Some role-play from the south......
Lewis rung his hands in the dark. The black, cloudless winter sky poured moonlight onto the men. The cold air of the night traced the outline of Lewis's ragged breathing as he drew himself into his cloak.
"I hate the bloody cold", Lewis whispered to himself.
Drawing in his reigns, Lewis spurred his horse forward, ahead of his makeshift band of troops. The new men from Jidington were not meshing well with the troop protocol. They'll come round in time, Lewis mused.
Half a mile out of the gates of the Jidington, the men were nervous. Monsters, undead, Diamon and gods know what else plagued the south these days. The chaotic, war-torn landscape seemed almost surreal to Lewis.
Riombara, a ghost of its former glory, could no longer protect the people of these lands, and anywhere outside of the city was plagued by lawless, desperate anarchy. Lewis didn't particularly care for commoners, their quaint little lives were beneath him, but he did love order and stability. Memories of his peaceful childhood on the East Continent played in his mind as a disturbing contrast to the burned farms and dead bodies of Riombara's former domain.
I'm gonna bloody bring a taste of law and order back to this place. Daimons be damned to oblivion. I'm going to send them back to hell and bring a little taste of civilization back to the south.
Lewis hadn't had cake in weeks, extravagant pleasures were hard to come by in the south these days, and he was determined to see that change.
He'd hire a fleet of bakers once he'd become lord. Of that, Lewis was certain. Riding into the black night, Lewis couldn't stop thinking about cake.
