History Of Blood

A Letter

The air had a bite to it as Yevhen walked through one of the many open air corridors, making him shiver and wish he had brought his coat. It wasn't thick, but it would keep him warm. He carried a book he had just finished in his hand, and hoped to discuss with his brother something he had read.

It was the beginning of autumn, many of the trees had begun to shed their leaves for the coming winter, and the air had a noticeable nip to it as the temperature lowered in hopes of snow.

Winter in Weshall always seemed to come earlier then other countries with it being farther north. He knew Oredence would have no trouble during winter, as it was in the center of the country and the capital city, but those villages nestled by the northern mountains would likely need supplies sent to them, and soon or the winter storms would make it impossible to travel.

Yevhen turned left at an intersection, exiting the open air corridor and trading it for the much warmer interior. This corridor had large windows that reached from floor to ceiling, the glass stained colors of blues and greens, making it feel like one was underwater when the sun hit them.

As Yevhen walked he examined the view outside, watching a group of young ladies traverse one of the many paths that wove through the gardens. One of the women he vaguely recognized. Her hair was a light gold, and she wore a red and purple dress. He thought she might have been one of the prospective brides his mother had picked. What was her name again?

Yevhen was never one to pay too close attention to women. He never understood them; their ability to say one thing and mean another, their strange tactics to get a man's attention, not to mention how many of them had an attitude of importance surrounding them. He had neither the energy nor the desire to mingle with court ladies. Though his mother seemed inclined to throw them at him, now that he was the only child of hers not married.

When he finally made it to his brother's study- wondering for the hundredth time since Karvik became king why it was so far from the royal wing of the palace-he hesitated. Listening for a moment. Was that... screaming? Before thinking too much about what might be happening-a mistake on his part-he flung the door open, and promptly got a book to the face.

Falling back on his rump, Yevhen looked up at the complete chaos that was taking place in the royal study. The great King Karvik Earatheal Dreth was currently chasing his five year old daughter around the room while she tossed books and stacks of paper into the air.

"What in the four heavens?" Yevhen muttered in astonishment. The book that had hit his face forgotten as it sat in his lap. The book he had brought with him laid on the floor several feet away, having been flung when he was hit.

Karvik, and what looked like a maid, chased Sevareea, his daughter, around the study. She had tossed every paper and book she could reach.
And was now climbing the furniture-having run out of things to throw-dodging their attempts to grab her.

Yevhen stood, noticing the book as it fell to the floor, he picked it up, reading the cover "Battle strategies through the centuries."and raised an eyebrow. Why would Karvik have a book like this? A question that would have to wait. Yevhen tucked the book under his arm, rubbing his nose with one hand as he went to grab the other book that had fallen. He turned back to the stand off between father and daughter. Sevareea had stoped screaming, but had taken instead to yelling a jumbled mess of words that made little sense to Yevhen.

The poor maid that had clearly been caught between this duo before she could get away, had a mix of exhaustion and regret on her face as she chased the young princess, trying to sooth her with words, but was so quiet Yevhen doubted Sevareea could hear her.

Karvik looked close to bursting a blood vessel. It must have taken every ounce of his self control not to cast a charm at that moment. Yevhen decided before anything turned violent he had better step in to help.