Lelinus Augustus's Story

"I think that your reasoning is sound, Your Grace. Your favor offers her riches and power beyond her wildest dreams, enough to ensure the propagation of her ideas and the continued existence of her order. Not to mention my patronage will ensure her the support of our holy mother church. If she turns against us despite all we can offer her, then she is a fanatic and fanatics are dangerous," he noted.

Julius ignored Evangelina. He had not quite forgiven the girl for her rude words to him upon meeting him. Still, he did not go out of his way to make things miserable for her. He was not the petty tyrant his rivals made him out to be. As he contemplated his next words, a servant arrived.

"Your Grace, Your Immanence, Ser Sarah Morgane has arrived," he reported breathlessly. Julius smiled.

"Ah. Apt timing."



Leo smiled at his wife. It had been pleasant for her to be with him during his time of trial. She had been gentle and attentive, nothing like the way people perceived her. Yet she had seemed distracted. Perhaps she was worried what would happen if his fever killed him. He couldn't blame her. He squeezed her hand.

"I am feeling much better. I think I am well enough to attend court if not today then tomorrow," Leo told her with a smile. Beorn bit his lip.

"You still have a fever."

"But the worst is over. I know my body. I should be as healthy as I ever am in a few days."

Beorn was about to reply when one of Lelinus' servants entered. He bowed to the prince.

"My prince. Ser Sarah has arrived! She is going to meet the king and the Patriarch."

Lelinus frowned.

"I had wanted to meet her first... Go, send her my greetings and invite her to my rooms. We must speak with her."

He glanced at Ingrid. If they were to survive and remove his brother from power, they would need the support of the people. The support this female war priestess commanded.

"It's a gamble... But a holy person would see through the Patriarch's greed and my brother's vanity," he murmured. Beorn looked thoughtful.

"I pray you are right."

“Don’t strain yourself. I don’t want you pushing yourself to exhaustion again,” she said, quietly siding with Beorn on the case of Lelinus’s health. She turned to the holy man to ask him if they might speak in private, but before she form any words, a servant came in. He bowed to Lelinus. Her grip on her husband’s hand momentarily tightened as she turned her gaze to the fire. She was used to the slights from the servants, but that didn’t mean the sting had completely vanished from them. It wasn’t that she thought that she was above them, but she certainly wasn’t deserving of this lack of respect, especially if one such as Brynjar was worthy of their reverence.

"My prince. Ser Sarah has arrived! She is going to meet the king and the Patriarch."

"I had wanted to meet her first... Go, send her my greetings and invite her to my rooms. We must speak with her."

Ingrid perked up at this knowledge. She had known that the warrior priestess was arriving soon, but she hadn’t realised that she was quite this important. “Perhaps I could talk to her? Woman to woman, warrior to warrior. She might be more inclined to listen to someone who has been in a similar position to herself?” Her gaze unwittingly looked over to the servant, whose attention was still on Lelinus. She looked to her husband before looking back to the flames. “Despite everything, I am still an outsider here.”

Leo felt his wife's grip tighten and saw the way she looked away in anger. His gaze fell upon the servant. Ah, He thought. This would need to be rectified. Ingrid was their princess and if they had their way, their future queen. It would not do for her to be slighted like this. He sent a glare the servant's way and he was gratified to see him squirm.

"Protocol please," he murmured before smiling at Ingrid and kissing her hand, "Do not worry, love. I will not exhaust myself. A part of me hopes the rumors that she can perform miracles is not just peasant gossip. I'd love to not deal with this every few months."

He squeezed her hand, "You speaking to her might be better. I do not know how she feels about Northmen, but it's a chance worth taking. If she is inclined to Brynjar's way of thinking, we cannot do anything about it. Take Beorn with you. He can be of some help. She would respect a monk at least."

"But, Lelinus. You are still weak," Beorn objected. Leo smiled mischievously. He gestured the servant who fidgeted nervously.

"Don't worry, I have someone to help me around."

Beorn suppressed a snort. Well, he'd learn not to slight Ingrid at least.



"It is good to see you, Ser Morgane," Julius told the young woman with a slight smile. It was rare to meet someone who showed him respect with no hidden contempt or guile beneath the smile. He walked beside her as they made their way to the throne room, ignoring the king's maid. It was well that Brynjar reminded her of her place.

"I have heard nothing but good things about you, Ser Morgane, but forgive me for having to question you on your doctrine. It is my solemn duty to safeguard the orthodoxy of the Church in His Grace's realm," he noted. It was good that she recognized their authority, he thought, but there was no harm in a subtle reminder of the power of his position. Still, all would be well as long as the knight was not confronted with the king's... faults.

