himself back around to face his Lord, his countenance intense and fiery. "Never!" he hissed. Lord Elwick closed his eyes with another sigh: this time that of grief. DeBruce continued: "Never shall I yield to his sword! The last three years of my life I have fought this formidable man, and never to the day I die shall I claim allegiance to him!"
"That is not what I'm asking--"
"But it is!" DeBruce shouted. "It is! A treaty with this man is a death sentence wrought out against our peoples! Lord Richardson saw that and he spent the last days of his life seeing to it that Carrowmae' would never lay hold to these lands. I will not let his years of struggle be for not. The second we fold, Edward, is the very hour he sets himself up as Lord over these lands." There was a dreadful pause between the two noblemen before William finally finished, more calmly than before. "I will not see my sons and daughters proclaiming loyalty to that murdering, blood-thirsty coward."
Lord Elwick drew his hand to his face, rubbing the stubble at his chin and lips. His gray eyes focused in on DeBruce, and he sat for a moment in thought. With a sigh of resignation he removed his hand from his mouth and began to speak. "All right, William. Your stand has been made clear. You are a good man; Lord Richardson saw that, and I see it too. Many of the people have turned to you in the wake of Richardson's death for hope and guidance, and you have not failed yet to give it to them." There was another pause then, as though their conversation was a calculated dance routine with stops and turns made at precise times. Then with somber eyes Lord Elwick spoke with tenderness, "If you would but ask them, Will, they'd follow you--Into the very depths of fire, if you so wished it. And I would too."
Sir William DeBruce straightened at the Lords' words with honor and respect sprawled across his features. He knew that Lord Richardson would have him lead the armies against Carrowmae' if anything ever happened to him, but to hear the words flowing from Lord Elwick's lips proved a startling surprise. "He wanted you to lead in his absence," he continued, "and so you shall. If you still find hope, then you must give it to our leagues. Perhaps if they believe, there can still be victory for these lands."
Lord Elwick then stood, and out of reverence DeBruce knelt down before him. And so Edward, Lord of Eddenburings, approached him and placed a hand on his bent head. "You have this one last chance to restore our faith. I know you wont let me down; you have yet to. Be wise... Sir William," he spoke with care.
With head still bent, DeBruce closed his eyes in quiet awe. "Yes, my Lord," he mumbled reverently.
Lord Elwick chuckled, "Not yet. Not until this matter is resolved." As Sir William DeBruce rose again to his feet, a bittersweet smile came to Lord Elwick's face. "Besides," he said, "I believe I may have some competition for that title."
As DeBruce walked back out into the open air in the camps of the Armies of Falhurst, a weighty feeling of responsibility fell upon his shoulders. Lord Richardson's forces were the greatest in the lands--or at least they had been when he had ruled. Now with him gone, it was William's duty to take his place... but what a task to uphold! How could he follow in the footsteps of such a man; the sort who won respect and honor in everything he did? DeBruce had admired that man his entire life, had been willing to give up all he had to follow him. He couldn't believe he was gone.
He wandered into his tent and removed his breastplate and armor. Sitting down heavily, he searched for an object he had found in his Lord's quarters after his death. Pulling out the small rectangular book, bound in soft pigskin leather, he opened the pages with a sigh.
I am frightened of the past. It haunts me in ways I cannot even describe. I am frightened to again become what I once was; enslaved to the fear of my heart...
He had not been able to part with it when Lord Richardson's things had been collected, and so he had kept it in his possession. It was his Lords' personal journal--records he had kept of the war, of his many victories, of his different adversaries, and his many decisions made during his rule. It was almost instantly dear to him, after loosing his friend and ruler so suddenly.
It had been rumored to be suicide; but William would not accept that possibility. He would never have left his people leaderless, especially not now with Carrowmae' nipping viciously at the heels of his kingdom. No, Lord Richardson would never abandon his people like that.
With a pang of despair DeBruce again let his eyes scan over the last few pages of the book that contained words. He had never known his Lord to speak in such a manner before, and it troubled him deeply to see the words before him now. He had thought it impossible for such a man to ever contain such fears. But as his eyes drank in the melancholy words before him, his heart longed to unlock the secrets of the man everyone had thought so highly of, but had never really known.
