(( My newest piece, written for the AoG Story Competition ))
~ --- Across the Salve --- ~
'My Liege, Lord Saradomin's Anointed Regent,
I write to inform Your Highness of troubling reports from beyond the River. Our Lord's servants and missionaries claim sightings of werewolf activity and evidence of necromancers. There is little confirmation, unless it be the lack of word from Our Lord's outposts besides rabid tales of beasts and monsters. In case of the worst, I request a legion of Our Lord's finest armsmen, that the Blessed River and our sacred monastery might be protected.
Lord Saradomin's Humble Servant,
Abbot Webi'
For the dozenth time that day, Saradomin's Anointed Regent, King Fald placed the worn epistle on a small writing table and rubbed his temples. The letter had arrived a week previously, already delayed by a messenger pigeon dead mid-flight, he had yet to reach a decision beyond ordering scouts to search for confirmation.
"My Liege," his advisor, standing by his side, began, "I believe Your Highness should dispatch the requested Legion. If not so many men, at least half. Your Highness knows we must not lose the Salve."
"So you've said, Counselor, but I await the scouts. I understand the danger posed to Our Lord's realm, but I cannot waste so many men chasing ghosts and whispers."
"Yes, my Liege, but…"
Interrupted by a door swinging open, the advisor turned to berate whoever had so brazenly barged into the Anointed Regent's chambers unannounced, but what he saw kept the words from his tongue. One of the scouts, bloody and ragged, entered the room supported by two Anointed Guards.
"My Liege," he coughed into the silence, blood dribbling from his mouth. "A monk said…" Another cough racked his body.
"Said the Monastery…that it fell…it's ruined…broken, My Liege." The cough took him again, stronger. Finally, he conquered it and continued.
~ --- Across the Salve --- ~
'My Liege, Lord Saradomin's Anointed Regent,
I write to inform Your Highness of troubling reports from beyond the River. Our Lord's servants and missionaries claim sightings of werewolf activity and evidence of necromancers. There is little confirmation, unless it be the lack of word from Our Lord's outposts besides rabid tales of beasts and monsters. In case of the worst, I request a legion of Our Lord's finest armsmen, that the Blessed River and our sacred monastery might be protected.
Lord Saradomin's Humble Servant,
Abbot Webi'
For the dozenth time that day, Saradomin's Anointed Regent, King Fald placed the worn epistle on a small writing table and rubbed his temples. The letter had arrived a week previously, already delayed by a messenger pigeon dead mid-flight, he had yet to reach a decision beyond ordering scouts to search for confirmation.
"My Liege," his advisor, standing by his side, began, "I believe Your Highness should dispatch the requested Legion. If not so many men, at least half. Your Highness knows we must not lose the Salve."
"So you've said, Counselor, but I await the scouts. I understand the danger posed to Our Lord's realm, but I cannot waste so many men chasing ghosts and whispers."
"Yes, my Liege, but…"
Interrupted by a door swinging open, the advisor turned to berate whoever had so brazenly barged into the Anointed Regent's chambers unannounced, but what he saw kept the words from his tongue. One of the scouts, bloody and ragged, entered the room supported by two Anointed Guards.
"My Liege," he coughed into the silence, blood dribbling from his mouth. "A monk said…" Another cough racked his body.
"Said the Monastery…that it fell…it's ruined…broken, My Liege." The cough took him again, stronger. Finally, he conquered it and continued.
29-Mar-2010 07:40:58 - Last edited on 21-Jun-2013 10:34:00 by Chuk