It was time. Voltaire needed to meet the king, and more than just nodding to him from a distance while pushing boulders or digging in the dirt. His steps were weary as he made his way through the desert – slowly and carefully. Already, the heat of day was stinging against him, despite the autumnal tones to the air. It wasn’t comfortable, but the blue stag was far from a creature who welcomed comfort. He didn’t deserve it, simply enough. What Voltaire did deserve, was a life dedicated to service. The healer had not yet made his mark on this place, but it was only a matter of time until Maxence recognized and came to him… so he decided to get ahead of the inevitable.
His stoic carriage did not falter as he crossed the threshold of the sandstone palace, but pressed onward. In the hallowed halls, he found their king – alone, for what seemed like the first time. As he passed beneath the red-gold arches, he stopped short of Maxence, bowing until his long jagged horn nearly brushed against the hearth. Raising his head once more, the blue stallion cleared his throat as he sought the words to speak to their king. It had been far too long since Voltaire had spoken, and his voice was rusty and harsh to his ears.
”I have come to serve.” It was a simple statement, and his shrewd icy eyes found those of the warrior king’s and held. ”What will you have me do?” For now, the chores had ended, but Voltaire’s penance had only just begun. He didn’t offer anything more, nothing personal – for Voltaire knew he was nothing more than a cog in the wheel here… and it was all he wished to be. He wanted to fade into the background, holding up his pillar but not drawing attention to himself. But still, he offered the king something of a grim smile, waiting to see what would unfold.
To find Maxence within the halls during the day was a rarity, but alone was even rarer. It was as he poured over maps that the familiar but unnamed stag approached, his hoofbeats sounding gently upon the stone behind him. Turning his nose to face the blue bird, Maxence watched as the man strode forth toward him, and easily he recognised this to be the man who had assisted him with not just the food garden but also shifting boulders. So far this brute hd proven himself one of the most useful in the court, and this only caused Maxence to turn swiftly in the lad's direction and perhaps even smile ever-so-slightly.
Maxence was about to speak when the oceanic boy took the vacant opportunity for chatter, the words that left his mouth being onces of devotion and servitude, but potentially blind ones at that. Did this man understand their cause, why they rallied and why they banded at the fort?
It was likely a question for another time, as Maxence really did have a use for more hooves and heads.
"What are your skills?" was his first question, not really bothering with seemingly unimportant things like names. "We are in need of healers. Do you know much about midwifrey?" he soon prodded, nose scrunching at the last word he spoke. Maxence knew little of the female anatomy and it's comings and goings and he certainly didn't expect this chap to know much either, but in order for the court to thrive as a home and a center for Solterrans they could not have a ban on childbearing forever. "your name?"
He could only hope this tall fellow was the answer to their prayers.
It was good that Maxence didn’t ask him why he pledged blind loyalty to the causes of the Day Court – for Voltaire would pledge his loyalty to anything. Now that he had decided it would be the Day Court, of course his allegiance would be there… but he was a creature without a cause, a sinner with nothing to lose. He would not share the story that cause him such shame, or be turned away from such a place as this. For as much as he was ambivalent about life in general these days, he didn’t want to start over again. Voltaire would live out his days as the dutiful soldier here, whether Maxence found his motives worthy or not.
When the leader asks him about midwifery, he laughed – a genuine and rusty sound, more like a bark than a laugh. ”I’ve always hated that term… midwifery… make it sound like women’s work.” Not that he had issues with women, but it was a task all healers should understand. ”Aye, I know a fair bit about birthing. Goes with the mantle of healing. Suppose you’re in luck there – I’m not much of a fighter, but I will heal your wounded.” Nevermind that he’d grown up in a warrior’s tribe himself – or that he’d felled another at such a young age. The tale wasn’t one he cared to share.
”I am called Voltaire.” And nothing more personal was given to the king. He wasn’t much for idle chit chat, but kept to the point. ”And you? Forgive my ignorance, I’ve spoken only to the wild-haired girl Eden. She spoke of your god – and I’ve gone to pay my respects on the mount.” And to ask for the forgiveness he knew would never come. One could only hope that redemption would one day fall in his reach.
