A knight from the Kingdom of Men is sent on a journey that will test his sense of loyalty and honour
This story takes place in an alternative universe where there is many kingdom's surrounding Equestria, of many diffrent races. Griffins, Ponies, Dragons and Humans. Humans respect the other races as superior beings, and some worship them as Gods, After a civil war is quelled in the Kingdoms and the houses are united under the banner of the Silverbeard, the King at the time Handan loses his mind due to 'Brain Rot', invading the kingdom of Equestria out of a rash decision to help with the Kingdom's over population.
In this tale, a man by the name of Roderick Windermere of house Windermere in the Kingdom of Man must journey south into a land he had previously visited only on the buisness of war, under the banner of Handan Silverbeard. The Human's were easily defeated and Handan was seemingly killed in the battle, Roderick for his valiant attempt to save Handan's life is awarded with being Captain of the King's Vanguard (The Human's elite fighting force) and helps bring him closer to his distant father.
At a meeting of the Lords of the holds of the Kingdom, a scout who had ventured into Equestria as part of a trading party reports that the previous king is alive, and in residence with Celestia at Canterlot, he king proposes an other invasion but Roderick, seeing the horrors of conflict, volunteers himself and the King's Uncle Martin (A close friend) in an attempt to return the king, or eliminate him if he is a traitor to the realm.
In his journey he encounters many characters from the show, crossing over into their lives may be it even for a short time or a long time, but his actions may decide the fate of both the conflicting Kingdoms.
Over the hills and far away, there was a land which was inhabited by peculiar creatures; these beings preferred two feet to four. One of these beings was a man of around thirty, Roderick Windermere, a captain of the King’s Vanguard his majesty Gregory Silverbeard, The descendant of Dragons, King of Man and his entire domain and the ruler of the Griffin clans to the east. Well that was his official title but in reality the young boy of 16 lacked a Silverbeard, no dragon traits at all and Griffin’s had a ruler of their own.
In fact his Royal Highness was a Royal pain, he often over indulged himself. Expensive Armour, expensive weapons, expensive steeds, expensive hunting trips and an expensive woman, his wife Cecilia, Cecilia was quite the lady, the complete opposite from her stuck up and prude little husband, she was around the years of Twenty Seven and had long flowing locks of blonde hair, platted, silk dresses made from the Equestrian clouds and a figure that would have one thousand men lust at her feet, she was of House Goldenclaw, upon her marriage to Gregory, her father had finally brought both the houses together, North and South were at peace. But that is for another tale, perhaps I may tell one day. But back on track, her husband on the other time was short and short tempered, his messy and often greasy brown hair was unflattering, his chubby cheeks would bulge out from his gluttonous ways and he often weighed himself down with the armour of a warrior, large suits of gleaming armour forged in Dragon’s flames from Ore mined from the mountains that formed the walls of Dream Valley. A fine suit of armour that could stop a claymore slash or a unicorns horn, a suit that would be fine for any warrior, like Gregory’s Father, Handan but he was gone, a Pegasus had swooped down and dragged the brave, but foolish King from his saddle and he was never seen again, this cost the human’s the battle of Canterlot and the entire conflict, never for ten years since then have Human’s and The Equestrian inhabitants made official contact.
There was of course the unofficial, traders that would come and go, making their way through the border, slipping past his majesty’s border guards and the Equestrian Royal Infantry to be able to make contact with suppliers beyond the border, it was risky but anything that was not of the infertile land of man was of tremendous value, the clean spring water, the fine fabrics and, by Jove the food. Apples appealed to common folk the most. Those grown within’ the borders of Equestria, they could make a man cry with their sweet taste and delicious texture. But the relationship between man’s four legged foes has always been a difficult one, often the two would clash in small conflicts. Due to Human Expansionism, Pony naivety or general social tension between the two, peace had long been wanted, especially with such an elegant, loving and caring race. But the thought of peace between the two was shattered, as Handan, King of Men grew mad.
