Haruchai
As you wish.
- Joined
- Sep 27, 2011
- Location
- United States (CST)
James Stark was not a happy man. His niece was to be married to one Lord Marcus Von Roehm. The man was a menace in James' eyes, but there were many benefits to the arrangement. It would catapult the Stark family into the Houses of High nobility, pulling them from the morasse of the Lesser Houses. James could see the benefit, but he'd always been there for his niece and he had grown quite fond of her. They were only ten years apart, but in many ways she seemed more like a younger sister than a niece. He had been assigned to protect her and had been a faithful knight in her service now for many years.
The stories that seemed to orbit the Von Roehm were plentiful and none of them were good. In fact he had yet to hear a kind word spoken about the man. He was cruel and capricious. That his niece was to marry the man had James' ire raised and yet there was naught he could do about it. It was not his place to say anything nor to intervene in any way.
The Gala that was being held for them was quite extravagant and no expense had been spared. The Von Roehm's were marrying off their only son and his match, in their eyes, was perfect. James stood outside of the Great Hall, wherein the eveing's festivities were to take place. He was allowed to enter but he had talked himself out of it. It was hard enough knowing the knowledge of what the cruel man might bestow upon his niece on their wedding night, which was only a month hence, and he had little desire to see them dancing together, putting on that show. Instead he remained where he was, hand on the hilt of his sword, knuckles white.
The stories that seemed to orbit the Von Roehm were plentiful and none of them were good. In fact he had yet to hear a kind word spoken about the man. He was cruel and capricious. That his niece was to marry the man had James' ire raised and yet there was naught he could do about it. It was not his place to say anything nor to intervene in any way.
The Gala that was being held for them was quite extravagant and no expense had been spared. The Von Roehm's were marrying off their only son and his match, in their eyes, was perfect. James stood outside of the Great Hall, wherein the eveing's festivities were to take place. He was allowed to enter but he had talked himself out of it. It was hard enough knowing the knowledge of what the cruel man might bestow upon his niece on their wedding night, which was only a month hence, and he had little desire to see them dancing together, putting on that show. Instead he remained where he was, hand on the hilt of his sword, knuckles white.