Reunification of the Kingdom [Lady Grimoire x Chevalier]

[Lady Grimoire]

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Reunification of the Kingdom
Restoring the Elysian Dynasty; Prince Oliver's Lineage
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The seat of the Emmerian Kingdom sat empty.​

Despite the usurper who now called it his own. King Roderick Elyse, a man who killed his own elder brother to be king. Several pieces had to be put in place, internal alliances forged, and there had been no better moment than when Prince Oliver had departed on a diplomatic mission to the ocean-side lands of Saelices. Deep within their borders, in the capital of Lucillos, where negotiations had been taking place to reunite Saelices, Huetre and Emmeria, he'd recieved the news. His father, King Nero Elyse, had been slain naught two days after he'd left.

There was nothing he could have done--little he could do. It also came with the news that he had been declared the traitor, an enemy of the kingdom. The reason? So the rumours held: he had killed his own father before he'd left in hopes he would not be suspected when the discovery was made days later. An entire falsehood that no true son or daughter of Emmeria would ever believe, and yet, no challenge was made for the throne. No second coup to remove the illegitmate ruler.

Fear and torture were powerful things. Whispers of stories to the contrary were secreted out and squashed, along with all those who had been too loyal to the former King or the ex-Prince. That included the entourage Oliver had taken with him into his neighboring state; assassins amongst the ranks had slain them all and nearly Oliver himself too once news reached his ears. Fortunately, the men of the ocean-state and Oliver himself were not slouches as far as engagements were concerned.

Countess Caterina Symilor of Saelices offered the man asylum. A safe harbour to plan his next move. Shortly thereafter, a second messenger arrived from Huetre from the new Emperor Julien Garreau. The former Empress, Helena, and his father's wife, it turned out to have met the same fate during a moment when the two had absconded from their royal duties. Not only did the message contain this news, but it also contained a request: a meeting to discuss the 'problem of Emmeria' and mention that the war had been reignited and several towns already lay in ruin.

It was a plea for aid, as much as a request for an alliance and an olive branch towards Huetre's willingness to back the Prince over the false King.

For now, other lands were silent on the matter. The wyverns of Nogaya, ruled by Lord Ishii Tetsuya, despite their proximity to Emmeria itself, made no offer as the Emperor of Huetre had. No doubt, the city-states of Acotzan were still discussing the matter between their three Tlatoque--Tahuahu, Chuanoca and Panqui--and a consensus would not be easily, or soon reached. Those of Zangala likely cared little for the plight of an eastern kingdom, while the horse lords of Vyaversk and their Khagan Daritai would only care if Roderick's forces crossed the border. A misstep the newly-crowned King was unlikely to perform. In all, it would seem this internal struggle would remain isolated to the Prince's small corner of the map for the time being.

Regardless, sitting on his hands was not the way to restore his name, retake his father's throne, free his people nor unify the three lands into one singular whole once more. Although Saelices had offered asylum, military aid was held back out of concern for being dragged into the war themselves. All Prince Oliver had to his name was what he took with him, and any Saelician mercenaries who would accept his coin as he set out for the border.

A week to arrive in Lucillos, and three days to return to the border. The capital's position allowed him to land right in the area where the three lands met; a settlement colloquially referred to as The Crossroads. It even prided itself upon that fact with signs that declared where each road came to an end. However, not all was well in the moderately-sized settlement.

Due to the place it had fallen, jurisdiction on just who owned, and was responsible for the town was iffy at the best times. It was technically neutral, as it had a storied history of serving as the meeting ground for several rulers in the past civil war that broke Saelices, Huetre and Emmeria part, and it rarely took sides in disputes. Times being what they were, well, that had changed.

Clear blue skies on a midsummer's day, with the sun peaking high above, vision had been clear for miles. That allowed the approaching Prince to spy far in advance the group of a near dozen Pegasus Knights who flew in from the west and landed amongst the town. A brief pause, and a little more observation even allowed him to note that there were more than just Emmerian pegasi within the city's limits--there were some knights and foot soldiers too.

It left him in a tricky position. There was the obvious route of backtracking, hoping to not be spotted and traveling further up the border pending whether he wished to see King Roderick, or Emperor Julien before crossing. Less obvious routes included liberating the town, or perhaps even trying to make turncoats of those within. The pride of the Emmerian people being what it was, however, it was impossible to say how that would unfold.

In either case, a decision for himself--or his small entourage--needed to be made. Crossroads had not been sacked, the people still lived, worked, and the children still played. However, there was a clear shift in tone from what it had been when he had passed through the first time. A more sullen, oppressive look in the actions and upon the faces of the people, at least as far as the Prince could tell from his safe distance.

Would the Prince flee to summon allies, attempt to free the people of the illegitimate ruler's grasp, ask a proud people to turn traitor or... was there another option available to him that was not quite so obvious?

