Four weeks. It had been four weeks since he’d left home, twenty-eight days of travel by foot, and he was now six hundred and seventy-eight hours into what was to be the most important journey of his life. Thus, it was regrettable that it had also been four weeks since Jericho had last properly bathed.
And the journey had not been kind to him. He had scaled a mountain range, wandered through dense woods, weathered late summer thunderstorms and waded through the resulting mud. His coat was matted with sweat and his hair tangled, barely contained by the topknots that had been so deftly twisted into his mane a mere twenty-eight days prior. Only the silver ornaments winking from his horns and tail remained bright—those, and his pair of shining eyes as they took in the distant spires.
At last, civilization. As soon as he had spotted the fortress from the vast meadow through which he walked, Jericho’s entire demeanor had changed. Days of hard travel were temporarily forgotten and sore joints temporarily silenced. He had walked with a new spring in his step—that is, until he had encountered his reflection in a puddle in a marshy patch of the field. Trained soldier as he was, he could not suppress a snort of horror at the bedraggled creature that stared up at him. Jericho considered the unkempt mane and shaggy coat, grimaced, then glanced up ruefully at the faraway towers. This was no way for a bridegroom to make his first impression; they would have to wait.
Hurrying now, the stallion turned and began to make his way back to the river he had forged that morning. Luckily, he soon discovered that the water had been flowing parallel to his path the entire time and was spared the agonizing ordeal of retracing his steps. Jericho picked his way along the bank until he found a place suitable for bathing, then waded in without hesitation, ignoring the sudden chill. Paddling his way to the shallows, he attempted a clumsy roll in the smooth gravel of the riverbed, hoping to remove the more stubborn patches of dirt. Though awkward, it afforded him moderate success: a few repetitions, and he was soon satisfied. That left only his hair.
Peering down at his dripping reflection, Jericho judged this particular battle to be a losing one. Without comb or razor, there was not much to be done. Reluctantly, he pulled his mane free from the soggy topknots (or rather, what remained of them) and smoothed it down as best he could. He’d track down a comb or a barber once he was inside the gates.
Appearance much improved, he set off again. Now taking care to avoid muddy patches, his progress was significantly slowed, but the sight of the castle on the horizon lent him patience. It was less than half a day’s journey, and he’d be there soon enough.
It was nearly nightfall when he reached the wall. Up close, it was massive: ivy-covered towers loomed above him like giants, and he shivered slightly in the cool shadow of the fortress. For the first time since that afternoon, Jericho hesitated slightly. The entrance was just ahead of him, beckoning…but was he welcome?
Alba spotted the newcomer before Somnus was even aware of his presence.
The barn owl froze from her perch atop the courtyard wall amidst ivy like garland, caught in the midst of a good grooming session. One mottled wing lowered, peering perfectly through the evening light with beady black eyes as she regarded the creature of ebony and crimson that stalked through the courtyard. The multitude of horns upon his brow and down the crest of his neck were worrisome. Concern fluttered in the barn owl’s pale, spotted breast; who was this man? Why had the guards not stopped him? Where was Ulric and their sentries?
Loping along the stone wall to get a closer look, Alba’s feathers ruffled and puffed out as she spread her wings in an attempt to make herself seem much larger than she was, before a loud, piercing shriek escaped her beak and shot through the evening air like a war cry. With her cry of warning, she mentally reached out for her bonded, grasping and groping for Delumine’s golden Sovereign.
’A newcomer approaches the Citadel.’ It was all she said. Somnus would understand.
And understand he did, for the Dawn King arrived only moments later from the other end of the courtyard. He had been in a friendly debate with Ulric before leaving the Warden to his task, and was on his way back to the citadel proper when Alba’s warning call and beckons had reached him. Leisurely Somnus approached, all dusty gold and shining ivory as he wove his way upon cobblestone and traipsed through the beautiful bushes of Ipomoea’s flower hedges.
The evening light basked the Court in different colors, the sky gradually darkening, and as he slipped through the shadows, the Dawn King regarded the stranger with a fond, welcoming smile. A look of knowing, of understanding seemed to glow within the dunalino’s sharp verdant eyes, but it did not take away from Somnus’ welcoming atmosphere.
“Welcome to Delumine, friend,” he stated cordially, taking note of the man who had waltzed into their home. It did not appear as though he was looking for trouble, and that alone set Somnus’ heart at ease. The male, broad and taller than the Dawn King himself, sported a proud mantle of sharpened horns that could easily prove fatal if one were on the receiving end of them. His dark colors seemed to blend into the growing shadows of the approaching night, and keen emerald met pale eyes. “My name is Somnus; Sovereign of this Court. May I assist you?”
