AUGUSTINE

[Benjikhei 696]

 

Foreword:

[!] A page, taken straight from the frail binder of a worn, and musty writing book- the pages of Beryl Edmund Carrington’s personal writing journal- his first work of professional writing in the footsteps and imprint that his father, the esteemed playwright  Peridot Carrington had left, after fleeing the Ruby city of Helena, leaving his son those many years ago, now his son and only heir’s first work- would be a piece, upon the newly built Imperial Palace, the majestic home of the ruling class in Orenian society. The name of such place- Augustine, appearing several times in the text.

 

  ⥀ - Augustine - ⥁

    By Beryl Edmund Carrington.

 

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It would now, come to me- more than ever, than the idea to write a piece upon my introduced home, and my curious surroundings, I’ve remained patient on this matter a while now, and I’ll admit the notion crossed my mind now and again, when I’ve strolled the halls of the grandiose palace- looking up to the expansive atrium circled above me, decorated with fine detail and impeccable craftsmanship. How long it took to build I’ve not a single idea, perhaps years upon end, by the colonial settlers- again, I’ll not make assumptions upon such matters, however I’d make a point of guessing that perhaps out of all the structures in providence- Augustine, was the one that took the longest to construct, save for perhaps the Basilica- however, I do not write to give just my thoughts, but my views and feelings, and I intend to do, precisely that.

 

From the grand exterior, one could see that in size and scale- was easily a complete juxtaposition to the memorial of Novellen Palace- the grand palace of Arcas, that had towered over entire generations past for many a year, now shrunken next to the majestic bigotry that was given from Augustine- from the moment of the imperial family, the nobles and palace staff’s entrance to the astounding main hall of their newly to be ancestral home, the scale and expanded reach of the empire, had never felt more apparent than it had upon the first few steps into such a place.

 

Every room, as romanticized on the voyage- was as promised, each one filled with such beauty and elegance, fine and soft carpets strewn about the sitting rooms, always accompanied by a warm hearth- crackling with embers, always there to provide heat and comfort for those returning.

 

Portraits. Ah, where to begin with portraits, there must’ve been perhaps one in every room, most likely more- ancient events, and events distantly remembered, though faint- people I’d known for my life, and people I vaguely remembered before their passing into the Seven Skies, and with this I was content for hours on end, to simply walk through the halls, staring at the portraits, and the occasional mural donning the walls- meagrely wondering about such a time, such a place and such a person - represented through Portraits.

 

In the winter months, around Tuvmas- was perhaps the most fortunate time to bear witness to the great place- Augustine. For it radiated a warm glow amongst the snow and ice surrounding it- and one may feel equated to receive a hug from their mother as they would to sit inside and watch snow fall within the warmth of Augustine, again equated to that of a familiar and loving warmth, as I sit inside now- watching snow fall simply onto the grounds outside. I feel content, content to be within these walls, content to enjoy such magnificence and splendor, content to share a space with such people of high stature and position, and content to be in Augustine. 

 

 

- Beryl Edmund Carrington.

 

 

[!] A Painting, off the outskirts of Augustine Palace, upon a winter's night, in The Deep Cold.

[Circa.1799]

[DahStalker 2850]

Emerentia Kovachev glanced down onto the words that were printed at her front, lips slowly pulling away into a simple smile.