Alessia Occidens's Story

{NOTE: In each of my posts I will be changing the location, depending on which character I begin my post with, seeing as I play four. I will be including each character's post in the one as a whole, so as to avoid posting four times in a row, and will simply go off of whoever I put as the first post. If that makes sense ... You'll understand once you see what I mean.

SECOND NOTE: In my first posts for all of my characters, they will all be long. I will be posting twice, the first time with Alessia Occidens and the Dragon Keeper, Jackovitch, so as to shorten the length. As for my second post, I will be placing Axel Rhodes and Celestial Tihmbuhrs in that one.

CHARACTER TAGS NOTE: ~'.'~ALESSIA~'.'~ Durbe is mentioned by her, but she does not interact with him. Doran is at the end of her post. Varithos is near the middle.

~'.'~Jackovitch~'.'~ Emma and the Dragon are both in his post about halfway through.}



"Can I keep it, Grandpapa? Please? Can I keep it?"

Akron snickered, his eyes flashing as he held the kitten in the air by its' nape. "You want a kitten? If I were to give it to you, you would grow to love it - and love makes you weak, Alessia," he said, his voice soft and dark. With that, he flicked his wrist, tossing the kitten. A knight caught it in a bag and it let out a cry of fear as the bag was closed. Th knight disappeared through a door.

"And that stuffed animal of yours needs to go." A snap of his fingers had a knight approaching the seven-year-old girl, his hand reaching out to grab it.

"Don't you touch Fialee!" Alessia cried, stumbling back and clutching the stuffed bunny to her chest.

"Give him the doll, Alessia, and stop acting like a child."

The knight once again approached her, but before his hand could even graze her skin, the armor that adorned his body began to glow a bright red. Shrieks of pain escaped the knight's lips, and it was mere seconds later that his skin began to bubble. A moment later and he collapsed to the ground, his skin slowly becoming black, his body jerking. The smell of charred skin began to circulate the room, and smoke swirled up from his body.

Tears brimmed in Alessia's eyes, her small legs giving out as she collapsed to her knees, her shoulders trembling. But they stilled as a clapping was slowly heard in the room. She lifted her head and turned her watery eyes to her grandfather's face.

"Well done, Alessia," he chuckled as he rose from his massive chair, clapping all the way. He crossed the impressive room to her side, his footfalls heavy on the marble flooring. Her grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. “Enough sniffling, Alessia. You have made your first kill. No longer are you a child – you are an adult. It is due time that you act like one.”

Blinking, Alessia lifted her head from the book that it rested on. She had dozed off in the middle of reading a book on the laws of Occidens – something she was more than just familiar with – and felt a bit ashamed by the fact that she had grown so relaxed that she had slept.

Sitting up, she stretched, rubbing at her eyes. It had been a while since she had thought about that day, and only she and her grandfather knew about the events of it. Her mother had noticed the changes in her daughter after it had occurred, but did not know the origin of them. She had grown distant from her brother, also, and began to ignore his attempts at continuing their kinship. As for her father – well, her father was more than pleased with the change, despite the fact that she no longer idolized him as she once had.

Pushing the chair back and rising to her feet, she braced her hands on what she had claimed as her desk – the only desk on the top floor of the private castle library. It was hidden near the back of the level and in a corner for privacy, and the servants knew better than to touch anything on the desk. It was often cluttered with books, papers, pens, drawings, a globe, and a lamp. As many of the servants referred to it, it was an ‘organized chaos’ – but it was her chaos. It was the only area in the entirety of the kingdom that she could feel alone and relaxed.

Marking the page and closing the book, she set it aside. She freed her hair from the tie that held it back, picked up her stuffed bunny – in surprisingly good condition despite its age – and strode from the library.

As she walked, she held up her hand, her palm up. Three circular, glowing orbs appeared, rotating in the air in her hand. She did it idly, moving her fingers in order to keep them moving.

When she reached the war room, she paused.

Life really was unfair, wasn’t it?

Lifting her hand with the bunny, she opened the door and slid inside.

