Private We need to talk!

[Ceri Sabathian]

Location: Islimore
Outfit: Dress
Tag: Myrella Sabathian

Ceri was stressed, she had spent another day being dragged around to meet suitors and having to strike polite conversation with everyone that was just incredibly boring and predictable. Ah, yes, Princess Ceri your beauty outshines all the songs that we have heard blah, blah, blah. Hardly stimulating conversation really. She wasn't even sure what she wanted in a suitor anymore, it just wasn't the men that she had been meeting on a regular basis. The best benefit that came from these meetings with suitors was that her parents were finally interacting with her and purchasing her dresses that she wanted. It was the first time in many years that her mother seemingly cared about Ceri but it wasn't the attention that she wanted really. And her brother was useless in picking suitors, she had given up on him since he just picked the worst, possibly creepiest choices he could. It was if he wanted her to remain single forever. Currently, she was in her room alone, it had been a long day and part of her wanted to nap but the frustrations of the day were eating away at her and there was only one person she could really go to for her to vent and freely rant at. Myrella.

Only a couple of years ago, the idea of being alone with Myrella would have made Ceri scoff and mock the idea. Myrella had been mother's favourite and there was no understanding for why, she was very odd and very sickly, complete opposite to the family and Ceri always found it a bit creepy. However, being stuck indoors and little socialising with others meant that Myrella was the perfect person to vent her frustrations and issues about being run around looking for suitors. While Myrella was very unlikely to be entering the courting life of a princess, she was an ear to listen and show some compassion without the secrets leaking to her other sisters, mother and brother. Meant that Ceri could open up and be a lot more honest than she should. It also meant that over the past year or so, she was forming a stronger connection with her sister and had some genuine care about Myrella. Whether that was because Ceri didn't want to lose the person she could finally open up to or if it was actually because she liked Myrella was a different question. One that Ceri just didn't have to care or patient to figure out.

Wandering into Myrella's room, she flopped dramatically on the bed and sighed heavily. "So, mother and brother took me to another lame suitor. I swear this one sent me to sleep, I might have even snored a little! Imagine that! So undignified! I can't marry a man that makes me snore, that's horrendous!" Ceri exclaimed in the typical dramatic fashion that she held so well. "And then on the ride back, all brother wanted to talk about was how he fears that Lupos are encroaching on our lands again. Like who even cares about that! I need a man that is handsome and can hold a conversation for like more than minute before ranting about he is the best hunter around. Most of these men haven't even fired a bow..." That was another big secret she had revealed to Myrella, that she had taught herself how to fire a bow and even done some hunting for the local village on the side. Perhaps was the biggest issue was that she knew every suitor wouldn't let her continue that hobby if they caught her and she didn't want to be forced to stop doing the activities she loved.

"So yeah, another terrible day talking to boring people." Ceri hadn't even thought to ask Myrella about her day yet, so focused on her own issues.

 

[Myrella Sabathian]

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Wearing: XoXo
Location: N/A
Tag: Ceri Sabathian, Edric Florian

The tall white towers of Cassien touched the skies. It was a feeling for which Myrella often longed. To be able to reach heights that no other could. To feel the wind in her hair. To see the world from above, rather than being confined to the lower levels, to the libraries, forced to watch the world move on around her. Confined. Trapped.

There was a small part of her that resented her elder siblings for their freedoms, especially her gallant brother Alasdair, who often spent hours- or even more so, days, in the the highest towers of Blackbrook. It was enough to make her blood boil, in a lady like genial manner of course.

Her eyes only fell from their upward gaze through the window, when the sound of footsteps rushed up the marble stairs nearby. Frowning, the young royal watched ahead as the doors of her chambers flew open, Ceri sighing with all manner of weariness, dramatically falling on her long chaise with a slew of complaints pouring from her lips. Myrella sighed, placing aside her paintbrush and turning from her canvas that pictured a decimated, forgotten world - very unlike the beautiful one she'd been viewing a few moments ago. A reflection of how she perceived her world? Perhaps - and turned towards her sister.

"Do you think it's true?" she asked, wiping the remnants of paint from her bony fingers on the cleaning towel. "Are... are the Lupo really getting closer?" a cold chill cascaded down her spine at the thought, but she pushed it away. "And I'm sure they can't all be that terrible." at least you get to leave the castle, she left off saying. "Did...Ser" it was still strange having to use such formalities when referring to him. "Edric travel with you and Alasdair?" What she really wanted to ask, was whether or not he was coming to see her, but knew such questions could be too easily misconstrued and called into question.

