[Stone Gardens] A Peaceful Morning [Octavius]

[Amarhyl]

Season of Winter, Day 50, 510AV It had only been a day since she had arrived in Syliras, and Amarhyl was determined to come to terms with city life. She still hated the enclosed space of her room in the Citadael though, longing for the views of the endless fields at the Outpost once more. She had begun to wander through the stone corridors, her footsteps echoing round the dull hallway. Everything here seemed grey and boring in the mornings, before the hustle and bustle of the busy city crowds appeared. Another pair of footsteps sounded, and she glanced round. A Knight was striding purposefully down the corridor, allowing only a brief nod to the young girl as he passed. Even though she had lived alongside the Knights all her life, they still intrigued her. Growing up in the Outpost, it seemed the Knights stationed down there were of a different calibre than the ones in the City. At the Outpost, they seemed more willing to converse, or to share a joke. Here though, they all seemed to be in a hurry, or so rigid in their duties that conversation was scarce. The girl understood though, that they kept the City safe, and she respected them for that. Amarhyl found she had been wandering aimlessly, and she was bought out of her reverie when bright sunlight suddenly enveloped her. She’d stepped out of the end of the stone corridor, and into a garden of some sort. ’Oh, the Stone Gardens…’ She had never seen it before, but she had heard of it, and it was one of the places she had always wanted to see. A little smile worked onto her mouth, it was so peaceful here. She made her way over to an arch, and sat herself beneath it. Azure eyes scanned the gardens, her gaze falling over the intricate patterns of cobblestones and archways. She slipped her rucksack off her shoulder, and after rummaging for a moment, pulled out her journal and a pencil. She began to write, mostly shorthand notes on her next embroidery pattern, adorned with a sketch or two.

[Octavius Fellguarde]

Season of Winter, Day 50, 510AV

In a rare act of youthful rebellion, Octavius decided to skip his early morning training and take a stroll around the gardens ˗ mostly to ease his aching muscles. His duties only seemed to grow more exhaustive as he matured, and moments of catharsis were few and far between for the young squire. He needed to be reminded what he was training for, and no place represented that ideal better than the Stone Gardens. The gardens were undeniably beautiful with its expertly cobbled pathways and delicate floral arrangements. Still, he couldn't help but to feel somewhat small as he passed through the sea of stone memorials. Each stone represented a life lost in the pursuit of something greater, and the sacrifice of those men and women embodied the true beauty of the gardens. As he turned the corner, Octavius greeted a pair of elder knights making their way up the path, but they were too involved in their conversation to notice him. Instead of getting offended, he couldn’t help but to laugh. Even in a place as serene as the gardens, the knights couldn’t spare a moment to relax. When he was younger, he wasn't able to understand their dedication, let alone appreciate it. Like most children raised near Sunberth, he had seen the Knights as nothing more than a symbol of oppression. Armed bullies who had no right interfere with the business of others. It wasn't until he was brought to Syliras that he truly realized what they were fighting for. Octavius continued to muse to himself as he made his way back towards the entrance, when something caught his eye. Beneath an archway, wearing a beautifully-crafted, purple cloak, sat a girl with her head buried in a journal. Golden-yellow hair bounced and obscured her features as her focus shifted from her surroundings to her writings. There was something amusing about how peaceful she seemed. Octavius couldn't remember the last conversation he had with someone who wasn't either a stuffy knight or an irritable instructor. Feeling a bit lonely and not wanting to appear as unsociable and withdrawn as the senior knights, he approached the preoccupied girl. "My apologies Miss," he started, flashing a warm smile and trying not to startle her, "But might I ask what you are drawing?"