If there was a proper way of welcoming a pious hero from a war against a heathen enemy, Lelinus was certain that an extravagant gala was not it. Still, his brother was one to put on a show and as the king, it was his right and Ser Morgane would have been foolish to refuse so Lelinus found himself outside a hall full of masked strangers in a gold and blue garment with a white mask hiding his face. It was simpler than many of his peers as Leo found little need to keep up with the fashions that were popular across the sea in Valmagne or spend his family's wealth on more gold and precious metals than he had bare skin. Nonetheless, it was appropriate attire for royalty, though Leo was sure that his brother would wear something gold and gaudy.

"Well, instead of people disguising their thoughts behind false faces, they will be wearing masks tonight. Awfully convenient, don't you think?" he asked his Beorn with a slight smirk. The monk was dressed in fine black robes and a silver mask, quite different from his healing persona, but then, those robes were the finest ones he owned and he had only reluctantly accepted the mask Leo had gifted him with.

"Indeed. It all feels more honest, somehow," Beorn replied. Still, Leo smiled beneath his mask.

"You should have no trouble finding Evangelina. I think you'd cut a dashing figure."

His friend flushed, but said nothing, far past denying his interest in the foreign woman. He looked around.

"Is your lady wife attending?"

"I simply came ahead to scout the area before we made our entrance. She was still chaning last I checked." He stated with a look of concern. Ingrid had been behaving strangely the past day or so. He had become worried. He clasped his friend's back.

"I will be back. I need to check up on her. Scout the room, will you?" he asked.

Beorn nodded, heading through the doors with a confident gait. Somehow, being in disguise made him less uncomfortable in these situations. He could be nearly anyone and that filled him with a sort of freedom he was not used to. His eyes scanned the room for the king and the Patriarch as well as for someone who might be the knight this event was held for.

Ingrid pulled her mask down over her face. The wire curled in and around itself, framing her eyes and curling out into something that resembled butterfly wings, while the centre resembled a wolf. It was pretty and delicate, and nothing like her. The wolf had been Tyr’s idea, why let them forget who you are, he had said. She had never been to a masquerade before, although she wasn’t entirely sure that was the only reason for the butterflies in her stomach. She had been tied into another corset which had only further proved her suspicion that these things were torture devices. While the maids had been distracted, Ingrid had loosened the ties around her hips. She really needed to speak to Beorn about this.

Her dress was deep blue with a gold belt around the waist and gold flowers sweeping along the cuffs and the train. Ingrid sighed and pushed a lock of hair back. She felt like a doll. A very pretty doll, but still a doll. As she made her way to the ballroom, she saw Lelinus. She frowned. Surely he and Brynjar hadn’t argued already. She smoothed out her dress. “Are you alright Lelinus? Did something happen?”



Tyr pressed his mask back to his face. Byrdain had some odd customs. What was the point in a party if you couldn’t be sure who you were talking to. This seemed like a massive risk for a man who saw enemies everywhere. Still, the contents of Brynjar’s head were welcome to remain a mystery to Tyr. His mask was simple. Excessive adornment had never been his way of doing things, which was only another way that he differed from Brynjar. The only adornment stretched across the top of the mask in a stylised hawk.

He knocked on the door of Elska’s chambers, his heart fluttering in his chest. “Elska?” he asked through the door. He looked up and down the corridor. Seeing no one, he continued, “I realise we never discussed this, but I was wondering if I might accompany you tonight. To the ball. I understand if you don’t, but I thought I would offer.”

"No, no. I just wanted to check up on you. You've seemed a bit distant lately and I wanted to see you before we dive into the pit of snakes," he told her, gesturing towards the ballroom. He could not help but take in her appearance with a slight smile. Sometimes, he could not believe he was married to such a beautiful woman. She definitely didn't like it and her leathers suited her more, but she was still beautiful, if only in a different way.

"You would be happy to know that the women in there wear dresses three times as ridiculious as yours, but are not a quarter as lovely as you are," he told her honestly.



The masquerade was a silly thing, Beorn thought to himself. Many of the fine lords and ladies here wore garments worth more than his own life. But he was glad that Lelinus pulled some strings to arrange for himself and Evangelina to attend. If he coud only... If he could cast himself in a different light then maybe she might return his interest in her. It was a silly desire in times like these, but he could not help but possess it all the same.

"I hope that you are enjoying the party. I don't think there are many woman who are as lovely tonight as yourself," he tried as he approached Evangelina with a smile on his face when he saw she was alone.

mask
dress

"No, no. I just wanted to check up on you. You've seemed a bit distant lately and I wanted to see you before we dive into the pit of snakes,"

Ingrid frowned. She hadn’t meant to be distant from him. True her...condition had taken up a portion of her mind, but she had not meant to seem like she was pulling away from him or anything like that. “It’s nothing to worry about. I just worried about everything is all. I’ll just speak to Beorn, see if he knows of anything that might alleviate my anxiety.”

"You would be happy to know that the women in there wear dresses three times as ridiculous as yours, but are not a quarter as lovely as you are,” Lelinus said.