​

 

[Edric Florian]

Thick gray clouds moved lazily across the sky like a great grazing herd and yet even the threat of rain did nothing to lessen the throngs of beings that filled the market square. Nigh on a thousand beings packed the market district either shopping or selling.

Ser Edric kept hold of his coin in a pouch that he carried in his hand knowing that leaving it on his belt or in a pocket was as sure as handing it directly to the thieves and cutpurses that wove through the masses. He wore on his hip instead a small elegant holdout pistol of dark black metal with a polished wood grain handle marked with delicate silver veins that ran throughout and a sword of deadly sharp songsteel with a heavy wood handle wrapped in leather dyed a dark green with a silver fox head for a pommel.

His weapons were traditional of an Islimorian knight. Ser Edric of House Florian had been a knight for little under two years. Knighted by the crown prince himself in the capital’s grand cathedral in front of all the great Lords and Ladies of the kingdom. It had been the happiest moment of his life when Prince Alasdair Sabathian bid him kneel, touched the sword to his shoulders and said the words.

“Edric of House Florian. In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Daughter I charge you to protect all women. In the name of the Builder I charge you to be steadfast and true. In the name of the Lightbearer I charge you to banish all ignorance from your heart. In the name of the Shadow I charge you to face and deliver death with honor. Rise now Ser Edric.”

He had knelt, a boy of sixteen but when he rose, eyes wet with tears looking at his prince whom he served as squire for four years, whom he loved as a brother, Edric was a boy no longer. He was a knight.

Boot and beast alike clopped along the cobbled streetway far from the pale white stone of the castle. Castle Cassien was the wonder of Blackbrook, built from pale white milk stone quarried from deep in the mountain range to the north. The stone had to been used in much of the city’s construction around the castle as well and then over time the city grew and the expense was no longer paid to build with such rich material. The parts of the city nearest the castle and built of the white stone were referred to as the Ivory district and were reserved for those of the highest birth or most wealth. Edric had heard those who lived in the newer poorer parts of the city referred to those residents as “milk drinkers” or “milk men”.

Half a million sounds assaulted the ear. The constant scream of the gulls that followed the fish peddlers as they dove and beat wings at one another fighting for any dropped or discarded morsel. Somewhere out of sight a goat screamed and chickens cackled, followed swiftly by the scent of blood and the searing of flesh. Dozens of vendors shouted to the crowd as an advertisement of their wares.

“Pretty dresses for pretty ladies!”

“Shine your boots sir?!”

“Fine cloaks here! Keep yourself dry before it’s too late!”

The noise and the bodies were impossible to avoid, but the smell made this place truly special. Two score eateries or carts or stalls stood here selling food from all over Islimore and beyond. His mouth watered as he walked past a stall and caught the smell of roasting meat and a spice he could not place. He had even found himself stopping, unable to resist the temptation of a small cart of pastries. He bought one and bit into it. The crust flaked and tasted of butter and sugar, the filling was of blackberry swimming in a sweet lemon custard. He bought a dozen more in a box tied with a ribbon and one extra so he may eat another as he walked.

A short while later he was standing in front of a large covered wooden wagon waiting for the proprietor to return with his purchase. He watched as a fat orange cat waddled into an alley with a pigeon clutched in its teeth.

“Begging your pardon, Ser?” A small voice said from behind him. He turned and found himself looking down at a dark-skin boy with his head shaved down to stubble. He was shirtless, shoeless and wore a pair of dusty too-small trousers torn at both knees. “Would you happen to be the silver fox?”

Edric’s face broke out into a bright smile. “I have the pleasure of being Ser Edric Florian.” He told the youth. “I was once called the silver fox.”

Edric was not entirely shocked to have been recognized though it was something of a pleasant surprise. It didn’t take much to recognize him as a knight or someone of some noble station. He stood out in his silver doublet and dark green jerkin embroidered in picturesque silver stitching depicting falling leaves, vines, and over his heart a sly silver fox bared its teeth in either a grin or a snarl.

