Russell was ecstatic that the battalion he belonged to was chosen to escort the king and prince of Tora to this council meeting. They were nearing their destination, and already he could smell the barren earth of the ruins. At 260 years of age, Russell did not have much experience in fighting, unless you counted combat training and sparring for fun. He had no idea what war would be like or what it could cost, but he was excited for it. The energy of electricity flowing through his veins only added to it.<br/><br/>The rows of men in the battalion marched in disciplined unison. Every step was a metallic drum beat.<br/><br/>The man marching to the right of Russell sighed, seemingly deep in thought. Curious, Russell asked what was the matter.<br/><br/>"The king isn't who he once was," the soldier replied.<br/><br/>Russell tilted his head to the side as they continued marching in unison. "How do you mean?"<br/><br/>The soldier dropped his voice so that it was barely louder than the clink and creak of metal. "Did you not witness the spectacle he made of himself about his horse not being the one to lead his carriage? That horse had to have been dead at least a decade. There is talk that he does not care about the signs of war on the horizon."<br/><br/>Russell's red brows lifted above his amber and slit pupil eyes, disappearing under his too-long red hair. Russell did not follow politics much, nor did he care to join in on the gossiping circles of troops after practice, so this was news to him. From then on, he walked without a word. Russell listened hard for any signs of life outside of the soldiers stomping, but he heard only the wind gusting from the kingdom of Eirwen. No doubt the the kingdom known for it's long winters was having heavy snowfall.<br/><br/>Hours passed. How many, Russell was not sure, but he could tell the sun had moved further westward in the sky, though it had not yet reached it's zenith. He could see the scarred ruins of Argus. They were near their destination at last. The ground was barren, it seemed no grass had grown there since the last war. Russell's heart sank at the thought of such lasting damage.<br/><br/>More time passed, and they finally entered the city. Posters were hung on every willing surface, looking for volunteers for the rumored coming war. There seemed to be some sort of disagreement between the Prince and the King when the King exited his carriage. Russell could feel the current of electricity from where he was standing within the ranks of the other troops. It passed quickly and the king slowly headed into the castle while the Prince's attention moved to one of the nobles.<br/><br/>Russell wondered if they had to stay in form while the king took part in this council meeting, or if they could break and explore and/or eat.<br/><br/>*****<br/><br/><span style="color: #80FF00">Lysona tucked her golden hair into her black hood. She had traveled from a small town outside of Cordelia. It was the latest place her wonderlust had carried her. Even in such a small town, there had been flyers to volunteer for the rumored coming war. The flyers had said any capitol city had places to sign up, but Lysona had also heard rumors of the council meeting in Argus. She decided it would be an excuse to see where she and her family would have lived had it not been destroyed. The Elf wanted to see the ruins before leaving the kingdom, but for now she would find the place accepting volunteers in Eirwen.<br/><br/>She took a deep calming breath, tugged on her hood in the hopes to conceal her face in its shadow, and entered the snow covered city. The soft, newly-fallen snow crunched under feet as she walked. Lysona glanced behind her and watched as more snowflakes fell in and around her footprints.<br/><br/>Lysona wondered if women were even accepted into the army, but it was too late for that now. She found the square, where people were signing up for the war.<br/><br/>A man with deep-black hair pulled back in a pony-tail, a high contrast to his pail skin, said he would volunteer, only to be met with handcuffs.<br/><br/>Lysona debated whether or not opening her mouth would bring any good at all. She could just as easily keep to herself as planned. The Elf was not a fan of attention by any means, but she was curious as to why he would be placed in handcuffs instead of enlisted. After all, being placed in the midst of a war sounded like a punishment to her, and yet, here she was.<br/><br/>Lysona stepped lightly, but quickly up behind the guard as he began to lead the man away. She cleared her throat as she fell into step next to him, hoping to gain the guard's attention. "What does one have to do that he'd be placed in handcuffs when he wishes to volunteer for a war guaranteed to bring much destruction? Your flyers must make you sound more desperate for soldiers than what is actually needed then, no?"<br/><br/>Lysona glanced at the man that she hoped to reason with the guard about. Now that she was closer she could see black tendrils of, what looked like steam, rising from him. The sight caused her to stop dead in her tracks. <span style="font-style: italic">Was he of the Darkness?</span> the Elf thought.</span>