His Majesty (Vix & Verse)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Verse on 23-08-2008, 13:16:55</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>His Majesty (Vix &amp; Verse)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Verse</strong> on <strong>23-08-2008, 13:16:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Volkrain had forever been known, above all it's military might or economical assets, as a country of constant change. One kingdom fell and another built on it's ashes, villages burned and built in the blink of an eye and the man who you once served faithfully could be gone tomorrow and replaced in a heartbeat. This made it hard, even for the most devout followers of the King, to be sad at his death. Certainly there was a mourning over the country and many small shrines to him had been placed at local temples, but there were no mass prayers or holidays for his death. Volkrain had seen so many kings come and go, it was hard to even find reason -to- mourn. Nazerun had been a good leader, but harsh. The country had thrived under him, but the people bore him no lost love and it was only because he'd made their lives better in the larger scheme that they tolerated his policies and laws. Of course, the thought of his son on the throne sat no better with many of them. If he was anything like his bastard father, he was soon to begin beheading people for walking near the castle, or something insane like that. It was ironic. Someone finally managed to poison the old bastard and now his son stepped into his place...<br><br><strong>The Volkrain castle stood high amongst the capital city, almost twice the size of the grand, stone walls that protected the main part of town. It was a huge city as it was expected to be, with several parts of it located outside the grand walls, though no more rich and vast then those inside. And sitting in the middle of it all was the castle, home to generations of kings and queens and now, one more to add to that list. It, unlike most other parts of the country, was in a celebration of sorts. King Markai's coronation had gone off without a hitch or poisoned glass of wine and the days following it had not ensued a bloodbath or harsh rule of any kind. It was almost hard to believe the former King had passed away, if you were not inside the throne room. Or privy to it's dealings at least. Inside the castle, past the plate-mail wearing guards patrolling it's gates or the archers high on it's wall, the banners flying outside it proudly bearing the symbols of it's country, the truth was that things had never been as unstable.<br><br>King Markai resembled his father in some ways, but the most striking way was his eyes. His long, raven hair was nothing like his father's short, brown mane and his young, handsome face were nothing to his father's gruff, bearded visage, but they shared those firm, piercing blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to darken or lighten with mood and emotion. They were practically his father's legacy. The men and women of the court stood or sat near the pillars inside the warm, marble covered room. It was large and wide, with it all focused on the large double doors to the front of the room and the large, black marble throne to the back. Markai still found it uncomfortable, even with the thick, red cloths that hung over it and around it. A large carpet led the path to the throne from the door, and on either side of it were thick, glossy pillars. Torches hung from them and the light from them was accentuated only by the sunlight pouring in from high above. At night, it was depressingly dark. People filled the areas around the pillars, mostly the lords and ladies of the court or those with business infront of his majesty. Behind the throne, doors led to balconies high above and around. Balconies for the royal family and it's attendants, the advisers and guests. Balconies Markai himself had once only sat on, watching his father's eyes at they churned.<br><br>"That is the state of things, your Majesty." the main kneeling infront of the throne spoke respectfully, keeping his head bowed in the typical stance of messengers who did not wish to be shot. Today was a tense day, as this particular messenger was announcing the end of a treaty originally signed by his father with the neighboring countries. Things were tense enough with his father's death, but it was almost as if the entire thing was timed. The treaty was critical to keeping the supply lines open between the nations. "The Lord Hesin&nbsp; sends his regards and promises that he will sign the treaty as soon as he reviews it to ensure it is still as beneficial for his subjects as it was before." the messenger spoke, silently swallowing his fear as he could almost feel the court's tension. Nazerun would have had the man beheaded on the spot and put on a pike...<br><br>Markai's reaction was not as bloody, but equally chilling. His voice was another inheritance from his father, making his lithe, lightly muscled frame seem even more imposing as he leaned forward on the throne, eyes narrowed on the messenger. His voice was calm and normally very gentle, almost soft, but yet now it was filled with a sort of silent anger that drove every word home, deeply. "Nothing has changed since then and now. You will inform Lord Hesin that I expect a timely signing of the treaty. In the...Interests of our continued friendships. It would put his subjects in a very <em>uncomfortable</em> position if he somehow offended his trading partners." he spoke, quietly putting his fingertips together as to make the point painfully clear. The messenger swallowed again, then bowed his head rapidly and stood. "I will let him know of your expectations immediately, Your Majesty." and bowed his head once more. Markai waved his hand now, his voice losing it's venom and returning to a soft, if harsh sounding, tone. "Begone."