Noctisardor Bypass the means of obtaining celestial honours

From afar the range looks uninteresting. A mountain climbing skyward cradled by trees, flanked on one side by a younger brother and a substantial wall to the west. He spies it as he crosses the heather and by the time the shadows come to crowd him the centurion's opinion has not faltered.

It is a dreary place.

A henge of stone stands as an open doorway. Depressions in the soil tell him that this place is frequented by patrols. It is a good sign. The tight look on the man's face does not shift. He is the picture of his senatorial father—hard edged, grim, and inherently prideful. He does not sit to wait for an audience but boldly stands beneath the archway, willing someone to come forth and attend him.

because the stranger did not announce himself, so did mahler keep silently to the threshold and wending green shadows of rivenwood. no trespasser had entered the bypass, not yet, and broad paws carried him along familiar and tiny footpaths, until he came to the stoneway.
then and only then did the gargoyle show himself, silent and impassive as if carved from the very rock himself. lilac gaze flicked over the stranger, noting strength and build, and seeing the intractable way in which the other stood. he was quiet, a sentinel who saw challenge in the existence of other man, this one no exception.

Soon enough an elder attendant arrives. It is no surprise that the stranger remains silent. They must have been around a while and have learned their place, especially upon sighting Rihannsu where he stood waiting. They did not come too close. The henge arced over the pair of them and its shadow was the delineation between territory and no-man's-land.

Met tam advenæ! He bellowed to the attendant. Though mildly perterbed that they did not follow tradition and herald his arrival, as the slaves of home were trained to do, Rihannsu did not show it.

I come seeking audience with your master. He did not pause long before launching in to the proper introductions: Ego Romuli nepotum, primogenitus Titus.

It struck him after the latin of his forefathers flowed from his lips, that this elder might not know the tongue of civilization. Though his father's reach was vast, his kingdom varied, this hamlet was far removed and thus Rihannsu could not expect much from the lowly peoples within.

mahler might have been rankled a handful of months prior. now he marvelled as to why the words did not reflect his own status in the man's voice, and became curious beneath the hardstone visage that did not smooth beneath the other's unrecognized tongue.
"ganz die einleitung," mahler proclaimed in a low and amused tone. the man before him was younger, but not a boy, with a traveled look in his way.
and perhaps more than a vestige of arrogance.
"i am the master here. and i vill grant you an audience."
the lavender eyes shone with a brief scintillation of humour.

The stranger speaks. Their tongue weaves sounds that are so close to what the man knows, yet so different at the same time, it leaves him perplexed. How far has he come from the civilized lands of his father? This place could not be so far removed that it would be untouched by the likes of the legion, he thinks.

The attendant clarifies — he is the master here. Attending to his own lintel, of all things! Strange as it seemed to Rihannsu, he appreciated that the man did his own work. He likely could not trust his lessers to do it properly and was forced to do it himself.

Sir! I am certainly not the first to declare my homage to you, but that is why I have come. I seek shelter in exchange for service.

That meant there was ample opportunity here for the centurion. Rihannsu lacks any outward reaction. He is as stoic as his forebears, standing to-attention before this elder, eager to survey his holdings.

I am a centurion, trained among the warriors of Pax Albus. If you see fit to welcome me, I will pledge myself to you, in protection of the land and the strength of your army. Presuming of couse that this aged monarch had an army - as he lacked petty attendants for his crossing, Rihannsu doubted he had much else.


My people are conquerors; I come from noble blood myself, the son of a senator. You would be wise to accept! Rihannsu went on to claim, and while his words could appear boastful, his tone was not. He lacked such brevity or true pride, listing these things as if they were of no consequence when in reality (deep within his own psyche) they were everything.

the son of a senator. noble. the talk of battle.
mahler twitched only an ear, the bemused expression never leaving him.
"i have no army."
"rivenvood has long been peaceful. i am the keeper of that peace, and i am a man on in years who is tired of var. this place vas vone in strife, taken from the vones who lived here. but it is not something i seek."
"we are familial vith each other here. there is no glory to be pursued or gotten here, no soldiers. only comfort. respite. hard vork and good meals. i no longer make var, nor do i tolerate those in rivenvood searching it for themselves."
a slight hardening of the lilac stare.
"i am a doktor and a midvife, not a commander. if it is politics or conflict you seek, you vill not find it here."

Skippable unless directly addressed.

The borders called to him often. A routine the pale man had fallen into and today was no different--except the visitor that now stood at them. Mahler's gruff accent drifted by Argent's ears, drawing the youthful man closer, who coiled like a stalwart guardian behind the Graf. His eyes settled upon the newcomer, his expression unreadable as he remained, not speaking with words and yet the shift of his weight perhaps offered the scrutiny he did not voice.

it came to pass that the seeker would not find a home in rivenwood after all.
mahler watched until the brash man had passed from his eye, and then turned to argent. "let us finish this patrol," he suggested, and led the young watchman along a path that trailed through the entirety of the bypass.