Killigrew's Dark Times

[bobgod]

The Court of High Lord Eric Ragnelle


Relations / Various Info in Out of Character Chat

You are a little noble girl, the third born daughter of High Lord Eric Ragnelle. Not long ago you turned ten years old, and now you are beginning to see the world as it is, some what. In your fathers court you have been sheltered from great horrors, but you are still not completely innocent.


Currently, you are in the great hall. Your father has returned from the capital, Karlo, and takes a seat in his throne. You, your sisters, and your mother are called to him. He presents each one of you a gift.


For your oldest sister, Sarah, he presents a fine dress, fashioned similar to those of the Ladies of the Kings Court. For the middle child, Aria, a nice gold necklace is given, and a new pair of fur slippers. And for your mother, a shining diamond circlet, truly magnificent.


You on the other hand get a doll and other various toys. Whether or not you're happy is up to you.

 

[Killigrew]

"I don't like dolls, father." I said. "They're for babies. I'm big enough now to be respectable."


I knew mom wouldn't like it. She was giving me the look of disapproval already, with her eyes wide and her hands clenched together. I had already said too much, I could feel it in the air. Perhaps because of that, I yet persisted to stare up at father with a half-accusatory, and otherwise incredulous expression. I wanted to know why he thought to treat me as though I were five years younger, but knew not how to ask.

 

[bobgod]

"Ahh.. well.."


Your father says in a some what upset tone.


"Hmm, I'll get you a more grown up gift next time."


He retorts.


Soon enough you're whisked away to your room. On the floor are various things, and it's rather messy.

 

[Killigrew]

With an easy toss, the toys and the doll tumbled from my arms to join the mess in the room. My hands hitched up my dress, and with careful steps I tiptoed across the floor.


One foot met a sharp edge, the pain to blossom, and to bid me fall forward. I caught myself on the window rim, and with a grunt, I raised myself up.


My foot hurt, sparked, pulled tears from my eyes. My chest trembled and shoulders shook from sobbing, stifled though it was beneath closed lips. Wiping my face, I peered over the sill, hoping to catch a glimpse of knights in the courtyard below.

 

[Fletchr]

(S'pose I'll just jump on in - sorry if it's a bit abrupt ._.; According to Bob, the Royal guards have been hanging around outside the room / in the room)


Lutolf took up a position outside of the Young Noble's doorway, standing to the left of its frame. He was clad in the attire of a Royal guard, which consisted of a general soldier's helmet, and a surcoat hanging over a light chest-plate made of plated steel. Beneath both the surcoat and the steel plate was a chain-mail garment that ran the length of his body, ending slightly beneath his waistline. A sword was buried within a scabbard hooked to his hip.


He idly adjusts his footing, accidentally knocking the tip of the scabbard against the door, generating a dull thud.


(sorry if that was a bit awkward, had to introduce him somehow <_>)

 

[The Gunrunner]

Feodore stood straight, his halberd held tight and parallel to his body. His arming sword was pushed down to keep a consistent angle so as to not bang against anything. This, and the metal surrounding his body, brought many similarities to a statue.


*thud* He looks over to Lutolf, the chainmail coif creating a light rattle.


He quickly looks straight again, emitting a faint grunt as he shifts in place.

 

[bobgod]

[Killigrew]


Down in the courtyard you would witness boys training with practice swords, it would seem rather fun, but tiring in the hot summer sun. The courtyard of your fathers castle had always been busy, turning boys to men, and preparing them for inevitable war. However, this wasn't your place in life, either to your delight, or dismay you would one day marry a lord, and birth him children who would be training similar to those below. While peering out the window you hear a small thud on your door.

[The Guards]


Inside of the little ladies room you hear little to nothing, other then a faint cry.

 

[Killigrew]

The courtyard was a whirlwind of action. Likely the High Lord's return had renewed the excitement of service. The many young men down below were distinguishable only by thr color of their hair, for their uniforms and heights were much alike. My eyes were on the blonde, whose form and bravery stole my gaze. It was as though through his actions, the sketches of fighting manuals came to life.


The prick of my foot was nothing by comparison to this demand on my attention.


Could this be love?


A resounding thud from the door shattered such imaginings. I spun around and stared at the noise's origin, expecting a voice to follow, or the door to burst open by some servant or guard or tutor.


The quiet continued, and my eyes fell to the toys on the floor. The idea formed slowly, but once it unfurled, I set into action with all eagerness.


