- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Female
Fira hated to hear it. Even if it has to come at the expense of a horse. She could understand, really she could, because she (being the Princess and rightful heir to the crown of Rhielith) was their last hope. Without her, there was no real legitimate heir and the Kingdom would continue to fall under Peter's rule. It had already and Fira could see it even moving through Calliope's town on their way out. People were suffering and the truth was Peter did not care. He solely cared about strengthening his power and acquiring other kingdoms. Expansion was necessary, of course, but it could not come at the cost of the people already living there. How could a King presume to pay for the wellbeing of another hundred thousand people if he could not first care for his own?
But Peter was lucky, the army of Rhielith was fiercely loyal to whomever paid them. The people, however, had been plenty vocal about their dislike for her father and they were not quiet about Peter either — though they did what they had to do to remain unheard by the patrols. She was the Princess and she had to be protected. At the end of all of this, no one would step up to that throne except for her.
At the same time, Fira knew that the Princess of Rhielith and Fira were two separate entities that occupied the same space. She had to understand that getting the Princess to the throne was the heart of the mission. It always had been. Fira never once dared question that, but sometimes it felt a bit unsettling because she was still very much in the process of trusting her own heart.
The only reason she had come so far was because of Amadeus. When he had found her in that brush, nearly dead, she had all but given up and he reminded her of who she truly was. Not just a princess, but strong and fiercely intelligent, loving almost to a fault. When her father passed, he was the only one there, and through trusting him she began to trust herself.
He was the one good judgment call she had ever made.
"I know it may not be possible, but you know I would prefer for the horses to make the journey as well," Fira admitted, though it wasn't necessary. Amadeus knew her heart better than most. Their horses moved on, each one of the steps landing on Fira's anxiety as she worried about the horses' wellbeing and their wellbeing. The last thing she wanted was for them to be horseless in a land where Peter's men ran rampant.
"It clears up ahead for a short stretch, perhaps three to four miles," the messenger called back, "This is the worst of it, this and just before the Duke's estate."
Fira nodded and glanced back up at Amadeus before running a comforting hand against the neck of her horse. For such a short distance, it would certainly be a long journey for all of them. Even without Peter's men — assuming they were not dispersed a bit into the path.
But Peter was lucky, the army of Rhielith was fiercely loyal to whomever paid them. The people, however, had been plenty vocal about their dislike for her father and they were not quiet about Peter either — though they did what they had to do to remain unheard by the patrols. She was the Princess and she had to be protected. At the end of all of this, no one would step up to that throne except for her.
At the same time, Fira knew that the Princess of Rhielith and Fira were two separate entities that occupied the same space. She had to understand that getting the Princess to the throne was the heart of the mission. It always had been. Fira never once dared question that, but sometimes it felt a bit unsettling because she was still very much in the process of trusting her own heart.
The only reason she had come so far was because of Amadeus. When he had found her in that brush, nearly dead, she had all but given up and he reminded her of who she truly was. Not just a princess, but strong and fiercely intelligent, loving almost to a fault. When her father passed, he was the only one there, and through trusting him she began to trust herself.
He was the one good judgment call she had ever made.
"I know it may not be possible, but you know I would prefer for the horses to make the journey as well," Fira admitted, though it wasn't necessary. Amadeus knew her heart better than most. Their horses moved on, each one of the steps landing on Fira's anxiety as she worried about the horses' wellbeing and their wellbeing. The last thing she wanted was for them to be horseless in a land where Peter's men ran rampant.
"It clears up ahead for a short stretch, perhaps three to four miles," the messenger called back, "This is the worst of it, this and just before the Duke's estate."
Fira nodded and glanced back up at Amadeus before running a comforting hand against the neck of her horse. For such a short distance, it would certainly be a long journey for all of them. Even without Peter's men — assuming they were not dispersed a bit into the path.