Basil Rajan Casimir Amir Ladislas's Story

It was noon upon the Kingdom of Serin, when a platoon of soldiers were on their way through the capital city towards the castle, with two horses dragging a metal carriage with barred windows. Only to them, it isn't a prisoner locked inside. It was a Wild Man entrapped within the confines of this carriage. This Wild Man's name was Locien, and he was a Dark Elf.

Locien was looking out through the barred window almost with animal like frantic worry. The soldiers confiscated a sword from him and he was trying to look for the one who has a hold of said sword. He was confused, why did these humans come and take him from his home? What did they want? He would ask if only he had the confidence to use his voice. All he could do was groan and growl. It was all he could do all throughout the ride.

The soldiers and the carriages rode into the castle courtyard, where awaiting them was a man wearing silver armor with his hand leaning on his sword. "Gentleman." The Man greeted them. "Back again after a hard weeks expedition? Find anything?" The man walked towards the carriage to check it out.

"Your Highness, sir." One of the soldiers said. "Don't get too close. We found him. And he's mad."

Ichabod Ladislas turned to look at the soldier who said that and looked at the sword in his hands. "And that belongs to our forest dweller I take it? If so, is then good." As he said this he turned to the door of the carriage and opened the door. Locien sprung out of the carriage like a wild animal, chained by his hands and feet, his mobility severely limited.

Pale violet eyes look around frantically for his sword. Locien then glowered at the soldier who held said sword and almost tried to walk but ended up on the ground instead. All the meanwhile, men went to tell Ichabod's brother, King Basil, and his Half sister that they found the Forest dweller. Said Forest Dweller then sat up and just growled and almost lunged at the man but several soldiers grabbed the chain holding his hands together and pulled him upwards.

"Your Highness sir, Permission to drag this...this...beast to the dungeons?" Was the question given Ichabod by the man in charge of the expedition. Ichabod only looked uncertain at the Dark Elf, either in pity or contempt in his teal eyes was unknown.

Soron stood in his normal position, about 10 feet to the left of the throne, when entering from the main doors to the throne room. He stood silent and still as a statue, something he did all but when he was in the throne room. Well, that is unless something bothered him, to which he would often draw his sword to if he thought it a threat. And underneath the armor, Soron held the blankest face, without a trace of smile or frown, as he kept all his senses open.

While he was more than alert, he still had to think to help the time pass. He was here because he is honorbound to this king, not because he had some liking of this one over any other human. Still, silence and speaking only when necessary where the techniques that Soron employed to deal with any human. And then came the thought, the one repeating thought, that always gnawed at Soron... his armor and sword were too shiny. Even if they weren't caked in blood, mucky armor is well used armor. When it is dirty, it looks like the armor is there for a reason, but when it is as shiny as his was right now, it meant that the armor was meant to show off. Still, it was not like that wasn't half his job. To keep people from being assassins, and to get assassins to think twice. Still, the fact that Soron had enough time, and a lack of dirt on his armor, to get it to shine like silver jewelry was a thought he was not too fond of.

Wren sat in the window seat of her bedroom, it had been one of those days when she hadn't stepped out her door. She had managed to dress and eat breakfast all from the insistence of Magee her nurse maid. The now graying middle aged woman had been caring for the princess since she was a baby lying in the cradle. Like a second mother, but not the coddling type, more the nagging over protective type. The sun was high in the sky signaling it was some where around midday, Wren gave a sigh as she sat the book she was reading down in her lap. Her hands making a slight rustling sound on the soft, silken fabric, it wasn't an elaborate gown, but it's beauty and elegance was fit for a princess. Wren had been lost in thought for a moment when she noticed a band of horses coming towards the gates of the castle.

"Whats this?", she said in the quiet silence of the empty bedroom.

After watching the scene a bit longer Wren began to realize that it was soldiers from the castle brigade. They all filed into the courtyard, and stopped. There was a light wrapping at her bedroom door, that made her turn abruptly from the scene below her. The knock was undeniable to Wren and she knew exactly who it was.

"Come in Magee" standing up from the window seat she headed towards the door.

