Feast at Giask - Part I
Nicholas inspected himself in the ornate, gold-encrusted mirror. He grimaced at what he saw. Broad-shouldered and chested, but stocky. Long in the face and too solemn by far. Although his attire, crafted of expensive silks, was of fine quality, befitting a nobleman of the realm, it felt a superficial sham. He tugged on his cloak, adjusting the clasp; it was a sweeping thing, black with a gold trim. Though he would have sooner arrived in armour befitting the battlefield, it would have to do.
His first day in the capital had led up to this. Trudging through the aristocratic sections of the city, a grim-faced youth amidst a sea of colour and esteem. Visiting the most vaunted barbers and tailors in Giask, to ensure he would arrive at the feast in a manner befitting a Knight of Poryatown and nobleman of Luria. The noise had felt deafening; a cacophony of voices and sounds, a far cry from the edge of the empire he was comfortable with.
The Swords had been left with their new additions, having finished the day’s training, while Nicholas himself had left for the palace. The guards had let him pass without much fuss, recognising quickly his stature. Guards, the common soldiery, these were people he knew how to deal with. Honest, simple men without lofty ambition. No doubt the guests within the palace were to be of a different species altogether. It did not soothe him to think that.
Eventually, with a deep inhale of air, Nicholas strode away from the mirror and continued down the pristine corridor. As he approached the great hall, a trio of women of the court tittered at the sight of him. Is my cloak unclasped again? Do I look ridiculous? Doubts beset him, but it was too late to turn tail and run. He had seen the undead before; a few border skirmishes in the Archival Estate had given him that. But those creatures did not instil in him such fear as this - with steeled nerves, he entered.
He looked across the huge room, taking in all the majesty the palace revealed, grey eyes too bland by far for such sights. Striding forth with the rigid discipline of a seasoned soldier - and stiff by the standards of a courtier - he approached a nearby servant, while his attention was caught by the sight he had hoped for after but a few goblets of wine. Aldrakar Renodin; his liege. It seemed as though the King of Earth’s Hall was occupied with another, a man he supposed he recognised from the streets of Poryatown, though could not place a name to the face.
Sir Nicholas plucked a goblet, heavy with wine, and took a long gulp. As he considered his options, he caught some words, quietly spoken as though without the intent to be overheard. It was convenient was so closely placed. He glanced sidelong to see another of the court - apparently within the same position as he.
"First, wine, I will be needing lots of wine", he muttered to himself.
~ Benedict Dupont
“
That would be you and I both, sir,†Nicholas remarked, a faint smile touching his lips with wine not long to follow. “
Sir Nicholas Archival, Knight of Poryatown. And you?†he asked. Confidence amongst cowards was an easy thing to find.
