Her Demon Royalty's Story

A visit from the Duke

Numos Housing District

•At one of the ends of the capital road, here lies housing district of Numos. Where travelers are highly welcomed to stay in for a night, and rest comfortably. The people here are quite welcoming towards races of the like. And the district itself provides security, with guards constantly roaming around the street sides, maintaining it's safety.
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The dull light shines through the window panes with its shutters wide open. The brisk breeze flows around her royalty's baronial mansion, its cold sensation ever pleasant as one would stroll in the snow.

Atrea sits by the window with a tankard of warm water. Her eyes gazing throughout the view of snow leaving her to wonder alone.

The cold brings the crispest, most refreshing sunny days you can experience. There's nothing quite like the wintry air combined with the mellow warmth of direct sunlight on your face. Despite the inconveniences it brings, I think my emotional reaction to the prospect of cold speaks volumes. Had she moved to a warmer nation, this place would be far less glowing.

Taking another sip of her tankard then placing it down on the arm of her wooden chair. She let out a loud groan throughout the room.

"A year has passed Raener. How much longer do I have to endure the cold without your warmth? Their screams of agony could only bring me joy to a certain extent; my patience is wearing thin."

When thinking of him, it's as if space and time become the finest point imaginable, as if time collapses into one tiny speck and explodes at light speed. It's as if her universe begins and ends with him. She could run forever, search forever, but in the end, every path leads right back to his heart and soul. Not a second passes by without thinking of the man she loves.

Meanwhile outside her mansion,Verion placed his feet firmly on the ground when he swung himself out of the saddle of his horse. And unlike the rough ground of Arturios, the only thing that welcomed the boots of the arrogant duke was a soft layer of snow. It was not the clean, white pillow that fell on the virgin mountains mind you, no, this one had an obnoxious color to it; dark and battered by the numerous caravans and northerners who stepped over it. Even the cold breeze threatening to freeze him to death smelled like horse's fecal matter. The place was welcoming enough at least. The native northerners looked big enough to punch you into the ground, but most seemed to smile and wave toward any traveler with their thick accents.

He looked around with a dumb grin on his face, resting a hand over the pommel of his sword as a group of armored soldiers walked by. None could tell of his role back in Arturios, for he hadn't brought a personal escort with him nor does he wears anything significant. Verion liked it better that way, less attention means less problems, always. But his objective on the lands of Nellium was not to watch the local masses, but to visit a "friend" of his. Fortunately for Verion, he wouldn't need to search, for he was standing right beneath the mansion of his acquaintance, Lady Atrea Riath.

The Duke could already hear her mourns coming from within the open shutters of the window panes, her words made unintelligible by the sound of a caravan rolling down the road as he made his way to the entrance.

Knock, knock.

Was the sound that came from his hand as it hit the wood of the door. It was now the waiting game, he figured. And with a scowl, Verion would lean on the door frame; taking out a dagger from his belt to toy with. He threw the blade up and down under the dim light of Nellium, catching the hilt with a sigh that would ultimately condense into the chilling air. He was an impatient man after all.
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With a couple of short knocks, one of Atrea's fairly dressed servants entered the bedchamber, her disconsolate gaze met her servant's. Being a maid with manners and etiquette, a curtsy was given.