Thread: The Exile (muscularguy4F X Saezra)

Just weeks before Jerred had been one of the most powerful, respected and indeed, feared Lords in the realm. A Lord unlike any other, a Lord not born into lands or titles. One that didn't worry about collecting taxes from his subjects or whether their crop yield would see them through the winter. Instead, he was a Lord of War. The Lord of War. A title that had never been bestowed upon any man before him. It was one of the last orders even given by the old King. Made on his deathbed to ensure that it was Jerred not only continued to lead the armies after he was gone but would sit on the young Queen's counsel, advising and assisting. A heathen with no name and no family, he could never have been knighted. Nor could he have been given lands of any real meaning. Instead, he was rewarded by a King that recognised and valued his intelligence and skill. Though undoubtedly one of the best fighters in the Kingdom, it was his brains that stood out to the King. His ability to read situations and people belied his brutish appearance and, often enough, his demeanour. But that had all changed with the death of one of the high priests. While he and Jerred did not always sing off the same hymn sheet, they had an understanding a mutual respect through knowing that each were there by right and with the Queen's best interests at heart. But an illness had taken him, somewhat quickly, leaving a space at the table. His immediate successor had been voted in by her fellow clergy by unanimous consent. A relative newcomer to the church, she had risen quickly largely due to abilities that she claimed were due to a higher level of faith. Jerred had instinctively distrusted her and made a move wrestle some of her power away from her position. But it had failed and judgement was passed on him, exiling him from the capitol and relieving him of his title, his position and almost all of his affects. All he had accomplished, everything he had in his life taken away from him in an instant. Left with just his long and short swords, some basic clothes and a few personal belongings that few knew about, he was cast out. As he wondered through the great woods, a large staff in his right hand and a cloak concealing his weapons, he found himself contemplating his fate. It was almost a fate worse than death, the nail in the coffin coming when he heard the words spoken by the young Queen. The same young lady whom he had helped nurture, guide and had cared for. He could hear from her voice that it wasn't truly her speaking, but it hurt just as deeply He had taken a risk in travelling alone through the woods an area well covered by bands of thieves, but he knew he needed to keep well hidden. The sorceress would likely send men to try to finish him off and they would struggle to find him where he was headed. But when he awoke in what seemed to be a small room that was poorly lit and smelled strongly of herbs, salts and incense he soon realised his risk had not paid off. Memories flooded back to him in snippets as if hearing every other line in the retelling of the story. He remembered how a group of mercenaries had found him and surrounded him. They were too well trained or armed to be thieves and certainly weren't part of his army - not one man would dare take that order. No, they were her men. Which meant they didn't know him as well as they should have. They had assumed he was unarmed with the exception of his staff. It made them cocky and they had dropped their guard just long enough for him to take out one with rapid high slash to his throat. He had moved quickly, never letting them truly corner him. He had parried thrust and slash and hit back with speed and skill. But he took cuts to his legs and his torso, the numbers eventually catching up to him. He had done just enough to create space, to buy himself time. He remembered heading towards a track.. That's where it all went blank. Now he lay in a strange room, his naked form covered by a series of bandages and a towel. Sitting up and inspecting himself he noticed each cut had healed well as if given days rather than hours and that the towel that covered his manhood was at an angle that suggested it had been moved after being placed there. A scream rang through the chamber and he clamped his hands to his ears, turning to see the cause of the noise. I'm not going to hurt you he growled through annoyance and weakness. So how about you stop that and explain to me where I am