An Unfulfilled Oath (PK)

[ferdaboy 1595]

 

 

 

 

 

Gawyn saying his final goodbye to Sylvester, his favorite steed

 

Beneath the silent shroud of Aaun’s midnight sky, a solitary figure emerged, concealed by the oppressive dark that blanketed the city. The figure, atop his horse, pressed on relentlessly, urging his horse past the brink of exhaustion, until the beast could bear his weight no longer. In the cold, silent embrace of the Merryweather mountains, he released the spent steed, leaving it to do as it pleased. It was an unusual sight to imagine Gawyn Tiber without the familiar presence of Sylvester, his cherished horse. Consumed by a profound sadness, he trudged forward, alone and footsore.

 

 In the cradle of the mountains, a temple loomed, a place Gawyn had visited many times in the past, but never alone. The climb, guided by the feeble flicker of a singular torch, weighed heavy on his soul. Each step seems heavier than the last. The temple in question was dedicated to Saint Godwin and held memories of times shared with Henry Alstion. Upon reaching the heart of the temple, Gawyn’s legs gave, and he fell to his knees. Before him was a haunting stain, a grim reminder of a friend whom he had found here, lifeless. His voice trembled as he whispered prayers into the cold, silent void. He sought absolution for what he was preparing to do, begged for the protection of his children, and even saved a prayer for young Olive. His voice resonated with the weight of loyalty for those he had served, friends he held dear, but above all, his heart cried out in anguish for Aaun, his kingdom and the ideals it once embodied.

 

 In the dark embrace of the overgrown chamber, Gawyn’s figure was bent in agonized reflection. Time seemed to warp, bringing him back to the day of his knighting, the echoing promise of an oath resounding: “Only upon death, does my duty end.” The chilling memory of a friend who had taken the same path many years ago haunted his every thought. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, he unsheathed his blade, pressing its cold edge to his throat. And with that, he made a tragic and irrevocable decision, releasing himself from his duty. As his life drained from his body, he thought to himself, did this make him a coward? He believed so, but he hoped that others may see it differently.

 

---

A villager of the nearby hamlet down in the Principality of Merryweather would venture up high, curious about the broken-down structure that lay at the top of the mountain. Upon entering he found a body, lifeless and long dead, laying in the center of the chamber. Upon inspection, he found a letter, in which the villager made good work of bringing to the relevant authorities and dispensing throughout the realm.

 

 

 

Spoiler

 

Issued and confirmed by His Highness, Prince Gawyn of Beaufort

 

“It is with heavy heart, but sound mind that I write this letter. There are many things that have led me here, but that is not why I write this letter. I write to thank you, Aaun and its citizens for giving me purpose throughout my short time here, and for allowing me to serve as Grandmaster, Regent, and Baron of the realm. 

To my son, Octavian, I cede all of my titles and worldly possessions to you, and have left them in Haense in the good hands of the Crown. My shield, my blade and my armor are yours. You are old enough to do what you want, and what you believe is best for the household. No matter what choice you make, know that I am proud. Take care of your siblings and Olive. Although you two may have your disagreements, she is as much of a Tiber as you are, and you must treat her as such. “

Signed,

Gawyn Alexander Tiber, Prince of Beaufort

 

 

Spoiler

 Honestly was a blast playing this character, roleplaying and just having Gawyn grow alongside some of the coolest people I've met! I won't list names of who I'm talking about, but they'll know who they are. Thanks guys!

 

 

 

[sarahbarah 5023]

Spoiler

 

 

Amaya loitered upon her balcony just outside the royal chambers when the news of the Ser's death reached Haense. The gentle coaxing of a courier could not quite pull her from her daze, nor the calls of her husband, Aleksandr. The biting winds of the blizzard swept a reddened flush across her tear-stained cheeks as she stared down at the frozen river encircling the Prikaz below.  

 

The Queen would not remain a moment longer as she enveloped her form in a fur-lined cloak - retreating to the warmth of the chambers with haste, for she could no longer bear the cold of the unending winter nor the gnawing grief that festered within her heart.