If a King was not prepared to greet the people who entered his land, then what good was he? He was over the past fears and insecurities that had once plagued him. Now, Somnus knew what he wanted in his land, and would stop at nothing until Delumine was as abundant and prosperous as he knew it could be.
From her perch atop the wall, Alba beat her wings and took off, gliding through the air to take roost upon Somnus’ golden croup. Her eyes, beady and knowing, regarded the young male who had arrived with notable caution. Somnus only chuckled, a deep, breathy sound as his dark lips remained upright in that warm, almost lazy grin. “… And this is Alba. Apologies, if she startled you.”
tag: @Jericho
Sorry you had to wait on this! I was hoping to reply sooner! <3
"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
He did not have to wait long. No sooner did he pass under the arch of the gate than a piercing shriek split the evening air and a shadow swooped down from overhead. It was fortunate that the young warrior had heard many the hunting cry of a barn owl while travelling through the woods or the sound would have caused a dangerously undiplomatic swipe of his horn and baring of teeth. Even so, Jericho jumped and pinned his ears, effectively ruining any plans for a composed entrance.
Staring sulkily after the owl, he caught sight of a lone figure approaching from the edge of the courtyard. Hastily, the horned stallion hastened to correct his body language—the last thing he needed was to be run out of town in the first civilized place he’d stepped foot since leaving home. Head lowered deferentially, he took in the newcomer who walked towards him. Light eyes studied the well-muscled frame, the golden coat, the dark horn, the pair of massive mottled wings, the confident, easy stride. Jericho’s gazed moved last to the stranger’s face. Thankfully, he seemed to be smiling. Interpreting this as a good sign, the young stallion relaxed slightly.
“Greetings, Sovereign,” Jericho replied, dipping his head formally. “I’m Jericho. I’ve come from the north, but—if you will have me—I would like to spend some time in your lands. I can contribute,” he added earnestly. “If there’s anything you need…I can deliver supplies, or spar with your young warriors. All I ask is safe passage and a place to rest my head. From what I’ve seen, it’s a beautiful kingdom,” he finished, hoping that the welcoming smile wouldn’t falter. He was aware of how his request might sound: a complete stranger, sauntering in and demanding access. He’d tried to temper it with politeness and civility, but he’d been warned by those who’d gone before him that it was not uncommon to be met with suspicion. Even as he waited with bated breath for Somnus’ response, Jericho mentally readied himself to make a quick exit if needed. Heaven knew he’d need a head start against that bird, who’d glided down from the shadows to perch on her king’s shoulder.
Somnus carried a patient, respectful silence as the young horned stallion said his piece and made his introductions. There was a subtle shift in the newcomer’s demeanor, a lowering of the head, a relaxing of his posture. It was as though he was attempting to seem as meek and unthreatening as possible. There was no threat here, and upon the dunalino’s spine it was clear that Alba was realizing that very thing. The barn owls’ ruffled feathers settled into smooth layers upon her body, and soon enough the wise avian’s beady black eyes tore away to instead focus instead on preening.
If anything, as Jericho continued to speak, so ready and passionately declaring his ability to contribute to the welfare of Delumine, so eager to prove his worth, his words caused Somnus’ dark lips to raise higher, his smile growing. So eager, youth. It was a look of endearment that graced his features, like a father might bestow upon a child. Well… He may as well get started early, right? As he was soon to be a father, himself.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jericho. Please, don’t worry yourself quite yet on contribution, but your enthusiasm is much appreciated.” Right now, Delumine was in a state of peace, yet that could easily be turned and twisted upside down in a moment’s notice. They needed to be ready. Peace, while beautiful, never did last long enough. “I’m certain that you must be exhausted from your travels. If you need a place to rest and have a good, hearty meal, we’ll be happy to welcome you into our fold and provide you just that.”
Shifting in his stance, shoulders rolling and wings drooping as he relaxed, Somnus motioned his muzzle in a way that signaled Jericho to draw closer. His smile did not waver, and remained open and honest, keen verdant eyes staring with curious intensity. The evening breeze sent chills along his spine, a tender kiss of a promise of the weather that would inevitably arrive. “It’s a good thing you arrived when you did, hm? Last winter was fearsome, and I loathe the thought of anyone wandering at the winter’s mercy. Come, friend. Shall I give you a tour?”
tag: @Jericho
"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
He needn’t have worried, for Somnus’ smile only grew as he replied with the steady and confident voice of one secure in his command. It reassured him, this easy certainty, the well-built walls, the prompt welcome…everything thus far was orderly, as it should be, and Jericho had no doubt that wandering into this golden king’s domain had been a stroke of luck. He was grateful for it, along with the promise of food and shelter. Though the sovereign had graciously waved off his offers to earn his keep, the young stallion intended to find some way of thanking him for his hospitality. It was not lost on him that Somnus was right; winter was fast approaching, and the invitation to stay removed a considerable burden from his shoulders. For now though, good manners and a smile of his own were all he had to offer.