<br><br>With the messengers hasty retreat, the tension ebbed and indeed many of the lords and ladies quietly retreated themselves. To board their escorts home and discuss how much Markai reminded them of his father, or perhaps to discuss how he should have just sent his generals to crush the pathetic nation that was offending them. Besides, with the absence of this incident, nothing good was left to watch in the throne room. Just small documents and minor discussions, nothing juicy enough for the higher class to bother with. And indeed, as soon as the messenger left the throne room a man stepped forward from the side. Dressed in chain mail and with the uncomfortable look of a career soldier out of his element, the blond-haired, lightly bearded man stepped infront of Markai. For a split second, anyone paying attention would find Markai's face softening, his eyes lightening as he looked on a friend. General Jemin had taught him swordplay and had taken him to his first battle, so it was fond memories that clouded him for a moment before his cold face snapped back into place. "What is it, General?" he practically barked, though Jemin didn't even flinch as he began speaking.<br><br>As the bantering continued infront of him, Markai found himself thinking. How ironic he found it that not long ago, he'd tried to scold his father for speaking so coldly to Jemin in the court. "He's your oldest and most loyal follower father, does he not deserve your respect?" he'd yelled and he'd just found his father grinning at him from his chair, looking at him with a look of pure contempt. "He is, and thats why I haven't had a younger, more pliable replacement slay him for his position." That conversation had left Markai with a very clear picture of his father. He'd held no rose delusions anyway. But he'd learned quickly in his days here, learned that anything short of a grimace was a smile. Learned that anything short of a glare was relaxation. Learned that anything short of contempt was fondness. The rules of the court were simple and precise. Hate everyone, trust noone, love nothing. His eyes wandered as Jemin continued speaking of military budget and increasing recruitment funds and eventually he found himself staring at one of the high windows, near the balconies. How he missed being able to go outside daily and ride through the town, or even the simply joy of going to the castle roof and watching the sunset. But as Jemin's voice faded, his eyes snapped back to his old friend and he snarled as he leaned forward. "You know the answer already General. We are not diverting any more of our trade to buy your armor polish or sharpen spear tips. You can very well survive on what you are already given and if you ask again without due reason, I'll sharpen a spear on your neck."<br><br>Inside, a small piece of him winced. He was becoming very much like his father and he didn't miss the detesting look in Jemin's eyes as he declared his understanding and moved to the next issue. Markai leaned back once more, eyes continuing to wander...He felt caged within himself as he sat here.</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: His Majesty (Vix &amp; Verse)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>calamity</strong> on <strong>23-08-2008, 23:20:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The queen was no longer queen, but the generosity of the prince - nay, the new <em>king</em> kept her living conditions largely unchanged within the castle.&nbsp; Her quarters were luxurious, the carpets fine, the fruit fresh.&nbsp; Nevertheless, the number of ladies serving her majesty had dwindled.&nbsp; Many of those women who came to wait at the queen's beck and call were ambitious, and the status of their mistress was of great import.&nbsp; Several ladies had departed even before King Nazerun's funeral, frightened of losing clout by being known as mere serving girls.&nbsp; After all, there is a large difference between maid and lady in waiting.&nbsp; Whispers throughout the court implied that this reflected chiefly upon the queen's manner, that her cool demeanor attracted little loyalty.&nbsp; But any noble with political insight would see the situation for what it was.&nbsp; The mother of King Markai was one of these.&nbsp; She ordered that new girls be summoned for service - foreign girls who lacked the taint of having lived at court.<br><br>It was with reluctance that Biane had come to Volkrain, despite the high honor she had received by being called to serve the mother of King Markai.&nbsp; She held no qualms about service, only a strong affection for her home and for her studies there.&nbsp; Coroin was a land known for the harsh cold, but its people were known for their intellect, their fondness for discourse, their hunger for enlightenment.&nbsp; There, women were educated without restraint, and were celebrated for their sharp minds as well was their beauty.&nbsp; Biane was uncertain whether this sentiment extended into Coroin's southern neighbor.&nbsp; She feared that in Volkrain it would be seen as crass for her to read obsessively - for her to read at all!<br><br>It had been a tumultuous journey.&nbsp; The heat of this new land had crept upon Biane as quickly and mercilessly as an assassin.&nbsp; She found that her pale skin pinked and ached against the higher temperature, that she was left no choice but to tie up the long locks of white-blonde hair at her neck.&nbsp; Her furs were replaced with thin gowns, but the material still felt stifling. Several times within the carriage, Biane had felt consciousness slip from her, snowflakes clouding her vision.&nbsp; She had acclimated somewhat by the time her trip had ended, but even now, as she lingered in the emptying throne room, Biane felt ill at ease.&nbsp; She had been introduced to the king's mother, although little words had been exchanged.&nbsp; Afterwards, she had been escorted to a small room that would serve as her own bedchamber and was told that her time was now essentially her own.&nbsp; She was to return to her mistress' chambers several times throughout the day, of course, but she had been astounded to learn just how much time was idle.&nbsp; It was no wonder, she mused, that those who lived at court were so driven toward gossip and frivolity.&nbsp; What else was there to fill one's time with?<br><br>She was determined to learn as much as she could about the way this kingdom conducted itself.&nbsp; The timing of her arrival had placed her in a perfect position to observe the king.&nbsp; She had listened to the dialogue between King Markai and gentlemen whose names she could not yet know.&nbsp; But the heat!&nbsp; Biane leaned against a large pillar, closing her eyes as the coolness of the structure lent itself to ease her discomfort.&nbsp; Her hand came up to rest against it, open palmed, fingers splayed.