[Gandhi 2712]

Alfred lit a candle on his windowsill for Ser Gawyn.

[alien_mc 521]

Ser Leutwin recalled first meeting Ser Gawyn during their refugee in Savoy, many years ago when they were just children. To mourn this loss, he sought to pray in the Whitespire chapel for a time period

[Frymark 2792]

Go on, go on, son of Horen.

 

Sail the seas of tragedy and death,

 

Go on, go on, my friend, my knight.

 

As my son claims another,

 

Go on, go on, my friend, my protector.

 

Know you failed in nothing, know that all was fulfilled,

 

Go on, go on, as a son of Horen,

 

As the candle we lit burns out.

Edited October 10, 2023 by Frymark

[Mio 3771]

Cold winds swept through the King's chambers, there; Aleksandr II sat.
 

It was a frigid night that the news of Ser Gawyn's passing reached the ears of the King, a heavy silence falling over the usually bustling halls of the royal palace as all were sent out from its walls. Aleksandr sat in his study, lonesome as his calls for Amaya went unanswered, now, his only company a single flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows on the walls - he was lost in memories that spanned across decades.


 

The King was sent back to a long passed time, a time of his Princehood where he met a young, spirited Gawyn Tiber, a fellow seeker of honor and camaraderie who had found himself within the Kingdom of Haense; completely alone. Prince Aleksandr, accompanied by Amaya Colborn took the boy under their watch, a hefty task for the pair who were still children themselves. Yet the trio of friends -- Aleksandr, Amaya, and Gawyn -- grew inseparable, their laughter some nights echoing through the castle corridors of Karosgrad from that secluded library where they met. In those days, Gawyn was more than a friend; he was a brother of the heart, a companion in what Aleksandr would've one day hoped be battles and revelry alike.
 

However, the passage of time had a way of changing people, and King Aleksandr, momentarily awakening from his trance, couldn't shake the memory of the day Gawyn had chose a different path.
 

Ser Gawyn had shown himself for the first time again in a diplomatic meeting, bearing the weight, loyalty, and oath of knighthood from foreign lands, Aleksandr felt the once void filled in his heart . . . empty. It was an odd mixture of pride and betrayal, but to admit it or even speak to the Knight one-to-one was a task unbearable. The chasm between their loyalties had widened, but beneath it all, the old bond still lingered, flickering like a near dying ember.
 

King Aleksandr bore a contemplating smile at the recalled memory as he rose from his desk, aching with pain at his side from a healing wound. The King limped over to the candle and placed it away for the night, as then a voice called for him:
 

"Aleks." The soft voice of Queen Amaya broke the silence, pulling Aleksandr back from the nostalgia of his memories. Her eyes, usually warm, were clouded with sorrow, mirroring his own.
 

"Your bandage, it must be changed," she said gently, evidently still upset, though concern still etched across her face. Without protest, Aleksandr complied, the unspoken and lingering grief temporarily mending quarrels from the night priors trouble.
 

As she carefully tended to his wound, Aleksandr's mind drifted back to the eve prior: his final encounter with Ser Gawyn. The memory was a thorn, or more accurately was sword in his side; sharp and piercing. In the cold hush of their duel, beneath the canopy of high-standing ceilings of the throne room, King stared down the blade of Knight, and Knight the same. Aleksandr was witness to the conflict in Gawyn's eyes -- a conflict similar in his soul. It was that night where honour clashed with friendship, oaths with emotions, and in the end, concluding with a promise staying the Ser's blade. 
 

Amaya's touch brought Aleks back to the present, grounding him in the reality of the moment. The pain in his side was naught compared to grief's bearing. With a heavy sigh, Aleksandr met eyes with the Queen.
 

"He was more than a friend," Aleks murmured, his voice carrying through the silent chamber. "He was a brother in every way that matters. Nie matter the distance, nie matter the difference."
 