Quickly he flipped to the beginning of the book, and started his journey through the eyes of his master--Lord Kevin Richardson of Falhurst.
I am frightened of the past. It haunts me in ways I cannot even describe. I am frightened to again become what I once was; enslaved to the fear of my heart. I am frightened to break free of that fear, as I am frightened that it will lay hold upon me again.
The world has changed in its ways. It holds none of the grandeur it once boasted so proudly. It has been laid barren by the intrigues of men; corrupted by their power, condemned by their greed. The old code has been all but forgotten in many lands, and in even more hearts. My time is over, and I fear what is to become of me.
In times upon times ago, I was the most fabled man this land contained. My power, dignity, and justice was well known by all, and many came from miles round simply to serve under my sword. It was a good time then. Much of the heartache these peoples carry now had been thought impossible. For Lord Richardson would protect them from fear and doubt. But, alas! Instead of protecting them from fear, he let it consume him.
I have much to regret. Often I pray that God will take pity on me, and bring me finally to rest where fear can do no further harm. Or, if his kindness does shine upon me, bring me back so that I can right the many wrongs that brought this land to ruin, and brought a Lord to his knees.
Oh, bloodthirsty land, how many must you claim before it is enough? Do not let the time of honor and truth pass. Do not let the old code fail. Bring, I pray ye, hope again to these starving peoples. Open the doors so that another may pass, more brave than even I, who surely can bring peace to this land once more.
Amen. E Requiem Dargahst me Liege.
In the Year of Our Lord, 1296, October the First...
"He once said that hope is not far from us, even in the darkest of hours. And I stand firm to that testament. There is hope yet for this land; we saw it on the fields of Barock! Our people have heart left, and will yet to fight for the freedom that is rightfully theirs. Carrowmae' has not yet hold over these lands; we have not yet been plunged into darkness. Will you, before your time, abandon your people?"
"You have a stout heart, DeBruce. You were rightfully one of Lord Richardson's most beloved men," Lord Elwick of Eddenburings stated calmly. After a solemn pause, he finished his thoughts: "But the loss of such a man, in so grave an hour, is hardly trivial. The frontline breaks even before the first blow, our Calvary has no solidity in heart or mind. They lose faith. Without Lord Richardson to guide us, this war is already all but over."
"But it doesn't have to be that way!" Sir William DeBruce shouted, fists slamming into the hard mahogany of the table Lord Elwick was stationed behind. "I spent my entire life dedicated to the service of that man. And if there is one thing I knew about him, one great truth he imparted to me, it is that it is never over. Keep on fighting, for glory and God and country, man! Do you yield so soon? After the first sign of trouble?"
Lord Elwick raised his hands towards DeBruce pleadingly. "Calm Down, William. I too knew of the stature of Lord Richardson's honor and valiancy. So great a man was a considerable contribution to these people. And if there was half the glory and dedication and hope in my blood as was in his, then valiantly forward I would call the troops!" He then paused, lowering his eyes away from the burning pools staring back at him, and shook his head. "But I am not blind, man. The fields of Falkirk run red with the blood of our men. It is the end, Will. There is no hope left; we are a beaten people."
Sir William DeBruce stood then, turning away from the solemn Lord seated before him. He ran a heavy hand through loose, long brown hair, as his wide, unseeing eyes closed in horror. "I shall never surrender to that man," he affirmed through gritted teeth. "Not while blood still runs in my veins, not while I still draw breath. He would have never surrendered, Edward; you of all people should know that. And I have but one desire, and that is to fight this war to the end and regain peace for these people. As I live, as I stand, I will not let Falhurst fall, or our honor fail!"
Lord Elwick turned his eyes away, a deep, troubled sigh emitting from his lips. "Carrowmae's forces mass in the North; he gains power and a following every mile he marches. His army grows, William. He has become more powerful than any of the Lords could have imagined. Our force diminishes as his grows. Your stand is valiant and noble," he paused then, bringing his eyes back to William's face, still partially turned from him, "but foolish. It would be wise to form some kind of treaty with this man, rather than to go on murdering ourselves in a hopeless warfare."