 

[Chevalier]

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The Kingdom is in turmoil.
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The recent death of King Nero has thrust the realm into chaos, the Emmerian throne usurped by the late King's younger brother. Though the throne rightfully belonged to Prince Oliver, it seemed that he was powerless in the rapid turn of events. Indeed, several choices lay before the Prince... and each one held consequences that may very well cost him his life. Perhaps the safest of the options was to find asylum among the Saelices. Here he could very well find himself safe from harm, but at the same time, he would find himself a political hostage at the mercy of another realm that held no loyalty to him. Who knows if the Saelices would use him as a bargaining chip when pressured by the Emmerian army? No, he would need to return to Emmeria before his uncle can consolidate power, before the lords and ladies of Emmeria officially bend their knees for a new king.

He would have to fight... and it would have to be now.
​

The exiled Prince moved across the open land, carrying nothing but the clothes upon his back and Luna, the ancestral sword of the Elyse family. He had originally considered hiring mercenaries to support his claim, but without access to the royal treasury, it was only a matter of time until such mercenaries would deliver him to King Roderick on a silver platter. Mercenaries only fought for gold... and King Roderick had far more of it than Oliver did.

As Oliver moved closer to the nearby town, he could see the Pegasi knights that circled in the azure skies above, the knights and warriors that had begun to occupy the border town. Oliver knew the geography well. During times of war, it is the border towns such as the Crossroads that are the first to be destroyed. King Nero had promised to end the conflicts with their neighbors, now an illegitimate King was bringing soldiers to their very doorstep with the intent of starting war with their neighbors. If Oliver couldn't convince the soldiers in the town to his cause, then perhaps the town itself may side with him instead.

As the lone Prince approached the town, his regal, blue cape flowed in the wind behind him. He took no attempts to hide his identity or appearance, instead, he moved across the open ground with a sense of gravitas and pride. His cadence would quickly be noticed by the first of the town guard, who would have no questions to the Prince's true identity. "I am Prince Oliver Elyse, first and only son of King Nero, the true heir to the Elyse line and the Emmerian Throne." Oliver declared to the men that stood in front of him. As the soldiers reached for their arms, he shook his head in disgust, "Your King and Queen have been murdered and you raise swords against his son? We are all sons and daughters of Emmeria. Tell me, where has our honor gone?" Crossing his arms behind his back, the Prince straightens his posture, "If Emmeria's guardians have lost all sense of reason; so be it." His sapphire eyes narrow, glaring towards the men that were now cautiously wielding weapons in his direction.

"Come, brave warriors; come and kill your Prince, if that is what you truly desire."​

Indeed, the soldier who brings Roderick the head of Prince Oliver would live comfortably for the rest of his life. But Oliver knew that the Emmerians were a proud people, ones that understood the meaning of justice and order. Oliver can see that a crowd of villagers was beginning to form behind the soldiers... and the winged Pegasi that circled above were now beginning their descent to the Earth below, noticing the commotion from their high vantage points. It seemed that Oliver's journey would either begin or end within the next few moments. A gust of wind tore through the area as the first of the great Pegasi knights landed across the open ground, galloping to a stop.

Each Knight of the Pegasus swears an oath of loyalty to the Royal Elyse Family, to protect the Kingdom and to uphold justice in times of darkness. Oliver's family, his retinue had been slaughtered by assassins. How could such loyal warriors follow his brother knowing this? "Who leads this garrison? I seek an audience." Oliver inquired, watching as the knights drew ever closer towards him. Though he does well to maintain his composure, he knows well that any one of these women could cut him down if given adequate reason to do so. But Oliver would never show any signs of weakness, for he was the true heir to Emmeria... and whether anyone planned to side with him, deep down, everybody knew it.

 

[Lady Grimoire]

A lone traveler may have gone ignored, if a bit of subtly had been used, but a lone rider with such a regal appearance caught some eyes. What caught the most attention was the man declaring him Prince Oliver of Emmeria. Whispers moved through the crowd like wildfire, and some of the guardsmen shouted down the streets and drew more out toward the entrance to the Crossroads. In all, about three handfuls of men with spears, some turned toward the crowd to stave them off from getting in the way.

Of all the Pegasus Knights he had spied earlier, only three had landed for the moment. Two of them were dark haired women with helmets that held face masks obscuring their identity, while the third had removed her helmet--allowing her long, coppery hair to spill down and around her shoulders some. "I do," she stated through a slightly clenched jaw, lip curled in almost a snarl as she peered at Oliver with sharp hazel eyes. "And you're the murderer of a good King, Oliver... " Despite the firm nature of her initial words, the ones she followed with were spoken with a far more uncertain and uneasy manner. The Prince's name, too, spoken in a less formal and more familiar way.