Snatching up the doll father had gifted me this day, I rushed back to the window, every step an inelegant thump.


My hands outstretched past the sill, and I released the toy. Doing my best to smother an excited grin, I cried out in dismay and bounded across my messy room to the door once more.


I swung it open with much strain and grunting, and leapt into the doorway.


"The beloved doll father gave me slipped from my hands!" I raised my arms and shook them violently to emphasize this tragedy. "I must go obtain it from the courtyard! You must escort me!"

 

[Fletchr]

Lütolf jolts to the side for a moment - not expecting the Princess to come bounding out of the confines of her room in such a manner. His helmeted head twists downwards, gaze focusing on her face for a moment. He gives her a small nod, Helmet shaking slightly as he does so, his hand shifting to rest on the pommel of his blade's hilt, "Understood Dame." He says. His voice is calm, though rather flat - almost dull. He then slides his gaze towards Feodore, gesturing towards the Dame's right side with a nod of his head. Lütolf himself takes a position to the Dame's left, rolling his shoulders for a moment, his outfit clinking against itself as he moves. "Lead the way, Dame. We shall keep pace."


(Edited, call her the Dame, she is the daughter of a High Lord, not the King.)

 

[The Gunrunner]

As Feodore hears the door open, he quickly turns as if on an axis and with very little movement from his upper body; the halberd is lifted and there are two *clang*s from the armour, each accompanying a step. He turns inwards, and places the shaft against the floor once again.


"The beloved doll father gave me slipped from my hands!" "I must go obtain it from the courtyard! You must escort me!"


Feodore looks to Lütolf, unsure of how urgently to treat this matter; "Understood Mi'lady. Lead the way." He raises the halberd from the ground and turns to face the same direction as the young noble, stepping to her right side. He speaks in a similar manner as that of his superior "We shall accompany you, Dame - We do as you wish."

 

[bobgod]

[Killigrew]


The little girl makes her way down the hall, towards the stair, soon enough she'd begin her decent, and would eventually end up at a doorway, entering into the courtyard.


[The Guards]


The Guards follow close behind the girl, with their weapons in hand.

 

[Killigrew]

Frills and lace streamed and furled as I raced for the servant's staircase, hoping none besides these guards would take notice of me. I was in my best dress to welcome father, but without anyone to display it to, the elaborate design served no purpose except to impede my progress; the layers of clothing made traps that caught and tugged at my steps.


The staircase proved easier; hopping as I held the rail proved a sure strategy.


As the courtyard opened up before my eyes, the bright sky a high and holy roof above, a smile from the depths of my heart spread slow and sincere over my face. The clanging of swordfights, the barking yells of the drill sergeant grew my eyes in interest, and they came to rest soon on the sparkling blonde I had noticed from above.


Turning my body halfway around, I took hold of Lütolf's two front fingers and tugged.


"Who is the most skilled of the squires?" I asked.

 

[Fletchr]

Lütolf glances down towards the Princess, a questioning look crossing his half-hidden face for a moment before his eyes tilted up towards the assembled group of young fighters. He glances around the Courtyard for a few moments before speaking. "They are all fairly ... New, to the art of Combat, Dame. Very few of them stand out on a ... 'professional' scale." He lets out a sigh, realizing that he is most likely tiring the Princess with his technicalities. "However, from what I've seen, I would name Féderic Olheimer." He raises his free hand towards a young boy a few rows from the Blond.

 

[The Gunrunner]

Feodore stops beside the princess, his face wrapped in appearing apathy as he looked over the group of squires. He, too, looks over to the princess; he wonders what reason she would have for the curiosity, but fears forgetting his place in questioning her.


"Féderic Olheimer?" he asks, looking straight again "To whom is that boy assigned, sir?"

 

[Fletchr]

Lütolf glances over towards Feodore, giving him a slight shrug. "Nobody, I believe. - They are all under the tutelage of the Drill Sergeant. I have yet to learn his name." He says, gesturing towards the man currently 'barking' towards the young men. Lütolf's hand shifts back to the pommel of his sword afterwards, the hand sliding a moment later to close lightly around the hilt itself. He glances around the courtyard once more, attempting to locate the Dame's doll.

 

[bobgod]

[Killigrew]


The boys continue to practice, even though you are watching.


[The Guards]


Regardless of all your efforts, the doll can't be found.