"M'lady, your presence is requested by the King and the Cap'n of the guard Ma'm" the round woman standing in the doorway said in her thick country accent.

Magee had been made a servant in the castle after being orphaned as a child. Her father's mother had taken her in and set her to work in the kitchen, and by the time Wren had come around she had become a servant to the queen. Wren nodded at Magee, setting her book down on the dressing table.

"I'm guessing the expedition to the forest has returned? So either they gave up... or they've brought back some poor defenseless creature that they think is the Dweller.", Wren stepped through the door and began to follow along side her nurse maid.

"I don't know rightly M'lady, all I know is that yer brother's and Ye are supposed to be there". Magee said while trying to straighten out the skirt of Wren's gown.

Honestly she didn't know why her brothers insisted on her presence, she hadn't liked the idea of hunting down the Dweller in the first place. She had felt that the Dweller was better off in his own home, that dragging him from his home in the woods would do more harm to the kingdom than good. But in the end her words fell on deaf ears, after all she was just a princess what did she know of war, and ways of fortifying a castle. Perhaps it was a chance to show her that they were right and she was wrong, either way she had a bad feeling about it. Like a ball of dread in the pit of her stomach, that she just couldn't manage to quell. She had always respected the forest for what it was, an almost magical place where man's presence was void and unneeded.

As Wren made her way down he main staircase, through the doors of the castle and into the courtyard here eyes were met with an almost unbelievable sight. His look was almost feral, like that of a wild animal chained, but there was a certain elegance to him as well. The tall slender frame, the dark skin, the stark white hair, everything that she had heard of from the stories her mother would tell.

"What is the meaning of this? Why is he chained?" she posed the question to her brother Ichabod, however she watched as the dark elf lashed out at him.

It made her jump back slightly for a moment but then she began to continue across the courtyard to the carriage and the captive.

"M'lady wait!", Magee cried out as one of the castle guards grabbed a hold of Wren's wrist.

Wren's petite frame came to an abrupt stop in the armor clad mans grasp, "Princess you shouldn't get any closer to the creature". His voice was a deep, baritone, and authoritative, but that didn't stop Wren from snapping a look of detest at him for grabbing her.

"That is no creature... that is a living being... now I order you to unhand me." Wren said her tongue making a slight hiss as the words escaped her mouth.

The guard gave a sigh, knowing that unless the King or the Captain of the guard ordered him, he had no choice but to release her. He glanced over seeing that most of the archer's arrows were focused on the creature, this Dweller of the Dragon Saber Woods. Any wrong move and the thing would be dead so he needn't worry too much for the princess. finally admitting defeat he released the princesses hand and she continued forward to where her brother stood.

"Ichabod, if you expect him to help you can't treat him like a common criminal." Standing next to her brother she looked around for Basil's entrance, surely they would listen to her reason.

((Sorry, guys. I only just realized we started. >.<))

Basil paces the study quietly, lost in thought. The palace had been wild in the days past, full of uncontrollable mayhem and emotions. Of course, he understood the reasoning to the whole thing, but it was source of much stress for he himself. Keeping everyone quiet and sane was a task in itself, that much is for certain.

A knock sounds on the door.

Basil pauses, facing a bookshelf. "Come in," he calls, eyeing the book spines before him.

The door creaks open and a few hurried footsteps sound. "Your Majesty, your brother requests your prescence immeadiately. From what I understand, it is a matter of utmost importance and vitality." Basil says not a word, just runs his fingers across the book spines, still deep in thought. "Y-your Majesty?" the man stutters out as though he's not sure the king heard.

Basil holds up a hand and turns. "I heard you, my good man. Please pardon my hesitation. I was merely thinking, although I'm sure none of it has any relevance in association to what Ichabod desires my prescence for." He secretly thinks otherwise.

Noting but not processing the man's response (he couldn't relay the message if he tried with his fullest), Basil walks behind the man steadily, thinking back to the books in the study; the accounts of palace history.

The journals had been formulated by the earliest of his ancestors and had been a tradition carried out by the following kings and queens throughout the ages. Basil has been attempting to read up on them, to learn from them, but a free moment is scarcely existant to he. He's lucky to get a few entries in before going to bed.

