Thread: The Bond -Creation & Frelance-

Antrim had been watching the black tower grow larger by the hour for most of the day. It was just in the last hour that the skies had opened up and the rain started coming down in sheets. He had pulled his large hood on his cloak far enough forward that the water just rolled off the tip to then sheet off of the rest of the cloak. He had been tempted to take shelter when he saw an abandoned barn farm on the side of the road but his duty to the order kept him on his horse. It was not until he saw the third farm that he decided the rain was just another test. His life had changed since the Knights of the Ward had arrived on one of the trading ships in the one of the eastern ports of Okenland. His father the ruler of the KIndgom of Okenland had taken Prince Antrim Bran Killough to the docks to meet the group of Templars. He had been expecting the group to be half templar and half mages since he had been told that templars were paired with mages to protect them. He had been only then at the time. He had taken pride in the way the youngest of the templars had gazed in aw at the citie that had been carved out of the stone cliffs that lined either side of the fertile valleys that had crops growing on every available space. He had explained to the boy who was only a few years older than him that the valleys protected them from the heat and the sand storms that frequently raged across the desert that made up most of the Okenland Kingdom. The next day any pride he had taken from stunning the boy was beaten out of him as the templar boy had knocked to him to the ground whenever their blades met. While it was not the first time Antrim had been constantly beaten by an outsider. Normally when he was knocked to the ground this constantly it was by one of the children from a noble family. When they put their swords down and picked up bows it was Antrim's turn to show up the older boy. His first two arrows were only a finger widths apart. It was then that his father gave him the smallest of nods. Antrim loosed the rest of his quiver as fast as he could while keeping his closed. While the arrows were more spread out they were still grouped closer together than the older boys. It had been that night that his father told him the Templars would be coming back in a few years to take him to join their order. While he wanted to devote all his time to his training from that point on his father had made sure to educate him in the politics of the kingdoms. The times when he was told to attended the balls and feasts that were held in the honor of the visiting dignitaries while fun in the beginning they became a chore when it became clear that the other kids who came to visit where his equal. Worst of all none of them would accept a challenge to spare with him. It was not until he arrived at the Knights of the Ward that he found out that most kingdoms did not train their nobles from childhood like Okenlands. Snapping out of his thoughts as he realized the rain had stopped Antrim looked up and saw the tower was only a few hundred meters away. Pulling back his hood he waited until one of the Templars guarding the gate approached before he took his papers from a pocket in his cloak and handed them to the man. I am here to be paired with my ward. Once he was giving him papers back he dismounted and handed the reins off to his horse to a stable boy who met them at the gates. As he was escorted into the Black Tower the templar spoke to him softly so only he would hear. Relax this is what you have been trained to do. Remember your oath and be prepared to carry it out if needed. Protect your ward and protect the world. Remember those words. Antrim nodded as the older man spoke but he said nothing. He was more than prepared to uphold his oath. It was his ward that he was worried about. It had not seen Ashelin for years and that was for good reason. Their families had hated each other since before the desolation and it was only the fragile peace between all the kingdoms that had made it possible for him and Ashelin to meet in person. Not that it had ended well, they had started fighting almost instantly once they realized who the other was. When he was lead into an ornate chamber the gaurd left him. Looking around Antrim only recognized a few of the symbols that were carved into the floor. But as soon as he slipped off his cloak and hung it up by the door he could feel the energy making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Even with that slight discomfort he waited at near attention with a short sword at his side and his scale armor on. The armor had once been the skin of one of the toughest demons from the desolation and his commander had assigned it to him just a few weeks before he was ordered to the Black Tower.