Genikon Zealas (genikon) wrote in thebattleage, @ 2011-04-01 21:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! complete, (narrative), genikon zealas |
Narrative: Your sacrifice will not be forgotten
Who: Genikon Zealas and Lazar Struna (NPC)
When: Eluviesta 9:41
Where: Nevarra City and the Necropolis
Rating: E
Summary: Genikon and Lazar remember the one lost in their joining.
Being the newest Grey Warden was difficult at times.
Not that Genikon felt the desire to complain. Doing so was only likely to end in him having more work to do, as Lazar ever so aptly demonstrated with his vocal complaints. Lazar tried to push the extra work onto Genikon and ended up with a double load. The Grey Wardens did not care that Lazar had been nobility and that Genikon had been an elven servant, both were equal in that they were the newest - and lowest - of the Grey Wardens of Nevarra.
It was oddly freeing. Genikon had been a servant for five years, and while not entirely of his own planning he did not regret the position in the least as it saved him from the Alienage. He was used to serving others, focusing on anticipating their needs and fulfilling them before they even knew they needed it. It made his entry into the general population of the Grey Wardens relatively painless for him. Lazar was not so equipped to deal with such equity.
They kept the new members busy. They had training during the day - Lazar learning the sword and shield while they taught Gen some basics of close range fighting - but most of the morning and evening was spent on cleaning and chores. The Warden-Commander Silas Tot, who went by Silas for obvious reasons, did not hire servants. Instead, every Warden when in the compound had to serve. They took turns cooking, cleaning and tending to the equipment and yard. Unsurprisingly, the newest Grey Wardens got the worst of the work detail.
Today, Genikon was coming in from tending to the practice yard. He had sharpened, polished and put away the general equipment as well as repaired and stowed away the targets. The sun was at the level of the rooftops when he raked the dirt of the practice arena level. After a long day, he was dusty, sore and ready to sleep. As he headed into the main building, one of the senior Wardens intercepted him. The man slung one arm around Genikon's shoulder, the height difference causing the man to lean heavily on him as he slouched to Genikon's level.
"One year, right?" The man's eyes were bright with cheer and a touch of drink, although his voice had yet to slur.
Genikon put on a brave face despite the burden, trying for polite interest, "P-pardon?"
The joviality of the response surprised even before the content fully registered, "You've been a Grey Warden for a year now today!"
Genikon blinked as his face went slack in shock. Having lived the past year on a day to day basis, it seemed that it had gone by so fast. The older Warden let go of him and thumped him soundly on the back in congratulations. Genikon stumbled forward under the force of the blow and only managed a wane, pained smile as the Warden walked away.
He found Lazar in his room, just across the hallway from Genikon's room. The Grey Warden complex was more a series of closely built houses around a courtyard-turned-practice-arena. These buildings had been purchased or gifted over the years. But this was no fort or defensible position, merely regular housing. There was room enough for each Warden to have small room to themselves or share a larger room with their friends. Genikon and Laz had the two smallest rooms as they were the newest. Someday, there would be another joining, or a vacancy in the senior ranks and they would get to move up in the world.
Laz was sitting on the edge of his bed, a tangle of metal links pooling in his hand and spilling over his fingers. Genikon recognized it, as he had one just like it. It was the amulet that they had been given at their joining. His own amulet was tucked beneath his clothes and warm against his skin.
Hesitantly, Genikon entered the room. Even in his heavy boots, he made little sound, instinctively stepping lightly. Lazar did not look up. Gen paused a moment to take in the droop to Lazar's shoulders, a defeated posture that was at odds with Laz's usual liveliness. A bleak expression crossed Genikon's face, before he tried to cover it with a sad smile. He deliberately scuffed his foot on the floor, wanting Lazar to know that he was there. He just did not have the words to get his attention. Laz froze, tensing up while he breathed in shakily. The only sound in the room was the slip of chain through lax fingers.
“It’s been a year.” Lazar’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Gen nodded even though Lazar was not looking and moved to sit next Laz on the bed.
