Into the Lion's Den - [[Rp Retelling]]

[ChainedDragons 1374]

 

 

[[ remember, this is retelling from one POV and this shouldn't be meta'd - have fun reading]]

Into the Lion's Den - Rp Retelling

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Hart let out a sucking gasp as he was knocked clean off the elk's back, the world flashing black for but a moment as he felt himself be jostled onto his back. His face met grass and earth, eyes scrunching shut to keep dirt from irritating them as his hands were bound tightly behind his back.  Unfortunately this sort of treatment was nothing new to the nordling. Though the irritation of having one's things pilfered never went away. 

 

“Were you mining?” the female bandit asked the Petran Rider, dumping his bag to find nothing but raw materials such as ores - including the majority of his equipment. The teen held his tongue, glaring at her as blood ran down his face mixing with soil caked to his chin. The teal masked woman snorts. “Keep your secrets, Petran.” She pulls Hart up, dropping him onto the backside of her horse. 

 

All of this because he and Symon had chased after the Winchesters’ brother. Had the one not run after the bandits raiding their home perhaps this fight wouldn’t have happened. Yet here they were, all being taken away from the safety of Petran lands. 

 

“Where are you taking my nephews?!” A voice cried out. Hart could barely make the figure out in the dark as night had already fallen but he knew the voice. 

 

“Go- get back to Petra!” Hart urged the man to retreat. All four of them were bound. A lone warrior didn’t stand a chance against three bandits like this. 

 

“Tell Petra we captured four of your men.” The female sneered with glee, pointing her lance at him from afar. 

 

“Run off now...”

 

“Unless of course you want to come along too?” The other bandits piped up, jeering their own mocking remarks.

 

Symon Morris Stafyr barks an order at Zane from where he was bound, the warrior spitting out the names of two bandits he identified. “Go back to Petra!” Hart didn’t hear the names that were called out, his ears ringing still as he shook his head. 

 

A bandit rolled their eyes, kicking their new steed into moving. “Let's go..” The bandit led the group back to what Hart knew as Lemon hill. Little did he know that the group would be stopping a bit short of the hills namesake. Hart uttered curses under his breath towards his captor, displeased with the whole situation. He had no doubt those who worried about him would be pissed that he was caught. Yet again. 

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The group rides into Grense, one shouting with fervor, “Ring the bell, we have 4 Petran captives...”

 

“Quite delectable, please do not kill them, for murder is a sin.” 

 

Hart heard a man say, as he looked around to see where they had arrived. Lemon hill was further upward. As the four petrans were placed on the ground in the center of Grense, the teen took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he attempted to ground himself. He needed to find calm. 

 

“All you valah fight like shit. It's almost too easy,” A dark elf sneered with glee in his eyes as he shoved past his captives. 

 

“I must say Brick, we've done well on this one.”

 

Reynevan Winchester snaps, “We'll kill you for this unholy scum.”

 

“Calm down brother, “ Simon Winchester urged his sibling, not wanting to draw more ire to their situation.  

 

Symon Morris Stafyr remained quiet as he listened to those around him, Hart mirroring the elder soldiers actions in kind. Hart found by watching his elders he learned much even if nothing was said. In such times, that ability was a life saver. Literally. He mutters under his breath in his mother tongue, “Sverð hátt, hjarta sterkt..” 

Swords High, Hearts Strong. 

He told himself. A saying he coined to help keep his spirit up. He hoped if he said it enough he would believe it in time. His eyes wandered as he began to tune out the Winchesters pestering their foes. 

 

“So what now? You're gonna torture us? Gonna kill us?”

 

The female bandit smirked, bending down to a brother's level. “. . .Would you like to be tortured?” Another eagerly pointed at them. “Can I have their ears?”

 

“So,” A masked man approached. “Sorry, which ones are the captives? I am partially blind.” 

 

Hart kept his head low, seeing the familiar masked man approach before turning his gaze to Symon. Focusing on him helped the teen be reassured they were going to be fine. 

 

The mustached-masked man looked around at the group, hands on his hips as he stared blankly. “We're going to get swarmed if we don't transport them to a walled city.”

 

The ‘pompous’ priest-knight that had first spoken earlier addressed one of the brothers whilst Hart listened. “Reynevan,” the knight called, “Are you willing to undertake some penance and renounce your dark allegiances against the Church? And calm the **** down,” The knight addresses the Lector, “we are not going to die to some Petrans.”