"That he is!" Another voice shouted above, a man in plate riding horseback escorted by a second more lightly armoured person likewise mounted. He trudged through the crowd in such a way that made it clear the people had two choices: be tramped, or get out of his way--allowing him to quickly push himself to the head of the group. "Mera, my authority here is absolute. Our good King Roderick sent me to find the wayward Prince and bring him to justice for his crimes. How nice of him to come to us instead."

Mera barely turned her head; she gave the man a sidelong glance but kept her gaze mostly focused on the Prince as she answered: "My Pegasi have-"

"-Been dismissed." the Knight interrupted, causing Mera's head to snap to the side and glare daggers.

"We had discussed this. The Crossroads are mine as is everything that comes into reach," Mera said in answer, and her Pegasus sensed his rider's agitation--snorting and stomping in the man's direction, who shook his head and chuckled out a reply: "You gave me your opinion, I merely ignored it."

The knight rode forward. "Oliver, I am Ser Tristin. I am the one in charge here, as a knight-commander for the good King. One of a small handpicked group who were sent to the borders to bring justice to you for your murder of your father. Your pontificating aside, we can resolve this like men or children. Lay down your sword and come quietly." He motioned with a hand to the guardsmen as he spoke, prompting them to fan outward in an attempt of encircling the Prince.

Ser Tristin's face was rough, and recently shaven. Although he had cropped black hair, he bared the wrinkles of a man a decade beyond his prime, but his blue eyes brimmed with confidence nonetheless. That was, perhaps, on account of those with him. Through the exchange, the red-haired man on horseback next to him remained silent. He kept a hand on the holstered sword on his horse, his eyes on Oliver, but his expression was neutral much unlike those men fanning outward in Oliver's direction.

Many of them appeared uneasy. Some were clearly green, others uncertain over the situation. It was likely Roderick expected the town to be taken easily, and he must have considered it unlikely Oliver would be so bold as to stride up to the city itself, hence why Tristin hadn't a whole cavalry behind him. It was clear beyond anything else, however, that he knew his assassin had failed.

 

[Chevalier]

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It seemed that in the few days Oliver had been sparse, propaganda had already bled into the hearts and minds of the people. Indeed, Oliver's father had been a good King, so much so that his death now blinded those once loyal to him with unbridled rage. "And why would I kill my father? So that I may become King faster?" Oliver retorted, pointing out how stupid the Pegasus Knight's reasoning was. "I'm already the Crown Prince, my ascendancy to the throne guaranteed by my father's old age. Tell me, what would I have to gain by killing my own father... my own mother... a few years? Now I ask you, what do I have to lose? Everything." He hoped that his reasoning would not fall upon deaf ears. "I find it quite convenient that my father and mother are killed while I'm away, so that I'm not even around to claim my own throne."

Though it seemed that his words might get somewhere with the Pegasi knights, they are quickly replaced by another man who introduces himself as Ser Tristin. Oliver knew every knight-commander that stood in the Royal Army, though he had never heard of Ser Tristin before. "Greetings, Ser Tristin. I should remind you that I'm still the Crown Prince until convicted by a noble assembly. Thus it should be Prince Oliver, to you." He remarks coyly, watching carefully as the soldiers begin to draw a circle around him.

Oliver knows better than to reach for his sword, though he could easily cut through the mass of warriors that surround his flanks, this would only be an admission of guilt... and it would encourage the much more capable Pegasi Knights to fall upon him. He would need to convince the people of his innocence, "So, Ser Tristin, I must ask, what exactly did you accomplish in the past few days that warranted such a prestigious promotion to Knight-Commander?"

Oliver hardly waited for the Knight-Commander's response before he turns to the soldiers that surround him, "I have fought alongside you, bled with you." Oliver began, his words brimming with anguish and disappointment. "Now my parents are dead... my closest companions are dead... and you blame me for regicide... for kinslaying?" He growled, his fingers curled into tight fists, "So I say this once again... which one of you brave souls will come and kill your Prince - your rightful King?" He pointed to one of the soldiers, clearly green and unsure of his true allegiance. "Will it be you?" He then moved his finger to the Pegasus Knight, Mera. "Or will you be the one who betrays their vows?" Each Pegasus Knight swears an oath to protect the Royal Family. Not only did they fail in that regard, now they hunted the very person they had been charged to protect. The irony would have been humorous to the Prince, if he wasn't on the opposite end of their lances.

"As for you, Ser Tristin. I will not be going anywhere." He points to the Knight-Commander, "So I'll say it again, come and kill your Prince, if you must."