&nbsp; She had not yet been noticed, which was a relief, although she had been told by her escort that at some point she was to be introduced to the king himself.&nbsp; "After all, any ruler must know all who scurry within his walls," he had said, but the suggestion his voice made was a bitter one.&nbsp; Biane had wondered at this, but after witnessing the king's dealings - even if only for a few moments, she rather understood.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: His Majesty (Vix &amp; Verse)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Verse</strong> on <strong>24-08-2008, 01:55:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Markai's roster of visitors slowly dwindled from a soundly verbally defeated General, who had managed only to secure a promise of a fresh recruitment drive from the populace and a 'consideration' about forwarding a request for more mage-knights in the ranks. The King kept his temper in check, but several times in the discussion that cool voice turned venomous and those beautifully emotive eyes turned dark as coal. Once Jemin had secured his small victories, he quietly ebbed away into the crowd and the remainder of floor time was turned over to the minor Lords of the country. Bartering for more funds, petty disputes and family feuds were all commonplace and infact practically expected. The truth was that the King drew the strings over the entire web, so in all reality those around him had nothing -but- time on their hands and in their lives. In one particularly juicy moment, two minor lords had begun arguing with each other over a small point of order. One had 'accidentally' injured the other's prized horse in a mock jousting match and the entire event had spiraled so out of control that they were plotting skirmishes with one another. In the middle of the court, in full view of the King, the two lost themselves and began to scream at one another in the most common and foul language possible. Even Markai seemed relatively taken aback for a moment, before he sighed and propped his head up on his hand, watching the scene patiently. Eventually, the screaming died down and they both turned to the King, starting to rave about the other to him. And the King just sighed as he looked to his side, catching the eye of his guardsmen. "You. Take these two both to the dungeon. Instruct the jailers to not let them out or stop their fun until they both can no longer speak. Then have them sent home." he spoke quietly, the guards nodding as they moved forward to catch the frightened looking lords. As they were drug away, clawing and screaming, the court seemed to hush all at once. Perhaps it was the sobering effect of seeing two of their class sentenced so easily, but the gossip had hushed immediately.<br><br>As Markai pulled his hand away from his head, he really felt no pity for what he'd just done. They obviously needed a wake-up call and he suspected being tortured and beaten until they could scarcely draw breath would cool their tempers. And if he heard of those two fighting again, he'd have their voices taken from them entirely the next time. A part of him, perhaps the part he'd come to find himself relying on entirely too much lately, bristled with a dark pride at the terror and silence that had swept over the lords and ladies. Those who had once been ready to ask the King to sort out their problems and petty arguments refrained, the screams of the two men removed from the throne room echoing back into it for several minutes afterwards. His eyes again began to wander, and eventually they began to scan the balconies above. A part of him wondered if his ice-queen of a mother had come to watch her son, but imagine his surprise when his eyes caught a fleeting glance of something...Far more interesting then his mother. He meant to inspect the figure more closely, but the sound of shuffling and small whispers drew his attention back to the court, his eyes hardening immediately as he watched. Apparently, the latest scene had cleared his schedule entirely. The lords and ladies were trying their best to shuffle away without incident, bowing politely and offering quiet praises as, one by one, the troublesome swarm departed. Left only in the presence of the remaining guardsmen and a suddenly very silent chamber, Markai had to smile to himself.<br><br>"Perhaps if that is all it takes to quiet them, I'll begin torturing them daily." he remarked, drawing a fearful look from more then one guard and even a quirked eyebrow from a man standing near his throne. The man was dressed in a simple robe and held a book, but the cloth he wore around his neck decorated with the Volkrain symbol told he was more then a messenger, he was Markai's personal adviser. He stepped forward now and Markai's eyes shot to him like a hawks' own on it's prey, watching him patiently as he cleared his throat. "With that out of the way, your majesty, I believe your meeting list is almost clear for the day. There are small matters to attend to if you so will it, but nothing that I would not be more then honored to handle in your place." the man said softly, bowing at his waist as he finished the last part. The way he phrased everything made a part of Markai hate him without even trying and it was this that led him to smile coolly at the man and shake his head. "Not needed. Infact, I suggest you yourself depart from the room. I have things to tend to without your nose in them." he said, waving his hand as if shooing away a fly. The man stiffened, briefly, before closing his eyes and bowing, then moving to make his way from the throne room. A dirty glare was cast over his shoulder at the King, who was too busy looking over the list he'd taken from his 'friend' to notice.