An Angel Called Eternity

The Field Rat's Banquet - Lykourgos III: The Prelude Ends

Lykourgos III: The Prelude Ends

The Eighth day of the Ninth moon, 872 AD.
Anaria, Western Teleytaios, Klironomea.

It didn't take too long for Anaria to come into view, compared to the two weeks it would have taken the full party anyway. Within three days he could see the resplendent white walls were dotted with grey keeps and gatehouses, which had been built far earlier in the city's history. It looked as though the constituent parts of the defences had each been inspired by different architectural styles, creating a strange blend of rough stone, brick and carved stone. To his eyes, it spoke of style over substance, and a complacency in strength. He curled his lip at the sight in a sneer. Was it any wonder he'd had to save this city when his "oh so perfect" sister had failed to convince the southern lords of the necessity of reinstating the old bureaucracy? He turned his head and spat at the ground, the mere sight of this damned city bringing out anger from deep within his being. I can't allow my emotions to override my mind, he chastened himself, not at a time like this, as he willed himself to remember happier times in the city. His mind brought forth images of all the times he had ridden through the Last Avenue in the summer solstice, the lowborn hailing him as "Our Prince!" as he ate and drank amongst them. Images of his trueborn brother sneaking out of the Palace to join him in revelling in the festivities, and of the florist's daughter who, at the beginning of every summer solstice as he rode down the avenue, would present him with a flower-crown made from the most beautiful violets he had seen, the lowborn crowning him the "Prince of the Violets", from which his faction at court then took the name, "Violets". He smiled. It was, for him, a simpler time, when could be certain that his father would govern, he would do what he could to assist, and his brother, no matter what, would have his back.

Things had changed since then, he mused as he rode into the city, guards dressed in green surcoats hailing him as he passed through the gates. His brother still cared for him, of that he was certain, but madness had warped it into a special kind of care, the kind of care that can drive one to unspeakable acts that alienate them from the object of their care. If his brother was having one of his good days, Lykourgos was certain that he would be able to coordinate with him effectively, provided he had not arrived too late. Aside from his personal status and relationships, as he looked around the city he knew for a fact that nothing had changed. In all the years he had lived here, all the stench of mankind had hovered over the place. Salt and sweat and filth hovered over the city like a storm cloud, raining down a horrible smell all hours of the day. A moon or two spent in the countryside had cleared his mind of the smell of the city, and he found that it made it all the more potent when he returned.

The route to the palace was one he knew off by heart, having walked and rode it a thousand times. Ofttimes he would encounter lowborn men and women petitioning him for some blessing or other, or offering their own blessings upon him. He always found it amusing that, despite already giving so much to the realm, these people were so willing to give more to him! It was humbling to know that these people looked up to him, and regarded him as a kind and just prince. He only hoped he could do right by them, when the time came. Given the nature of his return, the prince was unable to stop to hear petitions or blessings this time around, though he did allow himself to stop just for a minute when a young girl, who looked barely a dozen winters, proffered a single large violet to him. A few minutes later, and he arrived at the palace with his head held high and a flower behind his ear.

"BROTHER!"
Lykourgos looked up from where he had just dismounted his horse. Approaching towards him, grin threatening to split his entire face, was his trueborn brother, Rhema. He was barely able to get his foot out of his stirrup before, ignoring the proffered handshake, his brother crashed into him and wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug. Lykourgos smiled despite himself. He may be mad, but in his brother's own words, "I'm your brother first and insane second!".
"Angels, I've missed you. It's been what, two years now?"
Lykourgos smiled, prising himself away from the hug.
"Indeed. I'd returned from Aenirhen for the winter solstice, and you'd managed to sneak into the city for the festival and find me, just like when we were kids."
Lykourgos caught a glimpse of sadness pass across his brother's eyes, before his typical mad energy smothered it, and just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. Rhema looked around, clearly puzzled.
"Where... where is the rest of your retinue?"
"There isn't one. It would have taken me far longer to get here if I wasn't riding alone."
His brother pulled him close again, and lowered his voice.
"You damnable fool! You know this city is crawling with our sister's creatures. How easy would it be for an 'accident' to befall you here whilst you're alone? You've handed yourself over to her on a platter you idiot!"
Lykourgos sighed, acknowledging that the words of both his brother and Ser Romanos rang true.
"True enough, but you've got men in the city, don't you? The city guard answers to you, no?"
Rhema made a noise somewhere between an exaggerated, depressed sigh and a discontented grumble.
"The loyalty of the guard varies from captain to captain, and im not likely to be present in the city much for the next few days. By order of the council, which conveniently now contains only those hoping for our sister's ascension, I need to go hunt down bandits patrolling the eastern approaches to the city. The fact that these bandits have been seen wearing red surcoats and wielding billhooks was not mentioned in the council, can't think why."
Lykourgos snorted, and his brother did likewise.
"She may be smart, and she may have a good head for intrigue when it comes to her own, personal touch, but as soon as she involves other people in her plots they all start to fall apart."
They smiled at each other, allowing a warm silence to fill the air for a good few minutes.
"So," Rhema started, breaking the silence, "how fares the northern lordship in these times?"