Ingrid looked down at her dress. This was a far cry from her usual fare, it was altogether too pretty and soft for her, but she could admire the workmanship in the edging on the gown. And it was pretty. A smile tugged at her lips and brushed a lock of hair back. “I feel ridiculous, no matter how silver your tongue is.” Her smile faltered as she looked down the hall behind Lelinus. “Shall we?”


mask
tunic

Elska opened the door and Tyr felt his mouth go dry. She was a vision before him. He had read of angels, and fancied that one might look like Elska, if such a thing weren’t blasphemy. There was a rather inconvenient conclusion lingering in the distant recesses of his mind. It couldn’t be ignored forever, but for now, it would remain treacherous and hidden. Gods, he wished he were home. Things were much simpler there.

“I would like that.”

Tyr couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at her answer. It was such an innocent string of words and such an innocent desire to be beside her that was being indulged. At her invitation, he followed her into her chambers but waited by the door while he waited for her to finish dressing. Everything she was wearing was incredibly ornate, more than anything she had worn back in Fjellborg. He heard a sigh coming from the bed and looked over, an eyebrow raised in question. “Tyr, would you mind?” she asked, holding up a pair of shoes.

“Of course not,” he said, a laugh mixed in his voice. Tyr took the shoes and gently slid them onto her feet. His fingers brushed against her skin, and he was suddenly conscious of the placing of his hand. It wasn’t too high was it? This wasn’t uncomfortable, was it? He pulled his hand away. “You look beautiful,” he said, hoping it came off flippant and not too eager. He rose from his knees, holding a hand out for her. “Shall we?”

"You speak as if I'd care. You misjudge me," Beorn mock accused with a smile. The way she spoke of dancing made him desire to see her dance even more, "Of course I think of you dancing.... You seem like the dancing type. If you wish, we can dance here or I can show you the garden. It is bare, but life is slowly returning. Or you can show me how to really dance here. Tonight, I do not much care about the opinion of those around me."

He was feeling reckless tonight. It was unnusual for a reserved person like himself, but what was the harm in taking a chance every now and then?



Leo nodded in understanding. Things with his brother had been dull lately, but the danger was still there both for themselves and the people around them, particularly in the course they had decided to take. As of this moment Lelinus was the heir to the throne and one of the few voices that could challenge his brother. Tonight, he would have to find a way to speak to Ser Sarah and convince her to support him or at least oppose his brother.

"I am sure he will be willing to take a little time tonight to help you," he told her before smiling at her words. He took her hand and kissed it.

"We shall, my lovely Fjellborgan wife."

With that said, he entered ballroom with his wife, looking for all the word like he was the happiest he had ever been and to tell the truth, he was. The sting of his father's death had lessened and the feelings that were growing between him and Ingrid were enough to make him feel like he was walking on air. As he entered the room, he spotted a couple dressed in red. He smiled brightly at them.

"Good evening." He greeted, attempting to match their lower facial features with his memories and drawing a blank. He shook his head.

"I cannot guess who you are. If you are the legendary knight and her brother, then it might be providence at work." He jested.

"Seems word gets around..." Sarah said giving her brother a look "I did say masks where a bad idea..."

Marcus chuckled " Careful you may be talking to the king now and just insulted him."

"I don't think so...I know voices..."

"Ah dear sister we are being rude talking amongst ourselves"

Marcus turned to the man that greeted them "Do forgive us good sir and lady I am Marcus Morgane Knight of the Scarlet Order and This.." he gestures toward his sister "is my lovely sister Sarah High Priestess and Commander of the Scarlet order."

Sarah nods then speaks " My brother does love his titles...Now I must ask who it is we have the honor of speaking too?"

"Yes, I suppose you are right. Forgive me." He told her. Though a servant, Beorn was still rather privileged compared to many others in the palace. Thanks to his affiliation with Lelinus and the church, he was shielded from most people who would happily squash him for any perceived slight against them, but Evangelina was both a woman and a foreigner. He sometimes forgot what that meant.

"Our ways are not so bad," he continued, placing a hand around her waist and leading her on to the ballroom floor as the music played. He smiled brightly as new notes joined the melody and in a sudden movement, he brought her into a slight dip before bringing her back up and giving her an apologetic look.

"Sorry, I should have warned you."



"Oh, this is a surprise. I had only been jesting. I am Lelinus Augustus, Prince of Byrdain and this is Princess Ingrid Jorvikdatter, Princess of Fjellborg and Byrdain, my lovely wife," he told them. It was better that he should put her heritage front and center rather than dancing around it. Knights, real knights, appreciated honesty.

"I am happy that you have decided to visit the capital. The court is awash with your legend. I hope that you may see the fruits of your labor in the this time of peace ahead," he told them with a smile. It was a calculated probe. If this priestess was willing to leave the war with Fjellborg in the past, then she could be a valuable ally indeed. She'd have to see Brynjar for what he was, however. A virtuous knight would not brook rebellion. Not without just cause.