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</div></div><br/><br/>Beauregard had opened the window to his second story loft and felt the evening air rush in, it was humid as the evening was progressing while down below, there was a constant throng of traffic with the thumping of horse hoofs from moving carriages, street peddlers attempting to steer would be shoppers to their stands, and rowdy patrons of the kingdom’s bar scene, watching occasional night watchmen prod and sometimes stop would be law breakers before they had made an infraction, harshly admonishing their behavior and in some cases, shaking them down for the occasional gold sack or two for good measure.<br/><br/>Beauregard ran his hands through his thick dark hair while his index and thumb rested itself upon his faded stubble.  Beauregard had been looking at the blank piece of parchment for a few hours with his learned blue eyes and yet, tapping upon his inspiration was proving to be a problem once again as his theater troupe, The Red Orchid Theater Group, was preparing for yet another Friday night’s events. The ticket sales have been decent but there’s a bit of a charged atmosphere these days with the war between Queen Sharia and the Orcan Horde of Grhaul-Massune who had just entered the western tip of the country where, as he pondered at that very moment, the horns and trumpets of war were upon the kingdom which seemed to move on in its normal state with or without an impending invasion. Breguard had his own special experience in regards to war as he had seen and been in at least two campaigns as one of the Royal Cavaliers before an injury he suffered during combat left him with a slight limp after the surgery was done to his right hip.<br/><br/>The one time swordsman, bard, poet and playwright, was seen as a jack of all trades and his mind led the same chaotic path, often times at the detriment of his fellow theater troupe whom toiled and perspired as he directed, wrote, and acted during times when he felt a scene deserved his own careful hand and delivery in order to protect the original artistic intent of the creator.<br/><br/>Just as he was about to dab his quill into the ink glass there was a knock at his door that shattered what remained of a feint candle light’s fizzle within his muse and he angrily looked at the door with contempt and almost threw the sharp quill at it.<br/><br/>“Gods!!” He roared with a redden hue in his face, “What in heaven’s boundaries must I do to get at least ONE ounce of --- once pigment --- one syllable of a saying! A phrase! A word! --- Without some…. Who --- who is it by god! Who dares wrap upon the dragon’s door in the name of their knavery!”<br/><br/>“ I love you too Beauregard!”, said a familiar voice and when the door opened, a gallant man of 28 years of age, shaved around his head except for a crew cut settling upon his crown, and a look of a crafty wolf, sly yet seemingly careful and direct in anything he approached. “May I bother the great De Castillo for a word or two?”<br/><br/>“ Damn you and your infernal ingratitude!,” was his reply, sitting back in his rounded wooden chair that make a creak as he did so, rocking back and forth in frustration. “What…what...is it.  Have you.. been caught in bed with a Count’s daughter? Maybe bedded his wife? No --- maybe... you bedded the wife and the daughter at the same damn time while you turned the poor count into a sniveling cuckold?! Or better yet --- have you buggered someone’s fiancé before their martial conception? Attempting to abuse my friendship to separate some noble woman’s negligee from her petite figure for your carnal avarice?”<br/><br/>“What you think of me!” Fortanza said as he took a seat next to his friend, making sure his long sword didn’t jam between the spokes as his light armor squeaked as he settled in, “ But…as for damsels… you simply must help me Beauregard … I may have the stamina and the handsomepleasantries of my face…and the weapon of my wicked tongue when….”<br/><br/>“ Spare me the details,” Beauregard said with a passing sense of disappointment as he waived an open hand at Fontanza, “ Its bad enough I have to hear them when you’ve drank too much mead,”<br/><br/>“You don’t understand my friend!” Fontanza said happily, grasping Beauregard‘s arm with a soft leather glove, it was woven in elvish silk and still gave off the aroma of tree sap and fresh moss “It’s the lady Karina De Acosta,”<br/><br/>“Acosta!?!?” Beauregard suddenly repeated in disbelief and shooed away his grip as if it was a spiteful mosquito “The red headed woman of death? The Rouge of Deer’s Leap? The one who can shatter her first three arrow strikes in consecutive shots? That Acosta?”<br/><br/>“Why yes!” Fontanza said, “That Acosta! --- the ever beautiful Acosta with sanguine lips and radiant red hair that flows whenever the wind picks up…and…”<br/><br/>“Please… you are hurting my ears,” Beauregard interrupted, “Oh god I shall regret this as well…. What….what do you want of me old friend…”<br/><br/>“Ahhhhh…” he continued “Forever in debt I always am Senior De Castillo! Always in debt…. It is simple really. As a man and master of letters, I need you to provide me with a great love letter that would capture her heart and send her wings to my warm and awaiting embrace”<br/><br/>“In other words…” Beauregard then said as he swiveled his chair around to look at Fontanza,“you…want something that will spread her burning thighs to you for a romp somewhere --- hopefully a respectful place and not at the BellaDonna’s Blooming Bordeaux?”