<br><br>The list was short now, with the absence of important issues now and it mainly comprised of signing things for a few more hours. But one thing stood out to him, now that he'd forgotten about the mysterious figure in the balcony above. He was to meet with his Mother's newest lady-in-waiting. He found that interesting enough to smile at and leaned back in his throne. "Attendant." he called quietly, and a small man stepped from behind a pillar, bowing. "Send for this Biane my mother has acquired and then send for one of our assassins." he called, the man nodding quickly as he turned to the doors into the family area of the castle, walking through them and starting up the stairs into the main chamber. Markai, himself, stared at the list and eventually lowered it, calling up everything he remembered about his mother's latest Lady. Which was not much, to be completely honest...She was so new, it was hard for him to have even known about her, let alone know any details. His eyes began to wander again, and before long he was once more staring at the window to the outside. It was starting to grow that strange, golden-dusk color that happened near sunset. Which might have been what prompted him to slowly rise from the, no, -his- throne and step over to it. Standing in the bright, slowly waning sunlight, he smiled pleasantly for perhaps the first time today. It made part of him overjoyed to feel even such a small portion of his favorite time of day...</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: His Majesty (Vix &amp; Verse)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>calamity</strong> on <strong>25-08-2008, 09:37:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Biane had never been so close to royalty.&nbsp; Her family was highly regarded in Coroin, her father having made a name for himself through the opening of schools and the teaching of fine arts and philosophy, but their status had never been entirely aristocratic.&nbsp; Reading of nobility was something Biane had done at length, but witnessing the interactions of those at court was another thing altogether.&nbsp; Politics fascinated Biane, and she found that she could ignore the heat when she was able to catch bits and pieces of the goings on below.&nbsp; And it was not difficult to hear the rantings of two agitated lords.&nbsp; Jousting was a sport that Biane could not imagine entirely - she had never been to a match, but she imagined from what she knew of it that it must be brutal.&nbsp; <br><br>She was too far away to truly see the eyes of the king, but his voice reminded her at times of the ice she associated so closely with home.&nbsp; It seemed a chunk of it had nestled within her, in fact, and she would have shivered if she weren't so mindful of being observed.&nbsp; Yes, there were eyes that had begun to scurry to her, eyebrows that raised and whispers that traveled behind strategically placed handfans or open palms.&nbsp; She knew that she didn't look much like those who surrounded her and that it was inevitable for them to look and wonder, but their stares still made her incredibly self conscious.&nbsp; Even more heat rose to her cheeks, and she made certain not to make eye contact with anyone.&nbsp; She seemed to anyone who might look, therefore, to be absolutely hypnotized by the king.&nbsp; And in a fashion, she was.&nbsp; Her eyes only deviated from the seated prince to study the lords and ladies who tried to gracefully withdraw from his presence.&nbsp; His remarks about torture had made quite the impact, and beneath Biane's own trepidation at the thought, she was mildly impressed.&nbsp; "What is better for a king," her father had asked her once, "to be feared or loved?"<br><br>The sound of her own name startled her.&nbsp; Her eyebrows furrowed and she froze, uncertain whether to volunteer her presence or wait to be summoned.&nbsp; But the king's attendant was quick - likely a product of fear.&nbsp; Less than a moment seemed to pass before he had located the new lady in waiting.&nbsp; "The King requests your presence, Lady Biane."&nbsp; Heart fluttering, she gave a respectul nod to the rather gaunt man and followed him down the stairs.&nbsp; With each step, he seemed to whisper more advice.&nbsp; "...and don't look him right in the eye unless he tells you to.&nbsp; Don't speak unless prompted..."&nbsp; The chatter was muffled when they were within earshot of the king.&nbsp; The attendant bowed extravagantly after showing Biane where to stand, which was a few paces in front of the throne (despite the lack of inhabitant), announced her presence, and then promptly disappeared.<br><br>And so, the pale creature bowed her head, the near white tendrils of hair cascading over her shoulder.&nbsp; Her heart seemed to beat so loudly that she was sure he could hear it.<br><br>And she waited.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: His Majesty (Vix &amp; Verse)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Verse</strong> on <strong>25-08-2008, 18:34:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>The sound of movement was unmistakable behind him and Markai turned to look over his shoulder as Biane and his attendant stepped forward, raising an eyebrow as the man's words announced that this was his mother's latest whipping girl. Well, perhaps the servant didn't go that far, but Markai's mind filled in the rest as he turned to his throne and moved over to it, sitting down in it with the practiced grace of one who'd slid out of it no less then three times on his first day as King. The sheet of paper he'd had with him was lifted again, him reading some more of the things that were near her name. It was impressive, really, how his mother managed to find such beautiful women to serve her. But he supposed it was inevitable really that such an arrogant woman would insist only those of such beauty could serve her. With that thought, he lowered the paper and his eyes moved over her for a moment, a faint smile coming to his lips. He knew of her father, especially his works in the world. He had several school in Volkrain and the prince still fondly remembered his intense debates with his old teacher. None of which had resulted in more then Markai being quite throughly humbled in his chair.