 

[Killigrew]

The boy my guard pointed out did not seem so outstanding to my estimation. He was adjusting his stance and nodding to the drill sergeant. Once his supervisor had turned away, Féderic began his strikes anew with a controlled and careful manner. As I watched, the drill sergeant did not return to him a second time, yet he corrected all the others with growing impatience. My ears were ringing hearing his lectures from afar, so I thought it quite remarkable that none of the squires shrunk nor even shed a tear at such treatment.


"Are they strong because they are men?" I asked Feodore. "Or do they have to be strong like I have to be polite?"


The words left my mouth, and I felt as though they were insufficient. Strong was what I thought as I watched, but it did not let Feodore know why I thought it. My brow furrowed, and my shoulders hunched. I did not like the feeling.

 

[The Gunrunner]

He does not look to her, instead straight ahead. The drill sergeant earned little mind from him; he knew well of their treatment and, to him, the importance of such a thing - Men of war must have their taste of discomfort, and this was small compared with what would be to come.


"Are they strong because they are men?" "Or do they have to be strong like I have to be polite?"


Feodore is silent for a moment, trying to think of what words to use. He takes in a breath and responds: "I would not desire to forget my place beneath you in... educating, dame. Though if it is what you wish of me then I shall answer."


He grunts, leaning the halberd over his shoulder to free a hand - He uses this to move his chainmail coif, which has caught some of the hairs along his jawline.


"Both, my lady. A diplomat must be polite, a holy man must be pious and learned, and a soldier must be strong. A knight must be the strongest of all, though... I do not believe these boys are even squires. Regardless, a soldier must have this trait so he may fight for this nation - It also does him well, as he may then survive his duties.


But it is also because they are men; like women, you see, they have a place." He moves his hand across, gesturing to the trainees. "And a man's place is unforgiving."

 

[Killigrew]

The nod to follow Feodore was slow. My mind caught his words and churned them uncertainly. They tasted wise and truthful, but I was hesitant to accept them, since I did not understand why.


That it was necessary, I could understand. Warriors must grow strong. But that it was because they were men I could not imagine. Man, it seemed, was a foreign creature that could brush off harsh cruelty and serve the crown in humility.


If I had the place of a man, would I have the same strength as them? I saw the sweat of feigned battle and did not believe I could be. My hands had never held a sword. I knew nothing besides my books.


Boldly, I strode through the courtyard to approach the Drill Sergeant under the shade of the only tree. I would come to a halt before him, and stare, awaiting a servant's courteous reply.

 

[bobgod]

[Killigrew]


You walk over towards the Drill Sergeant. "Ehh, what is this 'ittle girl doin on the field! Ge- oh! Apologizes my lady, I was not aware it was you. What is it you need?" He says, bowing his head down. The stench off of him is rather strong, due to his heavy gambeson and black surcoat over mail. That combined with the summer heat is enough to make even the fairest princess smell.

(Ignore the cross.)


[Guards]


You see the Dame walk over to the Drill Sergeant.

 

[Killigrew]

Another thing had struck my mind as Feodore talked. A man's place was unforgiving, but then could I not make it my place to be kind to them? I did not imagine I could help more than one at a time, and so I could only make it a matter of merit.


I hoped this drill sergeant would not be reluctant to acquiesce.


"Good sir," I began, and did cover my nose with a scented handkerchief. "I have lost my doll in the bushes around these parts. Would you do me the favor of searching for it before the sun has fallen? You have many more eyes and hands at your disposal than I, and the doll is very precious to me. The finder will receive an award, you may be sure." My eyes watered, my nostrils stung, for I could not mask the pungency long.

 

[bobgod]

[Killigrew]


"Uhh.. as my lady commands." Says the Drill Sergeant. "Alright! Stop you bloody fools, we're going to search the grounds for a doll! Finder gets a reward!" Immediately twenty or so boys begin searching.


[Guards]


You see around two dozen boys begin searching around the court yard.

 

[Fletchr]

Lütolf would simply follow the Dame as she advanced towards the Drill Sergeant, taking up his previous position on her left. He stays silent as the Dame and the Drill Sergeant converse, having nothing to contribute to the conversation at the time. His right hand slides back towards the hilt of his sword once more, fingers clasping it tightly as his gaze begins to wander, watching the Recruits begin scouring the courtyard in search of the doll.

 

[Killigrew]

My hands clasped before me, and my posture straight according to how I had been taught, I surveyed the boys as they scoured the field, watching the blonde and Fréderic with an alternating gaze.


The doll should not have fallen far from my window.

 

[bobgod]

[Every one.]


Soon enough a boy lets out a cry. "I found it!"