[Orevian's Point of View]
Two days before the wedding of Orelia and Noran
Father was right, the south was really an amazing place. The moment we arrived, showered with the cheers of people and the melody of trumpets and strings, we have had no need of our thick leather and fur coats that would barely keep you warm up north.
Lord Nosos Ravenhan was the kindest host. He served us wine, and gave us a feast, which he described as "much less than the true wedding's one". The food was delightful, roasted boar, beef cooked just right, and some greens, which was mostly eaten by the women. As of now, me and my father stayed at the guest quarters, which were located nicely near the courtyard, where the gardens of the keep were planted.
I often spend my time here, and it has always given me peace—since little to no flowers grow up north, and even the grass drowns under a foot of snow. The gardens are a place of thought for most people who live in Northrest Keep, especially the royal advisors, who take strolls outside once a night, talking endlessly about how they would govern the kingdom if they were king—which would be accounted for talk of treason back home.
It turns out the south is less strict than the north—either because the northerners are built hard from their times at the mines, wandering outside on their mounts while it snowed or the south really just lacked some good old discipline, which is what our ancestors used to brag about. I still remember my grandfather. "Those southern men lack a good whip on their warm asses..." he used to say, "...gone are days that men work hard! They all just set up shop at markets and wait for people to come to them, unlike us hard northern men who wander the four corners of The Northern Island just to find a worthy silver head!" he would rant during dinner.
I was only 4 when my grandfather passed and the crown went to my father, Orastor Ballister. I could still not forget the grand halls where my father was given the crown of the north, which shined in all its golden glory.
"What are you doing, mi 'lord?" asked an unfamiliar voice. It was not my father's rough voice, nor Lady Norien's stern voice, and most definitely not my sister's tender and soft voice. "It is late to have a stroll here in the gardens." the voice remarked.
I turn around to see an old man with a white beard, staring at me with his lips stretched out, forming a smile ever so sweet. "Sorry..." I say to him, "...who are you?" I ask.
"Oh!" the old man gasped, "I am sorry, Lord Ballister. I should have introduced myself first." he said with a playful chuckle. It was courtesy of people to introduce themselves before talking to a noble, especially a crown prince, back north. Perhaps he knew.
"It is alright." I reassure him, "What brings you here, kind, uh..." I pause, not knowing what to call him. I did not know who he was. Certainly, he was not one of the royal advisors, who wore robes of brown cloth and rings of silver or gold on their right hands. He wore a blue robe, laced with golden fabric, and his ring was neither made up of gold nor silver, but strangely, solid stone.
"I am a Ravenman." he told me, "My name is Ryene, your grace, member of The Ravenmen, high council members of the king..." he began, "...I serve the hand of the king, your majesty's brother, Nolean Ravenhan, who turns 45 a couple weeks from now!" he explained.
The Ravenmen? What on earth are the Ravenmen? I draw closer to him, and I ask. "What are these 'Ravenmen' you speak of?". My eyes glitter with curiosity, both palms resting atop the stone barrier that kept people from falling down from the courtyard.
"The Ravenmen are old, yes." Ryene told me, "It was made by House Ravenhan's ancestor, Noraian..." he began, "...when he ruled this keep, he instructed one young man to aid him in ruling--"
"His advisor? A Hand of The King?" I interrupt.
"An advisor, no doubt." he explained. He began to walk, and I followed closely behind him. "He would become a great advisor, wise and loyal..." Ryene said, his eyes reflecting the moonlight, "...The king was so pleased, he gave him the chance to become a teacher, one that would mentor the smartest men in the city, and personally choosing who would join him in aiding the king rule the kingdom." he finished.
He stopped in his tracks, and so did I, almost colliding into him. He looked east, towards the city of Northrest—Northrest Keep was the name of the fortress, which stood high on a rocky hill. It was named after the city itself. "What is it, Ryene?" I ask, squinting my eyes, looking out into the foggy landscape, searching for what he was looking at.
"See that large building, your grace?" he asks, pointing his finger to the distance.
I look closely, and there I see a large stone building. How long it was, covering almost twice the length of Northrest Keep, and how tall it was, reaching its way above the city walls. Its roof was made of fine blue stone tiles, the exact shade of House Ravenhan's banner. "I see it..." I told him, "...what is it?"
"That, your grace, is The Hall of Ravens." he replies, looking at me, his eyes filled with fascination and awe. Perhaps he was expecting I would praise the bilding as well. "It was once a small little thing when the first Ravenman began to teach his scholars..." he explained, "...now it has grown larger than this very keep."
"Is it just full of men who study all day?" I ask.
