OOC: tags to
@Draconian !
What had started off as a new beginning, had ended with the fall of half the Hellvion castle- and with it, the support of its entire duchy. But could they be blamed for not wanting any more damage done to themselves for the war? Or were they truly being cowards that supporters of the crown were crying out in the late hours of the night, even long after the bell tolled for the curfew- a curfew which he had instilled so long ago....
It was strange to think how grey Reajh looked now. And how plain the colors of the curtains in his room appeared. Even himself, that many could boast being a handsome man, appeared in his reflection in the mirror as a worn down old man.
Staring into the mirror that late at night, he looked at the grey hair that peppered his hair, and the creased on his face. Even his stubble was turning grey, as a hand moved across it, knowing he should shave the scruff forming, but when he did, the healing scars became agitated, and his own fussing of them did little to help the healing process move any faster.
But he supposed he should consider himself lucky. He had survived the intense attack at the Hellvion palace and could have lost a limb, hiseye, or worse- his life. But he came out battle scarred like so many of hte men who fought for the cause of Angsar. And wasn't it just that? That this was all done under the name of their God? Did the people not realize their sins and how they only accumulated as the war grew worse? So they claimed the Mage Camps were like hell. But who made them Hell? And they say innocents suffered there. Who's to say whose innocent?
Still looking at his reflection, his green eyes moved over to the figure of his wife, sleeping on the bed. Though he had sleepless nights as usual, and though his burns ached, he kept his wife at his side, who wished to comfort him-
But something in Hellvion broke inside him that day, and the man the Grand Duchess had grown to hate had returned, as Calent remained aloof to everyone. Even on his duties, he seemed to skirt around them and simply let his advisers lead.
But earlier that day he had heard so many death threats, both to him and his wife that he began to wonder- Was it even worth it? To take the notion instilled in him from his youth and raise Connlaoth into a higher time? Perhaps all good things start with blood. A child is born in blood, that much he knew. But a child could also die in blood- as any other human could.
Blood....
THe untainted blood of man had to be preserved. It was unfair that all should suffer their magical disease......
A disease, he knew more so now than he did back then, that truly stung.
But many supporters saw this as a victory, and that Calent had miraculously survived his attempted assassination, it seemed to only rally the men who remained, to become more fervent towards the cause. Though such a fiery passion was desperately needed, as he left the room to look at the papers that had a list of the men that remained...
He knew he had little choice now. Inscription was eminent, and rumors spread about the fallen support of other duchies that wished to follow in Hellvion's foot steps. Not to mention, he also had to deal with the duchy of Turgall and the conquered duchy of Ahjfeld...
Which only allowed more mages to run free.
He walked away. He left the room, the paper work to lay at rest, the door, to remain ajar, and the stable to be less one horse. When he told the stable hand and guards he wanted to go on a night right, they urged him to have guards escort him wherever he goes. But he declined, and not with a gruff, defiant voice, but a soft, tired one.
"I'll wear the clothes of the peasants." he told them, slipping into a cloak left inside the stable. "And besides, if I'm meant to die, it is only Angsar's will. THough I doubt he saved me from the bomb at Hellvion for me to die in the forests just outside my home."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances in the lantern light as the Grand Duke raced off alone into the night. And the unease was quick to spread through the castle. Yet as the man raced further and further away, he felt the freeing winds of the night take over him- and blinding he kept the horse running.