He was a fine man, brave, true and loyal. Who cared for his people, loved his people and loved people of all peoples. Pony, griffin, dragon, all were equal in his eye, the king throughout his sixty years on the God’s earth were that of trying to seal the social divide between humans and their co-existences. But the jolly King was stopped in his tracks, not by a blade nor arrow, nor magic nor that of a woman. But that of disease, rot of the brain. Handan the True, King of Men had become Handan the Mad, he without warning would raise taxes, this would cause peasants to lose land, people began to starve, farms were left abandoned as people fled to the Domain’s hold capitols, that of Dragon’s Bend, Queen’s Vale, Pykeweed and even the Kingdom’s capital itself, Hornwood Keep. With the cities filled with that of refugees from the dying country side, the mad king did what he believed was necessary, to expand the borders south into the peaceful land of Equestria, this is where the Mad King would meet his fate, this is where the young Sergeant at Arms, son of Glensmane Windermere of house Windermere would prove himself beyond the rank and file, and be entrusted with the duty of Vanguard to his Majesty, the ruler of men. Into the unknown they marched, unwillingly, only the fanatic believed it was right to war a race so loving, simply due to the whim of a mad man, but the men were duty bound and they believed it best for their country, with the right amount of indoctrination that is, Dream Valley would be the first and last battle of the short war, Dream Valley to the ponies that dwelled in the southern lands of Canterlot, but was known as Rein’s Glade and the supposed death of Handan, and the defeat of 50’000 men at the hands of a race seen less of that in might than those upon two legs.
It was a chilly morning as the camp broke, the Banner men of his Majesty Silverbeard awoke the troops, docile from sleep with the thundering of trumpets that blasted their tune throughout the glade, within minutes the tents collapsed and arms were brought to sheath as the clock struck that of around 10 and they sallied forth, as they passed through the glade things became more pleasant, the air became cleaner and pleasant to breath, the temperature was nothing more than a cool breath, which allowed the men to march with little more ease, their steal suits not baking the inhabitants. Then from the sky were to be the men’s demise, swooping down were the Pegasus Airborne Regiments, the leading trooper that appeared to be that of many colours let out a blast of multi-colours, a stunning, beautiful yet intimidating spectacle, Roderick dropped the banner into the dirt, not caring for pity cloth as his king’s life was now on the line, he was mad yes but the men still had love for him, maybe there was still hope. He raised his board shield, wooden and strong with the unicorn of house Windermere proudly displayed on the front, white in front of a black and red background, much like his house’s banner.
There were too many to count, their hooves wielded that of golden lances, helms that gleamed in the sun and distorted the sight of the King’s Crossbow’s, so aiming was not so easy, then there was their powers that the human's feared, stories foretold of how the ancient men used to appease the ponies, the griffins, the dragons, they feared them. Like one would fear a god.
One swooped down, coming for the king, lance lowered, a silver tip that would pierce even the truest of hearts barrelled towards the king, as the men surrounding braced their own bodies for impact from the incoming assault Roderick did the stupid, but right thing. Without drawing his blade he raced across a regiment of crossbow men, some firing off into the incoming squadron of fanatic flying fiends. Some attempting to burry into the earth out of their hearts sinking at the sight of such magnificent, awe inspiring beauty of their imminent demise. Roderick leaped, drawing up his heavy board shield he dove flung his body across his king, barely reaching the height of his majesties Stallion, taking the blunt force of the foes shafted blade. The top of the shield shattered, sending wooden chunks flinging across the ranks, clattering against armour, the Pegasus itself was flung off balance, spiralling beyond the ranks of the King’s Crossbows and amongst the Spear Militias, the crash and clanking of armour had been followed by a screech and thrusting, twisting of spears.