 

“I say let them come.” A bandit jeered, eager for blood. Another waved their hand. “Yeah yeah walled city blah blah. We will be fine.”

 

The Lector snaps at the bandits, “Just get a perimeter or something going.”

 

Hart closed his eyes. Deep breaths. Focus on your heart beat. Breath. For a moment there was peace before his eyes opened again, reminding him of where he was. 

 

Reynevan Winchester, “What do you have to gain with keeping us captive?”

 

“Well, hopefully, to make you repent,” the priest-knight declared. “Leave this war, and rejoin the Church, and take penance for your dark allegiances. You are still men of Canondom, and have fallen to the ambitions of unrighteous kings.”

 

Reynevan Winchester retorts with his teeth bared. “None of us has pledged dark allegiances, we pledged to protect our own people and we will till our dying breath.”

 

Symon Morris Stafyr echoes the sentiment. “United in faith, nary in state.” 

 

Hart stayed his tongue, despite wanting to show his commitment as well. He feared being found out.

 

“I am not saying you have done anything wrong, personally, good man,” the priest-knight jutted his index-finger towards Reynevan, “I am simply hoping to avoid bloodshed and bring you back to the radiance of our Lord.”

 

“We will never turn our backs on our fellow petrans.”

 

“United in faith, not in state,” Simon affirmed his brother's words. 

 

The priest-knight chuffed, “You would turn your back on GOD, for Petra? Do you believe in death, that you will arrive at the gates of Petra, or at the kingdom of GOD? Your allegiance is to GOD, not to Petra. I am giving you the chance to repent.”

 

Hart had managed to tune out the conversation till he heard the sound of a boot meeting one's jaw - His head snapped towards the sound. “Stupid,” the priest-knight raised his left boot, kicking Reynevan across his face.

 

Hart began to pick up new voices - new arrivals who had been summoned by the tolling of Grenses bell. Many he didn’t recognize. But many are eager to shower the captives with their opinions, their truths. In attempts to sway opinions perhaps, or to prove that their actions were the right ones. 

 

“Your people have found respite with the apostates of Haense because they believe it is beneficial for their survival. But this is wrong. Have you felt since the moment you rejected GOD that you are safe?”

 

“Any oath signed with Haense is tainted by the deception of Ibless, and no light of GOD shines upon it.”

 

“What of you, then, young man?” The priest's attention shifted towards Simon, approaching him instead as his brother recovered from the blow to the head. “Will you relinquish your allegiance to Petra, and rejoin your oath and bindings to the Church, and return to being a good canonist man under the light of GOD?”

 

“Ah, geez. Who are these from?”

 

Hart froze. That voice. He hadn’t heard it in years but he knew it well. Lenora’s father…

 

“Ah, they are Petrans.” The priest-knight offered Ledicort a reply as the man approached. 

 

Hart looked back at Symon as a bandit set her sights on harassing the soldier, taunting him.

 

“A former Haenseman in Petra - You must be a Stafyr. I've visited your family's keep.” - “The library is magnificent. Though perhaps you should spend more time in it if I was you.  I truly believe your House still has a place among the Haensemen.”

 

Symon Morris Stafyr rumbles in reply, his brow furrowed. “Ich don't, zhat ist why mein house resides wizhin Petra- duh.”

 

Ledicort looked the captives over briefly. “No faces I recognize. There's a list of no-touches from Petra, you see.”

 

Wait.. He didn’t- Hart blinks. His helm. Thank God. The one thing he hated  most about being a squire was wearing a damn helm and yet tonight he wore it. Tonight the helm was a silent protector of his identity. It made him invisible. He just prayed it stayed that way.

 

“Is that so? Where is the list?”

 

“Are they even important enough to get Haense attention?”

 

Ledicort shrugs. “'Tis just the Queen, Anorhil's daughter. Not a necessarily exhaustive list, but still.”

 

Hart kept quiet and kept his gaze low but still observed the goings on. Even if captured he could try to absorb what information he could here. 

 

“What do you plan to do with them?” Ledicort questions his counterparts. 

 

The priest knight brought his shoulders upright, “I do not know, then. They,” He motions to the bandits, “Must have captured them in hopes of some counter-attack. I am attacking to dissuade their desires to join in this cruel war, but they are loyal to Petra.”

 

Ledicort brought a hand to his face in thought, gesturing to the hills towards Petra. “I'm sure they'll maybe try an, ehm… rescue. Better to ready whatever forces we can muster.”

