I don't really have much to say today. I wanted to give you a review of Toukiden but I haven't had much time to play. I was playing at lunch but the last couple of days my lunch has been very short. It's a good game though. It seems to be a more story driven version of Monster Hunter with NPCs that play along side you when you don't have other players to go with.
So I don't have much to say today. I've been working on a scene that I want to turn into something bigger. Have a read and tell me what you think:
“But mother, I’m not tired!” The young boy sighed, as his governess ushered him towards his bedroom. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”
“Oh, my dear Rhyan.” The mother smiled, walking along side her child and his nanny. “One day you’ll beg your wife or your seneschal to be allowed to go to sleep at this hour. There will be plenty of late nights in your future, I’m sure. There’s no need to use them all up now, my little bird. Tonight of all nights you should be excited for your sleep. It will be your name day tomorrow.”
He was quiet for a moment, looking down upon the smooth, stone worked floor as they travelled to his room. “Will you at least tell me a story?”
“Of course, child. Of what would you like to hear?” She asked. “Adventure and heroism? Of love and romance?” The boy grimaced and shook his head at the notion. His mother smiled with amusement to his reaction. “Of scary things? Of happy things?”
“How about a story of the old times, Milady?” The Governess offered.
“The old times?” Rhyan questioned in confusion. “What’s that?”
His mother looked at the Governess with a hint of mock reproach as they stopped outside his room. “If I were to tell stories of those old memories we’ll never get him off to sleep!” she exclaimed.
“Please mother!” He begged, despite his ignorance of the subject. “Please tell me of the old times.” He held his hands together as if praying as he looked up at his mother’s stern face. She looked back down into his big brown eyes and rolled hers, shaking her head and smiling. “Fine, fine. But only once you are in bed. And you have to promise to go to sleep as soon as we’re done.”
He grinned and nodded. “I promise!”
She brushed her hand through his dark hair and smiled. “Very well then. Miss Anna can you get him ready for bed?” She asked, turning to the Governess. “I will be in in a moment.”
“Of course milady.” She curtseyed before the boy’s mother and opened the door to his room, ushering him inside before following herself. The boy’s room was large, the third largest in the keep, he was quite sure. He’d spent his whole life running around the keep with the other children that lived there, playing knight and barbarian or Lord’s guard. He liked Lord’s guard most because, as the heir to Raven’s Keep he always got to be Keep, while they - the children of people in his father’s employ - played his King’s guard.
They tried to use Raven’s Keep’s receiving hall as his throne room when they were playing, but most of the time Rhyan’s father, Lord Craise Ravenborn, was holding court in it. the next largest room was his parents room and then his own.
The room was adorned with the dull grey and black of his father’s crest, but scattered with colourful toys from across the five city-states. Wooden horses and finely carved toy weapons from the dragon lands in the north to strengthen his arm. Intricate and complicated puzzles from the City State of the Leviathan in the East, toward the sea, to hone his mind. A grand toy castle made of carefully carved stone from the Basilisk Deserts to the south to give the boy a mind for castle warfare. Even a true bloodwood bow with six ebony tipped arrows from the Western forests of the Griffin to teach him focus.
Governess Anna lead Rhyan to the bed and sat him down to unfasten his leather boots, his light wool shirt and his light brown trousers. He let her do this without question, leaving him naked as she led him to the adjoining bathroom. Some might have felt ashamed or exposed by such treatment, even some so young as six summers old, but it had always been so for Rhyan. Governess Anna always helped him. Perhaps if someone new were to try he would feel differently, but with the Governess that was simply how things were.
As always the bath was ready prepared with oils and soaps. they had once used perfumes, but he had felt it too girly and made that it irritated his skin. He climbed into the back and sat forward as Governess Anna rolled up her sleeve and took a sponge from a small wooden table nearby.
After a long moments pondering, as Anna began to scrub at the boy’s back he looked up at her. “What were the old times?” He asked.
She smiled and continued to scrub hard, young boys have a talent for getting dirty she often said, It is a good thing I have a talent for getting things clean. “The old time, little bird, was an exciting time, long ago, before the city states existed, before the houses of the Dragon, of the Leviathan, of the Basilisk or the Griffin were ever established. Your mother was a scholar of the old time in her youth.”
“Whats a scholar?”
She pursed her lips for a moment as she bade the boy sit back. “A person who learns things.”
“I learn things, I can read and write now, and do sums. Does that make me a scholar?”
She chuckled. “I suppose it does, little bird. Your mother learned all about e magic of the old times."
"Magic?" Rhyan asked excitedly.
"Yes, little bird. Magic of all kinds. Not limited as now to the elements, but grand weaving magic, spells and sorceries.” Anna explained.
“Wow.” He intoned as she lifted him from the bath and patted him down with a soft black towel. She set the towel aside and he lifted his arms up to accept a thin wool night shit. He grimaced slightly as it itched under the arms, but he was used to that and made no complaint. It didn’t matter, he’d take it off as soon as his mother and the Governess left him for the night. How was he supposed to sleep in such a stifling outfit in the middle of summer anyway?
Governess Anna took his hand and lead him back to the bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind them. The door to his bedroom opened a crack as they entered, and he heard his mother's voice quiet and terse outside.
“Enough.” She said. “We will not speak of this again or you will not be welcome within my home.” There was a moments pause and then she added, “It is that. it is my home.”
The door opened further and his mother appeared, smiling happily, not a note of displeasure on her expression as she stepped in. Before she closed the door, however Rhyan saw his Uncle standing beyond, an angry- livid expression consuming his features. His eyes followed Rhyan’s mother, and then settled on the boy for a moment before the door swung closed.
“Well now, don't you just look spectacularly clean!” His mother exclaimed.
“Why is Uncle Gieve angry?” The little bird asked.
His mother looked back over her shoulder with a surprised expression. When her gaze returned to her son it was happy again. “Oh, your uncle’s favoured fencer lost his fight in the arena this morning and you know how your uncle loves his arena fights, little bird. Now,” she said, raising a finger into the air before her face. “What was I supposed to be doing? Saying goodnight and leaving you to sleep?”
“No!” The little bird argued. “Tell me a story! You promised!”
“Of course!” She exclaimed,as if just remembering. “A love story filled with kissing and snuggling?” She asked, grabbing her son up and lifting him onto her hip.
“Ew!” the child said. “Not that!”
“No?” She asked, mock confusion on her face. “What then?”
“A story of the old times!” He pleaded.
She smiled, “Fine fine!” she said, dropping him down onto the bed. he bounced once and crawled up to the edge of the covers and tucked himself in beneath them.
It's about to take a turn for the darker. I hope it works out and I'll keep you updated.
Tubage
- James
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