Corvus Inquietus
Hrafn shook his head from side to side like a restless crow in search of a flickering gleam between the planks of the floor. He was pretending to hear his scribe read the very few letters available to him, sitting there at the Thousand Bastard's headquarters in Krimml. The tavern was empty, a little dirty and messy from the last party. For a moment he heard Erik's voice in his mind, whispering, "Let me out, son... let me out!!!" -- Then a letter caught his attention, an interesting confusion. Hrafn laughed a cheerful, childlike laugh.
Hrafn: "So, am I being confused with the Margrave of Krimml!? The Alfather would be glad to hear this. Hrafn Eyolf Serpentis, Priceps of Krimml, the Last Son of Avamar’s Golden Age. The new Black Dragon of Sirion…â€
A man could dream, obviously, but not in Sirion. A Knight who looked long into the sun would be blinded seconds before being sifted by thousand arrows. The era of the great dreamers who dreamed Sirion had long passed away and all that remained was the coma of those old men who never died, who did not even bother to look for beautiful women to leave prodigious heirs in their places. Think about blind ambition. They were like old, blind dogs, afraid to lose their already gnawed bone in fear that they would not find another damn bone to gnaw at. Erik had suffered through betrayals, and perhaps even he did not realize that it had been Sirion who created those traitors, men and women who sold and corrupted themselves in the process of trying to divide the realm. Men and women who only wanted a chance to get away from all the bad things they had experienced at Sirion's hands.
Hrafn got up and walked to the window, looking towards Trinbar as the moon rose on the horizon. His older brother would be glad to march there again, set fire to the damn recruitment centers and temples erected by a false prophet. And then, finally, in a long and delicious torture, cut off his delicate skin from head to toe until turn him into a cloak to cover himself and parade under the storm. The young Knight took his death mask and covered himself with his black cape adorned with crow's feathers and left the scribe talking alone, going down the stairs toward the street. Captain Rita was dozing there, pretending to keep the place safe. She awoke startled as Hrafn walked alone.
Captain Rita: “Milord… Sir Hrafn… where are you going in the darkâ€
Hrafn: “I’m going to see my wife to-be. I heard that Lady Sigrid is in town... did you know that I have a sister with the same name? It reminds me of when the Alfather married his own daughter. Good times.â€
He smiled and went down the street singing, his good humor returning as he bent over to steal a wild flower that was born in the cracks of the stones.
Oh yes, I'm the great pretender
Pretending I'm doing well
My need is such I pretend too much
I'm lonely but no one can tell
Oh yes, I'm the great pretender
Adrift in a world of my own
I play the game but to my real shame
You've left me to dream all alone
