Heir to the Empire

58. First Knight Inquisitor

The halls of Ravenscourt had not experienced such rambunctious laughter and frivolity for many winters. The sound of cheering and drunken singing had been long forgotten in the main hall until this night while the snows outside had started flurrying down more frequently.

Celebrations had been ongoing for some time before the official victory festivities began in the main hall, and Loldirr had taken to sitting at the head table with urgency.

Her body ached intensely despite her encounter with the Death Wraith Sir Gervais Vanderbilt being two moons ago. It had been some time since she had experienced unfiltered joy, something that she had not fully embraced since Gryffinfall, and if there was one thing the Fæordic brought with them, it was the ability to enjoy festivities.

Their singing was awful and completely out of tune, but their euphoria was not, and it seemed that even the servants of Ravenscourt welcomed it gladly.

As she gulped down a mussel, she tossed the shell aside and chuckled as the smooth tasting seafood slid down her throat. Never before had Loldirr had such a bizarre delicacy before, and it took detailed instructions from Knight Inquisitor Ithelred on how to crack open her first one. After the first was eaten, she couldn't stop herself from craving more.

Even Erdudvyl appeared to be enjoying the entertainment provided by the drunken Fæordic warlords. They sang songs of Hjagin, their god of wine and women, or women and wine depending on their preference.

Loldirr watched as Erdudvyl took a delicate mouthful of venison and chewed it with an almost minimal amount of mouth movement. In between admiring the elf's continuous grace, Loldirr released that she no longer had a taste for venison. For her, it would always bring up memories of her childhood friend, Willis, and their hunting trips.

She felt a completely different person now than the one that ran for her life from Greenhaven, and only now could she examine how far she had come. Loldirr was no longer that frustrated and irritated huntress who craved adventure; instead, she had the entire weight of the world on her shoulders.

Today, though, was the first time she wasn't on the run or having to be reactive; today, she could collect her thoughts and become proactive for the good of herself and her people.

"Lord Ethelston Darke, Grand Duke of Ravenscourt and protector of the western provinces." called the Master of Ceremonies as the enormous wooden doors flew open to the interest of everyone in the hall.

The room fell silent as a clank of a wooden stick could be heard in rhythm with Ethelston's steps. As he stepped slowly between the tables, all eyes were on him, perplexed by how one of the most fearsome fighters known to man was gingerly stepping forward with a crutch in his arm. Every move forward seemed to hurt him significantly, and his face depicted anguish with every foot forward, but it did not deter him from continuing.

The sound of frivolity was now solely replaced with the clank, clank, clank of his crutch and his laboured breathing.

Taking steps to his grand chair between Loldirr and Erdudvyl, he looked up to all who sat in his hall. Almost instantly, his anguish disappeared, and a smile bloomed onto his face. "I didn't say you could stop enjoying yourselves! Drink, damn you."

An almighty cheer raised itself high into the room while Ethelston cautiously placed himself into his chair. As he leant back, the release in tension from his muscles was evident for all to see. He had been through hell and barely made it out alive.

It didn't seem to dampen his ability to act all chivalrous as he took the back of Erdudvyl's hand and carefully placed his lips on it. Loldirr smiled as the face of the elf blushed like beetroot. When they first met, Erdudvyl couldn't have come across as any more stern and authoritarian, yet now she had experienced life among the humans and fallen in love. She now appeared to feel far more at ease than ever before.