A wake of sorrow - A templar's fate

The almost whispered chanting came and gone as the sand was touched by the cold presence of the ripples. It seemed like a part of the vegetation pusillanimously moved every time it heard the call of the Father.

Visaeris Petronas didn't want to become a Templar and with each memory he recalls from that now forgotten time, his eyes thunder and his brows follow a path too commonly walked by any man's. Too much sadness has this old soldier seen, with regrets that would crumble an ordinary man. But he was not ordinary as time had proven against challenges deemed impossible by the creed of the people. He stood in front of all of them and they all fell like the natural process of autumn expires leafs.

Faith... The word often slits his state of mind and has come to dent a long lasting resolve.

Where was their faith? Where was their faith when he broke the door of the tavern crying for help? They all could see the blood on his greenish tunic, the sweat covering his forehead and the bite wounds.

Where was their faith? Where was their kindness?

The demise of the Petronas family was swift and unprecedented in the region of the Starstruck Monarch, a distant land from where he was currently cleaning his weapon.

It was that in those times, his father, Acvater Petronas, a highly respected merchant, bard by his young trade, son of Geathin Petronas, member of the High Council of the Monarch, established a new trade route to the distant lands of Theneav Consortium, deed not easily performed and a clear motif for boasting. But that was not his father's way.

As him, his father didn't want to become a merchant. After the untimely death of his father, to this day shrouded in mystery, Acvater had to relinquish his harp and start providing for his family. No one ever thought that such a dreamer could grasp economical concepts with such ease, the bard quickly becoming of the most dreaded and loved merchants of the Starstruck Monarch.

His greatest deed, the trade agreement with the Theneav Consortium brought him a solid foothold in the High Council, gaining fast support for the position of Sinon, hand of the Monarch and one of the 5 great members of the Council, at that time the greatest position one without the royal mark could achieve.

His views, not shared by many of the influential members of the Monarch's inner circle, made him an enemy to many but having the personal protection of the Monarch himself, not much could be done to avert him from the core of the realm.

As snakes often have gargantuanic patience, the fall of Acvater was planned to the smallest pebble.

But memories often bring more sadness than one could imagine, Visaeris quickly going back to caring for his bellicose artifact.

Seeing many slumbers of the great sun, getting close to 50, he still was a dark sight for the unfaithful.

Being of 6' and 2.8, with white dimming the crude black of his hair, dark purple eyes shredding the last bit of morale of the unbelievers, weighing not less than 110 kilograms without his heavy plate covering his chest, the so called old templar still had his means to evoke faith where it was lacking.

He was quietly sitting on a large rock in the area known as The Ledge, waiting for something that he only knew.

Visaeris cannot remember as to how he managed to get to this forsaken land but he knew it will all come back. At some point in time. Distant or not, he felt it was not important.

His gigantic maul was resonating the same emotion of a strange calmness although the situation did not call for it.

The weapon he prized so much brought more faith to the ones around him than he could have ever done so. It was the true templar, not him.

Another breeze cosseted his white hair, the water retreating as it was inviting someone or someone to step on the sand.

A powerful shatter delayed what silence the templar felt, the sand right in front of him turning red and then to dark to only end up crystallized as a strange form slowly morphed on top of it.

Visaeris put down his cloth, got back on his feet, taking his time raising his trusted maul above his right shoulder.

- Do not... attack... me, he could hear as the apparition was taking form in front of him. I not... not here to... hurt thee... Much have I traveled to find thee and share my pain... It will be your pain... Yes, your pain and not mine anymore. Let me rest I beg of thee.

Having a habit of not trusting ethereal forms of existence, Visaeris did not drop his guard but lowered his maul just to comfort the one in front of him.

- Geathin is not dead. He is not dead and in need of your assistance although he does not know this. Yet...

- Who are you hallow walker? Visaeris quickly asked at the sound of the news.



- To be continued -

- Yes, I want a key sooo, soooo much. -