The king had begun to walk across the room toward the board french doors that made way to the sandscape and vines outside, all the while listening to the new healer's words on his expertise. Maxence paused over the threshold, steanding with both feet in the doorway to cast his gaze from the vibrant man to the wildlands ahead. "We are in grave need of healers" he spoke for the second time "At the moment we are not equipped with the facilities or natural resources for births and pregnancies; for this reason I implemented a ban on them. We know little of the herbs in the area and their uses, and the only familiar greenery is a few hours flight away and at least a day and night's walk. Perhaps you could take a group and find some alternatives in the canyons"
Turning his nose to meet the gaze of the horned newcomer, Maxence had to fight his eyes from creasing and frowning when he was asked of his name. It occurred to him that new folk in the kingdom were likely used to hearing the commanded named as such and never by his actual name which was reserved for, well, no one. Maxence cared little for who called him by his name and who stuck to formalities, but it did frighten him that the people were becoming strangers to him. "Maxence" the sovereign spoke after processing the rest of the man's spiel about meeting Eden and worshiping their lord upon the mount. Now casting his gaze skyward, the commander threatened to look directly at the sun. "If you are here speaking to me, it is likely because Solis has willed it. He does not let just anyone across the Mors"
As the king spoke to Voltaire, he nodded in agreement. The desert was far from ideal when it came to medicinal plants. His time here had been limited, but already he’d begun to collect such plants where he could. Most, were not here… but he’d found the areas surrounding the Day Court to be much more fruitful. The blue stag reached around the side of his body, digging into a scarred leather satchel which hung carelessly at his side, drawing out a few pressed wildflowers he’d preserved a few days earlier. ”We may be low on resources, but our neighbors are not. I will lead an expedition, to search in the canyons and beyond for that which may be helpful for healing. Do not fear though, for while some pregnancies end naturally in stillbirth, a good number should be viable, even in a place such as this.”
His eyes sharpened and took note of Maxence’s uncomfortable reaction to his question, and for a moment, the denim stallion had to wonder what secrets he hid behind his heavy crown. But the crystal-horned male was anything but prying, and it wasn’t his place to challenge his king, or to poke his nose into places it didn’t belong. He follows the sovereign’s gaze toward the sun, making a mental observation that like Eden, everyone he’d met here seemed deeply religious. While the caretaker had never been much of a zealot, he knew enough to remember his place in the food chain. And the gods were on the top. Life had taught him that much.
”I thank Solis for showing me the way to this place, then.” His words were deferent as they should be, even if the firm conviction would take time to build. It wasn’t that Voltaire didn’t believe, more that he needed to know more. And, he intended to seek out a sage, to do just that.
When the one named Volteire plucked a bundle of pressed flowers from what appeared to be a satchel that had seen better days, Maxence's brows raised. He was impressed to say the least, as thus far not a sinlge healer had taken the effort to search for plants or observe what nature could benefit them. "quite a collection. I hope you might add more to it" Maxence spoke softly, a genuine nod bobbing through his skull as the monarch began to smile. Perhaps they were saved; a true healer finally among their ranks, but it was not without caution. This fellow could well be another crow, or worser yet a spy from the west. But when the conversation drew once again to midwifery, Maxence found himself cringing not out of disgust but perhaps out of an emotional twinge within. He'd never sired any children, never taken a mate; with this ban in place he didnt think it possible he'd ever sire children before his time was done. Now with adequate healing he might live to see that become a possibility.
It was something of a low priority to him, a dream that was not a dream but a fantasy.
"Very well" Maxence agreed when the man spoke of taking his work to the surrounding lands and collecting samples. "Take a warrior with you if you can. There are all manner of beats in these lands, the most dangerous on the continent, and that's excluding snakes and scorpions."
Voltaire recognized a dismissal when he heard one, but he wasn’t put off by it. Instead, the blue stallion was leaving inspired, eager to go out to explore the world around them and find the things he needed for his craft. It had been some time since he was needed – since he was banished in the middle of his studies from the place which had been his childhood home. Here, he would need to learn to trust again, as surely as he intended to impart his knowledge of medicinal plants to the other caretakers would would inevitably find their way to the Day Court. With a renewed sense of purpose in his heart, he nodded to the king in agreement.
”We will tread carefully, and follow the judgment of the warrior. I thank you for your faith in our expedition – may Solis guide us toward a further understanding of his gifts.” Turning from the sovereign with a jaunty sort of bow, Voltaire made his way from this place to start gathering together his band of researchers, but not before making a final stop at the library. Best not to reinvent the wheel, and he was certain he could find a sage to assist him with locating the texts which had been written thus far on the fauna of this land. It would do well for Voltaire to read up on the knowledge of others, before blindly venturing out into the desert without a plan.
Day Court Caretaker
@Maxence – thanks for the intro! Feel free to tag me in more stuff, definitely getting into the swing of this guy now
The King watched with a rare, content smile as the stag of lapis lazuli waded from the tower's walls and toward the library where all manner of answers and questions lay in wait under a hundred thousand pages and more.
Finally, a dedicated and enthusiastic healer. Perhaps in due time it would become a possibility to relinquish the ban upon procreation and encourage it instead. As quickly as he had banished the thought from his cracked mind, it came hurdling back; his future as a potential parent was one that he never liked to contemplate for long, particularly when he despised most (if not all) children. As always, Maxence perished the thought, this time being the second occasion he had to fasten away his day dreams in the last five minutes.
Soon the king turned back in to the hall, gaze of the ocean crossing each cracked wall and observing the imperfections of the tower's lower floor facade. It was a home he was proud of despite its blemishes, and day by day it improved.
Voltaire's arrival had been a welcome and well received omen to the halls of the day court, one that the current King would remember as a great advantage to the empire for the coming years of his reign.