<br><br>It was almost an actual sensation, the way his eyes seemed to linger on Biane for a time, much like what those under his gaze all day had felt. That slightly chilling, somber feeling of tormenting under his gaze. But after a while, he moved his eyes back up to her head, smiling in a way that resembled a grimace more then an actual, pleasant smile. "Lift your head." he said suddenly, wanting to get a look at her face and eyes. Perhaps it was some protective urge he had over his mother or perhaps it was something far less noble working it's way through his blood, but he wanted to see this person. Once she did, he would simply smile, perhaps a bit more happily, and let his eyes rest on her own for the time being. "Hm. It seems my mother has found another beautiful servant." he said, his voice lacking any venom but still seeming somewhat cold. "From what I understand, you come from a very well regarded background. In fact, if I remember correctly, it may very well have been your father's school I spent the better part of three years." he said now, oddly happy memories floating through his mind, even if his face showed that stoic, quiet look. <br><br>"But." and he leaned back now, propping his head up on his own hand, eyes on her in a very dark way, as if trying to keep her in place just on the weight of that cold blue gaze alone. Which seemed to have worked on a number of people today, infact. He almost seemed as if he was growing bored, but it didn't seem to be the case as he smiled softly. "You must remember, behind these walls and doors, it stops mattering. Right now, you are a servant. You will be treated as such at all times so I suggest you adjust yourself accordingly. You have no status here and no power beyond what the Lady Mother herself has." he said now, watching her carefully. It was not as if he was -trying- to scare his mother's latest batch of Ladies away, but he was perhaps testing their loyalties...Most of the self-serving women that had come to fill this position had indeed been scared away by the knowledge that their mistress was, at current, nothing more then a relic, like a picture on a wall. "As a King, I ask that you remember your place at all times. If you forget it, I will have you dealt with appropriately." he said now, watching for that moment, then closing his eyes.<br><br>His voice dropped an octave or two and it seemed that his next words were aimed directly at Biane, as even the guards nearest his thrones seemed unable, or perhaps unwilling to show they were listening, hear them. "But as a son, I ask you take care of my mother. She is difficult and she will be demanding, but she is your Lady above all other things." he said now, opening those dark, blue eyes again and smiling, perhaps a bit too softly for the King. And as if in a mirage, the oddly happy, calm look faded into the stoic, quiet one. His lips fell back into their grimacing twist and his eyed hardened once more. "That is all. Get out of my sight." he said, waving his free hand at her again now.</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: His Majesty (Vix &amp; Verse)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>calamity</strong> on <strong>26-08-2008, 01:33:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The lack of sound in the large room was formidable, but the voice of the king made silence seem like a treasure.&nbsp; It was suddenly clear what sort of ruler he intended to be.&nbsp; Biane would have smiled if it wouldn't have appeared impertinent - then again, perhaps it would have been more than appearance.&nbsp; It wasn't that she lacked respect for the king, it was simply that his manner seemed out of sorts with his appearance.&nbsp; A handsome, youthful man with the solemnity and gravity of an overburdened sovereign.&nbsp; It bordered upon absurdity, and her own humor seemed desperate to leak from her mouth. <br><br>When she raised her head, she felt her breath at last vacate her lungs, and her posture straightened, chin lifting.&nbsp; So, he had attended one of her father's schools.&nbsp; How easily she imagined how her father must have handled the prince, with stern looks and admonishing shaking of the head.&nbsp; She wondered briefly whether the king would tolerate such treatment now that he ruled all of Volkrain.&nbsp; <em>You have no status here.</em>&nbsp; Was she to bristle at this?&nbsp; The king's stoicism was perhaps matched by her own, for she only bowed her head to acknowledge his words.&nbsp; There was no undercurrent of outrage within her, no inward cry against the words.&nbsp; They were true enough.&nbsp; So it went with the rest of his speech, and then it was over.&nbsp; She had been dismissed.&nbsp; It was a relief, for the sunlight angling through that favored window had made the poor creature terribly uncomfortable.&nbsp; Safe in cooler corridors, it occurred to Biane that she had no idea what would make best use of her time.&nbsp; Excepting the king's most private quarters, there was no place within the castle that was forbidden to her.&nbsp; And so, Biane began to explore. <br><br>The rumors of Nazerun's spectacular palace had traveled far from his home, but it was not long before she realized the truth of them.&nbsp; Each room seemed more ostentatious than the next, but it was not pure luxury that guided the decoration.&nbsp; It seemed the late ruler had been a touch eccentric in his tastes - Biane found herself in awe when a carpeted suite led effortlessly into a garden kept entirely indoors.&nbsp; It was astonishing in its commitment: here was a small pool of clear water, complete with wide-eyed koi and lilypads, between which were strategically placed stepping stones.&nbsp; Biane followed the stone path out onto a large balcony, and found that her breath was knocked from her by the view.&nbsp; So <em>this</em> was Volkrain.&nbsp; The sun was dipping ever lower into the horizon, and the temperature was at last dropping.&nbsp; A breeze had begun to weave its way across the expanse of land, curling its fingers into her hair and sending its waxen locks into mild disarray.&nbsp; <br><br>Biane turned to peer back into the dimly lit garden room and realized how incredibly lost she was.&nbsp; Her eyebrows furrowed as she studied the lush room.&nbsp; Had she come in from that direction, or...no.&nbsp; Stricken with panic, she practically darted back across the stepping stones in the small pond and turned in a full circle - the room (if one would call it a room) was open, a center of sorts where many rooms met.&nbsp; Biane's eyes scanned what lay beyond the archways.&nbsp; There, that was the room with the paintings.&nbsp; That was the way she had come.&nbsp; Satisfied, she turned again and immediately groaned.&nbsp; This room was also filled with paintings.&nbsp; Feeling ill, Biane resigned herself to return to the balcony, hoping that a guard might patrol soon and help her find her way back to more familiar settings.