Amaya nodded, her fingers gentle as she worked. "This is easy for neither of us, but he chose his path, Aleks."
 

"I know." He replied, his voice a mere whisper.
"But it doesn't make it any less difficult to bear." 

[liz 962]

"You are a coward, Gawyn Tiber." Those were the last words Alexandra von Alstreim ever spoke to the fallen Knight whom she had once called mentor. And he was a coward, reflected she as the word of the Prince's death reached the timbered sanctuary of the Esrova Palace. For we are all cowards - every one of us. Even she, with her grandiose character and her mother's fury, was a coward, realized Alexandra as she tended to the hearth in her apartments.

 

The next, and final, time she and Gawyn met, she had not had the courage to meet his gaze, nor to say any words to him. She knew this would be their last meeting - the Knight had said so himself - and yet she, the coward, hid within her mother's arms rather than apologize for her words. Now, she lacked the courage to weep. Tears came and her hands trembled as she held the missive, but she waved it off as a trick of the flames she nurtured - remnant tremblings of the bitter Haeseni cold. She was a coward, and even now - even when the world had crumbled around her - she had not the honour to weep for a fallen friend. Instead, she tossed the parchment into the flame, and did not watch as its infernal tendrils reduced Gawyn's final words to ash.

[rukio 8910]

Aeolus of Khamees lights a candle in Gawyn's memory. He stares at the flame until time and lack of wick snuffs the light. "He was one of humanity's finest and his loss will undoubtedly be felt." 

[clonky 1940]

 

Here came the icy winds that whipped the inflamed tresses of Olive Victoire as her eyes flitted to view the wintery abyss. 

 

The young girl of High Peak, having hailed from Aaun now found herself in the Kingdom of Haense, feeling desolate and alone, and preferring to be mute rather than speak. She held her arms close to her, with the fur coursing her skin, yet her heart did not warm. 

 

Her body ached. Her arms could not bear the weight of sadness any further. Her legs couldn’t carry her to a path of victorious elation. Her eyes - who chose not to see the beauty of the world - were now fogged by tears.

 

There was not a moment that passed, a snowflake that fell, where Olive did not think of Gawyn. There was not a night spent without a weeping child, longing for the parental affection that Gawyn had provided. By blood, she was not a Tiber. By name, she was not a Tiber, but to Gawyn, she was just as much his and he was hers. 

 

Olive Victoire. The namesake of ‘Victoire’ rang in her ears. She believed she did injustice to her name. In no way was she victorious. Victory would mean to her that life was fruitful, that it was fair. Victory was not the stools she used to clamber up the Hand of Horen to save her aunt, Adela of High Peak. Victory was not her safe venture to Haense. Victory did not save Ser Gawyn, and Olive felt a disgrace. 

 

"Life is unfair, Olive. You have simply been unlucky.”

 

Gawyn’s voice still echoed in her mind. Though, she did not forget his song of words. 

 

"But you, you will be safe elsewhere.”

 

Perhaps life had been unkind to the girl, but if unkindness meant that Ser Gawyn had cared for Olive as his own blood - his own kin - then life had been fruitful and giving. Life had been granted to Olive, even if it was at the fate of another’s. Life was easily taken as it was given, but Olive was forever indebted to her one true family - Ser Gawyn Tiber.

 

"I won't forget you, Gawyn. Guide my hand to sword, and guide my mind to victory. I will miss you as the sun misses the moon."

 

Hands then stretched to the sky as the sun appeared from the dimmed clouds, shining down on Olive from above. The warmth of a true father could never be forgotten by one who has felt it. 

[JustAngel69 478]

Philip Laurent frowned deeply as he heard the news remembering his few but memorable encounters with the Knight. 

"He was a good man, one deserving of a better end..." 

 

[__WaterFox__ 631]

"He was just a boy... Such a good one", Grimhildr murmured upon hearing the news. She silently wept at the table of her modest home while memories of battles past and friends lost assaulted her mind along with the burning question of what it all mattered.