Within one particular Cavalry tent, a young Ravenstad sat in a docile stupor, downing his latest glass of red that he'd tucked into his travel bag. "Spirit.." The Ravenstad would mutter, clasping down to his side, as he plucked up a golden coronet. A circle of dragons spun the small crown, holding together a rope of gold. All around it, jewels found themselves encrusted within the metalwork. It was truly a sight to behold. Richarr Ravenstad held the marvel up to the light of his tent, thrusting his legs up onto the oaken table infront of him, as he leant back in his aging chair. "Prince Aq'buwende.." The man would droll, "You've made me a /very/ lucky man." He'd state drly, tilting the coronet at a minute angle, to inspect all elements of his haul. "To the days ahead.. To the feats to come. To the wine to be drank.. And most importantly.." The man would usher from his lips, placing the coronet slowly down upon his head "To you Aq'bu." Richarr would allow his lips to drop into a crooked smirk, as he removed the coronet from his head once more, slipping it into his baggage.
"The victory is all the sweeter - at another man's expense."
The Ravenstad would state, allowing his legs to drop to the floor, before lifitng himself from his seat. He'd sweep up his sabre, making a short jog to the exit of his tent, before joining the flowing path of Regalian Soliders. The celebration would not be short lived.