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: His Majesty (Vix &amp; Verse)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Verse</strong> on <strong>26-08-2008, 02:08:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>It really was rather laughable. In her father's classes, Markai had been the type that stood up and very publicly resisted certain ideas and ways of thinking. He'd gotten good marks and had left on good terms, but he vaguely remembered swearing to be a king and just ruler someday. And now, here he was. Watching Biane walk away from the throne room and appearing in her place a man who looked far too gaunt and pale to be smiling that widely or to have swooped in from above like that. One of the oldest weapons Volkrain had in it's arsenal and perhaps the deadliest, this red haired specter of a man had been dragging knives across people's neck since Markai's grandfather had been king. And he still kept at it quite well. The two men exchanged looks for a moment, an uncomfortable silence taking hold. Yael was one of the few in the court that remembered the kind, idealistic prince Markai used to be. It made any conversation especially shameful, because Yael seemed to take every order from Markai as a personal victory over what he had once called 'the prince's foolish nobility'.<br><br>"I have a mission for you." Markai spoke softly, closing his eyes.<br><br>And in the fading light, Yael's grin looked positively devilish as his eyes glimmered. "Very glad to hear it."<br><br>Not even ten minutes later, Markai was walking from the throne room quietly, barely looking his own guardsmen in the eye as he moved past them. A gesture that did not go unnoticed by the quiet men who guarded the door, casting their glances to him instead and noting that he had a particularly grim scowl on his face. The truth was that Markai's inner demons were all deciding how very pleasantly they should torture him right now and they had settled on the man's heart. Using it to attack him in every way, it felt to him as if he was being followed by a pack of flying demons, each one laughing and mocking him as they spoke the crimes he had committed against his noble heart. So much to bear was this that by the time he realized where he was, he was walking the familiar paths through the castle in a complete and utter circle. He had paced around this floor of the castle, hadn't he? He had sensed movement somewhere, but had decided against investigating as the demon's in his head would have made conversation impossible. Now that he had silenced them, for the moment, he decided to head somewhere relatively cool. The garden sounded good...<br><br>His father's eccentric dealings were foremost on his mind as he stepped into it, the sun lowering to the point that stepping across the stones was paramount to taking his own life in his hands and practicing his juggling. It wasn't deep water, but he very much didn't feel like taking a dip in the water right now. His father had once joked he'd kept piranha in the garden's pool and while he didn't believe the man often, he decided risking his fingers to find out was not worth it. Once he was across the stones, he stepped out onto the balcony and immediately leaned against it, sighing loudly as he immediately spat a curse. The sun was so low it wasn't even shining on him anymore. It was a horrible absence in his mind, as the darkness that surrounded him was no comfort to his wounded soul and he was ten heartbeats from turning around and going to his room when he heard the steps across the stone in the pond. The balcony was designed so that it fanned out around the open doorway inside and it was quite large, so he resigned himself to moving off to the side and letting whomever wished to be out here share in the silence with him. He didn't much care who it was and by this point, if it was one of his enemies he'd have stood and let them drive the dagger in.</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: His Majesty (Vix &amp; Verse)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>calamity</strong> on <strong>26-08-2008, 12:07:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The once pink glow of the horizon was waning, and the creatures of the eve began to stir.&nbsp; The sound of crickets was not a common one for Biane's ears, and even as she worried about locations and stern looks from her mistress, she felt her muscles relaxing.&nbsp; The air was fuller here, heavy with the moisture and life that accompanies any temperate land.&nbsp; The sounds of home were sounds of crackling ice and the crunching of snow beneath feet.&nbsp; Home was its own comfort, but Volkrain at dusk was something to behold.&nbsp; Biane inhaled deeply, fingers outstretched along the balcony.&nbsp; She let her eyes slide shut and her spine curved to send her chest forward, as if she might sprout wings and float along the pregnant breeze.&nbsp; For just a moment, she was in service to no one.&nbsp; She accepted that she was lost, that for just <em>this</em> moment, there was nothing to be done about it.&nbsp; It was her time to breathe.<br><br>All good things must come to an end, however.&nbsp; The crickets sang loud melodies to each other, but there is very little that masks the sound of footsteps upon stone.&nbsp; Biane's eyes fluttered open and she straightened up, blinking as if roused from a pleasant dream.&nbsp; The sun was truly gone, now, and the only source of light came from inside the castle.&nbsp; It made the face of her companion impossible to see.&nbsp; He was no more than shadow wrapped in the blurry halo of backlight.&nbsp; Squinting, Biane curtsied.&nbsp; "Forgive me, sir.&nbsp; I've managed to lose myself here, and if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd greatly appreciate an escort back to the quarters of the Lady Mother."&nbsp; Ah, the lilt of Coroin tongues.&nbsp; Her voice slipped from her lips slowly, as if the words were reluctant to leave such a mouth.&nbsp; It was a quality that made her father insist she read aloud to him from books of literature, poetry, even philosophy.&nbsp; Much of Biane's education had come from this service.&nbsp; Even now, when reading alone, she often found her lips moving silently, shaping the phrases.