Nelida's Grace

Chapter 2 - Kyruss

Timbers creak in counterpoint to the waves rocking the ship from side to side, and canvas sails flap and billow as the wind drives the ship forward. The taste of salt permeates, while a damp smell wafts from the freshly swabbed deck—dark wood swollen and watertight. There is a bright flash and a peal of thunder and everything changes.

The sails above his head slap, crashing against the ship in the relentless wind. The waters roil and the vessel lurches, tossing the crew from one side of the ship to the other. Their shouts beg for relief, though their words are mostly lost to the cacophony of the storm: rain pelting the deck, bone-rattling thunder. In the brief flashes of lightning arcing over the ship, he can see clearly the harried, fearful faces before you.

The proud captain standing next to him, imploring the crew to work harder, belaying the fear that is welling in them all.

The crew runs around him as if he isn’t there - but he definitely feels the rocking and tossing of the boat. A figure appears on the deck, he wasn’t there a minute ago. Adorned in full plate, colored in blue with gold highlights, helm shut.

The figure notices him - It stands there, casually, with a harpoon and shield strapped to his back. He now notices the dents and rends on the armor knowing full well this knight has seen battle. The knight inclines its helmeted face in his direction and bows slightly, though whether this acknowledgment is a greeting or a challenge, he isn’t sure...

“M’lord” the voice seems distant, “M’lord” it repeats, this time a bit closer. “M’lord!” yelled so loudly it startles him from the bed, sliding off the silken sheets and onto the floor, he looked up at the one person that would dare to invade his slumber. Hearing a feminine giggle from within the bed, he thinks to himself, well not the only one.

Shaking the remnants of the dream from his mind, taking a deep breath, and inhaling the smells of the tavern below "It seems people are beginning to break their fast." he quickly thought to himself.

“What is it Galli?” he says as he begins to stand, feeling the effects of the large quantities of wine that he drank last night. “Water” as he sticks his hand out, which is promptly filled with a pewter mug, filled with cold water. He finishes it quickly “Warm,” he says, this time, a larger ceramic vase with warm water is handed to him and he dumps it upon his head, water drenching his short-cut black hair. Kyruss then turns to his squire, “Galli, you must teach me your ways, these tricks are convenient while we are out on the road, but you will not always be with me.”

“I know M’lord, that’s why I am here. I have been called back home, the senate is in turmoil, it appears your mother has denounced them, naming them outlaws and traitors. The sages have asked for me to return.”

“The sages? Means you will be going through the academy instead of a knight?”

“Yes, you know I lack the knack of the trident or sword, as Khirstus has never been my calling, He is yours, Edis has called me to where I need to be.”

Kyruss turns and looks at the beautiful barmaid in his bed, smiling back at him, her lithe body framed perfectly by the silken sheets. For once, he found someone that could match his stamina, and his curiosity began to rise again.

With a slight smile and nod, “Galli, see yourself out, I see someone who needs saving.”

The exasperated sigh and click of the door is all he needed to know that they were alone again.

“Now my sweet, it’s time to show me some of those tricks again.”

“Yes my lord” she slips the sheets off of her, exposing her body to him, “Let us play”.

As the morning slides to afternoon, Kyruss finally rises and prepares himself for the day. Frustration set in that he was going to be losing his aide, as Galli was heading back home to Navrene. Damn his mother for what she was doing, the power trips the woman had is what drove him away and towards the god Khirstus. He looked back on the day he entered the halls of training, not fancying the way of the monks, he felt drawn to the martial segment, the Knights of Khirstus. They waged war on evil, focusing on those who committed atrocious acts on others. His training was light at first, people were afraid of harming the prince, and it took a session of him not pulling his attacks and yelling at them all, demanding they treat him as one of their own and not as the prince, that things changed. One large knight, Lord Ernaut, smiled at him and drew his trident, and attacked. There wasn’t any skill there, just pure brute force, the power of the blow on Kyruss’s shield sent him sprawling, with the shield flying out of his hands, sliding across the ground to the Trident Master’s feet. The dent in it was all Kyruss needed to know, he was lucky to be alive. That is when his true training began. Here he was just Lord Kyruss, Knight of Khirstus, not his Royal Highness, Prince Kyruss, or better yet, that bastard half-elf which he had heard uttered many times in the halls behind his back.

Sitting back on the bed to pull his boots on, he wondered what trouble he could find today as the entire reason he ended up in the seaport of Eddleheal, was to find out if the stories were true of evil beings permeating across Stoneland.

“Damnit Galli,” he thought to himself “Why did you have to be so damn good with the arcane?” glancing around, realizing that he would no longer have his “squire” with him, meant solitude once again. He hated solitude.