“I apologize for my tardiness. I had business to attend to and lost track of the time,” she said blandly, moving further into the room. She drew out the chair on the right side of her father, across from her grandfather, and folded her hands before her. There was only a slight lull in the strategic planning, and once she was seated, the voices rose to their normal volume once more.

She listened in silence for a moment before slowly shaking her head and rising.

“No, no, no … That will not work at all,” she said, striking silence within the highest members of the Occidens military. She leaned forward, the glove adorning her hand and helping to complete her battle uniform clothing her arm up to the elbow. She plucked the metal poker from the hand of the man who currently held it, easily beginning to maneuver the figurines around on the map of a small Kingdom that was West of even them, completely out of the loop of the main kingdoms.

“We do not sacrifice our soldiers merely to advance our movement into a territory. You may not think it, but these soldiers have names – lives, families, friends, and loved ones. Not only that, but I spent damn near a year training each of these regiments to their highest abilities. These soldiers are the best and the most elite – aside for the new recruits – and I’m not about to sacrifice any of our soldiers, no matter their skills. A military without soldiers is no military at all,” she said, her hand stopping and drawing back once the figurines had been reorganized.

“The Kingdom of Hotine has three entrances. Before we can reach any of those, we will need to fight the military that they will send out to fight us. Regiments Kato, Orange, Olpoid, Naztish, and Iliya will engage in battle with them, while regiments Alpha, Green, and Nova will advance through the front gate, to the East, since it will be the most heavily guarded. Regiment Sly will advance through the most unused entrance, the West, and will immediately hunt down the royal family due to their stealth. Regiments Fox, Red, and Jean will advance through the entrance to the South, and will meet up with Regiments Alpha, Green, and Nova in the center of the City after clearing out their sections of said City. They will then advance on the castle and work together to defeat the military stationed outside of it, creating enough of a gap for Regiment Sly to slip through and enter the palace. Once the military outside is defeated, Regiment Fox and Kato will follow after Regiment Sly and enter the castle to assist them, while the remaining Regiments will guard the outside of the palace in case reinforcements of any kind appear. There will be no raping, pillaging, or murder of any of the civilians of the kingdom, and if I find the body of a single child or woman laying anywhere in the kingdom, I will find the culprit who allowed it, and the culprit who committed the crime, and they will be duly punished.”

There was a sound of a grunt as a man near the other end of the table pushed to his feet, his expression red. He could be no more than thirty years old, yet obviously thought very highly of himself.

“And why should we listen to you? Not only are you but a child, but you are also a female. You haven’t any clue what you are talking about, as proven by your pathetic excuse of a warrior’s uniform.”

There were a few gasps at the man’s audacity that followed his statement, and immediately the attendees of the planning pushed to their feet and retreated against the walls. A look of confusion and then uncertainty crossed the man’s features as he noticed the movements.

Alessia stared at the man for a moment before chuckling softly and straightening. “My, my, my …. Boys, it seems that we have a little boy here who knows not his own place. Due to the fact that I do not recognize your face, I have no doubt that you have been recently inaugurated into the planning committee, so therefore I will be easy on you.”

Glancing at her father, she batted her eyelashes at him. “I’m afraid that I just cannot let this go, father. I apologize in advance for disrupting the meeting.”

Holding out her hand, she deftly caught the broadsword that was tossed to her. Not even close in design to her own sword, it felt odd in her hands, but she quickly adjusted to the light weight of it and the movement of it through the air. She swiveled it a few times before stepping towards the man.

Two of the members moved forward, followed by three more, and the long table was pushed up against the wall. Another member approached the man, handed him a sword, before scurrying back against the wall in fear.

Swinging the sword much like one would swing, say, a grappling hook’s rope before throwing it, she eyed the blade, a slightly dark smile on her lips. She stopped it and stretched, bracing her free hand on the flat of the sword as she did so.

“Tell you what. Since you are obviously new and seem that you are quite the amazing and distinguished warrior, I will allow you first move. I feel that that is more than fair, correct?”

