Horseman's Pleasure

How unfortunate it is for you then.

Bryce fancies her with a softer attitude than his recent one, with kinder eyes and a softer voice.

"Is that so?"

Bryce moves to a seat in the room, undoing his coat.

"Say I were younger, shorter, and not so comely. Would you be so enticed?"

Horseman's Pleasure

"Ah, my lord, the appearance is little in comparison to the bearing. May I get us wine? Red, imported from Solus. Some men are far more entertaining after a few drinks, yes?"

Horseman's Palace

"Of course."

When she returns, he drinks his fill. After, he nearly forgot his purpose at the brothel. Aieneth's charms became difficult to abstain from. Her appearance drew him near the brink as well, with her tantalizing figure and hair colored like the richest earth. She couldn't have been more than Nic's age. But he remembered that she is not for him. That he did not care much for paid women. That she is a whore. He wondered if his brother cared for whores any more than he did.

It was then that Bryce stopped her from her seductions.

"Miss Aieneth, I have something to admit to you. It is not me with whom you are to lay with. You see, my brother is lacking in terms of maturity. Perhaps you could assist me in allowing him to grow up for once in his life. Maybe you could appear at his door, masqueraded as a frightened young woman looking for assurance in time of trouble in the arms of a brave noble; as he is very much interested in that chivalry business. So what do you say, my lady?"

Horseman's Palace

"As you wish, my lord. Hopefully he is as entertaining as you, hm?"

...

A day passes in Fracterrum, and rays of sunlight spring forth from the dawn horizon, spilling light on events unfolding.

The city of Porte is preparing for siege, as Galt Medeis marches his army to the walls...

Shaking Willows

Bryce found himself sitting on the floor, his back to a bedpost and his eyes dazing about a dark room. Not much was clear. What was evident to him was the piercing sting every time he breathed. There was a sort of faint light illuminating a hallway behind a half-closed door in front of him, from a which slithery trail of darkness crept upon him. Bryce barely noticed the same darkness along a lengthy tear across his chest and cuts on his face when something came into view that sent a very real shiver down his spine.

Or rather someone. He saw a figure step into the moonlight in front of him. He knew it was her. Then in that same instant all was clear to him. It was that night. He thought she looked best in the moonlight, its blueness glistening in the sapphires she had for eyes and dancing off the flow of locks that fell to her shoulders. If only he'd told her so. She ruggedly tended to the darkness consuming him, wiping it from his chest and off the floor and off his hands.

Bryce knew this night second by second. He had been cursed to relive it every night since. This time, something was different. This time, Bryce knew what he had done. Bryce knew what would happen next. Bryce knew what he was going to find the next morning, and he knew his affliction from then on. And this time, Bryce knew what to do.

As always, she would scold him for his blood drunken fumbling. He didn't know exactly what she was saying, he was always too disoriented to grasp whatever he heard her say. And then she would give him her rags.

She rose and turned to leave him. Before she could, Bryce snatched her hand in his. And she looked back at him, speechless. But Bryce was not.

"Please, don't go" was all he said. He simply looked her in the eyes. Bryce didn't know what to do then. Uncertainty set in, but with it hope. Hope of a way out of this labyrinth of misery that he dropped himself into. Hope of a time where he could know beauty. Hope of love.

With a flash it was all gone. Bryce opened his eyes to catch a ray of sunlight over the horizon through the shutters. He noticed that he felt weak. He mustn't have gotten more than an hour's sleep. Bryce tossed and turned, he remembered, looking for a place where his chest didn't pain him as much as it did, unsuccessfully.

Bryce tried to close his eyes and continue what could have been. However much he wished for his tiredness to take him once again, it didn't. Defeated, he sat up in his bed, blankets failing to shield him from the cold winds that so often like to open the shutters. Bryce stared out the window, at the dreaded world he was born into. He cursed it and the sun that showed it to him.

Still Bryce found it in him to get dressed and amble into the Shaking Willow's common room, finding himself a secluded table to seat himself at. With his chin on his knuckles, Bryce waited for whatever misfortune awaited him today.

Shaking Willows

At some point later, Moira enters the inn, swiftly homing in on Bryce.

"Caryotte," he says as he nears the table, "doing nothing particularly useful, I see."

Shaking Willows

Bryce stares Moira in his dead eyes.

In a tone that demanded an answer, Bryce says, "What've you come here for?"

Shaking Willows

Moira chuckles lightly before seating himself at the table.

"To dance before the eve of a great storm. Our positions are precarious, Lord Bryce. One way or the other, these next few days will change everything. I know you can feel it, Caryotte. The whole world can feel it."

Shaking Willows

Bryce gives a look as if to catch onto what Moira meant by dance.

"One way or the other, huh? My death, or yours? Unless by some chance miracle that we both survive to dance this jig of fate another day."

Shaking Willows

Moira sits in silence for a while, before finally speaking.

"It would be a great shame if you were to die during this engagement, Lord Bryce. You are tied to this land, and I fear that your death would have equal results for Fracterrum."