In pain Roderick lay on the gentle grass, around him the battle commenced, men dropped and fled, many dropped and died from the aerial assault, Roderick finally stood, only to turn and face an empty saddle, he gazed up to a yell as the once mighty king was flown off, ripped from his saddle with the tear of leather and the twisting of his steel boots, his Silverbeard floated with a strange elegance in the wind. His fading figure finally disappeared, to a somewhat sad but accepting feeling from Roderick; he would finally be amongst the ancestors and the Gods. And perhaps they could cure his madness. Roderick turned to face the Valley’s gentle sloping sides, upon it where Earth Ponies, prepared with blade, with spear, with horn and their ancient arts of Magic to rain destruction upon the primitive men, Roderick glanced across to a fallen banner man, golden horn around his waist, and a golden lance in his chest. He quickly dashed across, tripping over the fallen equipment and fallen comrades, he fell flat on his chest, the brunt of the ground taken by his breast plate, he gripped the horn firmly in his hands, leaning his head up he wailed on the thing, the valley full of panicking men back, back to their homes and family where they once came. The Equestrian’s mercy was upon the fleeing 20’000.
Kingless, and defeated the army returned, led by the King’s brother Martin, he would now be the ruler, but he forfeited the crown with a little persuasion from the king’s council on behalf of his infertility, to the King’s son Gregory. At the moment too young to take the crown, the council would rule for the few years to come, until the future came became of age at around twelve.
But Martin was a wise man, and knew a brave man when he had witnessed one, he saw Roderick’s vain attempt at saving Handan’s life, his valour and dedication to duty was that of what the men around him lacked, and the grief stricken brother who could not stand up for himself stood up for young Roderick, commending House Windermere for his actions. Roderick’s father was proud of his son; he was a bastard of a kitchen whore. But he was his son, and he in private wrote to him from the Windermere’s domain in Castle Red Rock, his wife despised the dark haired son, who was no son of hers, and often detested how her husband would write to him more frequently to their other children who were spread doing their house duties throughout the kingdom. Roderick’s father often reminded his son how he was sorry to send his son so far south to join the King’s army in the first place, Roderick forgave him, understanding his father’s predicament, and how his desire for a single kitchen wench could drive the family apart. This commendation not only brought renown to the Windermere household and name, but also to Roderick, within two years of the incident he was leading the Vanguard, the King’s finest, first in to the heat of battle, and the last to leave, to return wielding their blades or upon their shields.
So that is things up to now, Ten years passed of the King’s Vanguard growing in numbers with Roderick Windermere at the helm of it, training Gregory’s forces for all threats foreign and domestic, Roderick often thinks back to his short time in Equestria, and often longed to return to learn of the creatures that have influenced his people for eons, but he knew with a vengeful king on the throne this would not be possible.
But nothing is impossible, in this land, a land where the arts of magic are common as dirt, where powerful beings roam the land, worshipped and feared.
Hornwood Keep, Things there had changed since Handan’s rule, ten years since he had once roamed the halls of the Castle, ten years since his banner men took up arms and marched unwillingly into the south, The Equestrian war was just a distant memory for some, some the scars they bare and the ones they lost still haunts them. Roderick simply looks back upon those days with disappointment, the throwing away of life on such a whim and for no noble cause. He tended not to dwell on the past bad memories too much; to open such wounds would cause the death of even the strongest of men. He often thought though’ of the beauty of the land, and he would be fond to returning.
The King’s day of birth was a week and a half away, he anticipated the date anxiously, for soon he would be a year closer to becoming a man, and believe me the commoners need a man to lead them, not a child. There was of course Cecilia his wife; she anticipated her husband’s maturing for different reasons, for it takes a man to please such a needing woman. Right now he was in court; the Lords of the land rally around the king’s throne every new moon, to kiss his boots for aid in their earthly problems. This of course demanded the King’s Vanguard, to be ad his side, not to keep the peace but it was because the King simply loved having a group of men at his whim, he loved to flaunt his toy soldiers, and believed me he itched to play with them on a much larger scale.
Roderick’s abode was a small room in the Goose’s Nest, an inn planted on the King’s Lane, a long cobblestone street clustered with open shops and homes situated above them, in the evening the sun would shine directly down the street at dusk, illuminating it in a comforting orange glow before fading behind the castle, giving the stretching stone monolith it was quite an intimidating look. This is how it was at the moment; the hour drew to seven hours past noon.
