Exile of Tyr

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Exile of Tyr

Post by DoS Archive » Fri Nov 19, 2004 5:58 pm

From: ravionlocke@aol.com (Ravion Locke)
Date: 06 Feb 2003 16:50:07 EST

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Many years had passed. The sun had waxed and waned across the lands Tyr for a generation. Bleeding down its golden light to suffuse the trees and the grass with a green hue that sang back at the sun in their own harmony. Houses had risen, houses had fallen, but the golden sun of Tyr remained.
The House of Locke had waxed strong in the years passing. Through trade and conquest, through subterfuge and alliance. Mirimon Locke stood at the head of the noble house, bequethed in heredity the title of Lord of House Locke, and elevated to the Duchy of Tyr by the King out of fear.
Mirimon and Lythanas had been long of friendship together. Standing at each others sides in the feudal histories of the land. House Raith rose to ascend the throne in a brutal military coupe in which Lythana's father, Poldron, had struck down the vile King Yannar of the House Labru after Yannar had ordered the destruction of the other feudal houses in an attempt to solidify a weak hold upon the throne of Tyr.
Politics in Tyr had always been an edgy business. Poldron Raith was wise, and remained tolerable to the other houses of the land. As a measure of safety, Poldron sent his younger son to RhyDin, a place of safety and refuge for the nobility of the multiverse, and from that day, no more was the name of the youngest son of House Raith spoken, and nothing was known of his adventures.
In time, Poldron grew old and ill. And passed the burden of the crown to his oldest son, Lythanas. Who was fair, and equal in might of arms to his father, but not blessed in wisdom. To the court of the new king came his closest friend, Mirimon Locke, a dark haired, and dangerously intelligent warrior of a lesser known house.
Mirimon and Lythanas had forged brotherhood in the battles of the Great Houses before the overthrow of the House Labru. And Lythanas trusted Mirimon's counsel above all others...and his sword arm as well. The alliance of House Raith with House Locke gave imminence with which Mirimon bartered into great power in the land of Tyr. And such was the greatness of his achievements that it caused Lythanas fear in his heart.
Nathas, a fell sorceror of the fallen House Labru had gained time of the King's ear,
and Lythanas had taken him into confidence. Lulled by the sorceror's friendly words and humble demeanor, he judged no threat from this member of the House Labru. But such was not the case.
"I fear for you, your highness." Nathas of Labru said, upon one days counsel with the King of Tyr. "I fear for your safety from the ambitions of the House Locke."
Lythanas was heartily disturbed by such counsel, and gave further ear to the sorceror.
"Why would you fear of my friend, the Lord Locke." Lythanas questioned, the seed of suspiscion already planted. "For Mirimon has stood by me forever and to this day does still. Why do you question the loyalties of the greatest friend of mine?"
"Does he not vie to outshine you my lord?" Nathas said, his hands making a motion encompassing a wide breadth. "Does not his intention to solidify his own power in the lands of Tyr show you his intent? While he is your friend to your face, I say he plots behind your back. Truely my lord. He would be king in your stead."
Lythanas considered this, sore in his heart that one so trusted could betray him. The soreness quickly becoming an anger that little needed the encouraging words of the Labru sorceror.
"I will exile him." Lythanas said, his face white and pale against his blonde hair. The anger draining it of all color. "I will turn him from the lands of Tyr, seize his holdings and remove the name of Locke from the Houses of Tyr."
"Nay, my lord. If you would accept my counsel." Nathas said, raising a hand of warning to the king. "To move to quickly would to tip your hand. You would reveal your knowledge of the vile treason Mirimon plots too early. Verily, bring him closer unto you. Let him believe you trust him explicitly in all things. Then when his treachery is revealed, it will be all the more sanguine to the Houses. His betrayal will be undenyable, and every hand of the Kingdom would be turned against him."
Lythanas nodded, his mind clouded with enchantment, saw the obvious logic of the sorcerors counsel.
"I would, my lord, suggest the ressurrection of the Duchy of Tyr. You could invest the House of Locke with the noble responsibility of the Dukedom. This would truely make him believe that beyond all else, he was your closest and most loyal friend and ally."
"Aye," Lythanas nodded again, then banged a hand down on the arm rest of the throne he sat upon. "Aye! He shall have the power he so wishes to have. He will stand second only to me in the Kingdom...and then in time...I shall reveal his treachery before he is ready to strike...and thusly House Raith will save the kingdom from such vile blackhearts!"
Nathas smiled...and bowed before the King. Leaving the marbled chambers quietly, but exulting in his heart. For once House Raith turned upon House Locke, the Congress of Great Houses would lose confidence in the Ruling House, and the second most powerful House would be removed before the upheaval even began, the revenge of House Labru would be sweet.
