"You can't be serious," Joren of Stone Mountain's cultured, crisp voice rang
throughout the mess hall. His delicate,
full lips were twisted into a vicious scowl. His usually rosy cheeks were a
darker hue of red and his sky blue eyes, set among long fair
lashes were flashing deep resentment. He ran his fingers through his long,
shoulder length(so blonde it was nearly white)
hair.
The mess hall was empty but for the fourth year page(soon to be first year
squire) and the Training Master, Lord
Wyldon. It was late at night, a bell or two away from the page's scheduled
bedtimes. The sun had already set, and the huge
hall was lit by torches. Lord Wyldon sat in his regular seat, at the head
of the teacher's table. Joren stood before
him.
Lord Wyldon's dark eyes, hard as flint, narrowed, "Page Joren," his loud,
authorative voice boomed,"While I
understand your distress, it will do you good to remember your manners. A
proper knight is always courteous."
Most pages with Joren's background would have blown their fuse. For all
his authority and the intimidating posture
Lord Wyldon held, any fear a page had for him would most definitely be
drowned out by the strong, prejudiced beliefs which
had been hammered into the heads of Stone Mountain clan's youth. The
conservative noble family took great care to avoid producing
any black sheep.
Joren of Stone Mountain, however, wasn't most pages. Despite his treatment
of Kelady of Mindelean, and despite the
extremes he went to try and get rid of that emotionless lump, he was a
well-behaved page. He was high skilled in armed and
unarmed combat. Although he was a bit heavy-handed with his horse, it was
nothing that couldn't be cured with a few years
of experience. His combat skills and high grades where school work was
concerned made him Wyldon's prize student. He was
truly the Golden Boy of Tortal's pages.
Joren bowed low to the training master, his eyes lowered,"Pardon me, my
lord."
Lord Wyldon nodded,"Now, as for the matter at hand, I'm afraid there's
nothing we can do."
The Page stared at his feet sullenly. His hand was clenched in a fist, held
so tightly his short, neatly trimmed
nails pierced the skin,"I've never heard of something like this happening
before, though, my lord."
Lord of Wyldon sighed, and ran his finger along the scar that ran from his
right eye into his short, brown hair.
It was a habit he displayed when he was especially distressed. In all his
years he'd never encountered something such as
this. Despite his balding crown, he wasn't as old as many pages perceived
him to be. He still had, however, been around
long enough to rightfully assume he had seen everything.
"Neither have I," Wyldon confessed to the trembling 14 year old. He looked
over Joren again, and felt anger swell in
his chest once more. It was such a waste. This boy, whom he had such high
hopes for, had such talent! He was truly expected
to become the greatest of them all. But, oh no, not if the king had anything
to say about it...
"Are you sure, sir," Joren questioned, his voice still respectful, a harsh
contrast to the shaken expression that
marred his beautiful face,"that this isn't just a simple misunderstanding?"
"Here, see for yourself."the training master said. He handed the boy a
scroll with the royal seal and signature
on the bottom of it.
(the scroll)
"I, King Jonothan IV, proclaim that Joren of Stone Mountain will not have
the choice of whom his appointed Knight
Master will be.
His skill and capabilities have been brought to my attention. After talking
to my council, it has been decided that we can't risk him being nurtured by
an unfit knight master who may or may not risk the
valuable asset he will most likely be to the crown one day.
I have, therefore, chosen a suitable mentor for Joren of Stone Mountain.
This being said, I, King Jonothan IV, also proclaim that the Lady Knight,
Alanna of Treboun and Pirate's Swoop, will act as
Joren of Stone Mountain's Knight Mistress."
(end of scroll)
Joren's throat tightened. So it was true. He, a respectable person of
noble blood from one of the realm's finest
families, would act as squire to that wench, the Lady Knight Alanna. His
eyes welled up with tears, but he refused to let them spill.
He wouldn't do something as dishonorable as crying, especially not in front
of the one man he almost respected as much as his own
father!
Wyldon's frown deepened, he'd better dismiss the lad and let him save
face,"You are dismissed. Good
luck on your exams tomorrow."
Joren bowed gracefully and left the room.
------------
Joren stormed through the halls, his mood apparent.
It's a good thing no other pages or servants were about, or surely they
would have felt the wrath of the boy's anger.
The boy grabbed a glass vase of flowers sitting on a nearby window ledge
and hurled it to the wall. The loud crash
of the glass breaking made him flinch slightly, but did nothing to soothe
the storm of emotions brewing within him. His
knees buckled and he sank to the ground. He leaned his head back against
the wall, his breath ragged.
