Anyway! I'd love any sort of feedback/critiques ♥ Writing is a love of mine and I'd like to get better at my craft ♥ Tell me what you think! I'll be posting chapters up as I finish them :>
Spoiler:
Prologue
Sunlight beamed through the tall windows of Castle Allard, the rays of light catching dust particles dancing off of books and scrolls. Buried beneath the mountain of academia, was a young lord—engrossed in his studies, completely unaware of the world outside of his grand library.
He wore his finest regalia, deeply dyed silks and exquisite rings, all dressed for a soiree, but he paid no heed to the chattering going on outside in the main hall. And he certainly paid no mind to the constant, unrelenting banging and knocking on his door.
“Alrek Allard you will open this door, or Divines help me…” the muffled voice of an older woman could be heard from the thick grand doors of the library, which were of course, barred. Someone certainly took their reading very seriously.
The young lord flicked his blue eyes up at the sound of his mother calling him, sighing, “Of course. Of course she’d come after me. To think I’d be alone for one afternoon.” He stretched, lithe body and slender arms arching every which way. He got up, carefully pulling away the wooden bar that denied his mother entry.
The doors opened, revealing a very annoyed, visibly exasperated Lady Allard. Her hands were on her hips, her blue eyes locked onto her son’s matching pair, “You promised your father and I that you’d do this one thing, Alrek.”
Alrek dropped his shoulders, his bright red hair fell over his face—visibly hiding from his mother, but unable to stop the explanation that came forth, “I know I did mother, but these new books just came in and you know I couldn’t help m—“
“Alrek, you promised.”
“Yes, I know, I know I did. I remembered, mother. But you know I can’t just leave those books sitting there. Besides, I’m sure I wasn’t missed now, was I?”
Lady Allard’s eyes narrowed, “They were all asking for you, messere. I suggest you go now, before they all leave.”
Alrek wanted to protest, but his mother would not allow him, “Alrek, please. Your father and Lord Thierry just signed an allegiance, an allegiance you and your brothers are going to have to acknowledge and respect.”
The young noble had already heard this lecture, time and after time. How unfortunate, that a man so apathetic towards society had to be born into nobility—a position that was absolutely festooned with social interactions and obligations.
Damned it all to Oblivion and back.
“Alrek, please. You’re my son, can’t you just do this one thing? I promise, it would not take long,” she brought out the bargaining chips, and Alrek was interested in hearing her offer, “Listen, child, you go downstairs and say hello to Lord Thierry and his children and I’ll let you get back to your books. What say you?”
“Could I get this in writing, mother?” Had she been of common blood, she wouldn’t have hesitated to slap her son’s clever remark right out of his mouth. She was terribly tempted though.
“Come along, Alrek.”
- - - - -
The main hall was just as grand as the rest of the castle—with high ceilings and the family’s banners hung gently on the stone walls. The guests were all dressed in their finest, with capes and coats and gowns to turn the heads of even the most fashionable. There were feathers and jewels and a goblet of wine in each of the lords and ladies hands.
Lady Allard appeared from one of the staircases, her son—Alrek, trailing slowly behind her, looking more and more anxious the closer he drew to the crowd.
She was a radiant woman, gorgeous and elegant despite her age. Her eyebrows were full and sloped, her cheekbones high and strong, her jaw was soft and her lips were delicate. When Alrek stood beside her, there was no denying that he was her son, he was said to take after his mother greatly in appearances.
Her short gray hair was styled elegantly with baubles and a diadem, no grander than the rest of her guests were adorned in. She shook hands with guests, exchanged airy kisses and embraced her old friends.
“Oh Marceline, it’s so good to see you after so long,” a lady giggled, “Ah and you have such impeccable taste in clothes, you must tell me who your dressmaker is. Laelette—my daughter, she’s always changing her wardrobe.”
A younger woman chimed in, “A lady must always be presentable and fashionable, mother.”
“Darling Sabine you are eternally too kind to me,” Lady Allard smiled and turned to the young woman beside, “And my goodness, young lady, you’ve certainly grown up quite a bit, haven’t you? Do you remember playing with Alrek in the gardens here?”
“Forgive me, my Lady, I do not. I’ll be more than happy to make his acquaintance once more if he should have it. But I have heard of an Allard son pursuing a knighthood, would that be him?”
“No, no, that’s Basille,” at this, Alrek was beckoned to his mother’s side (rather begrudgingly at that), she pulled him close to his side and gripped his arm tighter the moment he flinched away.
“Alrek, this is Lady Sabine Thierry, and this is her daughter Laelette Thierry,” she nudged Alrek, prompting him to do something other than standing before the two ladies awkwardly.
