(( I felt compelled to explore the dynamic between Ulric and his wife after an IC discussion this evening. Not my best writing, but I'm content with the result. ))
The iron carriage rode hard through the streets of Calemberg. Before it, the swathes of citizens dotting the streets parted, quick to make way at the uproarious commands of the two armored cavalrymen leading the procession. Men removed their hats, and ladies made short curtsies as the erratic sound of hoofbeats passed them by at speed, snaking along the streets towards the center of the city, towards the Holzburg Palace.
The cortège continued onwards, passing through several dark iron gates and checkpoints, before finally coming to a halt before a pair of towering metal doors, the large green-grey banners of the House Typhonus swaying softly in the breeze on either side. Like clockwork, the guards dismounted their steeds, taking up positions lining the way to the looming doorway as stewards disembarked from the back of the carriage. "His Excellency the Archduke!" One of the stewards announced, opening the carriage doors. The solemn figure of Ulric Typhonus emerged, clad in a thick forest green winter coat, a stark white pelt draped over his shoulders. With a stoney expression, the Typhonus made a vague, dismissive wave with a gloved hand, as he started down the cobbled path to the iron doors.
From ahead, the raucous sound of metal chains and heaving steel bellowed from behind the castle walls, as the set of iron doors moved slowly open. The Archduke proceeded forwards. For all the wealth possessed by the House Typhonus, the courtyard he entered was relatively plain. Swathes of muted plant life and grasses were positioned on either side at the walls, where multiple Typhonus banners were hung, the only other notable features being several lantern posts and a simple fountain at the center of the walkway. Besides the grasses and plants, now wilting and slightly discolored in the wintery cold, the entire scene almost seemed dominated by a lifeless gray. The overcast day offered no assistance.
The only break from the dismal scene came in the form of a man, standing beside the fountain, at attention. He stood tall, looking to be at least six foot, if not more, clad in dark grey armour covering forest green robes. He glanced down, pressing a closed fist to his chest as the Archduke approached. "My Lord." He greeted, his voice gruff. "Brother." The Archduke nodded in response. The two regarded each other in silence for a moment, the younger Typhonus dwarfing his elder sibling in his armour. ".. Is she expecting me?" Ulric asked after a pause. Thoron nodded robotically, stepping to the side. "The gallery hall." Releasing a shallow breath, the Archduke nodded, striding past his younger brother, further into the halls of the Palace.
The pair walked slowly through the spacious, yet empty halls. Dim light shone gently through the stone windows to their right, while the wall to their left stood adorned with decorations. Family swords, stag heads, portraits of Emperors and notable Typhonus, even a few Cadars, and a plethora of war decorations and memorabilia lined the long walk ahead. But the two didn't seem to be interested in any of the items, instead simply walking ahead, their gazes forward, only occasionally deviating to look at one another. His arm was linked in hers, her forest green dress complimenting his own attire. "You're spending too much time worrying over it," she continued, gently squeezing the aging knight's arm. "They know you're doing it for their future." He glanced back at her, his expression somewhat somber. "The way she looks at me sometimes. It makes me think otherwise. Void, I barely even see our son at all. It's as if I didn't even raise him." The pair slowed. She released her gentle hold on his arm, turning to face him. The dim light from the stone windows behind her created a soft radiance to her sharp features, her deep blue eyes glancing into Ulric's own. They were both in their fifties now, but sometimes, Ulric swore, it was as if they were both still eighteen at times.
"Ulric," she started softly, her voice low and comforting. "How could you have raised them? You were out representing us. Making us known at court. Winning battles." She took his hands in hers as she spoke. "If they don't understand now, they will. In the future." The aging knight nodded slowly, releasing a silent breath. "Perhaps you're right." He said, though his expression remained subdued. Aleida released Ulric's hands, stepping back to his side. Together, they continued down the corridor, their steps the only sound as the dim, cloudy light began to give way to dusk.
