*Dorian Whitehall*
Lorcamir's large crystal almost magical marble walls towered over us as we rode into the city. I poked my head out of the carriage window, and marvelled at the two high round towers that were at least double the size of the one's in Whitehall. "It's a modern city, Dorian. You do know the story of it's foundation", Sir Wilfred said, he looked from me out to the disgruntled passing commoners on the cobblestone streets, as we made our way further into this paragon of a city.
I knew well of it's founding and struggles of recent times, Merilyn had taught me that. I thought back to my time with Merilyn, she was like a mother to me in a sense and yet I didn't cry or mourn for her like I did for Tiria. Something I wish I could have. But it wasn't the time and I was without that time.
I was in Lorcamir now and I couldn't be naive anymore. A tourney, one I would surely compete in, was going to be happening tomorrow.
Lorcamir was considered young, in the age of time. It was founded by Lorcan Riage II, during the aftermath of the Rising of the Phoenix and built upon the ruins of Norrtyne. "The city of sorrow", I sighed and looked at the muddied band of the carriage wheel. It mirrored my own struggle, the turmoil in my mind, rolling on a neverending story. That will lead to me being worn down to nothing, to be simply used as a pawn by someone greater than I. Just like people before me were and the people after me shall be. Or sacrificed and forgotten of, like those who had a fate so grim not a soul mutters it's details. Sir Wilfred looked over at me, "You alright my King? Remember, be steadfast". I didn't pay attention to him though, "Norrtyne" I muttered, turning my head to look in his direction. "It was indeed a horrible fate, my King", Sir Wilfred said, staring at his reflection in his blade. "Many men, died on both sides of that war. Let no one war be fought as bloody as it, ever again", he gave me a apprehensive smile. I only gave him a nod back as our carriage stopped with a buckle. "We've arrived, at the castle", Sir Wilfred was already a foot out the carriage and I followed suit.
The burning smell of ash, was strong from this side of the city. "It reminds me of the bonfires of the Synarthar", Sir Wilfred contemplated. "When times were simpler", he sighed seemingly reminiscing something of importance, that was quickly shut down by some of my knights that rode beside us to Lorcamir.
Including the great exile, Lord John Noxly 'The Golden Hand'. He had long black charcoal hair that ran down past his shoulders and had a rough beard that was also a charcoal colour. Whilst his eyes held tales of travels far and near. His house, Noxly used to previously be seated in the Land of Eternal Winter. But for circumstances I do not know, they were exiled. His home now though, is Güsong. The Great Silver Seat of the Varagan Empire. House Noxly now lived completely in that city, but still held the desire to return to the land they once reaped.
But it was not him that was my greatest knight. Indeed the 'White Knight' Sir Arthur Keyle, was the greatest of all my men that occumponied me today. He had medium length white hair with pale grey eyes. His facial features seemed to be carved by a God. It was often that woman of, low and noble birth would be swooning for him. He won tourney after tourney at home and was untouchable in my Kingdom. But would he fair better or worse against the great knights of the Celan peninsula or The Land of Eternal Flame. Only time would tell.
After a while I was approached by a girl who was the same age as myself. She bowed before me, pinching the corners of her dress and smiled up at me. I could feel the burning redness of my cheeks, as I stuttered through the next sentence, "My Lady, I seem to have misplaced your name". She giggled, her red hair crinkling in the sunlight. The laughter caught Wilfred's attention, he may seem often to lack knowledge of common advances, but he did look rather amused at the predicament I found myself in. He sighed and mouthed the word 'Princess' to me. It then dawned on me, that the person that I was blushing so prefusely towards was none other than the daughter of King Reuben Oucstafèr. The red hair, the sea blue eyes and slightly tanned skin, all qualities of the Oucstafèr lineage.
I was embarrassed by my complacency and blushed even more which seemed to make her smile further and have to stifle another giggle. "Princess Meredith of House Oucstafèr. I am sorry for my forgetfulness. What did you wish to tell me?" Her posture straightened and the giggles she was trying to supress disappeared. Her hair though, the dark red almost velvet like colour seemed all the more entailing to me. She seemed to realise I was not focused upon what she was saying. So she flicked her hair in a manner that made her look all the more divine in my eyes. My gaze flickered back to her and with a dumb struck look on my face I asked "What?" She giggled once more and replied with "What?" I was left standing there looking stupid for a solid minute before she started the conversation again. "As I was saying, My father would like to meet with you?" With me what could he possibly want to discuss with me. But my good knight Sir Wilfred interjected "My King will go ahead young Princess and I shall follow after", he winked at me and patted my back. "You don't want to keep King Reuben waiting".
I followed Meredith through the streets of marble, but for a city so modern and civilised you would expect it to be more vibrant. There was men fighting at one point, which caused Meredith to pout in disgust, "This city is in ruin, and their King is a man lost of compassion". I looked to the men, fighting fist on skin in the muck and filth. We all could face a fate similar to that one day, left without necessities deprived of common courtesies, all alone left to fight for all one has. "The rich and powerful fight for sport in a sense but the men in these streets are fighting out of necessity". "They may well fight out of necessity, but some fight out of depravity, out of desire. Out of pure hatred. Some men are just lost, pure darkness that occumponied them since birth", Meredith said not glancing back at me. "Not many of the men on these streets are like the ones you speak of. Most are forged out of circumstance", I thought of the lives they might have lived before their current life, how it might have been filled with love and peacefulness. "And what of their King, Lorcan Riage VIII. What do you think of him"?
Before I could answer we were entering a great hall. Some place where our meeting would be conducted, the ceiling was over a hundred feet high and the windows had pictures of stain glass on them. I could see King Reuben at the head of the long table and beside him, his son Varyon but also there was the "Warrior Queen" Jane Crakewood the most feared woman to ever live. A woman that was every bit as beautiful when a warrior, then when she wore silk. Her cold expression bore into my heart and questioned why I was there and oddly enough her ears were slightly pointed. I followed Meredith to a seat near Varyon and sat beside her.