 

[Lady Grimoire]

"You ask me to know your motivations. How could I?" The pegasus knight, Mera, answered simply to Pinrce Oliver's initial questions. Glowering, she fell a bit quiet as the exchange between Ser Tristin and the Prince commenced, spurring her mount backward a few paces to exchange hushed words with her fellow knights. One of them nodded to a silent order, turned her pegasus, and with a short gallop away--took to the air to circle around toward the back of the town.

For his part, Ser Tristin sat quietly upon his horse, relaxed. He made no attempt to interrupt Oliver, nor refute anything said immediately; he kept a calm, if amused, expression. Once the air fell silent, he cleared his throat, and then chuckled some. "Had your ruse succeeded, you'd only have had gain--to return to your parents dead, and a throne awaiting you. You royals and your need to pontificate... "

He shook his head and clicked his tongue in a wry manner. "Oliver--" he started, specific to emphasise now that he wasn't using any kind of title, "--It is my loyalty to my King which saw me appointed, if you must know, though I suspect you only spew such words to raise doubts in the hearts of these men and question my authority. A tactless maneuver for one so vile. Regardless. There will be no assembly. The King has declared the proof overwhelming, if you refuse to come quietly than you are to be put to death."

"What of capture?" Mera questioned, as she spurred her pegasus forward once more to rejoin the conversation. Ser Tristin didn't even glance in her direction as he answered: "Further risk the lives of these men, you mean, for something unnecessary? Waste of life." Then, he nonchalantly motioned forward. "He wishes it, so give him the death he seeks. Attack."

Mera glowered further, her gaze turned down, and aside, toward the ground. Not one soldier took a step forward, even as Ser Tristin repeated his order. Oliver's words had clearly hit some kind of mark, a nerve, on the recruits there. After a few moments, Ser Tristin gave a sigh of resignation. "I see. It is fine. You are all dismissed. The King will understand your hesitation." He cocked his head down the road. "Go on. Fall back. We shall deal with this. Mera, draw your spear. Harkin, your blade."

From twenty to one, to merely four to one--the soldiers fell back on command. Some appeared quite relieved to have the task of killing the Prince taken from their shoulders, others just appeared relieved to not have to fight. Once they had fallen back, and pushed the crowd of civilians further down the street, it left only Ser Tristin, the bodyguard that rode with him, Mera, and her remaining pegasus knight. Despite her distaste, Mera did unhook and unsheathe her spear from the side of her mount as did the woman with her. Her helmet fell to the ground as she merely discarded it.

"Oliver, if you are innocent, why do you not just surrender so that a tribunal can be held?" Mera questioned, prompting Ser Tristin to roll his eyes and give a sharp motion to the man at his side. Without any further warning, that man--Harkin-- drew his blade and charged his horse forward. Poised to jab it into the Prince's gut.

 

[Chevalier]

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"If I am innocent, then I would be dead before a tribunal could even be held." Oliver retorted earnestly. "I don't intend on making things so convenient for my uncle." It wasn't long after that Ser Tristin's lackey surged forward, sword unsheathed and horse galloping towards him. Without a mount of his own, it would be very difficult for the Prince to stand toe to toe against the mounted warrior that charged forth. Drawing Luna from its scabbard, the ancestral blade of the royal family had been unleashed. In the sun, it took the appearance of a normal blade, but underneath the gaze of the moons, it glowed a vibrant, sapphire hue. Yet, having barely enough time to bring the sword to bear, he would have no choice but to dive out of harm's way when the horse came riding past.

Oliver cursed underneath his breath as he landed upon the ground, his flowing cape kicking up dust and dirt as he fell. He would have little time to recover himself before the horseman spun about, charging once more towards him with his sword poised to attack. Bringing up his own sword, Oliver knew that the time for talk was over. Blood would need to be spilled if he were to survive this encounter. As the horse moved closer, Oliver weighed what options he had. He would need to slay the horse first, as swinging at the man from above would prove quite difficult. Even if his hit connected, he would need to move out of the way or risk being hit by the giant mass of the horse.

The Prince stood his ground as the horse galloped closer, slashing at the horse's legs with his sword. The first strike only caught air and once again Oliver was jumping out of the way in order to evade the man's blade. Recovering, the Prince waited for the horseman to turn and charge again before trying the same strategy. This time, as the horse charged forward, Oliver managed to catch the creature's legs, slicing it's front legs and causing the creature to collapse, flinging its rider from the saddle.

Without sparing a moment for the man to recover, Oliver grabbed the disoriented soldier and smashed his gauntlet into the side of his helmet. The man writhed in place despite the heavy blow, still trying to helplessly stab the Prince with his longsword as Oliver struck him again. It wasn't until the man had been knocked completely unconscious that Oliver finally released him from his grasp. It occurred to Oliver that he probably should have slit the man's throat, but the Prince knew that there would be plenty of opportunities for bloodshed in the future.

"If it's blood that you want, Ser Tristin, I would be happy to oblige."