The Vanguard was already assembled in the Great Hall, they just lacked Roderick’s presence, he was making himself presentable for the lords, he had trimmed his dark beard neatly so that it wrapped around his chin and mouth nicely, stretching up to the locks of his hair, and extended no further than that. He ran a hand across his face, feeling the small nick on his face just above his right chin, before running a hand through his long black hair, that just sank to his shoulders and no more, he messed up the fringe, letting his hair dangle which way or the other.
He adjusted his leather boots, tightening the strap over the rim of them, which ascended to mid-way up his calf. Their toes were that of steel, shining to perfection, dark padded trousers the length of his legs hung over the boots and were fastened with a silver buckle, a leather undershirt protected his torso, then was draped in a steel shell of a breast plate, gleaming it presented an engraved unicorn, that of the Windermere house, his sleeves were both red and black, and were protected by steel greaves, fastened with leather straps around his arms. He was ready.
He closed the door of his room behind him, twisting the iron key in the lock, before sliding it under a thatched matt that lay at his feet in front of the door, the hallway was musty and brown, smelt of mead and was quite humid, he anticipated the outside.
Leaving he was greeted by a familiar figure upon a stallion, griping a second horse by the saddle on his right. Martin, the King’s Uncle, cheated from the throne. He wore a similar outfit to that of Roderick, but the sleeves were green and white, he was a more aged man, middle-ages, greying black hair and a long beard that stopped at his chest. With a smile, Roderick clambered into the saddle, gently digging the spurs into the side of his steed; the two began to chat as they walked into the setting sun, towards the castle in the distance. People were walking past on the narrow street, clearing the way for the carts of hay in front of the pair, which they tended to stick behind.
“I never understood why the Silverbeard banner is that of a bear.” Roderick spoke, proceeding to make idle conversation as they made the short journey, bobbing along in his armour , a moment or two passed before Martin replied “Bear Fuckers, our ancestors were so fierce that we fucked bears.” He looked to Roderick with a grin, laughing internally at his quite blunt comment, Roderick laughed at the crude humour, “Aye, We Windermere’ loved unicorn cunt.” They both laughed in unison. Trotting across the wooden drawbridge, two Vanguards gave a salute to their Captain, placing a hand across their chest and bowing, he nodded in acknowledgement. The men two sentries wore that armour common amongst the Vanguard, plated steel armour, with the chest engraved with the house in which they are from or where their lords are from, most have the bear of Silverbeard, due to the family holding a majority of the Holds in the Kingdom. Their helmets were great helms, covering their faces besides the eyes, slits allowing them to see, and they often had feathers, extending from the top in a loom.
The stage hands had taken in the horses of the two, a stable was in the courtyard, along with a fountain and a small barracks with a thatched roof in which the sentries stayed, and sometimes it would have the pleasure of accommodating Roderick or another honoured guest.
The large wooden doors of the keep opened, the atrium was quite large, decorated with carvings of previous figureheads which dwelled within these halls, the most recent was that of Handan, was a sad sight to see such a man once so alive, cold in stone. A red carpet ran straight across the stone floor, leading to another set of large wooden doors, from within these doors was the king’s throne room, the king’s voice was muffled but audible through the doors, the couple gave long strides towards the two doors “The little prick has started without us.” Martin spoke, loud enough for anyone within the atrium to here, everyone besides the king understood that Martin had a dislike for his nephew, but felt it was his duty as a royal family member to support his often stupid decisions.
The doors swung open, the king stopped mid-sentence and all eyes drew to the late two, the lords stood on the right of the carpet, around ten of them formed in a square, all standing, and to the left of the carpet was the Vanguard that the king, as I previously mentioned. Loved to show off, around fifty of those individuals, armed with their side-arms of course, steel short blades. The king’s throne was larger than the Queens, it had a golden cousin, but Gregory had added one additional feature for it, a step to aid him onto it. The Queens was smaller, and sat a bit lower than the King’s on his left, it was decorated with red cousins, and it was currently occupied by the Queen herself, her legs closed together slightly, her hands on her knees, her dress was that golden in colour, it went to her ankles, and came down to elbow length, her shoes were slip on little black things. Her dress exposed her cleavage, same men found their eyes wondering when before the King.