“I knew it t’were you!” The boy exclaimed excitedly.
“I were there, Ser. In the crowd wiv me dad. I sat on his shoulders and watched as you broke twelve lances wiv the Prince!” Edric didn’t have the heart to tell the lad it had only been seven lances. Seven lances against the crown prince and the mystery knight known as the silver fox had become a hero to the commons. Thrice Edric had nearly lost his horse and managed to turn and keep jousting, the roars growing louder and louder with every pass. When finally the silver fox fell and was revealed to be none other than the Prince’s own squire and a bit of fifteen they roared even louder .

“What is your name, lad?” Edric asked the boy.

“Mi’kal, If it pleases you, Ser.” The boy said.

“Well met Mi’kal. Does your father work in one of these shops?” Edric asked.

“No, Ser.” The boy’s face screwed up in pain. “He died two years past. He marched off with the Prince to end that rebellion and never came home.” Edric knew exactly of the rebellion the boy spoke.

Lord Jastor Meros had taken up the notion that he was being taxed unfairly. He rallied a handful of like minded lords and landed knights and turned rebel. Mercifully the rebellion lasted little more than a moon’s turn finally ending outside the walls of Ivlyndawn. The fools thought to take control of the trade city forgetting or ignoring it had once been a seat of military power. Those inside the walls would not yield to the rebels and so with the city’s defenses as the anvil, Alasdair Sabathian rode on them as the hammer.

The battle was unlike anything in his life before or since. He often thought back on that day and found it odd what of it he could remember. His mind was hardly ever drawn back to helping the prince into his armor, or watching as Alasdair Sabathian cut through swathes of rebels, The Warrior himself dressed in white and gold. He did not remember the first arrow that struck the prince or the second, sometimes he vaguely recalled watching the third take him and tear him from his saddle, that precious pearl armor covered in mud and blood as the enemy advanced on him. He never remembered crossing the battlefield, in his memory Edric already held Alasdair’s sword and stood over him driving back enemy charge after enemy charge, an hour in his mind brought only to a moment. He did not remember the spear that punched through his ringmail or the thick torrent of blood that poured from him. He remembered the look on the other man’s face as he went to pull his spear free only to find it stuck in the young squire. He cut that face in half. He did not remember the battle’s end and their victory. However he would never forget the smell. Mounts, mud, blood, and chit.

It was there amongst the mud and the chit that he earned his knighthood, though it was a fortnight before he and the prince had healed enough to return to the capital, where Edric was knighted in front of half the continent.

“‘Ere you are, Ser.” A gruff voice said from the wagon and a gruff black bearded man appeared carrying a large wooden crate.

“There are two?” Edric asked the man.

“Aye Just like you asked for Ser.” The man said impatiently.

“My thanks.” Edric passed the man a handful of coins and turned to leave, eyeing the boy Mi’kal who remained nearby. “Come, carry this for me and earn a coin or two.” Mi’kal hurried over and took the crate from Edric with a smile.

The two walked for some time talking as they went. Edric learned that Mi’kal was ten years old and that his mother was a serving woman at a rather unsavory tavern. He learned that she like to sing and to sew but since his father died she’d had no time to see the pants he was wearing now. Their talking led them from cobbled streets to milk stone ones and finally to the game of Cassien Castle itself.

They stopped at the outer gate, Mi’kal seemingly afraid to go inside.

“You live here, Ser?” The boy asked

“I do.” Edric said kindly. “Would you like to live here too?” The boy looked at him first surprised and then hurt like Edric was playing some kind of trick on him.

“My lady mother is in need of more hands around her. Ladies her own age who sing and sew. If you and your mother come to this gate on the morrow I promise you that she will take you into her service and this place can be your home as well, if you wish it.” Edric placed some coins into the boy’s hand as he gently took the crate from him.

“I hope to see you soon Mi’kal. Inside the gates next time.”

And with that the two parted one going back to the cobbled streets and the other headed to the white towers of a castle.

Edric took a route that led through the castle yard and found it full of men and boys both hard at work. The familiar clack of wooden swords brought a smile to the young knight’s face and the clan for of steel on steel sent a shiver down his spine.

“Ser Edric a moment!” A familiar voice called out.

“Ser Thier! I would be glad to share a moment with you.”

Thier was tall and handsome with a dark complexion and hair to match. He had been squire to the Prince before Edric.

“You look well Ser.” Thier said to him.

“And you my friend.” Edric returned the compliment.