“Alex— ” Lazar’s voice cracked and he bowed his head. After a desperate and choked sound, Gen saw two drops of liquid fall into Lazar's lap. Laz quickly reached up and furiously rubbed away the betraying tears. Gen looked away, not certain what to do. After a moment, he grew frustrated with his own inability to console his friend. Lazar was breaking apart right before his eyes, not even a foot away and still he did nothing. What a worthless friend he was. It took him a moment, but he raised his gaze from the floor to Laz. If his friend was crying, he did so silently. Lazar his his face in his hands, but his shoulders shook with some emotion. Genikon reached out with great trepidation, even pausing once halfway, before finally resting his hand on Lazar's shoulder.
He expected Lazar to bat him away or to turn on him, his grief turning to anger. What right did Genikon have to live when Alexandros Pentaghast died in the Joining? It was a thought that did plague him on occasion, and Genikon believed that Lazar had to have thought of the same thing. The muscles in Lazar's shoulder bunched underneath Genikon's hand, tense and seeking release, before slowly relaxing. Lazar scrubbed one last time at his eyes, his shirtsleeve coming away damp.
After wiping the palms of his hands against his trousers, Lazar gave him a sideways look. Genikon could tell that his eyes were red and agitated. As if burned, Gen removed his hand, and Laz quirked a momentary - if bitter - smile at that. They sat for a long time in silence.
In this time, Genikon watched shadows of emotions flicker over Lazar's face, and could only imagine the picture that his own face could be. Finally, as the last of the sunlight faded from the window, Lazar broke the silence by saying, “I want to visit him.”
It was now Gen's turn to be under Lazar's intense scrutiny. He knew why, because Genikon had managed to avoid the Necropolis for the most part so far. Excepting his one trip to Alexandros' tomb shortly after the young royal's death, he tended to avoid the Dead City. Gen looked down, unable to meet Lazar's gaze and nodded. He would go too.
Gen had no philosophical or spiritual disagreement with the Necropolis. From a distance, he found it quite beautiful. The Necropolis was kept in immaculate order and upkeep, and without the wear and tear of everyday living, the effect was staggeringly beautiful. He sometimes wondered if it was their attempt to create their own Golden City in this world, instead of in the Beyond. Walking through the empty streets was a whole different feeling. No longer was it a preserved beauty, but a haunting loneliness. The fluting melodies from the wind gardens only added to the eerie effect, and there were deep shadows that even the requisite torch could not touch.
There were no city lights in the Necropolis, any who entered after sunset brought their own with them. Lazar led the way with a thick torch blazing. Alexandros' tomb was attached to the Pentaghast estate. He was too minor a birth to merit his own house, but was hardly consigned to a poor house either. Through the high arched way, Lazar's light illuminated the murals and reliefs. Statues of Alexandros through the ages lined the far wall, from infant him all the way up to his death. The right wall depicted him slaying a dragon, commissioned out of boastful hope even if never fulfilled in Alex's time. The left wall was an unfinished portrayal of Alexandros in Grey Warden's armor. From the soot dusting the ceiling and lightly covering everything, a good many people had been in here earlier. Likely the rest of his extended family come to pay their one year respects. It was not odd that Lazar and Genikon failed to receive their invitation.
Lazar lit the brazier in the middle of the room and settled the torch into a slot near the archway. As the fire grew, the light flickered over the walls and statues with pale orange light, giving them a haunting liveliness. With a strangled cry, Lazar rushed to clean off the statues, using his shirtsleeve to take away the black soot. Genikon headed to the tomb itself. Raised on a dais, he had to take a large step up until he was looking down a relief of Alexandros' face. Underneath the polished stone was Alex's body, carefully and painstakingly preserved. So lost was he in taking in all the details that he could not believe he had forgotten of Alex that Genikon nearly missed Lazar joining him up by the tomb.
“He did not deserve to die.” There was an unexpected touch of bitterness in Lazar's voice. Laz nearly spat at the words, leaving Genikon looking up at him though his long fringe in slight trepidation.
Seeing that the anger was not specifically directed at him, Genikon took some time to think of what to say. After the silence stretched on interminably, and long after Genikon would normally have given up on finding something to say, he concluded, “No one does.”