Before walking onto the field of battle Athos sighed,
despite how he looked he wasn't young any more.
This didn't damage his physical endurance or mental strength in the least, for he was still pure blood Atlantian but it had changed him, he was colder, more cynical and had some how simutaneously developed stronger care for lives and a more casual way of killing them. He was at a point when he could simply best the vast majority of soldiers without meaning to.
In fact years ago he could have never dreamed of being able to best the Lord of Avalon so simply.
The only thing was that he was having to fight an Elf of Dis.
The People of Dis were remarkably proficent with the blade, there style was more classical than he preferred
and there preferred choice in weapons,
The foil, the sabre, and the epee were too fanciful for his taste, but they were still the greatest swordsmen since Atlantis.
It was said that Atlantian warmaster's had found the People of Dis during their conquest of the mainland,
Atlantis, it is told, engaged the Chieftan in a battle and, after a narrow victory, annointed the Chieftan one
of his highest ranking generals.
The People of Dis became some of the greatest warriors in history, possibly the only people who consistantly bested...virtually everyone who got in the way.
This in it's self didn't bother Athos, he had fought many people when the odds were much farther against him.
It was his youth that bothered him, the fact that his opponent, was taught, well trained, well armed, but more than that still young enough to not realize how vital of a part he played in the overall story of the young empire. His opponent was still idealistic, and that bothered Athos.
With a cold sigh he shrugged off these feelings,
and readjusted his vest. Sharpening his rapier he spun,
A moth flew silently around the room, it circled the small candle that struggled to illuminate that large room, it circled, seemingly unaware of the larger creature that stood, with a large steel blade easily capable of splitting it in half with only it's monentum.
All the moth seemed aware of was the intoxicating heat of the flame, it circled yet again and dipped, closer and closer to the inferno each time.
It fascinated Athos, was it courage that propelled the creature so close to a flaming end?
What was it that caused a creature to, for seemingly no cause to risk it's life?
Was that the definition of courage? To face the inevitable?
Or was it merely the foolishness of a dumb creature that was obessed with the flame?
After one flight the moth had caught fire and as it perished, Athos had turned.
His blade had sliced through the insect, instantly putting it out of it's misery.
Courage, he decided was flying into the flame while knowing the consequences.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Roche leaned over to Vlasdimir,
"Are our investments secure?"
"Yes master, we have gained news of a group of raiders in Iraseil." the man replied in a whisper
"Excellent Vlasdimir, and our associates? Are they informed?"
"Of course. They know what we desire them to know."
"Good, this proves to be an exceptional...business move." Roche said with a slight smile, pouring himself and the King a bit more wine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was an uncomfortable position for Queen Jamirene of Iraseil. While her son, the newly crowned Emperor of Amoria, had grown successful and popular (If, albeit more for the brilliant political mind of his advisors than any actual political manipulation of his own device) her popularity had diminished.
Rumors circulated freely, she was no longer the young, beautiful, heir to a Kingdom rutted in the past.
Things had changed, her people had accepted her readily after years of unsatisfactory rulers but now, even her most loyal followers were begining to question her.
In her younger days, the country had needed a fresh face, and she had been perfect for it.
She had had close companionship with the most powerful people in the world, the Duke of Byros and the former Emperor of Amoria.
After their turn to madness her own credibility had taken a great fall, after the rise of the new emperor and Atlas with him people began, once again to take her opinions seriously. However the money needed to form the armies to combat the barbarians and take Avalon were needed to be taken from some where, and because of their famously rich traders and merchants Iraseil seemed like the ideal place to tax.
In addition to the taxes, raiders from the south eastern deserts, always a problem, had recently developed into a maddening pestilence for the southern border,
It seemed that there was no stopping it, it was a vicious circle,
The empire attacks an enemy, Iraseil is taxed, raiders attack, Iraseil sends resources to face the enemy, repeat.
The economy was plummeting, if things continued soon Jamirene would be removed from office. Desperately she pinned a letter to the surrogate capital until Avalon was returned. She begged that advisors would come and address the problem.
She asked for Atlas
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Athos had shaken himself from his reverie,
and walked slowly to the ring.
And, never erring in the shaking hand the sword wields itself as if it were a living spirit.
It was time. If he succeed here he could nearly ruin Exeter’s hold on the west, and simultaneously free himself of a great danger.