As luck turns, the servants of the House Raith had been attentive to the chambers of the King, as always. But in this they felt it necessary to warn the Lord of House Locke. For they trusted not the sorceror of House Labru.
Mirimon Locke recieved the news in secret. Deep in the catacombs of the noble families of Tyr, word was brought to him, and he took great pains to consider his situation before returning to his estates to find his son.
Ravion Locke was easily found, having spent nearly his entire life in the practice yards of the Locke Estate training in swordplay with some of the best warriors Mirimon could muster. Mirimon stopped a moment to watch the interplay of the light broadsword the younger Locke was wielding as he faced three foes at once.
Ravions mother had been Eldar...of the Old People. She had died after the birthing of Ravion, her lifes spirit wholly consumed by the needs of the child within her. Ravion had gained the grace of her people through her but also the might of men from his father. The combination of the two, along with the inner fire that seemed to drive the young man made him incredibly uncanny with a sword.
Mirimon watched as the slim steel flashed from strike to strike, a parry turned catching three blades and casting them aside, Ravion's form fluid and in constant motion as he beat back the attacks of his practice partners, and delivered his own.
Ravion looked up, the sky blue eyes noting the presence of his father and he nodded. Quickly he turned, his long dark hair whipping with the movement, lashing out a fierce kick that caught one of the trainers in the stomach as the trainer ran at him, blade raised. Ravion flowed with the attack, striking the man to the ground with the flat of the blade, then spun, a parry turning away a second attack, he kicked the second trainer in the groin, leaving the man whimpering in a fetal position on the ground. The third man, the smarter of the three, dropped his sword and bowed to Ravion, then turned his attention to his fallen comrades.
Ravion sheathed the light broadsword and stepped off the practice field, measured strides bringing him to his fathers side as Mirimon began walking to the estate itself. As they walked, Mirimon spoke.
"There is trouble ahead of us, my son." Mirimon said, looking the tall young man with a wistful eye. "It is such that I believe we cannot ride through it safely."
Ravion stayed silent. Respectful of his fathers wisdom, he listened as Mirimon related the details of the Labru plot and its intent towards the House of Locke.
"In times of question, the heads of Great Houses have often sent heirs into hiding my son." Mirimon said, as they entered his study and took seats opposite of each other across a huge mahogany desk. "I would have you safe from this strife."
"No father," Ravion said, eyes flashing as he shook his head. "I will stand with you. I will fight. There is not a Labru nor a Raith that can match my blade."
"Of this I am sure my son. And I do not question your skills." Mirimon said, rubbing his eyes for a moment and being visited by a memory of his wife in his sons face. "Your blood is hot, and your ability with a sword is unmatched. But I would not see blood shed in this. Not Raith, Labru nor Locke blood."
"Then what shall you do father? How can you fight this?"
"I shall not fight Ravion. I shall send you to safety, and take the responsibility of the Duchy of Tyr. And I will stand by Lythanas as I always have, he may yet see the falseness of the words of Nathas of Labru. I cannot prove against such deciet by fighting, nor by running away. I may only do so by proving my loyalty to my friend, and my King."
Ravion again shook his head.
"But why send me into hiding then? I could stand with you. I could call out the malcontent Labru. Prove his villany upon his body before the Congress of Great Houses!"
Mirimon took a deep breath, looking out the portal of the chamber, watching the golden light of the sun bleed across the land of Tyr for another day, then turned his attention back to his son.
"Because, my son. This will not end happily. There will be blood spilled. And the Houses of Raith and Locke will be split. I will not be able to stop it. But you will be able to return and make vengence against House Labru for the dishonor they will have visited upon our House, and the House of our ally, King Lythanas."
"You speak as if you are already dead!" Ravion near yelled, frustrated with his fathers acceptance of what seemed to be fate. "How can you not fight this?"
"I will not break my oath to a friend. And to fight, or to run, would do both." Mirimon said, shaking his head and offering a wan smile to his son. "Please my son. Honor my request. And go to RhyDin, where you may survive this strife. Stay alive to return and avenge the wrong that will be done to the Kingdom."
"Others have gone before, but never returned father." Ravion scowled, bound by his fathers will, but unhappy with such. "My safety in RhyDin is no more assured than it would be here, from all evidence."
"It is a wide land my son." Mirimon shrugged. "Who can say where those who went before you ended up. They may be Kings in their own right, in lands we have no knowledge of."
Ravion stood, looking around the study for the last time, then nodded to his father.
"I will go, but I shall await your summons to return." Ravion said, squaring his shoulders then bowing to his father.
"I wait for the day that I will be able to send it my son. May your blade guide you in the new land you go to." Mirimon stood, and returned the bow.
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