Dance of Swans

[TankM1A2 840]

((back at it again with another bible, just a bit of background info sprinkled in with an rp post

 

 

     It was a mild autumnal afternoon on the 16th of The Grand Harvest. The sky was clear, devoid of any clouds, and a gentle breeze rolled through the countryside. The fields of Asul took on a golden hue, continuing on for miles at a time, a clear indication that harvest season had begun. As far as the eye could see, the lands sprawled with fields of wheat. A long, wide road would part the field in two, large enough to fit two wagons abreast. An occasional cart would come to and fro, hauling hay bales to the local mills which were neatly scattered about. At these mills were small hamlets, where many of the peasants would live out the entirety of their lives, performing backbreaking labor as serfs to their liege lords. Many lived dirty, insecure existences in these small towns, often not knowing many things outside of it.

     Adhalard was no such man. Perched atop a white steed, he galloped towards one of the holdfasts overlooking the golden fields, flanked by two of his comrades on similar mounts. At a young age, he found that he had a natural skill in swordsmanship, and thus capitalized upon it. For many years he wandered, finding employment as a mercenary. He often took jobs as a bodyguard or caravan security, and was therefore no stranger to combat. Over the years he honed his skills, be it repelling highwaymen or chasing bounties. This was a shadow of the “glory” his father, Chilfroy, had earned whilst serving under the Dreadlands. Though now, Adhalard pledged his sword to something greater than mercenary work. He and his two friends, Jordain and Mathieu, found stable employment under Arthur Horen and the Kingdom of Owessex. When Arthur Horen was merely Arthur Jrent, Adhalard was one of the first to join their cause.

     Though Adhalard’s father, Chilfroy, would be very disappointed to know his son served under a Horen of all people. He had yet to tell him, and was unsure of whether or not he even should. Though without a doubt, Adhalard’s profession was more noble than that of his father’s. His father, took up the blade instead to rob people at swordpoint and raid settlements. However, some time ago, he put that behind them, opting to settle down. The reason the three horsemen were taking this country road was not to admire the natural beauty of the landscape, but instead they intended to visit Adhalard’s father at his home. By way of courier, Adhalard received the news that his father had become ill and immediately requested his presence at his bedside. Consequently, he saddled up on his steed, and with haste, made his way over to his father’s estate. He’d also urged Jordain and Mathieu to come along with him, as if unwilling to face his father alone. Perhaps if they were there tpo, they’d understand.

     With his legs straddling either side of his horse, Adhalard grabbed hold of the reigns. He sat tall and proud upon his horse. A purebred courser, given to him as a gift. Adhalard looked off to his right, towards Jordain, “Let’s pick up the pace, aye?” he’d say, though not giving him much of a choice. In a deft movement, he’d tap the side of his horse with his boot, and tugged gently on the reigns, Hyah!

     As Adhalard began to speed forward, he left Jordain and Mathieu in the dust. The two exchanged glances. Jordain lifted his shoulders in a shrug, spurring his horse forwards to catch up with Addie. “Best after him, I s’pose.”

      Mathieu sighed, figuring he could not turn back now. On top of that, the trio had traveled so far. Certainly, he would get lost trying to find his way back. And so, he lurched forward from a trot to a gallop, once more coming into line with the others. He’d look over to Adhalard, “So Addie, care to to tell us ‘bout your father, then? What’re you so ‘fraid of?”

     Adhalard had zoned out, instead looking out into the vast expanses of wheat fields. His mind was on his father. Multiple questions raced through his mind, and even more possible outcomes. Was he well? Would it be too late? How would he react after finally laying eyes upon his son after years?  How would he react to finding out his son now served a Horen? In time, he would figure out. At last, he came to, shaking his head as he snapped out of it. He’d simply cough, placing his hand to his mouth, to hide the fact to Mathieu. “Sorry…” he’d murmur softly, though likely to have gone unheard against the clatter of multiple hooves against the dirt road. “To be truthful, father was never a pleasant man. He was a bandit, killed and robbed people without ever looking back on it. He had many affairs, while he was talking to my mother. Was always very concerned with me, and not with himself. When I was a boy, he beat me often, told me don’t end up like me.”

     Jordain blinked, not fully comprehending the situation in its entirety. He sat leaned forward, body tucked against the barding of his horse, and his eyes ahead on the trail. “So he did care.”

     “If you’d even call it that.” Adhalard replied.