The man trembled for a moment, the sword shaking in his hands. She had yet to even make a move and had already struck fear in the foolish man. Pleasure slithered through her at the fact.

His face hardened suddenly. “I would be more than happy to put a childish, foolish woman in her place!” With that, he launched forward, throwing his entire body into the attack.

It didn’t even seem like she moved. Instead, she was so swift that she took one little step to the side, turning her body just so, and the man missed entirely, losing his balance and nearly falling on his face.

“For shame … You call yourself a warrior, and yet you cannot strike even a little girl.”

Chuckles echoed in the room, and the man’s face turned red with anger and embarrassment. He let out a battle cry, lunging forward with the sword. She bent backwards, much the same as one would do when doing the limbo. Her free hand shot out, grasping the wrist of the man. She allowed her sword to fall to the ground, preferring hand-to-hand combat over weapons combat, and brought her now-free-hand up, she gripped his hand that was curled around his sword. A twist earned a yelp of pain and the sound of a bone snapping, and the sword fell limply from his fingers, clattering to the floor. Immediately removing the hand that was on his wrist, she shot it upwards, striking the man hard in the jaw with the heel of her palm. The sound of teeth-hitting-teeth was disgusting, and blood splattered from the man’s mouth, mixed with two teeth. Her right leg moved forward, curling around the back of his left one, and she jerked. At the same time, her free hand grabbed his throat in a choke-hold, her other hand releasing his now-broken wrist, and she placed it across his eyes. She twisted her body along with his, spinning him as he fell so that he turned face-first into the floor. His head struck first, as was her intention, followed by the rest of his body.

She lifted her foot, slamming it down on the side of the man’s head, and immediately digging into it in order to crush it into the floor.

“Now, what was that about a childish, foolish female? Because the only child and fool I see here is you, veslingr*.”

With that, she turned her face to her father. “My duties here have concluded. As the king, you have last say in the planning of war. Take my idea into consideration,” she said. Immediately she removed her foot, turning a bland look on the sniveling man. “One of you – fetch a couple of servants to clean this pathetic excuse of a man up. I don’t want his blood staining the floor.”

Alessia returned the swords to the men that had offered them, bowed to her father, and left the room.

Her stuffed bunny was clutched by the ear as she strode through the hallways of the castle, no destination particularly in mind. Instead, she was looking for a person in general – the person that her father had recently brought up in the ranks and placed as a member in the royal families’ personal guards.

She found him outside, of course and down the hill from the castle. Despite the short amount of time that he had been working for her family, she already knew him well enough to guess where he would be – reading people was a skill that she prided herself on, after all.

“Sir Doran,” she greeted as she neared him. He was lying on the ground beneath a tree, an open book in his lap and his head tilted to the side. The afternoon sun cast a shadow from the leaves of the tree across his sleeping face, and her footsteps faltered. The sight of his face caused a soft badump in her chest as her heart skipped a beat. After a moment, she shook her head and finished the trek down to him.

Leaning over, she placed her hand lightly on his shoulder – after all, she is a girl. She isn’t always violent. She lightly shook him.

“Sir Doran, you fell asleep. You missed the meeting,” she said. When she received no response, she knelt down beside him, her skirt reaching to her mid-thigh when kneeling. “I can cover for you only a few times, but my father will eventually find out that that is what I am doing. Besides, it is now time for me to assess your abilities – my grandfather wishes it, seeing as he does not trust that you are capable enough to be placed in the royal regiment.”

Sighing, Alessia shook him once more. “I swear to the Gods, if you do not wake up I will be forced to burn you – and I really do not wish to do that.”

{SIDE NOTE: ALL languages used will be placed at the end of each character’s post, along with the translation of the word(s) used.
Old Norse
Veslingr ~ Puny Wretch

---

The darkness no longer frightened him. It did at one point, but now? It was merely a slight annoyance to him.

"Here is the girl's lunch, Jackovitch."

Turning his head to the side, Jack trained a dull look on the Head Kitchen Maid of the castle of Anatoli. They were at the beginning of the forest of Dasos, in a cabin-like structure that was built by the Queen's orders. It was where Jackovitch lived and where different maids traded being stationed in every week, and also led to the cave that had held him captive for two decades.