<br/><br/>“I tell you Beauregard,” Fontanza said with amore serious tone as he gently rubbed his chin, “This is different. This woman is different. Elegant-classy…and she’s able to shoot a soaring hawk 60 leagues at least in the sky or take down an Orcan hound rider at 40 paces with one shot,”<br/><br/>“Yes…and her perfume is the enriching scent of a new found angel whose feather’s enchant your senses with the thousand heart beat’s found from the most gallant men who would bare the ill fortunes of wars just to settle upon their knees before her feet,” he began to throw out ideas and mimic Fontanza, “Just… just tell me when you need it…”<br/><br/>“Oh no my friend… I couldn’t possibly attempt to read what you write --- it is impossible,” he said, “What…I was thinking. What I was going to say is… how about… you do the oratory to her.... dressed in my uniform of course…and if it works well… I will replace you and you…will… leave? Take flight? Become a shadow and slink away so I can take care of the rest?”<br/><br/>“This is a mad man’s idea,” Beauregard countered, “And how am I supposed to be you? You are taller. more built. more…”<br/><br/>“She doesn’t know me from the gods themselves and their tales,” Fontanza said, “It simple. Do your magic – and get the hell out and let my handsome wiles perform the rest of the hard labor…”<br/><br/>“I bet labor…” Beauregard said, “I will write this letter but I will not make any such of an agreement to be standing under some strange woman’s window sill. Where do you do get these pathetic over used tropes from --- could you not possibly have thought of a better and modern way of thinking besides this foolery?”<br/><br/>“I will take that as a yes my friend,” Fontanza smiled and patted Beauregard on the back, “ I will see you within three days --- I am sure you will have finished by then…”<br/><br/>“I’ll be busy with the new plays that we are about to introduce into the theater --- come by later tomorrow and I’ll have it ready then,”<br/><br/>“Even better!” Fontanza said with an excited hitch, “After all --- we cannot delay the destiny that is ---,”<br/><br/>“Goodbye…old…friend…” He cut in, motioning for him to promptly exit the door.<br/><br/>Beauregard watched as his door slammed shut and he was once again alone to ponder his thoughts and the murmuring of the people down below.<br/><br/>“Let’s see…” he said, “Acosta…” and he wrote:<br/><br/><br/>To the Lady Acosta<br/><br/>How I pray you not think of me as a scoundrel or knave<br/>I beseech your audience, this nocturnal hour under such conditions,<br/>But just as your eyes, the ever hunter as an eagle’s gift<br/>The red fire – flames with such perfumed dignity and grace<br/>It makes you that of the Phoenix, a baptism by fire<br/>Covering my very soul in its depths, a fate I would so grasp<br/>As I would grasp the most honored intention from a glorious King<br/>To suffer --- to beg --- to follow upon your own stepped paths<br/>Whether they be upon fiery coals that would nip upon my feet<br/>Or weather the toughest tempest’s roar upon my being<br/>I would lay within the grandeur that your feminine beauty provides<br/>And if these words are found untrue ---<br/>Then let sail your choice, a pin pointed deadly shaft,<br/>The spiral which would sting my very chest, pierce my heart<br/>And I shall die a lover’s death even though I had not felt …<br/>Had. Not. Nothing. Blah.<br/>Shoot me in the eye with your arrow to pierce my mind<br/>Because I am a mere solider who is a complete fool<br/>For letting this moron under your window sill<br/>Dictate shit that I know nothing about<br/>But I’d really like to un-clasp your bra<br/>Let your cleavage in all of its glory befall upon me<br/>So that my carnal hands can rummage into your pleasure<br/>Because I frankly don’t give a rat’s behind about anything I said<br/>Due to the fact, that I am a lying cuss whose days are wasted<br/>Chasing skirts towards--- blah. Blah. Hiss Hiss.<br/><br/><br/>Beauregard threw his quill at the wall and gave out a curse as he looked at the scribbling upon the parchment and began to laugh.<br/><br/>“It will do for now….you phony philanderer” he said while he sat back and looked up at the rafters.  “What is wrong with me tonight?”<br/><br/><br/>He had put himself into another state of mental determination to think of a thousand unfinished lines in his head when there was a slight breeze that crept through his open window and with it, a familiar voice, one he knew all too well as he scooted over to take a peek  into the street.<br/><br/><br/>Viana Del La Torre …<br/><br/>Her raven dark hair and equally striking matching eyes were unmistakable, that and the sudden scent of Lilacs and Cherry Blossoms flooded his senses.<br/><br/>“ Now what in the Gods has this whiskered creature of a woman gotten herself into?,” he muttered as he looked a bit more closer, “ I see… Gulligan…Malfern…Ghirlandio…and Crephin?! What rat basement did she find this table of fiends from… going into… One Eyed Fayed’s? I don’t care. Nope – I do not…do not…,”  he said as he turned away back to his pile of disheveled papers.  The sound of her voice however grew more shrill as he attempted to ignore the entire thing.<br/><br/>“ In the very extreme winds and their will — I would fight the sounds of the dark haired…Dark haired….blast it all and the infernal divines that made the human heart!” He scowled, brushing parchment papers off of his desk and letting them fly about as he rose quickly to get his weapon.<br/><br/>“The hell is going on?” He said with a sudden awareness, “Well …of all the nights...I should just let her….let her…. Ahhhh damned it…”<br/><br/>Beauregard carefully opened a closet next to his unmade bed and put on his leather belt with a very sharp but elegant King’s saber into an ornate scabbard followed by a light leather jerkin with inlayed plate armor.<br/><br/>“Looks like once again…I’ll have to see what the raven haired Del La Torre  has gotten herself into…” as he quickly hopped out of his upper story apartment to shim down the flight of steps and out onto the main street.<br/><br/>Beauregard wanted to lie to himself that it was a trifling matter but in reality his haste and candor suggested his motivations were being pulled upon the strings of a softer reason