Llunr
Member
In one of the many roads of Hadriana, a large armored man was on horseback while riding back to Norbüren. Wearing over his upper torso dark steel plates, with the arms covered on the same black metal. From his chest the religious robes with hues of blue cascaded down to now embrace the sides of the stallion and to hide what armor was held below it.
The sun over his ginger head, kissing his skin with comforting light. The winds brushing against him, carrying whispers of the surroundings, of the intriguing sounds of wild life. The man slowly advanced to the town he now called home until he was halted by a runner that reached out...
"Erzbishop Kvothe Folkvarthr? Letter for you...from Brita Marcae de Ruiter"
The hinterlander was already reaching out for the scroll, his hand mere inches away from touching the paper when the sender was named. He stopped and glanced at the boy with his emerald eyes, finally grabbing the letter. While the runner continued their path, Kvothe pulled on the glove that embraced his free hand using his teeth, giving more maneuverability with the now gauntletless fingers to break the seal and start to read.
As the gaze hovered through the words his shoulders and his chin would fall, defeated almost at the news the letter brought to him. Once he finished, the head remained lowered and the glance went pensive. His mind flashing through the various conversations he had in the past since the first moment he stepped into Eden, bringing clear quotes to him that he had shared with different people:
"I oath loyalty to you...to protect and serve your family...till my last breath, till my last heartbeat or till you may release me..." - "I wish to learn from you to harness the flames and protect those around me...to put myself in between the friends and foes..." - "i put myself in danger so other dont have to...it is my duty" - "I am use to it...I sweat and bleed for the Empire...never to be recognized, but only put back into my place"
And finally landed on a last phrase that had recently escaped his lips:
"...A weary body can be dealt with...but a weary spirit...that is something to be concerned"
It was then that the mage realized what others close to him would have noticed before. The warming pulsating aura that was influenced by his heart, magically irradiating heat, has been weaker than ever, almost matching that when he was still not a pyromancer. Even the flaming familiar, the fiery Phoenix that matured as he grew in strength, had its light drowned to be translucent.
With a deep exhale, the Templar folded the letter and slide it into his robes. Putting once more the glove and taking the reins firmly with one hand while the other found solace in the pommel of his sheathed sword, a force of habit that brought him confort in his days of duty. Snapping his tongue twice and gently hitting the beast with the talons of his armored boots, motioning to march once more back home. Only able to wonder what storms would he encounter caused by such lies...and if he even had strength left to face them.
The sun over his ginger head, kissing his skin with comforting light. The winds brushing against him, carrying whispers of the surroundings, of the intriguing sounds of wild life. The man slowly advanced to the town he now called home until he was halted by a runner that reached out...
"Erzbishop Kvothe Folkvarthr? Letter for you...from Brita Marcae de Ruiter"
The hinterlander was already reaching out for the scroll, his hand mere inches away from touching the paper when the sender was named. He stopped and glanced at the boy with his emerald eyes, finally grabbing the letter. While the runner continued their path, Kvothe pulled on the glove that embraced his free hand using his teeth, giving more maneuverability with the now gauntletless fingers to break the seal and start to read.
As the gaze hovered through the words his shoulders and his chin would fall, defeated almost at the news the letter brought to him. Once he finished, the head remained lowered and the glance went pensive. His mind flashing through the various conversations he had in the past since the first moment he stepped into Eden, bringing clear quotes to him that he had shared with different people:
"I oath loyalty to you...to protect and serve your family...till my last breath, till my last heartbeat or till you may release me..." - "I wish to learn from you to harness the flames and protect those around me...to put myself in between the friends and foes..." - "i put myself in danger so other dont have to...it is my duty" - "I am use to it...I sweat and bleed for the Empire...never to be recognized, but only put back into my place"
And finally landed on a last phrase that had recently escaped his lips:
"...A weary body can be dealt with...but a weary spirit...that is something to be concerned"
It was then that the mage realized what others close to him would have noticed before. The warming pulsating aura that was influenced by his heart, magically irradiating heat, has been weaker than ever, almost matching that when he was still not a pyromancer. Even the flaming familiar, the fiery Phoenix that matured as he grew in strength, had its light drowned to be translucent.
With a deep exhale, the Templar folded the letter and slide it into his robes. Putting once more the glove and taking the reins firmly with one hand while the other found solace in the pommel of his sheathed sword, a force of habit that brought him confort in his days of duty. Snapping his tongue twice and gently hitting the beast with the talons of his armored boots, motioning to march once more back home. Only able to wonder what storms would he encounter caused by such lies...and if he even had strength left to face them.