     “Clearly he doesn’t want you to go down the same path as him. For him, it’s too late. But for you, Addie, you still have a bright future ahead of you and the chance to make things right.” Mathieu would respond, extending his index finger towards Adhalard, matter-of-factly, as he bounced up and down upon his horse.

     “Yes, I suppose that justifies the beatings.” Addie would retort, rolling his eyes.

     “He does it to keep you in line. To discipline you."

     "I never acted up, was never disobedient.” Adhalard replied defensively.

     “Oh, I’m sure of it.” Jordain would comment from the side, though not exactly tuned into what the two would be conversing about.

     Neither of the two paid Jordain any mind. The three had been on the road for at least an hour now, and would spend the next few minutes riding in silence, drawing closer to their destination at what seemed like snails’ pace.

     After some time, Mathieu would part his lips to speak, “Are we nearing the estate yet?”

     “Aye, should be right about…” Adhalard would slowly turn his head off to the side, looking far past the wheat fields into the distance. He could see that a small, narrow road split off from the main road up ahead of them. Half a mile down the road, a hastily erected sign post would point off to the right, pointing any travelers down towards the DuFonte Estate. “There.” he’d say, casually extending a finger towards the sign, then tracing the path of the trail to where a small estate would be situated, amongst the golden fields. “Let’s bring ‘em up, nice ‘n easy.”

     “Three armed men approach on horseback. I wonder how they’ll take to that.” Said Jordain, his hand calmly rested upon the pommel of his sword.

     “My fathers no stranger to dealing with armed men.” said Adhalard.

     “Will they even recognize you? How long has it been?” inquired Mathieu, politely.

     “I’d assume so. It hasn’t been that long.”

     “If I recall correctly you said two years.”

     “Alright, alright, that’s true…” Adhalard would trail off. As he approached the sign post, he’d round the corner in a narrow arc, taking the three down the side road which would take them to the Estate. He could see that at the end of the road was a large clearing in the wheat field. Upon it would be a small farmstead, outfitted with a mill, stables, and a modest, though architecturally impressive estate. All around him, peasants would tend to the surrounding fields, going about their daily business. By the sweat accumulated on their brows, one would tell that they have been up to it for several hours now.

     With each trot, they came closer, until the three arrived upon the doorstep of the DuFonte Estate. The workers paid the three armored men nothing in terms of attention.

     “Showtime.” said Jordain, eagerly dismounting his horse, the other two following shortly afterwards. Where Jordain had hopped off, he’d landed in a puddle, causing a small splash of mud around. He’d glance towards his boots, “Unfortunate.”

     “Well, here goes nothing.” said Adhalard as he climbed off of his horse.

     “Shall we come in?” asked Mathieu, patting down at his purple and black tabard, which had accumulated much dust during the ride.

     “I see no harm in it.” replied Adhalard, adjusting his collar as he ascended the steps leading up to the porch. As he headed up the steps, there was no creak of aging, rotten wood. The Estate was a new construction, recently built to serve as the place where Chilfroy would live the rest of his days in a peaceful, calm existence. Fine timber and quality stone made up the structure of the house. Decorative ornaments scattered the length of the wall, and adorned the roofs. Draping from the house at spaced intervals would be banners with the sigil of House DuFonte, a white swan upon a blue backdrop. Strange for a former bandit to take up a swan for his family’s sigil, of all creatures.

     Before them was a large door made of dark oak. In the center of it was a large, brass knocker shaped as a lion head. If Adhalard was to admit anything about his father, it would certainly be that he had taste.

     Adhalard gingerly grabbed hold of the ring, banging it against the door three times. He took a step back, falling in line with his two comrades, patiently awaiting an answer from whichever servant would answer the door.

     Some time passed. It was no servant at all, but instead an aged woman of blonde, though now greying hair. She gracefully pulled back the door, standing tall as she glanced down towards the three men, perking a brow. “Addie…?” she’d say softly, tilting her head to the side.

     Adhalard stood there idly for a few moments, unsure of what to make of the situation. It took him a few moments to realize who exactly it was who stood in front of him. The last time he’d seen his mother, Lacilia, she was youthful, her hair golden as the sun. “Mother.” He’d say at last, outstretching his arms to her as he stepped up to the door, wrapping his arms around her.

     Lacilia would be squeezed amongst Adhalard’s strength, she in turn returning the bear hug. She’d be overcome with joy, having been reunited with her son for the first time in two years. “It’s been so long! What have you been up to?” she’d ask, burying her head into Adhalard’s shoulder, before pulling back to get a better look at him.

