Recent content by Letta

Letta succeeded in schooling her expression, both at the instances that happened simultaneously. Firstly, the stranger made mention of a name Letta idolised throughout her education at the War College, and had been honoured to fight alongside Ruslan Gildal in the past few months. Secondly...

Leas laughed aloud, enough to earn him a rightful glare from the younger Praetor. It didn't shut him up, but Letta loosed a measured sigh and turned her gaze to the bard that murmured chilling words. "Forgive my associate on his overbearing voice, and airing out our business." Letta had no...

"I'm gonna get myself some grog." Muttered the half-orc at her side. She made no acknowledging remark or gesture as he peeled away. Letta seated herself at a table along the wall, leaning back into her seat as if the travel they endured had caused her great exhaustion. She lifted her head, dark...

Upon entering, Letta did not make her disappointment be known. No, her expression always looked like that. Unimpressed, unbothered, and unfeeling. She had a task, a simple one really, and would not be dissuaded from the course she had charted. Stepping into the inn announced her presence, and...

Letta had been so ready to agree to accompany Ruslan, but her breath caught. She hesitated, realising what he was asking of the three of them. She looked to the young Quaestor, wondering what Praetor he would make once he received his accolades. Would he brave his omens? Or perhaps Irene, whom...

Letta had been about to speak but Irene spoke the words and the young Praetor gave a small smile. There was no time for idle chit chat as Ruslan made his approach to them first. Letta bowed her head to him, still a sign of respect, but one not so formal as the Gildan salute she gave him earlier...

Letta allowed herself some satisfaction hearing Irene's praise, and her eyes flicked to Senjani, who appeared livid. "It was worth speaking up for what I believe in." She smiled, turning back to Irene and loosing the air in her lungs. She saw the Praetor leave after a large group lingered by...

Letta was glad her blade was not in hand at present. Praetor Senjani was one she never liked on the three separate occasions she had crossed paths with him before this day. The last had been at the Accolades, where he had been unimpressed with her performance and had made comment that Letta...

Letta had found a seat somewhere near the front, but not eagerly in the front rows. Somewhere she could see him clearly, hear Ruslan clearly. She had moments to observe him, wondering if he was nervous at all with the turn out he amassed, but no such signs could be seen on his expression. With a...

Never had Letta heard her family's name be graced in the same breath as the powerful name that was King Andread Gildal. It gave her sparks of what could come, the start of a new history where this Callistal Praetor would fight under the command of Andreas' descendant. To her, it was the...

Letta looked to Irene before clearing her throat. "Whatever you need from me, my sword is yours." Her eyes looked to the gaps in the rows, how they outnumbered those still yet to take their seats just as they were, and brought her dark gaze to Ruslan. "There is glory in this, a blessed call...

Letta felt a fool for not recognising the Gildal Praetor sooner than the moment he turned his attention to her. Her eyes widened slightly, her only indication of her initial surprise before she repeated the traditional greeting of her hand over her heart and bowing her head. For deep respect...

Her dark eyes followed the motion of Irene's hand, flicking between the gaps in the seats below. Letta's jaw tightened, had known that numbers were abysmally low in recent years, but to see it before her own eyes was driving home the reality of it. From her class alone, only less than a third of...

It was clear Letta was not close with any of the Praetors. In fact, it was her lack of people skills that ensured her service as Praetor was not to serve Gild in politics, but in warfare. She had hoped Praetor Irene would not abandon her as she kept close to the other woman, donning smiles and...

Relief and curiosity fought to settle on her expression, her head whipping round to put a face to the voice she had an inkling of recognition. Irene Savashal, someone Letta had idolised in her years at the War College. She spared a quick moment to direct a smug smile at Baris, lifting her head...