"You made sure that there was nothing with carbohydrates in her meal, correct? I have told you many a times what carbohydrates do to a young girl of her stature," he said, rising from the stool that he rested upon.

The maid rolled her eyes and let out a sound of irritation. "Of course I did. I know how to do my job, and I know how to do it well. I don't tell you how to do yours, now do I?"

Jack's eyes flashed with warning as he gripped the tray handles, practically tearing it from the woman's hands. He leaned across the counter, his pupils boring into her own, the frightening nature of him enhanced by his ever-present mask.

"You would do well not to forget who it is that is actually in charge in our partnership, Clarise." He spoke softly, his voice holding an underlying growl to it. After a moment of holding the now trembling woman's gaze, he straightened and shook his hair from his face. "I will see you at supper time," he said, the only farewell she would be receiving from someone such as him.

Turning, he strode from the kitchen, his footsteps making nearly no sound on the stone flooring. As he neared the stairs that were just outside of the kitchen, the stairs that lead to the dragon's lair, he paused.

In reality, he was not a cruel man. He had merely lost all happiness and hope in life. After being forcefully torn from his mother's arms twenty years before, he could see nothing in the near nor distant future that could possibly improve his life. He knew the Queen, almost as well as he knew himself. Despite her promise to free him as soon as Emma grew to the age of sixteen years, she would undoubtedly never allow him to leave. Instead, she would find a fresh excuse as soon as her old one wore thin. Whether be her order for him to stay on for the reason of ensuring that Emma did not somehow escape the Dragon's lair, or for him to prepare potions for her to retain her beauty, he would never leave.

His only option?

The Queen needed to die.

Too bad there was no one to perform such an impossible deed.

There was a soft tap as his foot hit the first stone step of the stairway. He need not touch the handles posted along the wall, for he had more than enough balance in his stance to as avoid falling headfirst down the stones. As he descended the stairs, he slipped his hand inside of his jacket. Withdrawing it, he brandished a thick book that reached to an estimate of 873 pages - a mere few days read for a girl such as Emma. He studied the cover as he walked, eyeing the golden lettering that spelled the simple words, A Complex History. It spoke of almost everything that had occurred in the history of the kingdoms, and also spoke of the world outside of the dreaded cave that she had lived in for the entirety of her life. It gave detailed descriptions of oceans, volcanoes, deserts; mountains, rivers, canyons. Things that people never thought of as being interesting, for they had always seen such things. For a girl such as his Emma, however, it would undoubtedly be one of the most interesting books he had ever gifted her with.

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he moved to the stone wall that stood before him. Placing his palm against the stone, he murmured a few select words.

"Indica mihi, est occulta ..."*

A warm, dark green glow appeared beneath his fingertips. The glow spider-webbed throughout a tall, rectangular section of the wall, forming a door of some sort. A creak was heard, followed by a soft rumble, and then dust rose as the stone slid aside, disappearing and retreating into the rest of the stone wall. Stepping through it, the stone rumbled shut behind him, and he strode down the smooth walkway made of rock. It led down into the beautiful, yet dark, cave. The first part of the cave was the hole, which he passed beneath, the rays of the sun barely reaching the bottom of it. After that, he reached the main area of the cave, his eyes immediately finding the enormous dragon.

"Hello, Ralarth," he spoke softly, his eyes moving to Emma's relaxed body on the stone floor, his disinterest evident. As he approached her, he placed the tray of food on the stone slab that he had turned into a table-like structure with his stone-work. He crouched beside her as he reached her. Placing his hand on her back, he leaned over to glance at her down-turned face.

"Emma, I have your lunch. It's your favorite," he said gently.

A flash of red caught his eyes, and before she could react, he had gripped her face and turned it up so that he could better see it.

"Have you been taking your medicine?" he asked, his voice irritated and his expression a mixture of anger and concern - the latter he attempted to hide as best he could.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he removed a hankie and wiped her bloodied lips.

