Post by Jaiden Liatris-Durante (D) on Jan 28, 2006 1:19:40 GMT -5
Night bled from the sky. Dawn made a lurid splash of orange and rose on the sleeping skyline of the City of Elua. The smell of horse and dust filled the large courtyard of the D’Neige villa. I sat for a moment on my horse observing the smooth flow of men unloading and hurrying into house and stables.
I swung down from the saddle, adjusted the sword at my hip and brushed dirt from my riding leathers. The journey from Winterfell had taken six days or hard travel. I doubted anyone would still be at the coronation or the foolish party being held after.
A hardness crept over my features. A wasted journey.
“Elton, stable the mounts and get the men settled for the non. We will re-supply and be off tomorrow at dawn, so tell them not to whore the night away. I will pledge my fealty to the King and we will return north.” I didn’t bother to look at my Captain-of-the-Guard. He would obey with alacrity. I made for the house.
“She’s a frigid bitch ain’t she? ‘S not the place for a woman to be barkin’ orders so.” A new, young soldier muttered to a compatriot. Before he could even react I had swept the legs from under him and pinned him with a knee to the throat.
He struggled fiercely, gasping for air and turning a deep shade of red. Calmly I held him down despite his squirming. “Watch your tongue, boy; I will pluck it out for you if you cannot learn to mind it.” I kept his airway cut of for a moment longer then abruptly stood. He gasped and choked as he curled up on himself. “Elton, ten lashes and half rations for a week. If he speaks again in my presence it will go badly for both of you.”
I whipped my head around at the sound of galloping hooves skittering on the cobblestones. A harried messenger in Courcel livery dismounted. “By order of Princess Alis de Courcel I summon the Duchesse D’Neige to a private meeting at the Palace. You, wench, go wake your mistress.” I blinked slowly. Two insolent underlings in one morning. This was not going to be a good day.
“Wench, you called me? Elton, who was the last person to call me wench? I can’t remember what happened to him?” a cruel smile curled one side of my mouth.
“Your Grace, it was Ogfrid Axehand, two seasons past on our last raid. You gutted him and staked him out,dying, for the crows.” Elton replied dutifully. The messenger paled, stammered incoherently and thrust his pouch at the nearest man and fled. I scanned the summons and frowned.
“Fetch me my horse, settle in but don’t get to comfortable. Hire a few servants too.” I mounted up and left.
I swung down from the saddle, adjusted the sword at my hip and brushed dirt from my riding leathers. The journey from Winterfell had taken six days or hard travel. I doubted anyone would still be at the coronation or the foolish party being held after.
A hardness crept over my features. A wasted journey.
“Elton, stable the mounts and get the men settled for the non. We will re-supply and be off tomorrow at dawn, so tell them not to whore the night away. I will pledge my fealty to the King and we will return north.” I didn’t bother to look at my Captain-of-the-Guard. He would obey with alacrity. I made for the house.
“She’s a frigid bitch ain’t she? ‘S not the place for a woman to be barkin’ orders so.” A new, young soldier muttered to a compatriot. Before he could even react I had swept the legs from under him and pinned him with a knee to the throat.
He struggled fiercely, gasping for air and turning a deep shade of red. Calmly I held him down despite his squirming. “Watch your tongue, boy; I will pluck it out for you if you cannot learn to mind it.” I kept his airway cut of for a moment longer then abruptly stood. He gasped and choked as he curled up on himself. “Elton, ten lashes and half rations for a week. If he speaks again in my presence it will go badly for both of you.”
I whipped my head around at the sound of galloping hooves skittering on the cobblestones. A harried messenger in Courcel livery dismounted. “By order of Princess Alis de Courcel I summon the Duchesse D’Neige to a private meeting at the Palace. You, wench, go wake your mistress.” I blinked slowly. Two insolent underlings in one morning. This was not going to be a good day.
“Wench, you called me? Elton, who was the last person to call me wench? I can’t remember what happened to him?” a cruel smile curled one side of my mouth.
“Your Grace, it was Ogfrid Axehand, two seasons past on our last raid. You gutted him and staked him out,dying, for the crows.” Elton replied dutifully. The messenger paled, stammered incoherently and thrust his pouch at the nearest man and fled. I scanned the summons and frowned.
“Fetch me my horse, settle in but don’t get to comfortable. Hire a few servants too.” I mounted up and left.