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: His Majesty (Vix &amp; Verse)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Verse</strong> on <strong>26-08-2008, 23:02:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>As he stepped to the side of the figure already outside on the balcony, Markai turned his head towards her briefly as his staggered mind tried to register who exactly she was. The only voice today he'd heard with that tone and melodic voice was Biane and he recognized her quickly afterwards from the paleness of her skin. Even in the darkness, it was extremely telling as to her identity. For a moment, he contemplated barking at her in the angered tone of the King he portrayed, but he was already far too broken to batter himself anymore with such a thing on an undeserving woman. "I'd be glad to escort you back to my mother's chambers, if you would humor me with a bit more time outside." he said softly. To put it bluntly, the voice of the King and the voice he spoke in now were extremely different, especially as saddened as the tone was now. King Markai's words were filled with cold venom and barely withdrawn anger, but these words sounded...Sad. Exhausted. Drained. A cacophony of emotions so far removed from the dark man on the throne that it truly seemed as if they were different people. "Just a few more minutes." he murmured as he leaned on the edge of the balcony again.<br><br>The chilling and somewhat saddening darkness now flooding the castle was slowly easing Markai's tensions, just as it was dampening his already low spirits. To stay outside was to subject himself to the lingering doubts and fears that being in the total absence of light could provide, but to go back inside would inevitably lead to more of those fears and doubts being produced. Or in some cases, validated. In truth, Markai's paranoia had been more then justified his first night on the throne, when no less then three people he'd have once sworn he would trust with his life had turned on him and attempted to dethrone him, all within hours of each other. He'd been given a crash course in the cruel reality of court politics firsthand and it had, indeed, forced him to create this dark mindset. His mind lingered for a moment as he felt the presence of the person behind him, the memory of the conversation he had with her inadvertently playing over in his head for a moment. But worse then that, it caused him to think of the conversation he'd had not a minute after she'd vanished from sight. That wretched phantom and his damnable smile suddenly haunted his vision.<br><br><em>"Your father would be proud of you, Kind Markai." Yael murmured as he turned his head, but a foot from stepping out into the passage out of the throne room. His pale, cracked lips were twisted into that sickening&nbsp; grin that seemed to be literally synonymous with his presence, but the barely concealed glee in his yellow eyes was much worse to behold. "I'm sure of it."</em></strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: His Majesty (Vix &amp; Verse)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>calamity</strong> on <strong>27-08-2008, 01:39:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Just as relief had begun to swim through her blood, the words of her faceless companion gave away his identity.&nbsp; <em>My mother's chambers</em>...&nbsp; Biane immediately curtsied again, this time much more deeply, her delicate neck bending so that her head bowed in reverence.&nbsp; "Your Majesty, forgive me.&nbsp; I didn't know.&nbsp; I thought you were..."&nbsp; She paused, straightening up again, though her eyes remained averted from the king, her head still bowed.&nbsp; "I mistook you for a guard; the light has played a trick on me."&nbsp; And how she would have preferred him to be a guard!&nbsp; It seemed they had all disappeared when she needed them most.&nbsp; She retreated a step, respectfully.<br><br>The tone of the king did not go unnoticed, and Biane felt rather like an intruder.&nbsp; She imagined he must have come here for solitude, respite.&nbsp; She had only to think of the sentence for the two arguing lords, however, before she realized she was not sorry to have sullied the king's private moment.&nbsp; Perhaps in his time alone he repented for his cruelty, but it was none of Biane's concern.&nbsp; This was her lord and ultimate master for as long as she remained in Volkrain.&nbsp; And yet.&nbsp; She could not see his face - would not dare look into it even if the shadows lifted and allowed his features to become clear to her, but there was something that seemed to linger in his presence here, some terrible sadness potent enough to be haunting.&nbsp; Biane wondered if she would be punished for having been so close to it, for bearing witness to the stripped posture of a king who seemed defeated when away from his throne. The thought sent a faint shiver through her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: His Majesty (Vix &amp; Verse)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Verse</strong> on <strong>27-08-2008, 21:38:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>A bit of humor coursed through him at how embarrassed Biane was over the whole thing, turning his head to her again as she spoke of confusing him with a guard. It might have come as a shock to her when he scowled softly, though there was a trace of something far from malicious in his tone. "A -guard-?! What an insult! I would think you could at least confuse me with a lord from the court." he said now, his tone still the same, quiet one even if it lacked some of the sadness from before. Nevermind how interestingly pleasant his voice sounded when it had humor behind it. He was tormenting the poor thing, and he knew it as he smiled at her, turning his head back to the city underneath the castle and letting out a soft laugh. He might have been a bastard, but only to those who directly deserved it. "Don't apologize so much. I didn't recognize you at first either, Biane." he said now, closing his eyes again as he tried to keep the emptiness in his voice from ringing out too much. It was one thing to be kind to the poor woman, it was another entirely to let her in on his innermost thoughts.