"If you continue to forget your medicine, than you are going to die - just as the Dragon Keepers before me. Or have you forgotten the stories I told you?" he asked, his hand slipping into his pocket. He removed a vial, popped it open, squeezed her cheeks, and tipped the liquid into her mouth - or so he hoped it would fall. Returning the vial to his pocket, he sighed and rose. "If you don't take your medicine, I will stop bringing you books to read," he threatened, moving over to the table. He held up the book and waved it in her direction. "I brought you a history one that also explains the outside world. If you want it, than you need to promise that you'll take the medicine I made you." Holding the book in the air, he awaited her response, his eyes locked on hers.

{Latin
Indica mihi, est occulta ~ Reveal your secret to me.}

War meetings. Granted, it was custom, and Varithos enjoyed letting others think they had a hand in the decisions of state. Occasionally, they did. War, however, was his domain. It could be considered his life. The mettings were held, despite his desire to have them eliminated from the schedule, and Varithos quickly grew bored. He stared absent-mindedly at the map with its figures representing the groups that were besieging the Capital of Hotine. He knew what he would be doing. He sat to the side in his chair, one fist propping up his head, and surveyed the scene with a glazed look in his eye. These fat, cowardly fools. They talk about glory and conquest, but they haven’t run the front lines in at least a decade. They turned their back on the glorious conquests in order to lead a cushier life., he thought to himself. He began to chuckle darkly to himself, while the meeting went on. Then again, they say War is the business of Kings. I could not agree more. A few heads turned towards Varithos, but none raised a word in dissent. They knew better. The last man to question the Sun King lay in a field in Notia, his bones long since picked clean by the worms that were so like the man himself.

The door cracked open, admitting Alessia with that insufferable stuffed rabbit of hers. Varithos made a mental note to relieve her of that ridiculous rabbit soon enough. It was unbefitting of the future Queen to carry around a stuffed rabbit like a child. His eyes narrowed in irritation, but only for a moment. As she sat at his side, he was reminded of how much she looked like her mother. Memories began to surface within him of her lovely mother, but were swiftly dismissed with practiced ease.

“I apologize for my tardiness. I had business to attend to and lost track of the time.”

He waved his hand dismissively while she took her seat, not really paying her any mind. She was merely a momentary bit of intrigue while the insufferably dreary meeting continued on. What IS the point of their squabbling? Don’t they know there is a perfect solution to their siege question? Before he could stand and correct their error, Alessia chastised them before laying out her own strategy. Varithos smirked with amusement as Alessia outlined the strategy he had foreseen while berating the other officers. She would make a fine queen.

”…There will be no raping, pillaging, or murder of any of the civilians of the kingdom, and if I find the body of a single child or woman laying anywhere in the kingdom, I will find the culprit who allowed it, and the culprit who committed the crime, and they will be duly punished.”, Alessia finished.

Again, Varithos narrowed his crimson eyes in irritation. She was still too soft. These were aspects of war. The strong preyed upon the weak, and the weak were subject to the will of the strong. It was an absolute of the world, and would remain so until the end of time. As noble as her cause was, and how appealing it would be to the commonwealth, they could not be avoided. Besides, his men needed some kind of compensation for them risking their lives, why not take it from their conquests? He had, for the most part, eliminated any members of his armies that had engaged in raping the conquered peoples.

The very act was an insult to the kingdom, that one of their members would stoop so low as to do something that unclean was unthinkable. That, at least, he agreed with his daughter on.

Commotion at the end of the command table interrupted his train of thought. The newest member of the council (he couldn’t be bothered to remember his name) had picked a fight with Alessia, insulting her repeatedly before she challenged him to a duel. She tried explaining herself before fighting the man, but Varithos didn’t care either way. It was something to liven up the meeting from the tedious debacle it was.