“My thanks. Bad bit of business they sent you on wasn’t it Ser?” Thier asked

“It was indeed. They are trying to keep it quiet for now so not to panic the people but that brazen attack on our garrison at Bloodraven. It does not bode well for those who would see Islimore remain at peace.” Edric explain

“They sent you to Bloodraven and you have only just returned?” There was a troubling look in his friend’s eye as he asked this question.

“Aye. Prince Alasdair asked me to personally see it re-garrisoned and refortified, it took some time and effort.” He answered

“Have you not heard?”

“Heard what?”

“The village that Ser Morton was serving at…it was attacked. None yet live, all were butchered. Men, women, children, all killed by those monsters and the whole village put to the torch. They found Ser.” Thier’s voice cracked “they found him naked and tortured with his throat slit, all his orphan boys dead as well.”

Edric needed a moment to compose himself. Ser Morton had been master-at-arms and Cassien. He had been the one to first place a sword in Edric’s hand. All that he knew about swordplay and being a knight he learned from that old man. Same for Thier and Prince Alasdair and a dozen score other great knights.

“You’re sure it was the monsters that did this?” Edric asked, Thier just nodded. “And how did our Prince take this news?”

“How do you think?” His old friend asked. “He calls for war. To find every last Lupo left hiding and see them hanged. It is to be the purge renewed. Your cousin supports this of course and has begged leave to begin a campaign in the north.”

“Vincenzo will not be satisfied until he has his revenge.” Edric agreed. “And war may be our only course now. Blackborne. Bloodraven. Now this village. It would seem the creatures yearn for their own description as much as our Prince wishes to give it to them.”

Thier sighed “You may be right. Pray forgive old friend.” He said, taking note of Edric’s full hands “I have kept you long enough.” He bowed and moved aside for Edric to pass. “Say hello to the Princesses for me!” He called as Edric walked away, a knowing grin forming on his face.

Edric took the familiar route toward the Royal apartments.

“El! I brought you…” his voice cut off when he saw Princess Ceri sprawled on Myrella’s bed

“Forgive me Your Graces. The door was open and I…” Edric was never very comfortable around Princess Ceri despite or perhaps because of his closeness with her siblings and it had not helped that for a moon's turn after her name day all anyone talked about was the joust between her princely brother and her little sister’s friend.

“Your Grace.” He said to Myrella. “I have a gift. He lifted the crate he still held. Knelt and set it on the floor, reached inside and pulled out a pair of Yaskihound pups. One was reddish brown all over while the other was black furred on top and white on the stomach and paws.

“This one.” He pointed to the black and white pup “is a girl the other is a boy. I thought you could have one and I would keep the other.” With Ceri here, he decided not to say ‘so we can have an excuse to see each other more.’

“Whichever one you like is yours. What do you think?” He asked.

Myrella Sabathian Ceri Sabathian

 

[Ceri Sabathian]

Location: Islimore
Outfit: Dress
Tag: Myrella Sabathian | Edric Florian

Ceri sighed loudly as she rolled her eyes, out of everything she shared with Myrella, her sister only focused on the boring Lupo information! Where was the interest in her suitors or trying to lift her mood up? No, it was all about the Lupos and if they were real and if they were really encroaching on our lands. "Myrella, the Lupos are of no threat. The purge wiped the majority of them out, what remains is a small fraction and no organisation of them will ever penetrate deep into our lands. Brother, Alasdair, would never allow it. Not surprised if he isn't already preparing the exterminate the rest of the vermin out there." Ceri curled her lip in disgust at having to discuss the monsters more than necessary. When Myrella finally asked if the suitors were really as bad as she made out, Ceri sighed heavily, "I would not be here complaining if I thought one of them was suitable! Alasdair is insistent on torturing me. Gods, even your Ser Edric friend would be a nicer option than most of these nobles that I have been seeing. I can just tell they would never let me hunting and I refuse to be some drunken caste wife!" Ceri growled deeply with a firmness on determining her own future and not the one expected of her.

