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Post by ravigen on Oct 11, 2014 1:26:56 GMT
A lone rider traveled down a dusty path, his journey had taken him far, over dangerous terrain and dangerous country as well. The risk of Cerdigon catching him was great but so was the reason that he had come so far. Allies were sorely needed against Cerdigon and by this point, they were desperate, willing to trade anything they had, within reason, for a chance at victory. It burned at their independent pride but the thought of control by Cerdigon was not worth holding onto that pride.
With that in mind he had decided to travel to Juturnapolis, the great city looming ahead of him, he could see the gates now, any minute now he'd be in sight of any guards. The time to begin was now, he only hoped it would work.
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Post by psychopathickids on Oct 11, 2014 7:07:36 GMT
A young woman sat atop an austere log, felled long ago beneath the shade of a lonesome olive tree to the side of a dramatically sharp turn along the hilltop road which comprised the primary thoroughfare in and out of Juturnapolis by North and East, alone save for the company of a rather obnoxious wood pecker audibly drilling a hole into the side of her makeshift shelter not two feet from her right ear, what must have been thousands of armed humans visible drilling and training at arms in the outskirts of the city beyond; a veritable army much too distant to come to the aid of any this far along the main road before one might do them harm, or worse. The crisp breeze coming in off the Sunset Sea upset the dark curls about her brow, the exact color of her hair unknowable in the shadow cast upon her features by the din of the rather dull Spring afternoon, sending them bobbing about her face and shoulders in a rather annoying manner, though the glimmer of the goblet she cradled absently in her left hand between middle and ring finger was unmistakably golden in hue despite the pallor, and obviously, to any who had ever attended a proper court banquet at least, made of the real stuff, a lattice neckpiece master worked of soft yellow gold set with black diamonds which matched the delicate diadem more tiara in appearance than traditional crown in both craftsmanship, metal and setting resting atop the crown of her head.
More than happenstance had brought the Queen of Juturna to this place at this time; scouts loyal to her court had reported the appearance of an elven rider possessed making incredible time on his way toward the capital a few hours ago catching Kallista in the midst of a Food Walk in the East Harbor, her own men having only barely managed to keep pace with the man in his haste to reach the Southern Shores despite the lonesomeness of his charge and her own people’s vastly superior numbers, logistics and experience with the sometimes treacherous terrain which the lands North of the Southern Shores proper were known for. That, and a simple bit of common sense; if the rider had a brain in his head he would no doubt follow the main road at any time the terrain was this remote, foreign and clearly not level for fear of breaking the leg of his mount in a foolish attempt to make better time heading in a potentially dangerous straight line through rabbit hole flecked earth and near constant rocky outcroppings which might lead to a sudden twenty foot fall. It was clear that whatever he wanted to discuss with her was urgent, which caused the nature of his visit to become rather plain; Cerdigon was winning. The Usurper would quite possibly sit the throne of both his homeland and Sefti before the season was through, and Queen Athinea had clearly not received the Survaek support she had sought in New Byrnis. Waving to the man as he approached with all the grace befitting a proper monarch, Kallista knew from their respective positions along the route her guest would have to see her from at least a minute or two away, and hopefully he would stop for someone wearing enough gold to clearly mark her as important, if not the Queen at least a proper lady of some note --, and, arguably, she was the only lady of note in Juturna.
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Post by ravigen on Oct 11, 2014 14:01:32 GMT
The rider was experienced enough to recognize someone of royalty no matter the situation, he'd been a knight for well over two centuries and some things were universal for any species he supposed, easy enough to figure out that the woman was the Queen or someone else of note, either way it would be only proper to stop and introduce himself. With that thought in mind he gently steered his horse in the direction of the woman, stopping a respectable distance before dismounting.
His face only showed a little of his age, brown hair neatly trimmed with just a hint of grey, no beard or facial hair of note. His armor was simple and functional, with a brown cloak wrapped around it, he did not look at Kallista directly, instead easily dropping to one knee as was customary when greeting someone of royalty above your station.
"I am Ser Dristan of Sefti, to whom do I have the honor of addressing m'lady?" |
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Post by psychopathickids on Oct 11, 2014 18:17:32 GMT
As her noble guest dropped to one knee before her Kallista offered a curtsey in return, low and proper with all the dutiful practice of a lady who had spent nearly her entire life in court, before closing the short distance between the two and offering her arms to him, outstretched just above her short ribs palms facing down as if to rest atop his own upon his rising. “The honor is mine, good ser knight. I am but a humble servant of Aed and vassal of the Survaek, Kallista Eudokia of House Makris, Queen of Juturna on the Southern Shores --, though, and please do forgive my presumption, I believe I am who you are looking for. The noble and honorable elves of Sefti are always welcome guests upon the Southern Shores and in my home. I would ask you to rise, if this pleases you?” and, should he comply she would place her arms gently over his own, warm amber eyes locked with Dristan’s as she continued, “But you must be exhausted. You made incredible time in reaching my lands, Ser Dristan. Would you be so kind as to sit with me awhile before carrying on to the manor?”