The King himself had his golden crown perched upon his brown, greasy hair he had a green and white cloak, with a fur scarf around his neck, a golden necklace around his thick neck, his pants were a dark blue, and his shoes were laced, fine leather from the finest of cattle.
“Ah, Uncle, I see you’ve brought the bastard to the King’s Court.” This ‘humorous’ comment was met with the forced laughter of the Lords, but the Vanguard found it quite dry. Gregory believed that Roderick found his jokes funny, but in fact it annoyed him, some day he may come to regret such jokes.
Before Martin could retort, a messenger ran in, panting he held a letter, the wax seal broken, he pushed past Roderick and Martin, approaching the king he kneeled, his light armour tinkling slightly as his knee bent “My King, I have news…” The King sat down in a huff, folding his arms he was annoyed that a commoner would interrupt his stand-up. The Queen rolled her eyes, staying silent she internally thought of how her life would have been if she wasn’t forced to marry such a right royal twat.
“Our rakes in Equestria, they had been posing as traders from Dragon’s Bend word has been spreading of a human currently having residence with that Princess of the Equestrians, Celestia…” Anxiously the King sat forward in his chair, awaiting the rest of the panting scout’s message; this even piqued the interest of the quite distant Queen, breaking her from her daydream.
“Your father my Lord, Handan dwells with the Gods, the Equestrians.” The messenger whimpered out, followed by a gasp from every individual that heard the man’s words, except for Martin and Roderick, he simply passed a look of disbelief to each other, both being present at the battle those ten years ago.
The King slowly sat back in his chair, running a hand across his chin, rubbing the forming hair on his chin “A hostage?” He spoke, looking quite concerned “I regret to say, we have no clue of the current predicament, but no human would…” The king waved his hand, seemingly coming to a conclusion “My father would not be taken hostage by such a feeble people, he would have died. Even in his mad state he would not have submitted to those four legged fiends.” A slight murmur came from the lords. “Then again he is mad…” The King tried to keep his cool, but all this was a shock to him so it was quite visible, he shivered slightly.
His eyes drew up to Martin and Roderick, he then spoke “Bastard and dear Uncle, You were present at the battle of Rein’s Glade, you witnessed my father’s so called demise. What do you propose?” The two give each other another glance, Roderick spoke up in a loud voice, echoing to a degree throughout the extended hall “Your father was taken in the heat of Battle your highness, the only way to understand this story is if we asked him.” He spoke in a stern, serious tone, lacking humour but somehow it was received with laughter “Last time a human army entered the southern Kingdom Thirty Thousand men perished!” A call came from Lord Quinn of the Northern heights, his son John was the House’s banner man, and he lay amongst the dead of that day.
“Who proposed an army Lord Quinn? Who proposed any hostile action towards these people! We simply ask for his Majesty, and try to make sense of a-“ His sentence was cut short, the king butted in.
“Enough of this! Bastard, if you wish to return my father so much, then you go and get him; take five hundred men and go!” He shouted, Roderick thought for a moment, about to speak before Martin interrupted “Nephew, I believe the Equestrians would object to five hundred humans, marching into their lands, I agree with Lord Quinn and Roderick, the idea of a company going into that land is absurd!” The king rolled his eyes, looking at his wife for a look of mutual agreement, but was met with her side as she turned away, looking down, her eyes fixed upon Roderick.
Roderick stood forward to speak, looking to the Queen for a moment who gave him a slight smile, slightly confused he refocused himself and projected his voice to the king “Martin and I shall go, we shall go to the Equestrians and reclaim your Father… or deal with him according to said circumstances.” His ‘court’ voice trailed off into a more concerned tone as he finished his sentence.