 

“These lot tried to kill us on the road and learnt the hard way.”

 

“They have refused to turn to the light. We can only hope that the state of Petra, at the urging of these ones' safety, will choose to do so.”

 

Ledicort tsks his tongue looking back at the captives. “Ah, what shame.”

 

Reynevan snarled in reply to the accusations, “You people tried to rob my house!”

 

The bandits smirked. “We don't try to rob things.”

 

Everything was so loud. So many debating voices over who was right and who was wrong. It was suffocating, especially being kept low to the ground like some rabbit cowering from foxes scrounging about. Deep breaths. Hart inhales. Deep breaths. Hart exhales.

 

“FELLOW SOLDIERS. LISTEN TO WHAT I HAVE TO SAY.”

 

Hart didn’t dare look at the display one of the brothers was putting on.

 

“Did we say to stand up?”

 

“YOU CAN BEAT ME TO MY KNEES A THOUSAND TIMES AND I WILL STILL STAND UP AGAIN.”

 

Hart flinched hearing the rough impact of a butt of a sword hitting the Winchester as his body bit the dirt. 

 

“These people robbed us! We only defended ourselves and went after what we see as bandits!” Simon would shout over the crowd. 

 

Hart wanted to cover his ears. They were making the situation so much worse! BE SILENT! His mind cried. Struggling would draw attention and ire - be silent! Hart used the distraction of the brothers outburst to subtly scooch himself closer to Symon. “Symon-” He whispers. 

 

The blade master replies back in a hushed tone. “Stay calm, Hart..”

 

“What if they separate us?”

 

“Ich will try to get zhem to let vy go,” Symon promised softly, his eyes watching the scuffle between the fiery Winchesters and their enemies. 

 

“I don't want you to stay here either- You're like family to me.” The teen frantically whispered back. Oddly enough the nordling found a good portion of the city of Petra to be like family. The whole of the community had welcomed him with open arms, tending to him since he was brought into the fold. Even if he caused trouble. 

 

“Ich know, as are vy. But.. Ich don't want vy hurt.” Symon replies as comforting as he could given their situation. 

 

The Lector asks, “What are we doing with the captives?”

 

Ledicort straightens his robes. “I'd say take them to old Whitespire, so they're within walls, at least.”

 

A grail man suggests, “Take them to Ravenmire.”

 

Ledicort sighed, seeming a little.. Disappointed in Hart’s eyes. “But they seem like… nobodies.”

 

One of the bandits grins. “Keep them in the open. We want Petra to come.”

 

A man speaks. “We would like to petition Petra to see the light for their safety.” He spoke to the Cardinal.

 

“They're the enemy! Are you daft?”

 

Ledicort glances at Brick, “Well, if it's a raid you're trying to bait, I'd suggest rallying more forces. If they come, they'll come as a coalition. And I suggest finding a more defensible position than here.”

 

“That's the idea, mate.”

 

Hart looks up, having heard the chirp of his elk.Where did they take the poor beast? He was likely frightened, not being handled correctly. Elk were such frightful animals. You had to be gentle with them. The nordling strained his neck as he tried to spot the animal only for his gaze to land on Ledicort as he bent down slightly, addressing him. Much to Hart’s horror.

 

“Take off your helmet for me, fella?”

 

Simon Winchester would stare at Ledicort, realizing where the holy man's attention had fallen. 

 

Ledicort pats the top of the helm with the palm of his hand before gently rapping the top with his knuckles to ‘bonk’ the petrans head. 

 

Hart shied away from the touch, lowering his head towards his lap. 

 

Ledicort tsked at the lack of cooperation. Not that Hart could with his hands tied up any “Enrique, could you take this one's helmet off?” He called for assistance, the Lector striding over and removing Hart’s horned helm. 

 

Hart flinched as his head was exposed to the chill of night, trying to keep his face pointed away from his captors.

Lector tilts his head, “. . .I feel like I recognize you, no?”

 

A nearby warrior speaks up in disbelief. “Why did they put a kid in armor? Are the petrans scraping the barrel of conscription?”

 

Ledicort blinks in recognition. The tattoos and the braids were dead giveaways to past memories of a boy dragging his daughter along for mischief one faithful feast years ago. He frowns, “You're that kid that befriended my daughter! You mustn't be of age! Child soldiers? Really, Therin?” Ledicort asked the night air as if he would get an answer.

