Thread: Spoils of War (DareToDream and Nightingale)

Kneeling on the floor, his eyes downcast, Marcus waited for the second blow to fall. His heart was pounding in his chest and his blood flowed fast but neither was a result of fear at all. No, the High Knight was angry, so very angry, rage boiling through his chest like a gazelle fleeing a wolf. The urge to take his Lord and hurt him, for his actions against Lady Illayna a moment ago, was a beast he wrestled with but won. When no blow came, Marcus slowly raised his eyes, letting his gaze stare at Lord Aquitaine. The man was standing still, his body virtually trembling, face reddened. If humans could steam, Marcus knew it would be flowing from the mans ears, so great was his ire at his High Knight for the action he had taken against him. Just then footsteps could be heard as men burst through the crowd, quickly grabbing each man and pulling them apart. Marcus surrendered immediately, his body going lax, letting the High Kings guards restrain him. Lord Aquitaine fought at first but then settled down, the rage fleeing his system as quickly as it had come. Release them a voice called out, booming through the room, the words echoing. It was the High King, having come to investigate, and at his command both men were suddenly let loose. Marcus turned to the High King and gave a deep bow, keeping his body in that position, his voice coming out a low murmur. My apologies, High King he said. We did not mean to bring disgrace to your home. He stood then and turned to his High Lord, giving him a slight bow too. Your Highness, the night is late. We should leave this place and return to camp immediately. Lord Aquitaine studied him for a moment and then gave a curt nod, turning and pushing through the crowd, his drunken steps slightly staggering. Marcus followed his Lord out, staying close to him, his eyes scanning the crowd. When he did not see Illayna, he breathed a sigh of relief, glad that she had heeded his warning and gotten out. His mind was twirling with emotions and thoughts, wondering what morning would bring. He had pushed his luck that night, stepping between his Lord and the Princess, but he would not see her harmed. Too much was at stake, for their kingdoms and his heart. After collecting their weapons and reaching their horses, the men of Narvashal headed back to camp, silence their sole companion. Soon they were through the guarded gate with Marcus leading Lord Aquitaine to bed. The minute hed put him down and turned to go, the drunken mans hand shot out and grabbed him. You have overstepped your bounds this night, Marcus, and I shall not forget that. With those words, he was released and, with a curt nod, the High Knight left. Reaching his own tent he slowly stripped off his weapons, tucking one under his pillow, then dropped his clothes next. Sliding under the covers on his cot, he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, willing his body to calm. Thoughts of the Princess invaded his mind but he welcomed them like hed welcomed no others and it was with a smile on his lips that he drifted off. When he awoke the next morning, he bounded from bed, quickly splashing water on his face. Grabbing a towel and some soap, he headed to the makeshift bath house and quickly cleaned himself up then dressed in his best huntsmen clothes. The first official day of the Midsummer Festival would begin with the rise of the sun. As per tradition, nobles of all the kingdoms, along with their guards, would participate in the Goddess Hunt, set to kick off in mid-morning. It was meant as a day of merriment, where the crowd traipsed through the woods and surrounding countryside in search of wild game, bringing what they took back for the first public feast that night. Marcus would be riding with his Lord along with a contingent of hand picked guards. Moving out of the bathhouse into the light of the day, he reached the stables and began barking orders for the horses to be readied. Next he visited the weapons master, selecting two hunting bows, one for himself and one for Lord Aquitaine. When that was he done, he headed for his tent, acknowledging the guards as he pass within. The Lord was up and dressed, his eyes scanning papers on his desk, but when he looked up, their gazes locked. Marcus snapped his feet together and stiffened his back, then gave a sharp bow. Milord, the horses are getting ready and I have your bow for todays hunt. He reached out and set the bow against a tent pole then stepped back. The High Lord studied him for a moment, then the bow, before nodding to Marcus. Very well, High Knight. I shall be ready in just a moment. He studied him some more and then went back to his papers, dismissing him anew. Marcus turned and left the tent, his thoughts on last night. No mention had been made of it so perhaps the High Lord didnt remember it. Whistling softly to himself he headed for the chow tent, hunger making itself known. His steps were light and a softly whispered tune left his lips as he walked his spirits were good despite his current circumstances and he wondered if he would see Lady Illayna again that day.