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Message: <blockquote data-quote="el-remmen" data-source="post: 722" data-attributes="member: 11">Anulem, 7th of Syet – 564 H.E.There was a soft knocking on the door of Martin’s new quarters. This suite of rooms he found himself in, separated from the friends he had made while traveling here to Gothanius, had once belonged to Tom the Silver. But Tom the Silver was dead, and Martin was still unsure how, and now here he was filling hise shoes, however temporarily, and feeling the weight of this responsibility on his shoulders, and the fear that accompanied it. Martin the Green had searched the room thoroughly looking for some clue, or journal or sign from his predecessor, but all he found were some dusty common components, and a crap-covered bird perch he assumed had belonged to Tom’s familiar. Martin answered the door. A young servant girl stood there with his freshly washed Academy robes over her arm. “Here you go, sir,” she said with a shy smile. Flustered, Martin took the robes with a mumbled “thank you”, not sure of what to do next. She just stood there and looked at him and he at her. There was a long pause. “Will there be anything else, sir?” she finally asked. She had been waiting to be dismissed. Martin inwardly berated himself, not being used to the niceties of castle living. “Um, no, thank you very much,” Martin replied. The servant wished him a good afternoon and left, and Martin closed the door. At the Academy, students were responsible for dropping off and picking up their own laundry, and it was students themselves who did the washing. He laid out his robes on the bed, and went back to the desk where he had been preparing a letter to his Academy contact. The last group of “dragon-slayers” had arrived that afternoon and banquet in the honor of all who had answered the king’s call had not need to have been delayed as was feared. As Martin scribbled, he felt something furry climb up his back and onto his head. He felt little furry paws on his forehead as little brown eyes looked into his. “I want a nut,” a voice said in his head. Martin reached into the pouch he kept at his side at all times and pulled out an acorn and handed it to his squirrelly familiar. “Yummy,” the squirrel said telepathically. Martin scratched the rodent’s head and said, “Now leave me alone for a little while, Thomas. I want to finish this before the banquet.” “Nuts at the banquet?” Thomas inquired. “Probably not, Thomas. You can’t come anyway,” Martin replied, and he could sense Thomas’ annoyance as he climbed down and took his spot under the bed again. ----- A few hours later, dressed in his robes of varying green, his hair pulled back in the best pony-tail he could make, Martin made his way down to the Great Hall with a cluster of many other young men, who were eager to eat the good foods the castle had to offer and to finally hear the details of the great mission they would likely risk their lives trying to accomplish. The Great Hall was packed with the young men, most in the finest clothes they could find among those the castle staff had provided them. The chamber held three balconies, from two of which hung tapestries that showed the symbols of the alder-villages of Gothanius (1), which Martin had seen the day before in the trophy room. In one corner a group of musicians sat with their instruments, surrounded by a choir of young boys. They were all silent, waiting for some signal that the royal family would make their entrance. A good number of what were obviously nobles mingled among themselves, eying the uncouth visitors and would-be heroes nervously. They were decked out in their finest clothes and jewelry. The doors to the dining room were held open by ceremonial guards in shining platemail and golden tabards, bearing ranseurs. This room was also full of young men from many place in Aquerra, but most had the typical Herman-Lander look, olive skin, dark hair and brown or green eyes. Martin had just started looking around the dining to spot his friends, and noticing that he had missed the first course when the horns announcing the coming of the royal family rang loudly in the Great Hall. Martin turned and went back into the hall as a rush of young men came out of the dining room and he lost Maria in the crowd, whom he had just spotted. The horns rang out again, and the great double doors which Martin had taken into the audience chamber two days before opened. From the curtain beyond, emerged a man in fine dress, with curly golden locks and boyish face. He stood to the right of the doors and spoke: “Presenting the most honored family of our Queen: the Queen’s Mother: Selma Pratchet!” A woman wearing clothing much too tight and low cut for her age and build came through the parted curtain. She wore what seemed to be an inch of make-up and she hungrily eyed all the young men clapping for her before standing to the left. “The Queen’s lovely sisters, Brea and Vivica!” Two homely middle-aged women, dressed as young princesses might came through the part curtains. They curtsied in tandem and then stood to the left beside their mother. “The Royal Architect, Balphus [insert name]!” A gaunt dwarf with sunken eyes and a frazzled beard walked through the curtain. He wore a burgundy hood, which he pulled off as he walked out and nodded his head to the politely clapping crowd. Next, the Royal Hunter (a strapping young man with a well-kept goatee dressed in the ceremonial clothing of a fox hunt) and the Royal Smith (a stout man with a mustache, who looked uncomfortable in his pleated vest and bow tie) were announced. There was another fanfare on the horns and the announcer cleared his throat, “And now the Royal Family!” The applause swelled. “The Royal Princesses!” the crier said. “Princess Marion!” A pretty little girl of about 12 or 13 came through the parted curtain. She wore a dress of pink and lavender with flowery pattern on the trim and a daisy in her hair. She curtsied, red-faced and shy and then hurried to stand beside her grandmother. “Princess Tracell!” A short and pretty girl of about fifteen, with a round face and soft curves walked out of the parted curtain. She wore a dress of powder blue, and had fine golden brown hair pulled into two braided bunches on the top of her head. As people applauded she curtsied and then waved and stood beside her younger sister. “Princess Veldicca!” The next princess was taller than the last two, with darker hair in a long braid and light blue eyes that shone brightly. She had pale skin, and wore a dress of light green, and lept her hands folded in front of her lap when she bowed. Princess Veldicca looked perhaps a year or two older than Tracell. She stood with her sisters. “Princess Deirdre!” Princess Deirdre was shorter and much thinner than Tracell, with lighter brown hair that ended at her chin. She looked almost boyish, and was an undeterminate age somewhere in the range of Veldicca and Tracell. She wore a dress of darker green with a tall collar and golden buttons. “Princess Selma!” A tall woman with a sleeveless dress of a cream-color came marching through the curtain, and then catching herself, changed her gait to one more becoming a princess. She had a slightly darker complexion, dark hair like Veldicca, but green eyes like Deirdre. Selma’s bare arms were very muscular. She was definitely the oldest. There was another fanfare, followed by the announcement of the heir to the throne, “Crown Prince Brevalin the Fourth!” A tall young man, perhaps only a year or two older than the oldest princess came through the curtain followed by a heavily armored guard. The prince was perhaps half a head shorter than his tallest sister and had curly dark hair, and fine clothing of black with golden trim. He bowed to the resounding applause. There was a pause and then a much longer fanfare, which was followed with a soft theme played by the musicians. “And announcing their royal majesties, may they live long and in good heath, King Brevalin the Third and his Queen Rosemerta!” Everyone looked up, and upon the balcony above the door way everyone had entered through came the king with his wife two steps behind him. The king wore his finest kingly robe and tall crown, and the queen was similarly draped. Her dark hair in long braids over her shoulders. Everyone got down on one knee and bowed their head and there was another fanfare. The king spread his arms open, “You may rise, my guests and subjects!” All obeyed. “We want to personally welcome you for answering our call in this our time of need,” the king said, addressing the crowd. “You young men are the future of Gothanius, a fresh infusion of blood that will carry us to a new strength and place in the world through heroism and cleverness. We also want to thank the alderman and their families who are present and their representatives, for their wisdom in leadership will help to form and guide this strength.” The king paused and a smattering of applause, became stronger as other joined in. “Now, we know that many of you have journeyed hard and long to be here, and are anxious to learn the details of this endeavor and get started, but we ask you to be patient a bit longer. Daniel the castle steward will be briefing all of you after dinner, but before we eat I we do want to make this announcement in regards to some rumors you may have heard: You all will be asked to form groups of five to undertake your hunting and slaying of the dragon. However, the reward has been increased. The monetary portion has been doubled to 10,000 pieces of silver (to be divided by the successful group) and more importantly the five who return victorious shall gain the hand in marriage of my five remaining beautiful daughters!” There was a gasp, a pause and then a cheer, but Martin looked at the princesses’ faces and could see that this was news to them. The king continued, “And now we eat another course and afterwards there will be music and dancing, and do not be shy. Introduce yourselves to the princesses, for who knows? One day soon you may be a hro and choosing among them for your own bride.” With that the king retreated away from the balcony with the queen and there was more fanfare, and people began to seek seats in the dining room. Martin followed them back in there, and at a far table he saw Simon and Peter taking seats next to each other and chatting with a blonde fellow in a white shirt and black vest. At the end of the table was a smaller fellow in a similar outfit, but with a huge bush of curly hair, and a tall man of horrid looks, red nappy hair and wearing a white toga cinched with a robe belt and bright blue tights. Martin made his way towards them.----------------------------------------------------------------------------Notes(1) The towns and villages of the Kingdom of Gothanius are called “alder-villages” as they are run by alderman appointed by the king, and make up a council of alders that help advise the king.</blockquote>

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