DeBruce whipped himself back around to face his Lord, his countenance intense and fiery. "Never!" he hissed. Lord Elwick closed his eyes with another sigh: this time that of grief. DeBruce continued: "Never shall I yield to his sword! The last three years of my life I have fought this formidable man, and never to the day I die shall I claim allegiance to him!"
"That is not what I'm asking--"
"But it is!" DeBruce shouted. "It is! A treaty with this man is a death sentence wrought out against our peoples! Lord Richardson saw that and he spent the last days of his life seeing to it that Carrowmae' would never lay hold to these lands. I will not let his years of struggle be for not. The second we fold, Edward, is the very hour he sets himself up as Lord over these lands." There was a dreadful pause between the two noblemen before William finally finished, more calmly than before. "I will not see my sons and daughters proclaiming loyalty to that murdering, blood-thirsty coward."
Lord Elwick drew his hand to his face, rubbing the stubble at his chin and lips. His gray eyes focused in on DeBruce, and he sat for a moment in thought. With a sigh of resignation he removed his hand from his mouth and began to speak. "All right, William. Your stand has been made clear. You are a good man; Lord Richardson saw that, and I see it too. Many of the people have turned to you in the wake of Richardson's death for hope and guidance, and you have not failed yet to give it to them." There was another pause then, as though their conversation was a calculated dance routine with stops and turns made at precise times. Then with somber eyes Lord Elwick spoke with tenderness, "If you would but ask them, Will, they'd follow you--Into the very depths of fire, if you so wished it. And I would too."
Sir William DeBruce straightened at the Lords' words with honor and respect sprawled across his features. He knew that Lord Richardson would have him lead the armies against Carrowmae' if anything ever happened to him, but to hear the words flowing from Lord Elwick's lips proved a startling surprise. "He wanted you to lead in his absence," he continued, "and so you shall. If you still find hope, then you must give it to our leagues. Perhaps if they believe, there can still be victory for these lands."
Lord Elwick then stood, and out of reverence DeBruce knelt down before him. And so Edward, Lord of Eddenburings, approached him and placed a hand on his bent head. "You have this one last chance to restore our faith. I know you wont let me down; you have yet to. Be wise... Sir William," he spoke with care.
With head still bent, DeBruce closed his eyes in quiet awe. "Yes, my Lord," he mumbled reverently.
Lord Elwick chuckled, "Not yet. Not until this matter is resolved." As Sir William DeBruce rose again to his feet, a bittersweet smile came to Lord Elwick's face. "Besides," he said, "I believe I may have some competition for that title."
As DeBruce walked back out into the open air in the camps of the Armies of Falhurst, a weighty feeling of responsibility fell upon his shoulders. Lord Richardson's forces were the greatest in the lands--or at least they had been when he had ruled. Now with him gone, it was William's duty to take his place... but what a task to uphold! How could he follow in the footsteps of such a man; the sort who won respect and honor in everything he did? DeBruce had admired that man his entire life, had been willing to give up all he had to follow him. He couldn't believe he was gone.
He wandered into his tent and removed his breastplate and armor. Sitting down heavily, he searched for an object he had found in his Lord's quarters after his death. Pulling out the small rectangular book, bound in soft pigskin leather, he opened the pages with a sigh.
I am frightened of the past. It haunts me in ways I cannot even describe. I am frightened to again become what I once was; enslaved to the fear of my heart...
He had not been able to part with it when Lord Richardson's things had been collected, and so he had kept it in his possession. It was his Lords' personal journal--records he had kept of the war, of his many victories, of his different adversaries, and his many decisions made during his rule. It was almost instantly dear to him, after loosing his friend and ruler so suddenly.
It had been rumored to be suicide; but William would not accept that possibility. He would never have left his people leaderless, especially not now with Carrowmae' nipping viciously at the heels of his kingdom. No, Lord Richardson would never abandon his people like that.
With a pang of despair DeBruce again let his eyes scan over the last few pages of the book that contained words. He had never known his Lord to speak in such a manner before, and it troubled him deeply to see the words before him now. He had thought it impossible for such a man to ever contain such fears. But as his eyes drank in the melancholy words before him, his heart longed to unlock the secrets of the man everyone had thought so highly of, but had never really known.
Quickly he flipped to the beginning of the book, and started his journey through the eyes of his master--Lord Kevin Richardson of Falhurst.