“Pleasure to meet you,” his voice was bland, disinterested, but he flashed a smile as well as any charming lord, if only for a brief moment. Lady Allard smiled all too indulgently when she noticed Laelette’s girlish giggle as Alrek took her hand and gently kissed her ring.
“He’s been getting better and better at his studies, I hope he’ll be able to get into a good school, as his sister Lillie had done.”
Before Alrek could make any defense to his mother’s bold statement, two large, older men came to the small group. Both were red from laughter, both nearly inseparable.
“There you are, son! Thought we’d lose you in that musty old room for sure,” Lord Allard was an imposing figure, with an intimidating form and a bright red beard that could only be described as legendary, “Making friendly with the lovely ladies now? Careful now, son, chasing skirts is all well and good, but Lady Laelette is a woman of class.”
The young woman giggled at the flattery. Alrek rolled his eyes—his father was incredibly hamfisted when it came to parties.
The other man laughed, a roar that seemed akin to a lion’s, booming and loud, “You should be so lucky Laelette. Alrek’s a sharp lad, heard he could blow up an entire town just with a wiggle of his nose.”
“It’s so good to see you Lord Thierry,” his mother chimed in, “I was just telling Sabine about Alrek going off to college.”
“Is that so?” Lord Allard smiled wide, “Tell me, son, did you plan on anything yet?”
“Well…” he was put on the spot and Alrek bit his lip, “I well… I wouldn’t say planned. I… I do have some places in mind, but… well…”
“Well what?”
“Well, I… I shouldn’t say. Perhaps this is better suited for a more private conversation?”
“Nonsense,” Lady Allard insisted, “After all, Laelette is studying to become a mage as well. It’d be nice to have you both enrolled.”
“Lovely,” Alrek said flatly, none too amused at his mother’s implications, “But I do have a place in mind. I just… don’t think you’d… well… I just don’t think either of you would approve.”
“Now why on the Divines’ good name would we do that?” Lord Allard raised his eyebrows—while excited that his son had wanted to further his studies, the idea that they would disapprove certainly drove him curious, “Name a place other than Oblivion, son, really. Unless you plan on running around with Daedra, I really don’t care much for where you choose to study.”
A whole, tense minute passed, with insistence from his parents, their friends and their very pretty, but all too giggly daughter.
Alrek relented. He let out a great sigh and his shoulders dropped. With a defeated look and a hung head, he looked up to his parents, “The… The…” ‘Courage, man.’ “The College of Winterhold,” he gulped down the lump forming in his throat, “In… In Skyrim.”
The look etched on the faces before him were not at all encouraging.
Sunlight beamed through the tall windows of Castle Allard, the rays of light catching dust particles dancing off of books and scrolls. Buried beneath the mountain of academia, was a young lord—engrossed in his studies, completely unaware of the world outside of his grand library.
He wore his finest regalia, deeply dyed silks and exquisite rings, all dressed for a soiree, but he paid no heed to the chattering going on outside in the main hall. And he certainly paid no mind to the constant, unrelenting banging and knocking on his door.
“Alrek Allard you will open this door, or Divines help me…” the muffled voice of an older woman could be heard from the thick grand doors of the library, which were of course, barred. Someone certainly took their reading very seriously.
The young lord flicked his blue eyes up at the sound of his mother calling him, sighing, “Of course. Of course she’d come after me. To think I’d be alone for one afternoon.” He stretched, lithe body and slender arms arching every which way. He got up, carefully pulling away the wooden bar that denied his mother entry.
The doors opened, revealing a very annoyed, visibly exasperated Lady Allard. Her hands were on her hips, her blue eyes locked onto her son’s matching pair, “You promised your father and I that you’d do this one thing, Alrek.”
Alrek dropped his shoulders, his bright red hair fell over his face—visibly hiding from his mother, but unable to stop the explanation that came forth, “I know I did mother, but these new books just came in and you know I couldn’t help m—“
“Alrek, you promised.”
“Yes, I know, I know I did. I remembered, mother. But you know I can’t just leave those books sitting there. Besides, I’m sure I wasn’t missed now, was I?”
Lady Allard’s eyes narrowed, “They were all asking for you, messere. I suggest you go now, before they all leave.”
Alrek wanted to protest, but his mother would not allow him, “Alrek, please. Your father and Lord Thierry just signed an allegiance, an allegiance you and your brothers are going to have to acknowledge and respect.”
The young noble had already heard this lecture, time and after time. How unfortunate, that a man so apathetic towards society had to be born into nobility—a position that was absolutely festooned with social interactions and obligations.
Damned it all to Oblivion and back.
“Alrek, please. You’re my son, can’t you just do this one thing? I promise, it would not take long,” she brought out the bargaining chips, and Alrek was interested in hearing her offer, “Listen, child, you go downstairs and say hello to Lord Thierry and his children and I’ll let you get back to your books. What say you?”