Basil steps through the door to see an odd - yet at the same time, not odd at all - sight. Not only are Ichabod and Wren present, but thereis a man between them that he doesn't recognize. Sighing in exasperation, Basil crosses the room and folds his arms in front of him out of sheer habit.

"Sorry for the delay. Now, what's going on here? Explain, please."

He got straight to the point.

Directly behind Basil came Soron, his hand on his blades and his boots clanking of their metallic attacks on the stone ninetieth him. Then, as if by standard tradition, Soron gave a loud huff as he came to a stop. Something then caught his interest. No, it was not the siblings that always seemed to end up in the same room arguing. No, it was not the guardsmen standing about around Ichabod.

It was the elf, his black skin and white scars spoke to Soron. A warrior, no... hunter. His movements and trouble with speaking spoke volumes about how long he had been alone in the wild. The Soron noticed the blade at the feet of the man.

Walking over, not caring how much noise his armor made, Soron picked up the blade with intrigue. The symbol of the wolf was well made, with a precision the likes Soron had rarely seen. And the elven runes... they reminded the draekon of his clan, causing him to stare deeply into the runes, his face hidden by his cage-like helmet. He began to let loose almost a cooing sound as he held the blade, the runes seeming to speak to him as he read them to himself.

Wren smiled seeing the exchange between her brother and the Dweller, at least he was thinking clearly enough to listen to reason. She gladly accepted the key he had pressed in her hand, and then turned towards the Dweller, giving a gentle smile.

"Everything will be alright, if you keep calm, I have the key and will unlock your chains, then you may have your sword back just as my brother said". She stepped closer to the dark elf taking the lock in her hands.

She put the key into the hole and with a slight turn, the sounds of the tumblers moving was heard. "My name is Wren...." she muttered quietly, in an almost motherly tone.

It wasn't long before the chains released from around his wrists, and hit the ground, just as she was about to ask the guard to hand the Dweller his sword her brother Basil entered the courtyard, followed by his faithful bodyguard Soron.

"Sorry for the delay. Now, what's going on here? Explain, please." Basil said his words clear and concise as usual.

A lump built up in the pit of Wren's throat when Soron walked over, to where the Dweller's sword had been laid and began to examine it. She dint not turn to Basil as she knelt down to release the chains on the Dwellers, ankles.

"Well I believe the expedition you had sent out for the Dweller of the Dragon Saber Woods was a success, and I am releasing our guest from the bonds that were put onto him after his capture.", the key turned in the lock around the dark elf's ankles and came loose there as well.

Wren stood once again, and then turned to Soron, "Soron would you kindly hand the Dweller his sword he was promised it if he wouldn't lash out?". Her voice was not of demanding, but of a kind nature.

She was doing her best not to stir up the Dweller and trying to reassure Soron that the Dweller would not pose a threat to her brother the king. She had allot of respect for the Drakeon, and his devotion to Basil's well being and she didn't want to see the pair fight with one another over a simple misunderstanding.

Ichabod felt chills going down his spine as his elder brother Basil finally made his appearance. He must've had a late night updating journals. Wren went right to explaining what was going on, and that the search party had been successful in tracking down the forest dweller. However, Soron, Basil's Bodyguard, looked at the dweller and then his sword with an intrigued curiosity and picked it up for a better look.

"Oh no, Soron might give the others cause to put the chains back if the dweller reacts violently.." Ichabod thought in his head, but he dared not speak these words out loud for fear of Soron's Own reaction of he did.

In the meanwhile, when Wren approached Locien, he growled at first but he stopped when she started speaking to him. She then, whilst undoing the chains that bound him, tried to converse with him, at least, so he thought in his head. "She told me her name..I have to say mine now, right?" He thought in his head. What could he do? He slowly clenched his mouth closed and then relaxed it, trying to calm down a bit.

"L-Lo-ci-en. Locien." Locien said finally, and softly to the Girl. "My name." As soon as he said this as his hands were free he reached to grab where his sword was but he looked at a man in metal, looking at the blade in an almost reverent look. He was close to getting angered but Wren unfastened his legs and addressed the man in metal to give back the sword.