En Garde
despite how he looked he wasn't young any more.
This didn't damage his physical endurance or mental strength in the least, for he was still pure blood Atlantian but it had changed him, he was colder, more cynical and had some how simutaneously developed stronger care for lives and a more casual way of killing them. He was at a point when he could simply best the vast majority of soldiers without meaning to.
In fact years ago he could have never dreamed of being able to best the Lord of Avalon so simply.
The only thing was that he was having to fight an Elf of Dis.
The People of Dis were remarkably proficent with the blade, there style was more classical than he preferred
and there preferred choice in weapons,
The foil, the sabre, and the epee were too fanciful for his taste, but they were still the greatest swordsmen since Atlantis.
It was said that Atlantian warmaster's had found the People of Dis during their conquest of the mainland,
Atlantis, it is told, engaged the Chieftan in a battle and, after a narrow victory, annointed the Chieftan one
of his highest ranking generals.
The People of Dis became some of the greatest warriors in history, possibly the only people who consistantly bested...virtually everyone who got in the way.
This in it's self didn't bother Athos, he had fought many people when the odds were much farther against him.
It was his youth that bothered him, the fact that his opponent, was taught, well trained, well armed, but more than that still young enough to not realize how vital of a part he played in the overall story of the young empire. His opponent was still idealistic, and that bothered Athos.
With a cold sigh he shrugged off these feelings,
and readjusted his vest. Sharpening his rapier he spun,
A moth flew silently around the room, it circled the small candle that struggled to illuminate that large room, it circled, seemingly unaware of the larger creature that stood, with a large steel blade easily capable of splitting it in half with only it's monentum.
All the moth seemed aware of was the intoxicating heat of the flame, it circled yet again and dipped, closer and closer to the inferno each time.
It fascinated Athos, was it courage that propelled the creature so close to a flaming end?
What was it that caused a creature to, for seemingly no cause to risk it's life?
Was that the definition of courage? To face the inevitable?
Or was it merely the foolishness of a dumb creature that was obessed with the flame?
After one flight the moth had caught fire and as it perished, Athos had turned.
His blade had sliced through the insect, instantly putting it out of it's misery.
Courage, he decided was flying into the flame while knowing the consequences.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Roche leaned over to Vlasdimir,
"Are our investments secure?"
"Yes master, we have gained news of a group of raiders in Iraseil." the man replied in a whisper
"Excellent Vlasdimir, and our associates? Are they informed?"
"Of course. They know what we desire them to know."
"Good, this proves to be an exceptional...business move." Roche said with a slight smile, pouring himself and the King a bit more wine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was an uncomfortable position for Queen Jamirene of Iraseil. While her son, the newly crowned Emperor of Amoria, had grown successful and popular (If, albeit more for the brilliant political mind of his advisors than any actual political manipulation of his own device) her popularity had diminished.
Rumors circulated freely, she was no longer the young, beautiful, heir to a Kingdom rutted in the past.
Things had changed, her people had accepted her readily after years of unsatisfactory rulers but now, even her most loyal followers were begining to question her.
In her younger days, the country had needed a fresh face, and she had been perfect for it.
She had had close companionship with the most powerful people in the world, the Duke of Byros and the former Emperor of Amoria.
After their turn to madness her own credibility had taken a great fall, after the rise of the new emperor and Atlas with him people began, once again to take her opinions seriously. However the money needed to form the armies to combat the barbarians and take Avalon were needed to be taken from some where, and because of their famously rich traders and merchants Iraseil seemed like the ideal place to tax.
In addition to the taxes, raiders from the south eastern deserts, always a problem, had recently developed into a maddening pestilence for the southern border,
It seemed that there was no stopping it, it was a vicious circle,
The empire attacks an enemy, Iraseil is taxed, raiders attack, Iraseil sends resources to face the enemy, repeat.
The economy was plummeting, if things continued soon Jamirene would be removed from office. Desperately she pinned a letter to the surrogate capital until Avalon was returned. She begged that advisors would come and address the problem.
She asked for Atlas
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Athos had shaken himself from his reverie,
and walked slowly to the ring.
And, never erring in the shaking hand the sword wields itself as if it were a living spirit.
It was time. If he succeed here he could nearly ruin Exeter’s hold on the west, and simultaneously free himself of a great danger.
En Garde
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