“Could I get this in writing, mother?” Had she been of common blood, she wouldn’t have hesitated to slap her son’s clever remark right out of his mouth. She was terribly tempted though.
“Come along, Alrek.”
- - - - -
The main hall was just as grand as the rest of the castle—with high ceilings and the family’s banners hung gently on the stone walls. The guests were all dressed in their finest, with capes and coats and gowns to turn the heads of even the most fashionable. There were feathers and jewels and a goblet of wine in each of the lords and ladies hands.
Lady Allard appeared from one of the staircases, her son—Alrek, trailing slowly behind her, looking more and more anxious the closer he drew to the crowd.
She was a radiant woman, gorgeous and elegant despite her age. Her eyebrows were full and sloped, her cheekbones high and strong, her jaw was soft and her lips were delicate. When Alrek stood beside her, there was no denying that he was her son, he was said to take after his mother greatly in appearances.
Her short gray hair was styled elegantly with baubles and a diadem, no grander than the rest of her guests were adorned in. She shook hands with guests, exchanged airy kisses and embraced her old friends.
“Oh Marceline, it’s so good to see you after so long,” a lady giggled, “Ah and you have such impeccable taste in clothes, you must tell me who your dressmaker is. Laelette—my daughter, she’s always changing her wardrobe.”
A younger woman chimed in, “A lady must always be presentable and fashionable, mother.”
“Darling Sabine you are eternally too kind to me,” Lady Allard smiled and turned to the young woman beside, “And my goodness, young lady, you’ve certainly grown up quite a bit, haven’t you? Do you remember playing with Alrek in the gardens here?”
“Forgive me, my Lady, I do not. I’ll be more than happy to make his acquaintance once more if he should have it. But I have heard of an Allard son pursuing a knighthood, would that be him?”
“No, no, that’s Basille,” at this, Alrek was beckoned to his mother’s side (rather begrudgingly at that), she pulled him close to his side and gripped his arm tighter the moment he flinched away.
“Alrek, this is Lady Sabine Thierry, and this is her daughter Laelette Thierry,” she nudged Alrek, prompting him to do something other than standing before the two ladies awkwardly.
“Pleasure to meet you,” his voice was bland, disinterested, but he flashed a smile as well as any charming lord, if only for a brief moment. Lady Allard smiled all too indulgently when she noticed Laelette’s girlish giggle as Alrek took her hand and gently kissed her ring.
“He’s been getting better and better at his studies, I hope he’ll be able to get into a good school, as his sister Lillie had done.”
Before Alrek could make any defense to his mother’s bold statement, two large, older men came to the small group. Both were red from laughter, both nearly inseparable.
“There you are, son! Thought we’d lose you in that musty old room for sure,” Lord Allard was an imposing figure, with an intimidating form and a bright red beard that could only be described as legendary, “Making friendly with the lovely ladies now? Careful now, son, chasing skirts is all well and good, but Lady Laelette is a woman of class.”
The young woman giggled at the flattery. Alrek rolled his eyes—his father was incredibly hamfisted when it came to parties.
The other man laughed, a roar that seemed akin to a lion’s, booming and loud, “You should be so lucky Laelette. Alrek’s a sharp lad, heard he could blow up an entire town just with a wiggle of his nose.”
“It’s so good to see you Lord Thierry,” his mother chimed in, “I was just telling Sabine about Alrek going off to college.”
“Is that so?” Lord Allard smiled wide, “Tell me, son, did you plan on anything yet?”
“Well…” he was put on the spot and Alrek bit his lip, “I well… I wouldn’t say planned. I… I do have some places in mind, but… well…”
“Well what?”
“Well, I… I shouldn’t say. Perhaps this is better suited for a more private conversation?”
“Nonsense,” Lady Allard insisted, “After all, Laelette is studying to become a mage as well. It’d be nice to have you both enrolled.”
“Lovely,” Alrek said flatly, none too amused at his mother’s implications, “But I do have a place in mind. I just… don’t think you’d… well… I just don’t think either of you would approve.”
“Now why on the Divines’ good name would we do that?” Lord Allard raised his eyebrows—while excited that his son had wanted to further his studies, the idea that they would disapprove certainly drove him curious, “Name a place other than Oblivion, son, really. Unless you plan on running around with Daedra, I really don’t care much for where you choose to study.”
A whole, tense minute passed, with insistence from his parents, their friends and their very pretty, but all too giggly daughter.
Alrek relented. He let out a great sigh and his shoulders dropped. With a defeated look and a hung head, he looked up to his parents, “The… The…” ‘Courage, man.’ “The College of Winterhold,” he gulped down the lump forming in his throat, “In… In Skyrim.”
The look etched on the faces before him were not at all encouraging.