     “Work, mother.” He’d say, loosening his grip of her as he glanced over his shoulder towards Mathieu and Jordain. “My friends and I found suitable employment under a good man.” he’d nod affirmatively.

     “That’s good to hear.” she’d say, running a hand through Adhalard’s full head of dark brown hair. “I would stop and catch up, but your father requests your presence. It seemed rather… urgent.” she’d insist, stepping aside to let them in.

     “Best not keep him waiting then.” said Adhalard as the three enter the foyer, their boots pounding against the floorboards. The three looked about, the environment seeming alien to all of them, even Adhalard. His gaze drifted, falling upon everything to wall paintings to tapestries. The interior of the house was on par to the exterior, if not better.

     Lacilia turned towards the living room, gesturing for the three to follow, “Come, he’s in our room.” she’d say quietly. She took them through the living room which was decorated with a large centered bear pelt, plentiful seating room, and a red brick fireplace which was constantly kept burning.

     They had no time to stop and look around, as before they knew it, the group stood at the closed door of Chilfroy and Lace’s bedroom.

     Mathieu walked up to Adhalard, placing a hand upon Addie’s pauldroned shoulder. Startled, Adhalard would turn, meeting his gaze. “Jordain and I will stay in the living room, if that’s okay.”

     Adhalard nodded, “Alright, you do so. You two’ll probably want to avoid this.”

     Lacilia grabbed hold of the knob, turning it quickly and pushing the door inwards, leading Adhalard in.

     The two emerged on the other side, side by side. As soon as Adhalard entered, it felt as if there was a chill in the room. He glanced about, as if wanting to avoid making eye contact with his father. Reluctantly, he set his gaze towards the bed, where his father would lay, near motionless, tucked away beneath a white blanket. Chilfroy would look to Addie with seemingly unblinking eyes and a cold, stern gaze. “Father.” he’d say, beginning towards the bed.

     “Adhalard.” he’d respond, no hint of emotion in his voice. With much strain, Chilfroy pushed himself off the bed, position himself into an upright position.

Lacilia would step forward, going to intervene, “You must rest, love.”

     “I’m fine.” he’d grunt, snapping towards Lacilia. He’d then turn back to Adhalard, looking him up and down. “What are you wearing?” It’d take him almost no time to notice.

Adhalard stood there, clad in dark plate. He’d be dressed in the colors of House Horen, purple and black. The colors would drape from wherever possible, on his waist cape to his cloth pauldron. Engraved into his chestplate would be an all too familiar sigil of a  dragon.

     “Armor, ser.” Adhalard said simply, expecting such a question to arise.

     “Don’t get smart with me.” he’d scorn, disdain evident in his tone. “You don the colors of Horen. The corrupt Emperors ruling over mankind from Johannesburg.”

Adhalard blinked, unsure of what to make of the situation. Attitude was not what he inteded. His father was caught up in the old times, reminiscing on his days when he served the Dreadlands. Adhalard gulped down, preparing to speak. “Need I remind you, father, that the Empire is no longer. If you don’t recall, the Imperium is no more. Johannesburg is reduced to no more than a pile of ice.”

     “I’m well aware, but that doesn’t make what they did right.”

     “Father.” Adhalard would protest, almost blurting out, “You murdered people in cold blood, robbed people of everything they owned and-”

     “What do you know, boy? The Empire I knew dislodged many from their homes, genocided innocent peoples, and conquered sovereign nations in the name of mankind.” shot Chilfroy vehemently.

     “Chilfroy!” Lace would exclaim, going to grab hold of one of Chilfroy’s hands. Though it’d be no use, her hand being shaken off.

     “For one, I know that you’re being a damned hypocrite.”

     “You best hold your tongue-”

     “Did you not commit similar actions when you served in the Dreadlands?” Adhalard responded, defiantly. “You murdered, pillaged, and sacked. How do you justify this? Your cause was neither a noble or respectable one.”

     A fire suddenly lit in Chilfroy’s eyes, one that had not been seen within him for some years now. He’d become livid, clenching his hands into fists as he gazed up towards Adhalard, who, as he stood there proudly, would have the better of the situation. “Against the Empire.”

     “Against innocent people.” he’d explain, seemingly knowing more of the situation than his father. “You prowled the road leading up to Johannesburg, and robbed unsuspecting people at swordpoint. You were nothing more than a bandit.”