Alessia swiftly and soundly dispatched the nay-sayer, leaving him broken and bleeding on the floor. Varithos smiled as he stood, eying his daughter approvingly. She had grown into a strong powerful woman, stronger than he had imagined. Even if she occasionally over-stepped her bounds. After she departed the room, two servants moved forward to remove the soldier from the room. Varithos raised his hand to halt them. “Don’t bring him back to his chambers. He’s not fitting to wear that uniform. Strip him of his rank, title, and make him work in the fields. Work him until he cannot work anymore. Only then, when he has realized the depth of his error, then he can try to regain his former position.” Not a voice dissented the King. After the body was removed, Varithos spoke again, circling the table as he did so.

“My daughter is correct about many things. However, there is one thing she is wrong about. As per usual, the soldiers are allowed to pillage. They are entitled to the 10% they have always been. Any rapists will be publicly executed, since it apparently has not entered into their tiny minds that those actions are inexcusable. Any rebellion, or any rumors of a rebellion, will be rooted out and crushed mercilessly. Leaders will be made an example of. That is all. You have your orders. Dismissed.”

As the generals filed out, a young servant girl, Ayu, hurried into the council chamber and approached the King. “Your Grace, the Queen of Anatoli has requested your presence at a ball in Anatoli. There are four invitations. Shall I… ahm… bring one to the Queen, your Grace?” Varithos clenched his fist before answering the serving girl. “Hold her invitation. I will decide whether or not she will join us, for appearance’s sake. Bring these invitations to my children. Go.” The girl scurried away under the scrutiny Varithos’ unyielding gaze. He waved two other servants to his side. “Follow her. Tell me where she goes, and what my children are doing. Dismissed.”

The servants hurried off, leaving Varithos alone with Akron. “Well. This is certainly a surprise, Akron, what do you make of this invitation?”

He tossed the invitation to Akron, who caught it and quickly scanned the document. [b]”An interesting development. I wouldn’t put it past the woman to try to gather all the royals in one place, and eliminating them all at once. However, that’s far too obvious. She’s up to something undoubtedly, but you already know that. I trust you have a plan in mind, already?”

“You should know the answer to that as well, old man,”, Varithos replied with a smug tone.

“I raised you well. I shall take my leave, Your Majesty.”

Akron left, leaving Varithos to his thoughts in the war room. He didn’t linger, instead opting to head to his chambers. A strategy needed to be formed, and there was no better strategist than then Varithos Occidens, the Blazing Sun of Occidens.

Occiden's outskirts
It was midday: the sun was high and shone brightly, like a crimson carbuncle exposed to the blazing fire of a winter campfire.
Even so, it wasn't an unpleasant hot: a refreshing, light breeze blew the green grass outside the walls, lightly moving the lonely trees that stood among the green sea like a cluster of forgotten islands.
There was one great tree, that stood tall atop a short hill: its frown and foliage was so great and old that it shrouded the entire hill, letting through few warm rays of soothing sunlight.
A hooded figure touched the rough, irregular and strong ebon bark, for apparently endless moments. He then suddenly freed himself from the hooded brown cloak and hung it on a maimed branch. He stopped and looked at the improvised cloth-hanger: strangely enough, it resembled him an amputated hand.
He sat against the great tree and took a deep breath, followed by a slight glimpse of a smile. His gaze was upon Occidens, the capital of a Kingdom, one of many. In truth, he doubted that there were any capital as great (And probably as prideful) as Occidens: seen from that hill, it looked so distant like a dream...the city was more like a fortress, surrounded by not one or two layers of walls, but five of them, five circular rings of stone as white as ivory but as hard as steel. Most of the city was built inside these walls...obviously, the wealthier got access to the innermost circle, while the castle was situated in the innest circle itself: if you'd ask him "Hey! What is 'impenetrable' to you?" He'd surely point the castle. The building was tall, with pinnacles and towers close to the skies. The only way through, was a majestic gate, carefully worked by the most proficient artisans of the whole Kingdom. If they got through the four walls, citizens whose devotion is near to fanaticism, bolts and arrows fired from walls and other trickeries of destruction. Hey, afterall, the Kingdom of Occidens HAS a heavy military institution.