Looking at the painting that Myrella was skilfully working on, Ceri sighed, "Myrella, why draw such dower and depressing imagery when we live in such a beautiful city and castle? This painting is very sad to look at how. Scholars say we are living in a golden age for our people and yet here you are drawing the most depressing images of our age!" When Myrella asked if Edric had been on her travels, Ceri shook her head, "no. Alasdair stated that he had sent him on another mission, but I don't know where he went." Ceri mentioned, she was not sure the friendship her sister was forging with the knight was a healthy or right one for a princess, but it was something that she could not force Myrella to give up, especially when Ceri was growing a similar bond with her sister. "Should be more cautious with your feelings towards Ser Edric, he might be a knight, but you are a princess and find a more noble match as a husband, like someone from the Fayth." The Fayth was a curious bunch but with the increasing Lupo presence, Ceri couldn't deny that their importance in protecting humanity on Islimore was more important than ever. "Rumours spread freely in a castle and you do not want to dishonour brother before he is crowned." Ceri warned.

On cue, Edric burst into the open room and used a nickname towards Myrella. His sentence was cut short when he noticed Ceri, who smirked and raised an eyebrow at the knight, "you dare barge into the room? What if my sister or myself had been in any form of undress?! A knight should know better than to knock before entering a Lady's bedchamber, no matter whether a door was open or not!" Ceri teased and mocked with a coy disgust and frustration with Ser Edric. While the men jousted with weapons, Ceri always tried to keep her tongue sharp and ready for a verbal jousting with those that thought they could outsmart her. Ser Edric was not such a man but she needed to find someone to practice on and he was available more often than not.

"Hounds?! For a princess?! Are you mad Ser Edric!? We are war with canines, we should not be associated with them at all! No, if Myrella was to accept a gift like this, it would have to be feline. Something graceful, independent, strong-willed and slender. Not some filthy hound that is just a constant reminder of the Lupo that are trying to kill our people." Ceri was genuinely outraged at such a gift, not jealous, but fuelled by generations and decades of upbringing hating all things canine and related to the Lupo, to have a beast so similar in their castle was a step too far in her mind. "This cannot be allowed on castle grounds, Alasdair and mother would not allow canines roaming freely around here!" Protectively stepping in front of Myrella, blocking her sister from touching the disgusting canine pups, cold stare focused on Edric as well for thinking this would be at all appropriate gift for a princess.

 

[Edric Florian]

"Apologies again, Your Graces. An open door seems an invitation to enter and had you been in a state of undress, it would have been wise to close said door to avoid any mishaps, I think." Edric answered with a cool courtesy before catching himself "you are right. I should never have presumed. A thousand pardons to you both."

He stared expectantly at El, desperate for her to be happy with her gift, to be happy with him.

Princess Ceri got to her feet suddenly and he was so taken aback his sword hand twitched. She began to launch into a tirade chastising hom for bringing Myrella a gift.

He almost laughed at this girl he had known his whole life. Almost. He stopped short when he saw the genuine fury in her eyes but that did not mean he planned to take her lashing and bow his head like some servant. A princess she may be but she had known him since he was born—the same day as princess Myrella—he had won fame and glory at fifteen, saved her brother the prince's life, he was a knight, and someday he would be a lord following after his father.

"Forgive me Your Grace." He said to Ceri scooping both pups into his arms holding them close to him as they wriggled and writhed seeking a comfortable position. "How is it that a cat would keep your sister safe should the worst happen?" He asked perhaps impetuously.

"These are no mere hounds Your Grace and they are far from filthy" He said leaning around Ceri to look at Myrella. "These are yaskihounds, bred by the finest minds of The Fayth to provide our people, your people with security against the monsters of the night." Yaskihounds were used during the purge, living weapons that hunted, harried and at times killed Lupo both in the guise of humans and in their true bestial forms.

Edric righted himself so that he was now straight backed facing both of the princesses

"When your brother and I marched to end the rebellion against your father those years ago, there was a breeder who marched with us. He told us many stories of the old war and the role the yaskihounds played in service to The Fayth and your family against the beastly lupo. So I assure you Princess Ceri, your brother would no more confuse these pups for lupo than he would your sweet sister." Had he gone too far? Perhaps but he was in it now.

"There is no war with the Lupo. Not officially. If the day comes that we are truly at war. Your mother would feel all that much safer knowing Myrella had a companion capable of keeping her safe."

I cannot always be there.

"Prince Alasdair plans to have a kennel built in the castle. After what happened at Blood—after recent events he feels it necessary that The Fayth and The Crown work together and he sees the necessity in being able to track and root out the lupo that remain to cause trouble for the people."

"If this offends you, Myrella, I am deeply sorry.