"Scholars, your grace..." he corrects me. I think I may have offended the man. "They are scholars, who vowed to serve their kingdom under the banner that holds the raven." he tells me.
"Why go through such hardship when you can enjoy your life?" I ask, "Up north, men are trained to be merchants..." I begin, "...they travel The Northern Island, some even going east to The Eastern Island in hopes of finding many golden heads." I tell him.
He pauses for a moment, thinking for a witty reply. "Your grace, these men made their vows to serve their kingdom because they care for the better of it..." he tells me, "...they do not care about money or fame. They also do not care for pleasures and foul women. They are wise, and they chose to enhance it to aid their kings and queens." he replied with a calm yet compassionate voice.
"So, you say they are honorable people, yes?" I ask, my curiosity growing even more. I had to move deeper.
"Indeed, they are..." Ryene began, "...they would choose honor, wisdom, and loyalty over anything." he explained, admiring The Hall of Ravens, then turning his head to me once more, waiting for a response as he stares at me.
"What are you doing here so late?" I ask.
"I come here every night, your grace..." he tells me, "...the gardens here at the courtyard are peaceful, giving me a chance to rest my mind." he explained, walking over to a grassy area and sitting down on a wooden bench. I walk towards him.
"These gardens are peaceful..." I tell him, "...you're right, Ryene."
"Now, answer my question, your grace..." the Ravenman began, "...how does living a life filled with pleasures and gold guarantee a man's honor?"
I stop to think about it. For a moment, my confidence was high, as if I knew what the answer was. I was ready to open my mouth. Of course, after some time, that pride and certainty would fade away. I could see it in his eyes just as he could see my uncertainty in mine. He grinned at me and looked away, towards the distance.
"It does not!" he exclaimed. "Wealth brings a man no honor, your grace..." he began his explanation, "...it is what he does that brings him respect." he explained, a smile on his face forming ever so slowly. "Take a bannerman, from the highest of your kingdom's rank--"
"Lion Bearers." I told him.
"Yes..." he began once more, "...Lion Bearers. Take one of them, and give him all the wealth a man could ever need! Enough for him to buy Northrest Keep and Westhold all together..." he exclaimed, his hands moving about as he went on about his parable, "...but make him a coward, a fool, and a glutton? Then he shall have the same honor as The Mad King." he finished.
"A man can use wealth, and one must understand that he must be able to please himself." I tell him. "What is the point of gold besides spending it on luxury? What is the point of luxury but to enjoy it?" I ask him.
He pauses for a moment, his hands now kept neatly beside him. "The purpose of gold is for it to be spent wisely, your grace..." he began again, "...purchase all of the luxury and vanity in the world and what do you have left? Useless pleasures, I tell you! What use will they be when they are gone? They will be worth nothing more than a pig!" he exclaimed.
"And what does good deeds get you?" I ask, curiosity hanging from my tone, "Surely, you must know that all men forget!" I explain to him.
"All men forget, but the deed lives on..." he tells me, "...life is an ocean, your grace. One drop is enough to cause a wave. Do good your whole life, and you bring good to the world..." he explains, his eyes sparkling, reflecting the moonlight, and his smile ever so... bright!
"And does the world not forget it?" I ask.
"No, it becomes a part of the world: A reminder and an effect, that will change its course greatly." he explains to me.
My mind at this time had already filled itself with so many questions and queries to ask Ryene the Ravenman. Of course, I could only pick one, as the sun had already started to rise. "Tell me..." I began, "...how can a man balance good with trust? How does one know who to trust and do good to? What if people stab him in the back?"
He contemplates, his hands fidgeting his ring, and his eyes focused on the setting blue moon. "A man must be as good, as he is wise..." he tells me, "...when someone wrongs you the first time, do not trust him again. A man must have a trust that is fragile, and he must not go on making rushed alliances and showing mercy to threats, thieves, and enemies!" he exclaims happily.
"What about loyalty and mercy?" I ask.
"Mercy is shown by sparing one of his punishments, not by rewarding him with a weapon that he can use to wrong you again. Your grace, please understand--"
Our conversation is interrupted by the sound of iron armor, its different plates colliding with one another, and the sound of men that walk towards us. Two guards approach us, each holding a spear, and each one wearing a helmet. One was of House Ballister, and the other was of House Ravenhan.
The red coat guard walks forward and takes of his helmet. What is revealed is a soldier, around 40 years old, with a scar across his cheek.
"What is the matter?" I ask.
The soldier replies calmly, with a tinge of regret in voice. "House Strix has arrived at Snow Port; they are to arrive here at the keep tomorrow."