He closed his eyes, fighting to gain control of his emotions.
He'd be disowned. Even worse, he'd dishonor his family's good name.
His fist clenched once more and he bit his lip. Damn that wench! Damn the
King! How dare they! How dare they make
such a mockery of him! How dare they make his years of hard work vanish
with a mere letter! Did they think it was easy to
get as high in the ranks as he did!? Did they know they know of the endless
bells he devoted to studying and combat training
in the hopes that he could be the finest knight in Tortal, and bring honor
to his family's name!?
Deep breaths filled the long hallway he currently occupied. His shoulder's
relaxed, and his eye's hardened.
This was the Lady Knight's fault. She wanted the lump to succeed. She'd
probably heard of Joren
and was afraid that his greatness would overshadow Mindelan's, which no
doubt would happen. He'd show her, though. He'd become
a great knight, despite what he was faced with. He was part of the Stone
Mountain clan, after all!
He glanced at his face in a mirror pinned up on the wall opposite to him.
All traces of distress we're gone,
his facial expression had gone from near tears to a cool, determined look,
barely a trace that he had almost cried.
Him, cry? Right. He hadn't cried since he was 8. His father had told him
it was a disgrace for a man to cry.
He would make his family proud, despite this unforseen hardship. Despite
the shunning he was sure to get for the
first few years, he'd make his father proud. He'd make his entire family
proud!
He smiled into the mirror.
Keladry of Mindealean, if she had been there, could easily have seen that
the smile didn't reach his eyes.
On the other hand, what else was new?
------------
The woman in the shadows smiled bemusedly. Her eyes, an odd purple shade,
stared after the youngster in wonder. Her
copper hair spilled down her back to her hips. Alanna giggled, a sound
that, even after all these years, surprised her
slightly.
So, this was Joren of Stone mountain.
The emotion, the passion he'd just displayed in his supposed solitude had
been...astounding.
She had originally shown up in Corus to scream her head off at Jonothan and
force him to cancel his proclamation.
Seeing the boy, though, had changed things. It was him, she was sure. No
other boy could be that beautiful, if the
rumors she had heard were correct. If his skills weren't just
rumors....That, mixed with the passion she'd
seen in his eyes those few minutes before they blanked out.... He could
become a great knight.
He just had a few kinks that needed to be worked out, that's all.
throughout the mess hall. His delicate,
full lips were twisted into a vicious scowl. His usually rosy cheeks were a
darker hue of red and his sky blue eyes, set among long fair
lashes were flashing deep resentment. He ran his fingers through his long,
shoulder length(so blonde it was nearly white)
hair.
The mess hall was empty but for the fourth year page(soon to be first year
squire) and the Training Master, Lord
Wyldon. It was late at night, a bell or two away from the page's scheduled
bedtimes. The sun had already set, and the huge
hall was lit by torches. Lord Wyldon sat in his regular seat, at the head
of the teacher's table. Joren stood before
him.
Lord Wyldon's dark eyes, hard as flint, narrowed, "Page Joren," his loud,
authorative voice boomed,"While I
understand your distress, it will do you good to remember your manners. A
proper knight is always courteous."
Most pages with Joren's background would have blown their fuse. For all
his authority and the intimidating posture
Lord Wyldon held, any fear a page had for him would most definitely be
drowned out by the strong, prejudiced beliefs which
had been hammered into the heads of Stone Mountain clan's youth. The
conservative noble family took great care to avoid producing
any black sheep.
Joren of Stone Mountain, however, wasn't most pages. Despite his treatment
of Kelady of Mindelean, and despite the
extremes he went to try and get rid of that emotionless lump, he was a
well-behaved page. He was high skilled in armed and
unarmed combat. Although he was a bit heavy-handed with his horse, it was
nothing that couldn't be cured with a few years
of experience. His combat skills and high grades where school work was
concerned made him Wyldon's prize student. He was
truly the Golden Boy of Tortal's pages.
Joren bowed low to the training master, his eyes lowered,"Pardon me, my
lord."
Lord Wyldon nodded,"Now, as for the matter at hand, I'm afraid there's
nothing we can do."
The Page stared at his feet sullenly. His hand was clenched in a fist, held
so tightly his short, neatly trimmed
nails pierced the skin,"I've never heard of something like this happening
before, though, my lord."
Lord of Wyldon sighed, and ran his finger along the scar that ran from his
right eye into his short, brown hair.
It was a habit he displayed when he was especially distressed. In all his
years he'd never encountered something such as
this. Despite his balding crown, he wasn't as old as many pages perceived
him to be. He still had, however, been around
long enough to rightfully assume he had seen everything.