Gregory sat back in his throne, silence gripped the court as all this happened so fast “So be it, you shall be gone by first light, and you have until my birthday to return. If you have failed in your duty then expect a more hostile approach to those so called ‘Gods.’” Martin sighed, he had no desire to go, but he had nothing to stay for. Nodding to his Nephew he confirmed his commitment.
Without them asking, the king waved his hand, excusing the two, they left turned and left through the doors a few steps behind them, the whole meeting had only taken less than an hour to unfold, but it would cause many a sleepless night. Entering the courtyard from the Atrium, the sun had finally set, a groundskeeper, dressed in a beige overcoat began to bring out the lanterns from within the barracks.
The couple stood, their conversation started with a sigh from Martin “Stupid Idea, I vowed to myself never to return there.” Roderick laid a converting hand on his shoulder “Our King… Our true king depends on us, that little shit in there is going to make the same mistake as his father if we don’t get to him soon.” Roderick put his hand on his waist again, sighing. No amount of responsibility should be put on two individual’s shoulders, the fate of two generations, and two kingdoms.
Martin turned, going to his horse “We shall ride from here at dawn, for now I am off to say my goodbyes and have a nice cup of ale.” Roderick gave a faint laugh “Aye, I wish to keep a clear mind for the ‘morrow brother.” Martin smirked at his comment “I shall bunk in the barracks for this evening friend, till dawn.” He gave a wave to his mounted friend, who returned the gesture, trotting off on his horse to the drawbridge, which was soon pulled up after his departure. Chains rattling as it had so.
Only then had it hit him, He was to go back to the land in which he often thought of, he had mixed feelings of excitement and anticipation, and also that of dread. Roderick thought back to the events in the King’s Court, many things crossed his mind, but one that he often though about on the short walk to the barracks, was the Queen’s smile.
Roderick laid to bed in a little private quarter of his in the Vanguard barracks, on into the night the shouts from the men, their chanting and their drinking all audible from his room where he yearned for a good rest for the ‘morrow’s journey. He slept ready for the great adventure, only his steel plates removed, still burdened with his underclothes. His sword laid long the bedside, recently cleaned and shined by the Court’s Blacksmith apprentice, a young boy by the name Jormont. What he lacked in physical appearance, with his freckled face, puffed cheeks and red hair, he made up for in his craft, fine Celestial Steel War hammers to Iron Ingots used to forge blunt Maces or savage picks. The Blacksmith himself, the men of the court simply dubbed him as Smithy, is the proclaimed best blacksmith in all of the Kingdom of Man; he personally designs and forges the armour of the Vanguard, and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men, and if it broke he’d put it all back together again.
The room itself was quite compact, a single bed stretched along a blank, brown wall that had a tapestry of a quite muddled scene woven and displayed along it, to the left of the bed was a small table, two chairs, this sat right in front of the harsh, weathered wooden door. The foot of the bed was a dresser, in which Roderick’s armour currently occupied, to the left of the bed, right of said door was a fire place, the embers burned out, a poker strewn forth from its mouth and laid across the carpet, which brought together the whole room and made the cold wooden floor more appealing. The hour grew late, the men grew quiet and Roderick finally began to bunker down for rest, until he was disturbed at his chamber door with three, swift knocks. The already edged Roderick became flustered by this, simply wishing to quicken the painful wait until his departure the following morning. Sitting up with a sigh he looked towards the door, placing his bare feet upon the floor he stood, lifting them ever so carefully he took two long strides at was greeted by the wooden door, drawing across the brass cover off the peep hole he peered through, the he caught the figure of an anonymous individual, draped in a raincoat similarly to that of a groundskeeper of the castle, Roderick drew weary, cautiously he opened the door, both hands ready to slam it shut at the gleam of a dagger.
“Who awakes me with a bump in the night?” he spoke with a yawn, attempting to intimidate the individual, who in return simply brought down their hood and razed their head, he was greeted with a pair of blue eyes and platted blonde hair “Oh… Your majesty…” he gave a slight bow, opening his door so that he was in total view, and more open to discussion rather than through an ajar door.