 

Hart kept his face low, feeling his face burn like a child being scolded. He dare not make eye contact. No. His father didn’t ask him to be here. He was a squire. It was his duty to help. His duty is to help protect Petra and their people.

 

“A kid?” The priest-knight frowns.

 

The grail man says aghast, “The Coalition is using children???”

 

The Lector stares. “I recognize this child, though.” He runs a hand over his chin in thought, searching for faces and names. Where had he seen this kid?

 

Brick chuffs, slightly impressed. “They fought well for children. What is Petra doing?”

 

Ledicort nods in confirmation. “Yes. He is the adopted son of the King of Petra! What shame, that he gives him armor and blade.”

 

“This is grounds for an excommunication!” The grail man was fuming. 

 

The Lector snaps his fingers, landing on the right memory. “Oh, right! Hart!”

 

Ledicort nods, looking down at the teen. “Hart, that's the name.”

 

The priest-knight grumbles. “Are we going to keep a child captive, regardless of his familial affiliation?”

 

Ledicort bends down to the nordling, trying to get Hart to cooperate with him. Whether it was good intentions or not, the boy had no interest in acknowledging the man. “Hart, look at me. You will not be hurt by this host, you are only a child.”

 

Reynevan shouts, “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

 

Hart clenched his teeth, keeping the words that wanted to rush out in. Must. Remain. Silent. He refused Ledicort the opportunity to look him in the eyes.

 

The Lector shrugs, crossing his arms. “We should probably turn him loose, though. Let him tell the city what they have to come to get. Fair enough, no?”

 

“He's a hostage, better to keep him,” the grail man replied. 

 

Neither were options in Ledicorts eyes. This was no place for a child. “Remove all weapons from him, all armor, all the sort. Send him home. This is a child-- we are not monsters, to make children suffer so!”

 

Reynevan tries to reason with the holy man, “Let my brother go with him so he can protect him from the wilds.”

 

Ledicort replies curtly. “No. I will take him to Petra, personally.”

 

An elf complains, pointing to Hart. “This child raised a blade against us!”

 

“He would be safer with us, his father sends him off to war!” The grail man chides.

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No. Therin didn’t send him. He came. He wanted to help on his own accord. And look where it landed him. Causing more trouble…

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The Lector addresses Ledicort. “Si te quieres, Ledicort.”

 

“Wouldn't that be risking you becoming their prisoner in turn?” A question is tossed Ledicorts way.

 

The priest knight shook their head in disagreement with this plan. “You will not go to Petra personally. I understand your plight, but I am not allowing you to go alone without any retinue to protect.”

 

Hart shoots a glance to Symon with obvious worry on his face as his fate was being discussed with the ones standing.  Symon gives him a nod of encouragement. “Let zhem let vy go if zhey do, Hart.” He urged quietly. Hart meekly nods though his mind brewed anger. He didn't leave family behind.. He shouldn't.. “Ich will be okay.” Symon whispered, sensing the conflict in Hart.

 

“This is personal, to me; I know this child, when he was far younger, and it is saddening,” Ledicort cast his gaze back at Hart. “Then we shall send him alone. Petra is not far; he will not be banditted.”

 

“The Petran's have proved their godless allegiance.” The priest knight says poignantly. 

 

The grail man harrumphed. “They will be unthankful.”

 

The Lector began to speak to those around him, trying to organize an escort. “Can we send a rider with Ledicort?”

 

Ledicort moves to the side, bending down to take Hart's arm pulling the young man to his feet as he kicked the boys belongings aside as to not let Hart trip. “Stand.”

 

Hart slowly stood, not exactly comfortably as his armor was removed from his person along with all his equipment. 

 

“Leave him well-clothed and provide some water from your canteens.”

 

“T'e hell?”

 

Hart blinks. That was Ser Kieran. 

 

As Hart looked to the voice, his gaze fell on Symon. 

 

“Everyzhing will be alright, Hart.” Symon nodded to him lightly.

 

“Sverð hátt, hjarta sterkt Symon..” Hart utters, trying to instill the same assurance. 

Swords high, Hearts strong Symon. 

 

Ser Kieran Callaghan calls out to the boy, coming closer on his mount. What was the kid doing here? “Hart? Ye alright?”

 

A bandit giggles.  “Oh, it's the one that speaks weird.”

 

“If the child is injured, provide some aid -- it would be rude to send him battered and bruised,” the priest-knight murmurs.

