Aerion [IC] Rated M
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May 12th, 2013 (9:14 PM). Edited May 13th, 2013 by Legend.
Percival and Roland Grey- Ship of Captain Richard Crewe
The ship that the company had departed upon was surprisingly steady, especially considering comments Roland had made earlier regarding the vessel when he had first seen it beside the Tower of Oculus. Yet either because of the calmness of the water or the sturdiness of the underbelly of the vessel, no significant rocking was experienced. Roland hoped that this would be the norm for the remainder of their voyage until they would reach their destination. Upon the deck of the vessel, the knights Percival and Roland lingered, Roland seated down, examining a closed paper in his hand, before looking over the edge of the ship at the clear blue water. Percival huddled in a corner staring deeply into the shard of the Orb of Ardor, claimed from the Necromancer following his defeat at the hands of Tamor.
"Isn't it strange how such a small little gem can make one so powerful? Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" Percival said aloud, rhetorically. "If one small piece can make a wizard that powerful...imagine the whole orb. Gods. It makes me believe that those monks may actually be able to accomplish what they said they want to."
Roland turned from his observance of the sea towards his brother, who was observing the shard they had obtained from the body of the Necromancer. "If you stare into that any longer, you'll bleed your eyes out." He replied. He didn't want to say it out loud, but the truth of the matter is that Roland had similar sentiments. Though perhaps he was too prideful to admit that he was wrong before, so instead he wished to change the topic. He sat up, stretching out his back, hoping to get that resounding crack. After a bit of struggle, the pop came, and Roland relaxed again. "Hah...that was quite a celebration. By foreign standards, at least. And why not? We basically saved their pathetic country from destruction! Although, between the two of us, I think it's only a matter of time before some other travesty would befall those little people." He looked up into the sky, recalling the party that Yoshuro had thrown for their victories. The entire town had come to see their heroes on that day, and many from across the country would pour into the port city to celebrate.
"I do hope you are wrong about that," Percival said, taking his eyes off the shard. "A country rich with history and culture such as Shingou will hopefully live long enough to share its tales. Including our own."
Roland snorted in response to his brother, recalling his time differently. "Yes, I do believe their women were quite...cultured. I do say, such foreign mysteries surround them. And they were quite thankful to share."
"I didn't need to know that," Percival said with a sigh. Then his attention turned to Roland's hand. "Is that letter you got back at port? Who's it from?"
"Isaac Ethered of the Lionsguard." Roland chuckled. "I supposed our work here has not gone unnoticed." He stood up, walking over to Percival, and playfully hit on his armored shoulder. "'Tis a good thing, brother. You may yet bring House Grey to glory. You've certainly shown your capability in Shinguo."
"Something tells me Isaac is not sending you good news, but thanks. I guess," Percival was unsure how to take Roland's compliments. Bring House Grey glory was hardly a goal of his, especially considering the numerous conflicts Percival had with both Roland and their father. Percival couldn't even remember the reason why he so abruptedly abandoned his responsiblites in the court of Bludrock and House Grey to begin with. Regardless of the motivations, justifications and reasons, at the end of the day Percival Grey could hardly be considered Percival Grey any longer. The name held little meaning to him, for he turned to one of his many friends in the courts. His true older brother: Robert Welm. He was a man of peace and ideals, something House Grey when it adopted loyalty as its weapon. "What does Isaac want?"
Roland looked down upon the letter, opening it up and reading it aloud:
The 24th day of Tella, 1792, Founding of Civilization
I write this letter in the hopes that it will reach your hands safely, and thus insinuating that you yourself are in good health and high spirits in these troubling times. It has been quite some time since you had left to the isle of Ekilore upon the invitation of the Monks. In fact, when last we conversed, it was the end of Makara. Though the circumstance of your current journey remain a mystery even to me, I have heard of your latest exploits in Shinguo. If this be the noble work that the monks have bestowed upon you, then I wish you the best of luck. Though if your mission is to free the land of all predicaments, you shall be quite busy for many more months. In which case, allow me to elaborate on the status of this …eventful world we inhabit.
I suppose ‘tis best to start where the heart is, at home in Ethora. The Lords are feuding, with Elizabeth and your lord Hector threatening to go to war. Welm tries to stay their hands, but I am uncertain how long that would last. Crosland is appearing to remain neutral, while House Morok is keeping to itself. House Larson, on the other hand, delivers daily threats declaring that they will likely secede. So in other words, dear Roland, it is politics as usual.
As you know, relations between the Highmen and the Falkans are deteriorating rapidly. High King Hroaldr of Vanaheim, as his moniker “Ironfist” suggests, has a mind of metal, and an appetite for battle. Over the years we’ve heard countless reports of the deteriorating situation in the frostlands, but now more than ever, it seems likely the two nations are going to war. I can only hope Ethora won’t be dragged into the conflict.
Yet below on the continent of Rolsten, the situation does not appear to be any more favorable. Palaven and Raelus have long been at each others’ throats, and their respective leaders have never seen eye to eye. It is thankful that the Silver Authority in Ellessar still stands to mediate hostilities between the two nations. Yet between the two of us, I fear the most they are doing is delaying that which is inevitable.
I suppose not all in Aerion is death and politics. I’ve heard an interesting tale of a group of mercenaries in Eveamoor who rescued the daughter of Albert Castell, the leader of the Golden Authority Merchants Guild. The rumors are that the group, I think there were half a dozen of them or so, managed to fight through an entire company of Steel Safe soldiers. The Dragons of Dalenham they call them! Personally, I think it is mere gossip among the poor of Eveamoor. It appears that the country has so very little excitement happening that they must turn to fabrications to remain relevant.
I do hope that you are well, wherever your travels will take you beyond Shinguo. I recognize a degree of concealment your quest must have, so it is doubtless you will be able to respond by falcon. Still, I shall keep a watchful eye over your ventures, and keep you informed when I can.
"Heh..." Roland shook his head, reading over the letter to himself once more to confirm that which Isaac told him.
"None of that sounds good," Percival said, slightly sighing as he glanced at the shard again before staring up into the sky. "And hardly any of that sounds surprising."
"Well, I suppose that much is true." He closed the letter, walking again towards Percival and patting him on his shoulder. "One step at a time, brother. Even if the shard does not accomplish our goals, maybe our actions will."
"You do realize the next step is sending us into one of the problems Isaac told you about," Percival warned.
"Perhaps then we can root the problem at its source." Roland replied, walking over to the edge of the ship, and leaning over, examining the sky as it met with the water in the far distance. He stared west, into the direction they were traveling.
"I just hope that Yoshuro isn't sending us on some false lead. Do you really think that he knows, you know,
isn't exactly...weak. If you know what I mean." Percival joined Roland on the edge, looking out to the sea. The sea breeze was refreshing, hardly as stuffy as the lower decks that Tamor and Auden seemed to prefer for whatever reason.
"He said they were acquaintances. Friends. I say, expect the worst and you'll never be surprised." Roland replied, watching the water as it was split by the passing of their ship. "After all, the people aren't the friendliest by reputation alone. How much do you think their King reflects on their hospitality?"
"Let's consider his title. The Burning King, they call him," Percival said before slowly walking away from his brother. "I'll leave you with that."
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