"Neither have I," Wyldon confessed to the trembling 14 year old. He looked
over Joren again, and felt anger swell in
his chest once more. It was such a waste. This boy, whom he had such high
hopes for, had such talent! He was truly expected
to become the greatest of them all. But, oh no, not if the king had anything
to say about it...
"Are you sure, sir," Joren questioned, his voice still respectful, a harsh
contrast to the shaken expression that
marred his beautiful face,"that this isn't just a simple misunderstanding?"
"Here, see for yourself."the training master said. He handed the boy a
scroll with the royal seal and signature
on the bottom of it.
(the scroll)
"I, King Jonothan IV, proclaim that Joren of Stone Mountain will not have
the choice of whom his appointed Knight
Master will be.
His skill and capabilities have been brought to my attention. After talking
to my council, it has been decided that we can't risk him being nurtured by
an unfit knight master who may or may not risk the
valuable asset he will most likely be to the crown one day.
I have, therefore, chosen a suitable mentor for Joren of Stone Mountain.
This being said, I, King Jonothan IV, also proclaim that the Lady Knight,
Alanna of Treboun and Pirate's Swoop, will act as
Joren of Stone Mountain's Knight Mistress."
(end of scroll)
Joren's throat tightened. So it was true. He, a respectable person of
noble blood from one of the realm's finest
families, would act as squire to that wench, the Lady Knight Alanna. His
eyes welled up with tears, but he refused to let them spill.
He wouldn't do something as dishonorable as crying, especially not in front
of the one man he almost respected as much as his own
father!
Wyldon's frown deepened, he'd better dismiss the lad and let him save
face,"You are dismissed. Good
luck on your exams tomorrow."
Joren bowed gracefully and left the room.
------------
Joren stormed through the halls, his mood apparent.
It's a good thing no other pages or servants were about, or surely they
would have felt the wrath of the boy's anger.
The boy grabbed a glass vase of flowers sitting on a nearby window ledge
and hurled it to the wall. The loud crash
of the glass breaking made him flinch slightly, but did nothing to soothe
the storm of emotions brewing within him. His
knees buckled and he sank to the ground. He leaned his head back against
the wall, his breath ragged.
He closed his eyes, fighting to gain control of his emotions.
He'd be disowned. Even worse, he'd dishonor his family's good name.
His fist clenched once more and he bit his lip. Damn that wench! Damn the
King! How dare they! How dare they make
such a mockery of him! How dare they make his years of hard work vanish
with a mere letter! Did they think it was easy to
get as high in the ranks as he did!? Did they know they know of the endless
bells he devoted to studying and combat training
in the hopes that he could be the finest knight in Tortal, and bring honor
to his family's name!?
Deep breaths filled the long hallway he currently occupied. His shoulder's
relaxed, and his eye's hardened.
This was the Lady Knight's fault. She wanted the lump to succeed. She'd
probably heard of Joren
and was afraid that his greatness would overshadow Mindelan's, which no
doubt would happen. He'd show her, though. He'd become
a great knight, despite what he was faced with. He was part of the Stone
Mountain clan, after all!
He glanced at his face in a mirror pinned up on the wall opposite to him.
All traces of distress we're gone,
his facial expression had gone from near tears to a cool, determined look,
barely a trace that he had almost cried.
Him, cry? Right. He hadn't cried since he was 8. His father had told him
it was a disgrace for a man to cry.
He would make his family proud, despite this unforseen hardship. Despite
the shunning he was sure to get for the
first few years, he'd make his father proud. He'd make his entire family
proud!
He smiled into the mirror.
Keladry of Mindealean, if she had been there, could easily have seen that
the smile didn't reach his eyes.
On the other hand, what else was new?
------------
The woman in the shadows smiled bemusedly. Her eyes, an odd purple shade,
stared after the youngster in wonder. Her
copper hair spilled down her back to her hips. Alanna giggled, a sound
that, even after all these years, surprised her
slightly.
So, this was Joren of Stone mountain.
The emotion, the passion he'd just displayed in his supposed solitude had
been...astounding.
She had originally shown up in Corus to scream her head off at Jonothan and
force him to cancel his proclamation.
Seeing the boy, though, had changed things. It was him, she was sure. No
other boy could be that beautiful, if the
rumors she had heard were correct. If his skills weren't just
rumors....That, mixed with the passion she'd
seen in his eyes those few minutes before they blanked out.... He could
become a great knight.
He just had a few kinks that needed to be worked out, that's all.