-=A Call To Arms=-

[Sandman_Plays 190]

 

 

 

-=Call to Arms=-

 

As the birds flew from the towers of Karosgrad, calling upon the Crown’s most loyal followers, one found its way to a small farmstead just south of the city. A young Gwaine Porter, son of the renowned Ser Jackson ‘the Resolute’ Porter picked up the note, sealed with the wax sigil of the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska. The man cracked open the sealed note and began to read its contents.

 

After reading the troubling news he sighed, looking over to his father’s claymore hung upon the wall, before nodding slowly.

 

“Bound by duty.” He mumbled whilst walking over to the feared blade, knowing of what he must do. He meandered outside his cozy homestead gifted to him by the Koeng himself, slipping a hand into his pocket and retrieving a Barclay branded cigarette, and placed it upon his lips before lighting it from a small match. He exhaled a plume of smoke into the cold air and looked across the water, watching the ceaseless waves lap against the snowy shore. Before long, he finished his final comfort, stamped out the flames of the tobacco into the soil, and made his way to the storeroom. He dusted off his black-and-gold-trimmed Haeseni mail, and began the march through the snow-capped woods as the sun drew long, and cast his stretching shadow across the ground.

 

As he walked, as the wind whistled through the pine trees, he heard his father’s voice in the back of his head.

 

“A Porter will always heed the call.”

“A Porter will fight to his last breath.”
“A Porter will honor his vows.”
“A Porter's sword is always pledged to the Royalty of Haense.”

As the thoughts rattled in his mind, he pondered whether he could even begin to live up to his father’s name and legacy, the sheer noble deeds of his father before him only making Gwaine's path more prestigious to follow. As he approached the gate, a guard flagged him to a halt.

“Who goes there, friend or foe, nation and affiliations!” The man bellowed coated in Haeseni Armor.

“Gwaine Porter, son of Ser Jackson Porter the Resolute!” Gwaine would reply confident his answer may grant him access to the city.

 

With a slight awkward shuffle the Guardsmen recognised the name, House Porter. He raised the gates. 

“The Koeng awaits you, friend.” He mentions as Gwaine wanders past, the dark streets begin to light up with the cracking of dawn, the cold air still enveloping the land around him. Gwaine found himself in a form of nostalgia as he walked the ancient streets of Haense, as his father once had, walking toward the grand palace, nodding to the Guardsmen upon entry. He would follow the route that he had always known straight to the Koeng’s office.

 

“My Koeng.” He spoke calmly to the man before him, The Koeng stood over a table dotted with locations and strategic positions. He looked up slowly.

 “Gwaine, I am glad you are here… Let’s get to work.”

 

The door slowly closed behind the pair as they began to plot, the crows caw at the breaking of warmth in the weather, and Gwaine as his father had before him, answered the call to arms; for the rights of Haense, and her people, fearless at the utmost possibility that he would meet his end.