<br><br>After a few more moments of staring down at the street below, he leaned back from the balcony and brushed himself off idly, his darker thoughts pushed away by the presence of Biane next to him. It was easier to have internal wars when you weren't being watched so closely. After a bit of adjusting, he turned to her and smiled again, though a bit more softly then before. "Shall we? I only ask you forgive me if I turn into an utter bastard once we step through the door." he said, in a tone that was, sadly, very serious. And he began to step forward now, that lingering sadness disappearing as soon as he was back inside the castle. And replaced with the confident, bold strides of a King, the arrogant gleam in one's eye and a twist of the lips more akin to a grimace then a smile. And he turned his head now, stepping onto the first stone in the pond and waiting quietly, fighting down his emotions and thoughts as he waved his hand for her to follow.</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: His Majesty (Vix &amp; Verse)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>calamity</strong> on <strong>04-09-2008, 14:47:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				If he thought of her as embarrassed, the king simply did not understand when he was being laughed at.&nbsp; Biane's expression was draped in some manner of mystery by the shadows of dusk, keeping her smile veiled as he feigned outrage at her mistake.&nbsp; Her father had warned her about this king, had warned her that his ascension was too soon, that his green fingers would be harsh and quick to squeeze the throats of perceived enemies.&nbsp; It was important, therefore, that Biane keep herself from appearing at any time to be an enemy of the king.&nbsp; <br><br>That hint of melancholy intrigued her, but there would be time enough to discover its roots, and Biane still had no affection for this rather obscene ruler.&nbsp; She watched as he dusted himself off, tilting her head as she imagined he was wiping away all of his humanity.&nbsp; A man outdoors, a king - a <em>cruel</em> king inside.&nbsp; And now, it was her turn to smile.&nbsp; "Your Majesty will need no forgiveness from me.&nbsp; I remember my place."&nbsp; There was no bitterness wrapped around the words, only that strange smile.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: His Majesty (Vix &amp; Verse)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Verse</strong> on <strong>04-09-2008, 15:38:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Once he was inside the castle, even if it was only a rather secluded garden area of it, Markai's entire demeanor instantly hardened and when she spoke about her place, his dark smile took his face as he moved over the stones. It took but a moment for the man, born and raised in his confusing maze of a castle, to lead her back to the chambers to his mother, though the journey there was not short by any stretch of the imagination. The castle reflected the country's status well, complex and large with more four-way confusing room sections then most temples, but Markai very quietly led Biane down more then one hidden pathway. One in particular led right up to the balcony that she had first watched him from. And once he led her there, he waited not even a minute before waving his hand at her, saying a very firm, cold 'Goodbye, Lady' and ducking back into the passageway behind the statue on the wall, which seemed to be of his late father.<br><br>Back through the winding, dark passages of the- no, his- castle, he didn't even let the mask drop in his private moments. As if he was afraid some all-seeing presence would strangle the life from him as soon as he showed his true colors anywhere inside the walls. It took a bit of time for him to work his way back to his chambers, stopping by the throne room to collect the small leaflet of documents that his chancellor had left for him to look over and sign. It was a rather cold moment as he felt a chill run down his spine, his head turning to the entrance to the room. The castle suddenly felt much, much colder then it had in the moments before...His imagination playing tricks on him? Or perhaps his guilt taking form. Whichever, he shrugged it off as if dead weight and moved through the normal passage to his chambers. The guards outside his door were standing at attention, their eyes trained on the wall ahead of them. He'd gone through more then one set of guards since the start of his rule, due to his own hand or one of his very kind competitors.<br><br>Once inside the lavishly decorated room, he sighed as he slid into the arm-chair that sat at the head of his large table, ignoring the dinner plate placed nearby and instead slapping down the thin pile of scrolls as he tossed his mantle away, starting to read through them quietly as his reached out for the quill he kept nearby...<br><br><br><em>It didn't take Yael long to find a way to do his sire's bidding. It never did really, but some things were only as interesting if he took his time...The old hand had been around so long in this castle, it seemed as if he was part of it in a very real sense, blending into the shadows of the staff's chambers. There was no dagger on his person, nothing on him that would leave a lasting mark on the arrogant prat. There was no sturdy lock on the door and the sound of idle grumbling and the clatter of silverware from inside told the assassin his target was distracted. And all it took was that notion to push him into action. The door opened, the raven-haired man was facing away from the door, his hands and eyes busy on the very tantalizing plate of mutton he was eating. Yael's hand uncapped the vial, his other holding the thick cloth that would muffle it. The other man raised his wine glass to sip it, and thats when he struck. All it took was one swift motion to knock the wine glass away and shove the vial between his lips instead, pulling the chair back to make the man swallow it in surprise and then the vial was pulled away, leaving the man to briefly sputter "What the hell are-" and then the cloth came into play.<br><br>It muffled the screams of anger, then those of pain and finally all was silent and still. The lights of the room flickered as Yael let out a soft breath, easing the excitement and tension in his limbs. He pulled the cloth away, ignoring the spots of blood against it as he tucked it into his pocket. It was finished and that, above all other things, saddened Yael. He almost wished it had been harder to do really...As he turned, however, the glint of steel outside the door caught his eye and he heard a voice suddenly "Chancellor Avar? I wanted to speak to you..."<br><br>Yael grinned as he pulled the knife from his last host's meal and slid behind the door.</em></strong>
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>