Fable - Ask Bring Down the Tower

[Praetor Ruslan Gildal]

GILD
THE ESTATE OF HOUSE GILDAL​

Ruslan Gildal woke in his bedchambers in the Estate of House Gildal. Soft morning light, born from the freshly risen sun, filtered in through the curtains. He sat up in the bed and ran his hand through his hair and looked to the window. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. To the window sill he went, placing his hands upon it and leaning as he contemplated the day ahead. On his right his axe rested on a table. He looked to it. Thinking.

A familiar knock came at his door.

"Enter," he said.

The door opened. Imman Rynnal, a servant of House Gildal, entered, and she held in one hand a silver platter with a morning meal upon it, freshly prepared. She paid no attention to Ruslan's state of undress, he having only woken up moments ago. Terribly shy was she when first she had been taken on as a servant—not a bad thing, no, not at all. Now it was that she had grown accustomed to these things, the peculiarities of the Nobles whom she served.

"Your breakfast, Ruslan-gazi, as requested," she said, crossing through his chambers and setting the platter down on the central table.

"You have my thanks, Imman."

She placed her hand over her heart, bowed her head slowly and with a courteous smile, and then turned to leave. But Ruslan called her name again before she passed through the door, and she stopped and turned again to face him. "Yes?"

He glanced back over his shoulder. "If you would entertain me, I would ask your opinion."

"Gladly would I give it, Ruslan-gazi."

Ruslan, leaning on the window sill still, thought for a moment more. A gentle breeze from the outside fluttered the open curtains and bid to motion his loose hair. He said, "Today I will stand before the Senate and make a plea that could bring Gild to the brink of war. I believe my cause to be just. Our eastern neighbors the Vestians provoke us with the construction of a Tower, radiating with magic, on our disputed borders. I say that this cannot stand. But I know that it will take Gildan blood to bring that tower down. What say you, Imman? Is this a sacrifice which will please Regel?"

"May I ask you something, Ruslan-gazi?"

"You may, yes."

"If you are granted your motion by the Senate, will this mark your first command in battle?"

"It will."

Imman smiled. "Then I believe men will flock to your side. You are an inheritor of the lineage of Andreas Gildal himself. They will wish to be a part of that legacy as you begin to build your part of it."

"The same could be said of my father Kadir, that he too was one such inheritor." A controversial topic, that. Kadir Gildal had been consul in the war with Omma prior to the Armistice, and it was he who made the decision to surrender to Omma on their terms, bringing peace. Some praised this act as wise and prudent, some condemned it as hasty and born of cowardice. Ruslan more than just knew, he felt that the House of Gildal had to regain some of its lost luster, for regardless of what he and his family thought of his father's actions, the controversy alone tarnished that great legacy of which Imman had spoken.

"Then I say, you must make them believe, then, if not in the name of Gildal, in you. Shine, Ruslan-gazi, and your radiance will reflect upon your House, and upon the men and women who fight at your side. They will die, if they must, to bask in it."

Ruslan returned her smile, and said, "Your father, Imman; he served in the Ommite War, under my father's command, did he not?"

"That he did."

"And he perished in battle."

"Yes, he gave his life for Gild."

"I humbly beseech you, Imman, to answer me, and answer me truly: did he, in your eyes, die well?"

Imman, her gaze unbroken, given to no lingering sorrow, said, "He loved your father Kadir, and the House of Gildal. If he were given the chance to die again in service to his command, and for the good of Gild, I know that he would do so. He basked in the radiance of Kadir's deeds, and he awaits me now with patience in the Fields of Duzen, after I have lived a long and fruitful life."

Ruslan turned from the window and went to Imman, standing before her now. "Then I will dedicate my victory over the Vestians to your father, Imman, to Ahmet Rynnal, for his undying loyalty to House Gildal, and to all Gild."

She blushed, bowed her head and pressed her hand to her heart once more, and said, "I thank you, Ruslan-gazi, for this honor."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "First, I must win it. But today I go to the Senate with you and your father in mind. You have given me more heart than I could have asked for, Imman-gazi."

 

[Letta]

The Senate Hall
Outside the doors to the Council of Praetors​

"I am not interrupting, you idiot, I was invited to attend this session." A groan, filled with frustrations and lazy, minor begging, filled the spacious hall dedicated to the Praetors and their Council. "My name is on the list, right there!"

"Callistal, Letter. Well? Where is this letter, Praetor?" He held a list, as if it were part of his station as Council Guard, and it was that lofty, smugness that irked the young Praetor.

"For the love of the Saints, you prick, my name is Letta."

"That's a made up name!"

A moment of silence as Letta stared at the oaf bewildered at his idiocy.

"Letta, as in Violetta."

An Allirian ancestor's name, but no one ever used it to address her.

"Look, can't let you through unless you hand over the letter."

Fury, untamed, unchecked reckoning boiled in her veins.

But she did not go to the War College and fail. She learned, honed, and fell back to her practices. With a shaky inhale, she loosed it all slowly with some difficulty, but a pallor of peace quickly rearranged her countenance to something more... placating.

"The name was written by mistake, but I assure you, my presence is needed in there. There is no letter, but I was called here today to attend this—"

"Ah!" Her civility went ignored as the Guard beckoned over more of his colleagues. "Over here. Remove her, and don't let her back in for the day. Caused enough nuisance!"

"Oh my f... Saints!"

Praetor Ruslan Gildal