The man was not very old, on the contrary he was surprisingly young: he had a pacific look, and could have been anything! Maybe, a sheepherder? But, there aren't any sheeps...perhaps, he was an apprentice metalsmith? What would an apprentice do at his hour? No, he was a knight and at his age somebody would call it prodigal, others simply craziness. He is leaned more toward the last opinion, though.
He took out several books, and placed them on the green grass before lying down on the grass himself.
It was rather very comfortable, indeed, more than he though. Or, was it that he just fled from duties, a meeting and possibly the most cruel king on the face of the world? Probably...or, he was probably tired of all 'that'.
He spent a good half-hour, thinking nothing: Oh! How hard was it to slack off, recently! And, he probably slept only four hours a week, for atleast four months and attended so many meetings..."Let's...see...Family, strategy, knights, guard-turns, security...too many"...definately, too many for a youngling that strives for freedom.

In the end, he stood up and opened a book, written with clear handwriting and with a name on the first page of the book:
Doran Paragon. The knight caressed the name by turning the page, deciding to dedicate two or three hours to human Anatomy. He doesn't know why, but such subject always attracted him; so far, he doesn't remember failing one but it is also true that he did not have many...but, knowing that he saved somebody makes him more conscious that he isn't a miserable coward...that flees from meetings. ”5.6 liters of blood…120 heartbeats in a mere minute…400 bodies of flesh that keep our body moving…the Human body, in numbers” The silence was interrupted by the wind lightly cradled the foliage, and the movement of a squirrel and the pen of Doran beating against the paper, rhytmically. The silence was…charming, really: Doran liked it so much that he left the books, placing them back in the satchel and once again looking at the blue sky, in near amazement: the sky was way too bright!

Doran recited, walking around the tree. “Where thou layst now, O Sha’vre of the Crimson crest? Thy lance lies broken and the blade cold. Thy helm lies broken, once glorious now stained. Thy shield lies shattered, The one that once shone like starlight now deep in the mud lies” It was but one of the last lines of a poem, passed down to Doran by…not someone in Occidens: somebody that studied Occidens, but not his relatives nor somebody of the place. He chuckled alone, finding it ironic that of all the people, a knight with a blind eye would be studying literature of a country not renown for its writings. Enough time passed, and he guessed that the meeting session was complete, or about to be. He returned the books to the satchel and once again leaned against the bark, enjoying once again the light breeze on his skin.
As if an answer to his previous guess, he saw a woman running toward him, far away from the hill…or was she near? He couldn’t say but he did notice her white hair, bright under the sunlight, a glow that would ashame any silver. Doran quickly lied against the bark, making himself comfortable and closed his eyes. Why was he doing that? Of all the royals, he doesn’t recall anyone as fierce as the Princess, the Snow Leopard of Occidens. Why was he hiding his lust for knowledge? Afterall, she did cover him twice already…although, the first time he was forced by his family to attend a once-in-a-year big family meeting, and Arabor DID want him there. In the end, he was just a ghost, Knight of Occidens’ court or not.
But now? What could he say? “I beg thee forgiveness, your Highness, because I prefer anatomy over the King, the Royals, the Country”? Anyway, his time was up…atleast Alessia seemed to fall for the trick!

“Sir Doran, you fell asleep. You missed the meeting" She said, before...kneeling near him!? Doran heard the sound of the grass bending before her knees. No, Doran did not expect that, never.

“I can cover for you only a few times, but my father will eventually find out that that is what I am doing. Besides, it is now time for me to assess your abilities – my grandfather wishes it, seeing as he does not trust that you are capable enough to be placed in the royal regiment.” Before she could say anything further, Doran opened his left eye and peered at her "I'm awake, Your Highness, I was never asleep at the first place" He said, rising to a sitting position and glancing Alessia smiling lightly. He noticed that he left behind a book and with a flashy movement, he grabbed it and hugged it tightly, looking shyly at Alessia "I...I beg thy pardon, Princess...when does thy venerable grandfather wish to test my art?" He really called 'Fighting' an art?

