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This was once my home...; ...But no longer. [00/00/01-00:00]
Topic Started: Jan 17 2008, 12:18 PM (271 Views)
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The darkness almost served to conceal the figure standing before the castle Nodion. In a ragged cloak, and dark garb, had it not been for the light of the moon, he would have been entirely imperceptible under the cover of darkness, for not a one of his movements made any notable noise. A sword was drawn with a subdued hissing, gleaming in the light of the moon and the stars, and thrust into the ground forcefully, as the man behind the weapon collapsed to his knees and held his head in his hands. The silver coloring of the sword revealed it not to be the cursed sword that had once been in the king's possession, yet somehow, the holy presence radiating from it indicated that it was somehow special.

"Such a terrible place... It owns far too much of my soul, my memories... So many of them pleasant, that I cannot put it behind me. So many of them unbearable that I cannot hold it sacred. Even had I the power to retake it entirely by myself, how could I ever again call such a place home?!"

The moonlight was reflected in the tears that ran down the knight's face. Tears that would bring him shame, should anyone see them; had they welled for anything short of this. As he looked up at the ramparts of the mighty castle, it became a symbol for so much more. His sister, lost to an unknown corner of the world, perhaps even an unmarked grave somewhere far from her proper place. His friend, whom he had betrayed in the name of his honor, only to lose it when he became a traitor to his country as well. What the country which he loved so much had been, and what it had become. And, of course, his own death, at the hands of his king.

But it wasn't only the bad that the castle had become a symbol of. Upon seeing the gates, he was filled with wonderful memories of the time spent with his sister. The days of his youth, when he had become such good friends with Cuan and Sigurd. The days serving his true king in Agustria, before the brash son had taken over in his stead.

The castle had become represenative of all that had gone wrong with his world, and all that was right. The conflicting emotions upon actually coming here were far too much for him to bear. Someday, perhaps, the king-in-exile would return to this place, and conquer both his homeland, and his own inner-demons. And he definitely had a word or two that he had to share with that trecherous, baseborn, thief, Alvis. But for now...

Throwing the ragged mantle he had worn to conceal his fine clothes over his sister's sword, Eltoshan threw his crimson overcoat over his shoulders, and turned his back on the castle. It no longer mattered if he was seen, or even if he was recognized. He had done what he had come to do; he would be gone before anyone could do anything about his being there.

"Good night, Nodion. Fare thee well, my sweet sister. May we meet again some day soon."
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