[Amarhyl]

Amarhyl's brow furrowed as she concentrated on her sketch, so intent was she to get it absolutely perfect. She was drawing an elaborate pattern beneath some scribbled notes about a hemline. The lines she made crossed each other and looped round in delicate swirls - it was not entirely dissimilar to the silver embroidery on the cloak she was currently wearing. It would be her most difficult project yet, but she was excited about it nevertheless. She was so absorbed in her journal that she didn't hear footsteps approaching. In-fact, she didn't realize that anyone was nearby till a shadow fell over her page. She looked up, squinting against the morning sun, to see a face smiling down at her. "My apologies Miss," She blinked up at him, and as her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she could make out that he was one of the Syliran Knights. Though he seemed young, hardly older than herself. "But might I ask what you are drawing?" Amarhyl paused for a moment, surprised that any Knight would be taking an interest in what she might be doing. Though, there were the rare few, she supposed. She remembered the Knight back at the Outpost; he was more than happy to chat in the mornings. A little smile found it's way onto her face. "Um, of course." She flipped her journal round so that he could see her sketches and notes. She didn't usually show anyone her journal, but she figured that it didn't really matter. Nothing stayed hidden forever. "I uh, I like to plan out patterns and things before I make them." She gave a shrug and smiled again, lifting the book slightly - offering it to him, just in case he wanted a closer look.

[Octavius Fellguarde]

"Um, of course.” The young woman had a peculiar way about her speech. The boldness and impatience that normally characterized people from the city seemed noticeably absent in her. If her accent didn’t sound so familiar, he would have guessed that she wasn’t even from the city. There was no way to be sure, of course. Recognizing the different accents and mannerisms of the civilians was a skill that required years of service in order to hone. Fortunately, the diverse nature of Syliras meant that the young squire would have plenty of practice in the future. “I uh, I like to plan out patterns and things before I make them." Perceptive as always, the girl’s hesitation did not go unnoticed by Octavius. He knew that some people found being approached by an armed Knight to be, even under the friendliest of circumstances, somewhat off-putting. Subconsciously, he shifted his weight so that the folds of his cloak concealed the sheathed sword on his hip. His smile broadened as he looked down at the young girl's journal. “These designs are wonderful," he spoke earnestly, "But the designs on your cloak are even more impressive! With your talents, I can’t imagine you have much trouble finding work in the city.” He knew he was perhaps being too familiar, but he honestly didn't have many opportunities to have a friendly conversation with someone outside of the Knighthood.

[Amarhyl]

“These designs are wonderful," Amarhyl smiled at the honesty in his voice. She'd never shown anyone her designs before - not the ones in her journal anyway. If anyone saw her in the street though, they'd see the simple pattern round the neck of her tunic - that was a creation of hers. "But the designs on your cloak are even more impressive! With your talents, I can’t imagine you have much trouble finding work in the city.” This time her smile was somewhat sheepish as she looked up at the man. "My cloak is not my own work." She paused and absently fingered it's velvety folds. "My mother created and embroidered it herself." She glanced away for a moment. Her mother had died on the day Amarhyl was born. The purple cloak was the only thing she had to know her by. It was also the reason her journal was made of purple leather, the colour was something that she connected with her mother. "Though one day I hope to be as skilled as she was." She looked back up the the Knight and subconsciously shifted over. There was now enough space if he wanted to sit down. She found it strange to be talking to amicably to a Syliran Knight, not that they were unfriendly people, it just seemed that they were never off duty. She wondered if this man was meant to be elsewhere right now, though she was unsure what kind of duties a Knight that seemed as young as he would actually have.

[Octavius Fellguarde]

Octavius winced slightly as he realized his mistake. It didn't take long for him to notice the girl's hand lingering on her cloak when she spoke of her mother. He had thought it nothing more than a well-crafted garment, but it clearly held some further significance to the young woman. He could only imagine why the mention of her mother caused her to react in such a fashion, but he immediately regretted mentioning anything about the cloak at all. Shifting uncomfortably in his stance, Octavius silently cursed himself for being such a damned fool. “Ahem, well ˗ it’s a nice design either way,” he said awkwardly, his normally poised manner of speech momentarily broken. Wanting to steer the conversation in another direction, he took a seat next to the young woman and formally introduced himself. “I should probably mention that my name is Octavius,” he said as his smile returned. It seemed odd that he had waited so long to tell her his name. Normally, he would have also identified his regiment and the knight he was currently serving under, but he didn’t want to address her like he would a common criminal. He figured that there would be plenty of opportunities to offend her in the future. There was little need to expedite the process.