"M-my Father's." He said as he reached and grasped the hilt of his sword.

Soron was ignoring everyone, well except two people: Basil and Locien. The sister was one of few that Soron had a level of respect for, as he had seen her act for those who are weak many a time, but this was not her time with his ear. Neither would Ichabod have had if he had bothered to speak. While he kept his thoughts on the man to himself, he often thought that Ichabod took too much of a military approach to every problem. Whether it was kill it, or capture it, Soron always believed that a better way could have been used. However, now the Dweller spoke, revealing his name to Soron.

When the word father was mentioned, it relayed a slight nostalgic huff from the metal clad bodyguard. Moving the handle of the sword to his right hand, holding it so the blade pointed to Soron's back, he moved to Locien. This was followed by the draekon looking at the Dweller, eye to eye, and speaking in perfect ancient elven. "From one lost warrior to another goes the blade that portrays to pasts. To the elf so rarely seen, he who is honorbound gives the sword in trust. I am Soron Dal Turin, hexblade of the Dal clan of draekon." Was the words that came out it the lost elven language as Soron thrust forth the blade held in his red scaled right hand, enough of the handle left open for Locien to grab.

This was one of the things that Soron did, mainly out of spite for the arrow in his side a few years ago. He made it a point to only speak in the language that humans spoke only when he had to. Other than that, he grunted, and, on rare occasion, spoke the lost elven language almost as if to taunt those who couldn't speak it.

Wren breathed a sigh of relief when the sword was back in the dwellers hands, and the fact that he was communicating with them now was a plus. It gave her brothers proof that the Dweller just wasn't some ignorant savage to be dominated, but that he was a living being with a mind of his own. A creature that despite his appearance was much older than the rest of them, and had been on this Earth before they were even thought of.

"Perhaps we should get a room for Locien... he is our guest after all." she mumbled quietly to Ichabod.

She didn't know how her brother Basil would react to that statement, so she hoped that Ichabod would state the same. She didn't want Basil to feel like Locien might be a threat, despite the fact that he had agreed to seek out the Dweller. She honestly didn't know what her brother's had in store for Locien. They had not discussed that with her, but whatever they had in mind she would keep an eye on Locien to make sure he was not mistreated. Wren stepped back from her brother and the guards slightly so they could make their ultimate decision, she didn't want them to get upset thinking she was trying to control the situation. Even though she did have some sort of control in it. Magee sheepishly walked up beside Wren.

"M'Lady... is that elf really going to stay here at the castle. I don't know if I can handle, heathen rituals and behaviors."

Wren shook her head, Magee couldn't help her ignorance, "You, put up with my heathen rituals and behaviors, now don't you. I think he'll do fine as long as my brothers don't muck it up." she muttered under her breath. "I'm going to have to find out what their plan is for him in the first place... honestly what is elf that has been living alone in the forest for years going to do to help protect the kingdom."

Magee just shook her head, she was even more clueless than the princess, all she hoped is that the dark skinned man didn't go mad and kill them all in their sleep.

Ichabod walked to Basil's side to observe the small exchange between Soron and The dweller. He heard that the dweller was called Locien through Wren, however names mean no difference to him unless they matter for addressing someone. He looked in Wren's direction. "I'm sure you can figure out the best sort of comfort sister. Right now I have to organize the defense plans I feel need to be necessary. Especially on our northern border."

He didn't know for certain but he was sure his brother would back him up on that regard.

Locien looked at Soron with a now stern look as he took his sword from his hands. "The Last of his Clan thanks you. I accept this gesture." he replied softly but in a tone almost passive.

"Evidently this man is educated in The Language of Elvahn. Now I'm unsure what these people want with me." he thought silently as he walked towards Wren, even though Soron spoke the ancient language, Locien almost felt as if this young woman was more Elven in quality due to the odd scent she gave out to him. She was talking to a middle aged human about his presence in the castle and something called Heathen Practices.

"What is meaning? Heathen?" He asked in the human tongue scratching his head in curiosity. He stood next to Wren trying to read her face. He actually looked almost calm after the initial shock of being captured. "Locien and Wren, friends?"