 

Hart didn’t respond to Kieran, a look of disappointment in his face. While he knew the knight was doing only as he was told it still hurt seeing a friend on the opposing side.

 

Ledicort looks about the boy, searching for any injuries but despite his efforts Hart pulls away, denying what aid was offered. 

 

Holy Ser Vincenzo approaches with slow steps. He found a twinge of irony finding this eager lad on the foot of the hill again. It wasn’t too long ago this green leaf was practically begging to spar with the Chaptermaster. “Ah Hart of Petra, son of Therin I.”

 

“That's the Prince of Petra. . ?”

 

Ser Kieran Callaghan dismounts from his horse making his way near the two.

 

“Si it is.” Vincenzo replies simply, watching from the sidelines. 

 

Ledicort looked at the knight in green as he approached. “Kieran… they use children for their rallies.”

 

“Guð ef þú ert hér, vinsamlegast hafðu vini mína örugga hér í dag..” Hart mutters, a soft prayer.

God if you’re here, please keep my friends safe here today.

 

Ser Kieran Callaghan shrugged, offering an uneasy reply. “Ay imagine we have some in our own rallies.”

 

The Lector, “Just get him out of here already, puta madre.” He grew tired of this. 

 

The bandit who took Hart down grimaces. “Yikes! I hope he's not the Crown-Prince.” She remarked - only now feeling silly that her one down was a child.

 

A man barks, alerted. “He's casting a spell!”

 

Ser Kieran Callaghan rolled his eyes. Honestly the stupidity of people sometimes. “T'e boy is nae castin' a spell… Is he to be released?”

 

Ledicort confirms, “We are releasing him, yes.”

 

“Ay can take him back,” the knight offers.

 

Ledicort rants, “We do not send children to war. We ought not; if we do, then we ought to rebuke it.” Rants until Kieran says something of interest. “You will?”

 

“Aye, Ay will.”

 

“Very well. I trust you with this, Kieran.”

 

A child, no more than five kicked Symon Morris Stafyr in the head, earning him Hart’s ire.

 

Ser Kieran nods. “He'll be alright.”

 

 “LEAVE HIM BE!” Hart lunges at the boy, his foot colliding with the younger child's legs despite Ser Kieran or Ledicort both scrambling to grab him. Despite Stafyr's head swinging with the kick, he watched in fear - he shook a soft 'no' to Hart.

 

Holy Ser Vincenzo, “This boy is the son of Therin, should we not have him denounce the war?”

 

Hart gritted his teeth as his arms were grabbed to keep him in place. But he doesn't push any further than that. Kieran’s words echoed in his ear. “Nae now lad-”

 

The Lector snaps, “Get the ******* kids out of here!” Too much dramatics!

 

“Calm yourselves, my brothers and sisters,” the priest- knight spoke calmly.

 

“Come on, let's get ye home” Kieran said, pulling Hart onto his horse.

 

The Lector barks orders for the children to be moved. “Hart goes to Petra, the teal-bandana has to go to daycare.”

 

Voices called out.

“Make sure that kid tells them about the other hostages too.”

 

“. . . He's a teen, they send teens to kill us but we can't kill them?”

 

Hart desperately looked back at Grense as Ser Kieran rode off, carrying the nordling with him. “SYMON! SYMON!”

 

Silence falls between the pair the further up the road the numedian rode, the small band of fellow warriors behind him. “Are ye hurt a' all?” He asks Hart.

 

The boy says nothing, trembling. It was either anger or tears on his face.

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What happened wasn’t his fault.. Right?

No. He was just trying to help Symon and the Winchesters catch some thieves. They had ridden out too far. 

He should have returned to the city, asked for help.

He should have stayed in the city as his mentor bid him. 

Hart felt hopeless. Powerless. If he couldn’t keep himself safe as a squire, how did he expect to keep Symon, the Winchesters, any of them? And of the ones he called family now, safe?

He couldn’t.

He was just a kid. 

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Thank you all for the wonderful rp that transpired - I have contacted all I could for permissions for the dialouge use - If I missed you and there is something you're not okay with being here, let me know and it will be removed. Thank you <3

Edited March 18, 2025 by ChainedDragons
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[killformo 24]

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[Yeetboy0206 1574]

Spoiler

Truly great RP retelling! Made me cry. 

 

[ChainedDragons 1374]

39 minutes ago, Ryfin Chany said:

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Truly great RP retelling! Made me cry. 

 

aw thank you <3