(( I felt compelled to explore the dynamic between Ulric and his wife after an IC discussion this evening. Not my best writing, but I'm content with the result. ))
The iron carriage rode hard through the streets of Calemberg. Before it, the swathes of citizens dotting the streets parted, quick to make way at the uproarious commands of the two armored cavalrymen leading the procession. Men removed their hats, and ladies made short curtsies as the erratic sound of hoofbeats passed them by at speed, snaking along the streets towards the center of the city, towards the Holzburg Palace.
The cortège continued onwards, passing through several dark iron gates and checkpoints, before finally coming to a halt before a pair of towering metal doors, the large green-grey banners of the House Typhonus swaying softly in the breeze on either side. Like clockwork, the guards dismounted their steeds, taking up positions lining the way to the looming doorway as stewards disembarked from the back of the carriage. "His Excellency the Archduke!" One of the stewards announced, opening the carriage doors. The solemn figure of Ulric Typhonus emerged, clad in a thick forest green winter coat, a stark white pelt draped over his shoulders. With a stoney expression, the Typhonus made a vague, dismissive wave with a gloved hand, as he started down the cobbled path to the iron doors.
From ahead, the raucous sound of metal chains and heaving steel bellowed from behind the castle walls, as the set of iron doors moved slowly open. The Archduke proceeded forwards. For all the wealth possessed by the House Typhonus, the courtyard he entered was relatively plain. Swathes of muted plant life and grasses were positioned on either side at the walls, where multiple Typhonus banners were hung, the only other notable features being several lantern posts and a simple fountain at the center of the walkway. Besides the grasses and plants, now wilting and slightly discolored in the wintery cold, the entire scene almost seemed dominated by a lifeless gray. The overcast day offered no assistance.
The only break from the dismal scene came in the form of a man, standing beside the fountain, at attention. He stood tall, looking to be at least six foot, if not more, clad in dark grey armour covering forest green robes. He glanced down, pressing a closed fist to his chest as the Archduke approached. "My Lord." He greeted, his voice gruff. "Brother." The Archduke nodded in response. The two regarded each other in silence for a moment, the younger Typhonus dwarfing his elder sibling in his armour. ".. Is she expecting me?" Ulric asked after a pause. Thoron nodded robotically, stepping to the side. "The gallery hall." Releasing a shallow breath, the Archduke nodded, striding past his younger brother, further into the halls of the Palace.
The pair walked slowly through the spacious, yet empty halls. Dim light shone gently through the stone windows to their right, while the wall to their left stood adorned with decorations. Family swords, stag heads, portraits of Emperors and notable Typhonus, even a few Cadars, and a plethora of war decorations and memorabilia lined the long walk ahead. But the two didn't seem to be interested in any of the items, instead simply walking ahead, their gazes forward, only occasionally deviating to look at one another. His arm was linked in hers, her forest green dress complimenting his own attire. "You're spending too much time worrying over it," she continued, gently squeezing the aging knight's arm. "They know you're doing it for their future." He glanced back at her, his expression somewhat somber. "The way she looks at me sometimes. It makes me think otherwise. Void, I barely even see our son at all. It's as if I didn't even raise him." The pair slowed. She released her gentle hold on his arm, turning to face him. The dim light from the stone windows behind her created a soft radiance to her sharp features, her deep blue eyes glancing into Ulric's own. They were both in their fifties now, but sometimes, Ulric swore, it was as if they were both still eighteen at times.
"Ulric," she started softly, her voice low and comforting. "How could you have raised them? You were out representing us. Making us known at court. Winning battles." She took his hands in hers as she spoke. "If they don't understand now, they will. In the future." The aging knight nodded slowly, releasing a silent breath. "Perhaps you're right." He said, though his expression remained subdued. Aleida released Ulric's hands, stepping back to his side. Together, they continued down the corridor, their steps the only sound as the dim, cloudy light began to give way to dusk.
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