“I had no idea it was you my Queen, what brings you to my door at such an hour?” He smiled politely, she brought up a hand, in it was a bottle of what appeared to be a red wine “A gift Captain, from I and my ‘loving’ husband… for your trip…” Roderick took the bottle, looking at the label he smiled “From the grasslands of the south, Good old human labour with Equestrian fruits…” he gave a faint laugh, before looking up to her again “I am flattered your majesty.” He turned to his side, placing the bottle on the table, as he did so the Queen invited herself in; Roderick looked up, annoyed at her arrogance but was in no position or lacked the motivation to complain.
The Queen pulled up her dress slightly as she took a seat by the table, facing the bed and the opposite chair, Roderick proceeded to occupy the other chair, about to speak but interrupted “Yes, I get my fruit from the Equestrians; you just have to know the right traders… I know of an orchard in a hamlet known of ‘Pony-Ville’ by the Gods they produce most delicious apples.” She smiled.
Roderick smiled, pulling the cork from the bottle “Aye, I would tell you my tales but they are not suited for a lady such as you.” They laughed in unison; Roderick poured the fair lady a mug of the fine wine, it was the mug of a peasant but of all things the barracks lacked the least present thing was that of class.
She took the glace gracefully, Roderick watched as she raised it to her soft red lips, she sipped and smiled, Roderick began to attempt and comprehend what in the seven hells is going on, placing his arms on the table, interlocking his fingers beside the open bottle he spoke “Your husband would be missing you my Queen.” She gave a forced laugh “Yes, my husband…” She sighed, and with that another drink. It did not take a Mage of the Glades to understand that this woman was not satisfied and took no joy in being coupled with her husband.
“I knew your father Lady Goldenclaw.” He addressed her formally but by her maiden name, reminding her of her once proud house, her ear was upon him as well as her interest “I was but a boy, but he was a fine man. He would come to Red Rock Castle for a Tourney or simply to speak with my father, I was not welcome at the table to eat with him, but of my siblings he treated me equal to them, in his eyes I was no bastard…” She nodded; delighted in the change of subject she gave Roderick a grin “My father is a wise man…” she finished the drink, then let out a sigh.
They simply shared a look for a few moments; Roderick broke the silence “It was a pleasure having your presence tonight my lady…” He stood up, letting out a sigh to attempt to break the awkward silence “But I think you should be going…” She quickly rotated to him in her chair, straining her dress as it got caught on the table “Wait! I don’t want to go back…” She turned away from Roderick, shocked at her outburst “I mean, I don’t wish to return to my husband yet…” she sunk her head slightly. Roderick could tell she was upset, he constantly saw his father and his wife argue, most of the time about Roderick himself, and constantly being referred to as ‘Your Bastard’, the word still hurts him today. He knew the two had been fighting, for what cause he did not want to ask or intrude, he knew that the King was quite the stuck up little shit, constantly getting his breeches in a twist and lashing out at others for it, she was just another victim.
“Take my chamber.” He spoke, looking down at her; she turned to him slowly, still visibly upset “Captain Windermere…?” she whimpered “Is no trouble to me.” He responded, in fact it was trouble, he just wanted a rest. Some solace from the task ahead of him. The young woman leaped from the chair, wrapping her arms around the neck of Roderick, who himself was caught off guard, the Queen hugging a bastard son from the Red Rocks of the West; awkwardly he patted her on the back. Without another word, she released him, looking up with a smile to the six foot man, and he looked down to her, turning on his bare heels he walked out, gently shutting the door behind himself he peered across to her, standing in her gold dress with her hands held in front of her, still looking unsatisfied, as she had done since she entered. And with that he closed the door.
Still in a daze from his awakening and from the whole surreal situation, Roderick slumped against the wall facing his room in the narrow, dimply lit stone corridor, placing his heads between his lap he attempted to get some rest in this sleepless, bizarre evening.