“Thank you,” he replied, “I appreciate the offer, Sovereign—of a place to rest and of a tour. I have to admit, I was curious about what lay behind the walls of this citadel. It presents quite a mystery from outside. I’ve never seen anything quite its equal.” And it was true. He’d heard of palaces before, of course; many from his homeland had spoken of them, but Jericho had grown up running amongst ruins. Once, perhaps there had been a great fortress like this, but no spires were left standing (if there had ever been any to begin with). He only knew crumbling platforms, well-worn steps, and the chipped columns that presided like proud old guards over the Council’s meeting place. Any other architecture he had seen had likely been ferreted away from its original place and resurrected in the form of the weaponmakers’ eccentrically-built workshops and forges. His homeland had a grandeur of its own, nestled in the mountains, but to be fair, it had nothing like this.
Thus assured of his welcome, he moved closer to the king, ready to fall in step just behind him at his signal. He continued to keep a watchful eye on the owl. While she appeared to be preening innocently enough, he’d decided that he’d rather not be startled by her again and chance betraying any of his less dignifying reactions. For one still so young, Jericho’s manner was rather serious. The momentousness of the occasion had swelled in his breast, and though there was still plenty of tender naivete left in the boy, he did his best to conceal it. He was well on his way to becoming a man now, and he dearly wanted to impress the kindly king before him. He’d make a name for himself yet.
The Dawn King’s gaze remained warm as he regarded the genuine and eager-hearted youth presented in front of him. Even Alba seemed far more at ease than she had been only moments ago, continuing as she was with her evening bath. Then again, if the barn owl had retained her rather lackluster and positively sour attitude, Somnus would have sent her away. There was no need to treat guests with such dispassionate hostility, especially those who were simply looking for a place to rest their weary heads.
“Please, Jericho; just call me Somnus, hm?” He was a Sovereign only in title, but that was not who he was. Surely this young stallion, so virile and eager to see the many wonders hidden among the world, could understand that at the end of the day, a man was only as good as his name?
It seemed that the said youth seemed more comfortable with him, as well, for Jericho soon came to stand close to his side. The golden tactician turned on his haunches almost leisurely, clearly in no rush, and with a flick of an ivory tail he was heading in the other direction with an ambling pace. There wasn’t a reason to hurry, after all, and it was a lovely evening. It was best to get as much fresh air as they could before winter swooped in and froze land, water, and air.
“Your words are kind, friend. Delumine is one of the oldest provinces in Novus, but every Court holds their fair share of unique beauty. It would be wise to see them all, after you are rested and recovered… And, of course, I would suggest to wait until the winter has passed.” Yet it was somewhat an ironic thing for him to say, for Somnus had yet to see the Denocte Capitol for himself. Regrettably, of course, for the trek to Denocte was a long and arduous one, the Arma Mountains cruel and unforgiving at the best of times, and not one that he could so easily take after becoming Sovereign of his home.
Outstretching his wing opposite as to where Jericho was following, Somnus motioned across the courtyard. Even in the cool evening air of autumn, Ipomoea’s blessing and gardening skills showed themselves with grandeur; the shrubs and flowers were still in bloom, dotting the cobblestone. Rich green ivy scaled the ancient walls of the courtyard, as well as the weathered mortar walls of the Citadel that crested upwards and upwards. “This is our garden and our courtyard where many of our citizens gather and spend their days. Ipomoea, Dawn’s Regent, tends to spend most of his time out here tending to the flowers. I’m certain that you will meet him in time. He’s a lovely fellow, about your age.” Or so he would assume, for he truly had no idea how old the young stag at his side even was. Somnus, however, knew better than to discredit an individual based on their number of years spent walking this earth. “Our warriors train just outside the courtyard walls under the supervision of our Warden, Ulric. Like Po, I’m certain that you will encounter him soon enough.”
Their leisurely pace continued, the sounds of their hooves scraping against the stone ground echoing almost peacefully through the silent evening. “You are free to reset wherever you would like. Some find solace in the woods of the Viride Forest. Others enjoy the tranquility of the Rapax River. I myself enjoy resting in the Citadel itself; there’s plenty of rooms available if you would like to claim one for yourself, and the walls are hardy against the cold winds.”
Realizing that he had been droning on to the point of rambling, Somnus paused, casting a sheepish look in Jericho’s direction. “Apologies, friend. I didn’t mean to ramble. Do you have any questions thus far?”
tag: @Jericho
"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
