For Vivian

Daybreak

From the read leather chair she arose. Spruce textures gliding underneath her fingers as she got up, the room busied and ran through like the thoughts crowding her head. Combing back her thick black hair and through the hall she set off. In the morning it was usual to pass by the main hall and recite the pledge.

Seadehl was a predominately trade based kingdom. The large river which cracked the isles of buildings in two was the 'Garnet-Delta' due to the amounting crystal like rocks in the seabed, closely resembling Garnet, like fools gold. In the middle of the four hugging countries Seadehl sat with its fat river. As close as the communion between them seemed it was nothing such.

The queen Athera, reign of 8  years young. Was frowned upon for her existence. Rape-induced child she grew up without a father and raised as a only child. Assuming that was the reason why the king disappeared, or fled, the citizens even today he is called upon the title of a wise man. Spoken in mockery or authenticity. The princess although loved by her mother was held at a cold gaze from society. Even into queenhood still her popularity remains uncertain...Carrying non-Royal blood. The queen last before Atheras rule was said to explore the commonwealths world and maybe got too entangled.

On the tiled floor which resembled  Garnet as much as the rivers seabed, Vivian raised her hand to her heart. Vague emptiness in her words as the words seem to drone out from habit rather then love for the country which casts gazes of ice at their own queen.

"Daybreak from dusk.
Garnet ever-glory sun.
The flags never set and the battle is won.
Since the seabed of glory is cast to our land,
We recognise its loyalty to our people.
From daybreak to dusk.
We love our kingdom evermore."

As the words left her mouth Vivian still gazed at the flag. Drifting on stale air, the colours from garnet reds to a hopeless blue. Dedicated to a country which gave cold stares to its own queen. Yet her gaze lingers on the flag. And from all it represents. Her mind lingers.
But with a snap of her head Vivian shutters to a familiar noise.
Steel toe boots shuffle across the garnet marbled floors as they carry among flags.
Soldiers often pass by, their intimidating stare unfriendly in the warm but regal castle felt ugly. As if to set a reminder that even though Vivian recognises this as her home the cold marble will never be warm.
It haunted her to know the business of castles and the ruthless meetings in a place which is her only home.

Blinking at the soldiers Vivian carries on flustered by the way she just stood. Gazing at the flag which she saw so rotten compared to the soldiers which gave up their life in its name.
Seadehl.

Vivian soon set down westward halls looking for the equipment she needed to spend her day with. Seadehl's representative in training her life in this castle was filled with unease as she trained to become a representative in her own 'home'. But yet these halls promised a curious opposition. She stood for Seadehl in the most part-and she'd bring her country to glory. By words of course, a representative like her-she couldn't just leap at the ugly kings throats as she'd like. Expanding land-or just generally helping her country was such a wondrous job, but yes, frustrating. Like at the end of the day when her words were spoken they'd all show shallow. Her ultimate goal, that someday the country (Seadehl) will learn to love their roots. Slowly inching her way, making a change.
Vivians boots chnk-ed though the halls as she squeezed her arm. Stuck in thought.

In a room of marble tan pillars.
She opened the doors within said room was decorated with a red velvet rug and small couches. On a blind eye she looked past the racks of deer antlers which with dead eyes they stare at her.

Off the walls she took a pair of vans.

A infamous pair of weapons from the reign of King Vaniele 32 years old. A set of blunt headed spears with multiple points from the sides of it. Small stringy ribbons tangle themselves through notches in the wood like nunchucks. The crooks in the spears intertwine with one another making a double bladed beauty. As a small child when she first stormed the castle this weapon came quick learning to her.
As a representative there would always be ones that want her harm due to her political status. So in comfort-or coldness of the castle she took upon learning to fight. Taking the weapon off the wall under the cold stare of the deer she looked up at the shelves, brushed her fingers upon the scabbards of various design.
Among the vans. Never using her fists. As it was commonly kept a street hobby, and crucial to her job. Luckily she wasn't a street fighter.  She for one was absolutely not. Not anymore.

With her choice of protective weapons in the leather bag her dark hair dangled in her face. The scabbards quietly held a secret of cold blazing steel. Respectable steel she had all access to under the castles roof. All the power she wanted in her hands. To snag oranges or steal chocolates like the orbs in her skull. If she used them right. Possibly the only thing she'd use on her trip.
No. I am civil. A job which many desire. I mustn't.
She gripped her arm as a reminder.
As a representative, she had been sent on many of expeditions. As sudden as it came it was her duty to follow.
She'd bring along her choice or weaponry which followed the chosen countries code of law. These sharp blades kept her safe under her control. Under control with her own ideas to control them.
No. I'm not like that. I'm better now.
All this power for a representative of Seadehl. Never again left alone.