[Amarhyl]

Amarhyl wasn't too good at reading people, but she did notice him wince slightly when she spoke. She figured that she knew why too. She offered him a little smile. It wasn't his fault, after all, she didn't go round with it sewn into her clothing. In any case, it was nice to hear her mother's work complimented in such a way, it gave her a feeling of pride. She looked sideways at him when he moved to sit next to her. She didn't expect to be sitting amicably with a Knight the day after she had arrived in the City. It felt rather surreal to the young girl. “I should probably mention that my name is Octavius,” She nodded and smiled before giving him her own name. "I'm Amarhyl." She paused for a moment, trying to think of something she could ask him. She came up with nothing remotely creative, so settled with, "Uhm, how long have you been in the Knights?"

[Octavius Fellguarde]

“It’s been almost eight years now,” Octavius answered, counting off the years in his head. It had been quite a while since he had thought about his life before joining the Knighthood. “I was actually born outside of Syliras; in the farmlands near Sunberth. My father wanted a better life for me, so he sent me here to train as a page, and by the grace of Sylir I am still standing.” Octavius chuckled to himself, realizing that he was perhaps making his duties sound much more dangerous than they actually were. For as much training as he did with a blade, he was rarely provided with an opportunity that actually called for him to use it. Of course that would all change as the months leading up to his Knighting Quest continued to pass. He was determined to proof himself worthy before kneeling before the Windoak. "What of your home? You don't sound as if you are from the city proper."

[Amarhyl]

Amarhyl glanced quickly round at the young Knight when he spoke. Eight years would have meant that he was really young when he joined up. She frowned as she imagined such a young child entering training. She bought her attention back to him as he continued to speak, and the corner of her mouth twitched when he chuckled. The girl had never been to Sunberth, but she had heard tales of it lawless ways. She thought it was somewhat ironic that someone who hailed from a place that hated government would end up as a Syliran Knight. "You must've been really young when you joined up then..." It was more a statement than a question, but he could take it as whatever he chose. When it was her turn to answer something she paused and nodded. "I was actually born at the Mithryn Outpost just ten miles from the city gates. But this is the first time I have ever travelled outside of it." She paused, unsure of what to add. She figured that, as a Knight, he would know of the place. After all there were always Knights stationed there. "It's all a little overwhelming at the moment."

[Octavius Fellguarde]

Octavius blinked. “Well, I was no younger than most of the pages.” The young squire rested his chin on his fingers, trying to choose his next words carefully. “I know that some people question why we accept initiates at such a young age, but you must understand - in Syliras, noble blood is not enough to determine one’s greatness. Here, men are not born into privilege, but must earn it through merit. It requires years of training to prove yourself worthy.” To Octavius, the life of a Knight was not only one of privilege, but of honor. Octavius pointed down to the crest of the Windoak that was etched into his shield. “We can’t just allow anyone to wear this symbol. It means too much.” With a heavy shrug of his shoulders, he continued. “Pages do not want for food or shelter. We were raised in noble households from all over Syliras, and many also received training in outposts near Kalea and Taldera. There are few people more knowledgeable about the world that the Knights. We also received the best education one can find in the city. I barely knew my letters before joining the Knighthood, and now I always have my nose buried in a book. That all pales of course, to the honor you feel everyday by serving Grandmaster Dyres.” Octavius was a little surprised to hear that Amarhyl had grown so close to the city without ever having visited it. “Mithryn?” he said, eyes widening a little. “So, you were born on a farm as well! Let me tell you, the city may seem overwhelming at first, but you will grow to love it. Soon the doldrums of the countryside will seem so unbearable by comparison. There is always something exciting happening in the city, and violent crimes are almost unheard of.” “Other cities,” his voice darkened a bit as his thoughts wandered back to his childhood home, “are not as safe.”