     “You don’t know the half of it.” Chilfroy retorted. “I spent my life devoted to seeing the Empire brought to its knees, and now you serve them?” he’d say with contempt, gesturing towards Adhalard’s armor.

     “The Empire is no longer.” said Addie, already tired of having to repeat himself. “I serve Arthur Horen. And as far as I am concerned, he is no Emperor. I’ve pledged my sword to a noble, honorable, and chivalrous cause.”

     “Hmph.”

     “As you sit here withering away, washed up in the days of old. I’ll be taking the fight to our true enemies. A small alliance has been forged to meet and combat the forces of the Undead.”

     “Ha, is that their excuse for uniting the world under one banner now?”

     “What is your problem?” asked Adhalard confusedly, dumbfounded by his father’s sheer stubbornness.

Chilfroy gritted his teeth, squeezing his fist tightly. “If I had any mind, I’d put you down here, myself. How dare you walk into my ******* household, as if you own the damned place!” he boomed.

     “Chilfroy!” protested Lacilia, who once again rushed to her husband’s side, and glancing towards Adhalard, unsure of what to do.

     “So help me GOD, I will drive a sword into you myself.” He’d assure him, now rising from the bedside. He stood, feet planted on the floor beneath him, equal in size to Adhalard. Adhalard met his gaze, small beads of sweat dripping his face.

     “Father…” trembled Adhalard.

     “GET OUT.” he’d shout to his face, with a volume that shook the house.

Adhalard staggered backwards, taken by complete surprise. Lacilia then bounced over to him, grabbing hold of Adhalard by the arm, “He doesn’t mean it, dear…” she’d murmur softly.

     “Oh, I do. And if I ever see your face around here again… you’ll regret ever bearing that smug look upon your face.” Clearly, however, Adhalard didn’t have a smug look plastered on his face, but instead one that was solemn.

     “Perhaps it’s time to go.” said Lace to Adhalard.

     “I believe I’ve overstayed my welcome.” He’d say, not breaking eye contact with his father. He’d emit an annoyed sigh, before pivoting on a heel and heading for the exit. “I’m sorry.” he’d say, without turning back to look at Chilfroy. “..for you.”

     “Why you-” Chilfroy would reach out in attempt to lunge at him. However, he’d be in no condition to do, feeling immediate pain in his side. Desperately, Chilfroy clutched a hand to his side, stumbling back to the bed. Lacilia went over to him, helping him settle down onto the mattress.

     “Rest.” she’d urge him, then heading out the door with Adhalard. She’d step through, shutting the door behind them. In a low, hushed voice she’d address Adhalard. “Your father… he isn’t well. Perhaps it comes with age.”

     “No need to make up excuses with me. I know he truly feels.”

     “He doesn’t mean it.”

     “How can you even say that? He meant it, every single word of it. If that’s what he wants, then I’ll honor his wishes.”

     “But-”

     “You know father, he is far too old and stubborn for this.” he’d explain, then looking into the living room to spot Jordain and Mathieu. He found the two looking back to him with concerned expressions, obviously overhearing all of it. Better they heard it than having to explain it to them later. “If you don’t mind mother, Jordain, Mathieu, and I must get going. My conscience is clear. I came, and he can say nothing more.”

     Lacilia was at a loss for words, reaching out for his arm, “It was good seeing you, Addie. But please, don’t make this the last.”

     “I’ll see. Write to me when he drop this attitude of his.” replied Adhalard as he broke free of her grip, bounding towards the main door, Jordain and Mathieu following him out.

     “It’ll be soon, I assure you. He just needs to regain his senses.”

     “If he ever will.” remarked Adhalard, shutting the door behind him and leaving his mother in their to herself.

     The three now stood outside, where they had been just moments earlier. And now, they were here again. “Quite the character.” Mathieu commented idly, going to resaddle his horse.

     “Charming, isn’t he?” responded Jordain in a manner comparable to the gossip of a noblewoman, raising his voice so.

     “Very funny.” said Adhalard as he climbed back atop his horse, though his expression would offer no hint of amusement. He grabbed the reigns of his horse, exchanging glances with his two friends. “Now let’s get out of here, aye?”

     “Let us ride.” said Mathieu, spurring his horse onwards.

 

 

[Pando_ 446]

nice

[Gizzol 252]

Pfft chilfroy slacking in that old age. Should have gutted the wee lad for back talk. #ProperParenting

[Heero 4092]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.