Raymond.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
Once again Raymond returned to the fields and swamps of Terrastella, only this time he came as he had left once before - on foot, alone, and with a clear mind.
The landscape had changed drastically since his last visit. Tinea Swamp seemed almost to have spilled over onto the vast fields that had served as his entryway into Novus. The lands were scarred by torrential rains and pocked with yawning, treacherous sinkholes. So this had been the reckoning made for them, cast down from on high rather than welling up from below. As usual, the two nations shared rather more than a view of the sea.
A modest satchel slung across his shoulder agitated the half-healed war wounds criss-crossing his bright copper back and shoulders. Inside, an equally-modest tome shifted against his flesh with the natural movement of his stride. Raymond had found both haphazardly discarded in what, if the guardsman were to be believed, had once served as quarters for Denocte's past regency. He had given the room one thorough walkthrough before insisting that it be repurposed to whatever end would best serve the court in these trying times.
Even in the wake of natural disaster, the red stallion preferred free winds and starlit skies to the oppressive closeness of walls.
But the book came with Raymond as he set out alone to do Isra's bidding, welcoming the brief return to his roots that such travel would entail. He did not fear the reception he would receive given the nature of his previous visit, though with his rage and distress long since burnt out he suspected he might play a fair guest to a less welcoming host.
There was not enough time to fret over such things. He would have to make do with what he was given, just as he always did. Upon gaining entry to Terrastella's subdued throne room, he passed along his credentials and request for an audience to a waiting attendant, who whisked out of the hall in dutiful silence. There Raymond waited, looking every bit as comfortable in the clean military angles of his current posture as he would bloodying himself on the battlefield or sauntering through crowds at a party. Ceremony came easily to him.
How might the flower maiden be doing now?
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
Once again Raymond returned to the fields and swamps of Terrastella, only this time he came as he had left once before - on foot, alone, and with a clear mind.
The landscape had changed drastically since his last visit. Tinea Swamp seemed almost to have spilled over onto the vast fields that had served as his entryway into Novus. The lands were scarred by torrential rains and pocked with yawning, treacherous sinkholes. So this had been the reckoning made for them, cast down from on high rather than welling up from below. As usual, the two nations shared rather more than a view of the sea.
A modest satchel slung across his shoulder agitated the half-healed war wounds criss-crossing his bright copper back and shoulders. Inside, an equally-modest tome shifted against his flesh with the natural movement of his stride. Raymond had found both haphazardly discarded in what, if the guardsman were to be believed, had once served as quarters for Denocte's past regency. He had given the room one thorough walkthrough before insisting that it be repurposed to whatever end would best serve the court in these trying times.
Even in the wake of natural disaster, the red stallion preferred free winds and starlit skies to the oppressive closeness of walls.
But the book came with Raymond as he set out alone to do Isra's bidding, welcoming the brief return to his roots that such travel would entail. He did not fear the reception he would receive given the nature of his previous visit, though with his rage and distress long since burnt out he suspected he might play a fair guest to a less welcoming host.
There was not enough time to fret over such things. He would have to make do with what he was given, just as he always did. Upon gaining entry to Terrastella's subdued throne room, he passed along his credentials and request for an audience to a waiting attendant, who whisked out of the hall in dutiful silence. There Raymond waited, looking every bit as comfortable in the clean military angles of his current posture as he would bloodying himself on the battlefield or sauntering through crowds at a party. Ceremony came easily to him.
How might the flower maiden be doing now?
@Asterion
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