Alessia scrunched up her nose, peering over at Doran who, due to her kneeling and his sitting, was still at least a head taller than she - not an uncommon occurrence when her height was involved. She was quite short, she would admit, at the height of 5'5.5", but that was the only thing that anyone had on her. What she lacked in height, she compensated in skill.

Frowning at him, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, her gloves brushing lightly across the glinting armor that shielded her chest.

"'Tis not wise to fool someone like myself, Sir Doran," she said, lifting her hand and flicking him in the forehead.

Raising a brow at him, she peered into his face.

"I told you. He does not believe your skills to be worthy of the Royal Guard. Do not take it offensively," she said, waving her hand at him. "He tests every person who is offered to join the Regiment, for he wishes only to protect his lineage," she told him, but her voice was a bit sour on the second half of her explanation. The corner of her lips turned down in a slight scowl, and her eyes hardened a bit.

After a few moments, she shook her head, pushing herself to her feet. Her hands braced on her knees as she rose, and once straightened, she held her hand out to help him up. Once he was standing, she went on her toes, her face near his and her eyes peering into his own. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips slightly pursed.

"I have yet to meet a knight, or soldier of any standing, such as you, Sir Doran," she said, her expression curious. Leaning back down, she began a slow circle around him. "Most soldiers with your skill level are cocky - they think themselves invincible and the most skilled of all of the warriors. You, on the other hand ..." She paused once she was in front of him once more. "You are the exact opposite. You are quiet, modest - and shy," she laughed, flicking his nose. Turning away, she brushed a few stray hairs back from her face.

The man was definitely an enigma - and she enjoyed solving riddles.

Taking a few steps away from him, she glanced back over her shoulder. "Well? Shall we? My grandfather requires a report on your techniques, skill-level, and reliability by the morrow."

Outside the City of Occidens
"I know that very well, Your Highness, that it is nothing but a fool's plan to trick a mind such as yours" Doran replied softly, his voice like wind resonating from a distant cave. Doran blinked his eyes instinctively, as her white hand struck lightly his forehead.
Doran chuckled once, an imperceptible sound and a movement even harder to detect.
He sat on a more comfortable position, as Alessia explained once more the situation...a present that Doran probably knew too well.

"I told you. He does not believe your skills to be worthy of the Royal Guard. Do not take it offensively, he tests every person who is offered to join the Regiment, for he wishes only to protect his lineage"

The matter interested Doran so much that he wondered why Alessia waved right in front of his face, frankly, not very much: he sighed lightly, considering Alessia's statement...how low could Occidens get? Even the princess has to fight--not only, but she is also an amazing warrior, much like a trump card: a princess as beautiful as Alessia couldn't dedicate herself to war, right?
Somewhy, the words reminded Doran of his father Arabor the 'most revered head of the Paragon': he has always been harder than a rock, or steel...or any alloy, really: he has always been distant from the lastborn, no matter what he achieved. Metaphorically speaking, Arabor has always been a great mountain: one that Doran could never climb, and after many, many, many, many attempts, he surrendered before the tall piece of rock.
Doran was afraid of his father: a person that he cannot gaze upon, since his mere presence stains the man that is his father.
He feels so estranged from his father, that in the night nightmares haunt his sleep: who was wrong? Doran, that refuses centuries of traditions or his father, that paved his way the very day he was born?

A shiver through the spine shoke Doran, one colder than any breeze. Doran looked for the princess: she was standing before him, casting her shadow over him. He took her hand and lifted himself up, easily and quickly. As soon as he stood up, Alessia closed the distance between their faces: despite she was short, she really knew how to get taller...and then, her eyes were close to his. Doran was surprised, it seems grey eyes do exist: and her eyes were sharp, intimidating, imperious...like her father's.
Doran inevitably blushed and backed off, feeling relieved as the princess started to whirl around him...and reminding him how different was he from the other knights. "Th-that is because I have nothing to brag, Your Highness: my mind is not keen, neither my arms strong...or my armor exceptional" Doran said so, turning toward the princess that longs to clash him.
"Bare-handed": that's how Doran wanted to fight, since he carried no sword or polearm. That is probably another difference between Doran and the other knights.