Ulbarich, son of Gerbold (einhajar) wrote in caeleste, @ 2010-07-05 23:33:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | ithacles, ulbarich |
the glass hall (ithacles)
A sorrier lot of soldiers he'd never seen.
Ulbarich had been expecting strong-backed young morons too full of piss to think about their lack of vinegar. Instead it was a pair of old men who didn't even look up when he entered and some young, wiry fellow who looked as though he'd collapse under the weight of his uniform coat. Ulbarich had not commanded in a long enough time that he felt some slight nerve, somewhere in the back of his throat, giving him an ache that he could neither see nor address. How did you command men without a voice? How did you issue orders to be followed when you had no tongue to make those orders heard? The two old men did manage to find their feet when they realized they were not alone. Hand commands were fine for the heat of battle. But before?
He saw no easy answers.
Immediately the soldiers whom he'd interrupted began shuffling out. Ulbarich fixed a dread stare on the youngest - who saluted quickly, but did not stop - and then he was alone. Ah. They weren't under his command. Just men taking a quiet moment when they should not have been. And they'd taken his stare as the only rebuke he would give. Well, Ulbarich was not in the habit of chasing soldiers down. Not for things such as that. Instead he took a good look around himself.
The Glass Hall, once upon a time, had been used as a strategy room. Tall panes of stained glass were separated by the barest inch of stone on all sides of the room, and even above the door. Natural light flooded in - so that shapes of green and blue and red and purple and yellow were cast upon the stone. That made it easier to see all of the dust gathered here. Tables, chairs with cushions that had not seen use in a thousand years. Now hard wood was carved with intricate care, so that each corner of the table had a falcon perched above the leg. Must have made it difficult for some men to see all the maps, he thought. Whatever pattern had rested on the rug beneath the table was lost to time. Just as the banners were collecting dust and fading with sunlight and age.
How long since Ithunvel had grown sick? Since this room had seen real use, and regular cleaning? Now it was a relic. He remembered his first time in this room all too well. Ithunvel had known his name without being told.
Ulbarich, the old king had boomed. Your father is a damn fine soldier. He tells me you're an improvement in all regards.
Now that time was far enough in the past that it no longer seemed a memory of his. Just a story he'd heard of some other proud young officer, full of zeal and ready to suggest every strategy he could. Aside from a few suggestions to mop up the battle that had been well received, Ulbarich had dedicated himself in the main to learning. In any case he'd always suspected that Gerbold had arranged those opportunities to speak for Ulbarich's benefit. The Captain began buttoning his jacket the rest of the way - collar couldn't be undone when you were meeting a prince, after all. How long since Ithunvel had grown sick? How long since he'd been a part of their strategy sessions? And yet the king's will was discussed even more often when he was not present.
Next Ulbarich removed his gloves from his belt. All of the weapons were there. Yet it didn't feel complete, this uniform, without the gloves. Gloves were what made a gentleman a gentleman, according to Gerbold. Even enlisted men ought to wear fine gloves. They could not afford such things, of course, but Gerbold was fond of giving them as Beltin gifts. These were such gifts, patterned after the uinform of the castle guard and made to match. Ulbarich thought it was as close as Gerbold would ever come to accepting what his son had chosen in this life.
A cottage on a hill. A position of low responsibility and even lower satisfaction.
There were few enough choices even as a prince. And Ulbarich was not going to spend his life feeling sorry for himself, no matter who thought he should. Ava at least understood. Even if she did not agree. Sometimes it was enough to hope that you would find your skills had a place someday, some distant day, before everything was gone.
Ulbarich rolled his neck. The loud pops which issued from it, and his shoulders below, would have woken the dead.
He was surprised they did not fling dust into the air. Ithacles was supposed to be arriving with Lethe in tow. He wondered why the Princess was going to be here - but they'd explain it if they damned well felt like explaining it.