[༊*·˚]
The morning arose without a single cloud in sight.
Despite little rest, Dove arose without much thought. He knew that the Storm Cloud marked the day. As more soldiers arrived from the north, the battle was inevitable, internal gossip within allied forces grew more occurrent, and stress was unavoidable.
Dove knew now that he could no longer reside in the chambers of his mind, where the words of the elder plagued him, words true or not.
"Ay' Dove, the battle is to come soon, eh?" Crow's words emerged. "The sky shows little empathy for clouds today, eh?" His eyes narrowed.
Dove, enlightened by the statement, fixed his attention up above. Sighting a crisp youthful horizon saturated in a light blue. In an age where clouds plagued the skies in dark. Dove hoped this sight would be one of many. Though deeply this was a blessing, internally, Dove held doubt for these clearer skies.
. . .Soldiers encroached,
Markese approached with two knights on each shoulder, fully armored, and each stern.
"Lord Sol demands word with the White Bird."
Dove acknowledged the words, following with a gentle nod.
"Alone. ." Markese followed. "It is our honor to escort you."
Crow scoffed at the abrupt demands, and with a cautious hand on his sword belt, he intruded.
"Why so much privacy, ay'. ."
"That is Lord Sol's demand. ." Markese spoke bluntly in turn, eyeing Crow before rolling his eyes, a dull. "There is little time for discussion, accompany us White Bird."
Dove offered resistance in null, internal complications could only offer defeat. Dove gave Crow a mild nod; smoothing the tension.
"This way, White Bird." Markese gestured down a path of silver, that branched off the poorly maintained dirt road within the walls of the castle. Through a single set of large fortified wooden doors, they entered the keep.
[. . .]
". . .How many swords shield the east?" Emerged a voice of concern.
". . .Thrice blades, m'lord." The response croaked.
"It's apparent that we've subdued northeast of Holwyn Pale, shouldn't we have enough men to push the Storm Cloud's capital, his defeat is true." Words spoke lightly.
"Untruth, The City Of Oana Fei will have arrows falling from the sky within the hour of our arrival, we wouldn't even have time to amass our troops, let alone scale the walls." Another voice intruded.
". .I'm sure our blades are more than capable." His response appeared ever-so-light.
"You overestimate the strength of your forces, Lord Wyne. The plains you rule are no longer fecund, no longer green. ."
The exchange echoed, then within a fraction conflict ensued, and with a single well-landed strike, Lord Of Wyne silent the room.
"Don't be foolish, boy, The Warriors Of Wyne have flourished upon the fertile soils of battle for over a millennial. While you Reels shrivel in drought, begging for lady Oana to shed tears of white from he'r cunt!" Wyne spoke in full, wiping the blood off his knuckles.
"H-how treacherous. ." Spoke a nervous Lord Of Lune.
Disagreement intensified within the walls of the keep, all to the frustration of Lord Helinor Sol, who had stood at the center of the rounded table.
"Enough! Undisciplined lords are no different than the blades they command," A single-handed slam brought undisciplined quarrel to fearful silence, leaving the banner-lords in service obscured by such frustration, much uncommon under Sol's hand.
"Wet your stones, so you can sharpen your blades, for the sake of the realm. We must stand together." Sol exclaimed, uplifting the tension.
[༊*·˚]
. . .Fortified doors crudely closing led Markese's arrival. Among him, his honored blades, and Dove himself
"You lot offer a bad example, for our guest," Markese appeared annoyed in his expression, hearing their conflict as they approached, many halls away, his underhanded embarrassment much visible.
The luxuries of court caught 'The White Bird' allured as he viewed his surroundings; Sunset's finest commanders circled a rounded table, with strategic pieces planted across a map, and a room painted with tension, all seen too clearly in Dove's eyes. With humble origins, the quarrels of nobles seemed not his concern. Why must a commoner be present amongst all this? Had Helinor seen those sharpened feathers, or had the rain of the sun grown dim? Dove pondered.
At the sight of guests, Lords present polished their behavior. Under much calmer circumstances, the lord under the golden glow offers word.
"Ah, yes, White Bird himself, O' has many moons have gone since our last word."
Spoke under the golden light, stood a lord garmented in golden fabrics, softly decorated with jewelry, and hair thick, and Aurelian. Shouldered amongst the other Lords, the one of gold stood above, yet his aura tells that of humbled beginnings, as his smile forms warmly.
". .Yes, it was many years ago," Helinor responded,
"I'm sure you have many questions held within. I'm sure to inform you," He spoke placing his weight on the table, his eyes examining the intricacies of the map. "The darkening of the cloud slowly approaches, and the world grows thirsty. It feels as if more and more men desert their stations. O' it all so hopeless."
"I swore, my drunken father spoke of such a day, do you recall?"
Words yet long ago, Dove remembered, exclaiming a nodded gesture faintly.
". .Ah' had it been. Wars ended in duels, and blades sang songs of beauty." Helinor alluded,
"White Bird, I request you accompany us, under the Knights Of Helion."
"Where our blades strike true. ."
"and yours is familiar."