A pitcher of chilled, though not so cool as it had been when removed from her manor’s cellar over an hour ago, Southern Shores wine, rich and deep with the carmine hues produced by the near black grapes native to the region rested atop a silver platter along with two golden goblets, her own and another clearly meant for Dristan next to the log which she had been sitting on before, a wicker hand basket set next to the platter filled nearly a quarter with the thin sliced smoked meats and cheeses, dates, figs, olives, even a few pomegranates and apricots which grew freely on the sea side hills of Juturna’s countryside. Should he consent to sit with her a spell Kallista would watch him tend to his horse, a small stream running just off the main road seemingly a good place for it and something she had considered when choosing to meet the rider at this place, before offering him her arm as they made their way to the lonesome olive tree.
Upon reaching the log which had become her temporary station Kallista would pour a goblet for her guest before refilling her own, making sure to take a liberal sip from the glass offered her guest before he took hold of it. Smiling she explained, “A custom among my people. Poisoners are vilified by those of the Southern Shores, and we ensure that should one offer guest tainted beverage, well… They never do so again,” the statement was more than simple explanation of an odd cultural practice, to be sure. It was no great secret that the King the knight had no doubt served for decades, if not longer, had been murdered along with his only son by their enemy in Cerdigon, poisoned in his own home and by his own son in law no less, and there was little other reason a representative of Queen Athinea would come all this way in the midst of a war of succession. "To what do I owe the pleasure, ser Dristan?"
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Post by ravigen on Oct 11, 2014 18:30:56 GMT
Dristan nodded slowly, standing quickly and maneuvering to sit down upon the log next to her, he hesitated only briefly at the offer of wine, indeed her words reminded him all to well of the recent assassination of Jotheim and Jolinar, the downside to immortality was that it was hard to let go of past events and troubles, Dristan was 320 years old, and over 200 of those years had been spent serving Jotheim, he'd seen all three of his children born and so far had outlived the youngest, it was not something he liked to remember.
But he accepted the drink anyways with a nod of his head and a quick 'thank you' before taking a small sip, he was thirsty but his business was pressing.
"Noble Queen Kallista, I thank you for your hospitality and as a respect to your wisdom I will be open and honest about the purpose of my visit. You know the war going on between Sefti and Cerdigon. Petitions to the Survaek and to the Vaekir have been....less effective than we'd hoped."
Thousands dead, villages burned, Even if they won the war it would be a long time before they would recover to what they had once been.
"My Queen has sent me to ask for aid in the conflict, whatever it may be at this juncture we aren't that picky. But our resources are mostly depleted or destroyed by the Sylphs of Cerdigon, villages scattered, thousands dead."
He paused again, taking another sip.
"We have little to offer but favors and the promise of what we can give if we win but know that we wish independence from Cerdigon more than whatever you are likely to ask for." |
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Post by psychopathickids on Oct 11, 2014 20:07:21 GMT
"I would ask for nothing," the young Queen's response was instant, and made without hesitation. "I would consent to joining this campaign only as a matter of honor and for the greater good of the North, not for gold, lands, promises, or favors. My forces are already preparing to march. Humorous really, you came too late and just in time, good ser. Two thousand light infantrymen stand ready to march, and, with any luck, an additional three thousand musket, one thousand pike, one thousand light infantry, one thousand mounted lancers and five hundred mounted knights will be ready in two weeks’ time, professional soldiers to the last man and most among them veterans of one conflict or another. I was unwilling to commit my forces before the Survaek came to an official stance regarding the conflict between your nation and that of Cerdigon, however in light of their, shall we say, standoffish handling of the situation my councilors have advised me to take matters into mine own hands, though I would ask that you hear me out completely before rising to leave or taking action other than enjoying the crisp Spring breeze coming in off the Sunset Sea, appreciating fine wine and the delectable tastes of my people’s fruits, cheese, and smoked meats,” picking a date from amongst the collection of foodstuffs in the wicker hand basket she had carried with her from the East Harbor after completing the rounds of her Food Walk, Kallista took a generous nibble from it’s flesh, revealing a paste of what could assumedly only be almonds which filled the pitted core of the fruit, clearly offering the knight to try some of the food for himself.
“By the laws and customs of my people women inherit title only in absence of true born males of the blood. I rule over Juturna only for lack of brothers, paternal uncles, male cousins on my father’s side, a husband or sons. Honor dictates that I must support the claim of prince Aeron,” it was clear that this was not the end of their conversation, however, and merely a break to allow Ser Dristan a chance to muse on her words, and offer a response before she continued.
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