The peace that formerly reigned in Terra Nova has eroded, now little more than a memory. War ravages the continent. Disputes divide kingdoms; ideals divide families. The quest for power consumes absolutely and indiscriminately. None are immune to its allure.
Who will rise and who will fall? Only time—and ambition—will tell.
UPDATES
05.26.2023
2 month character creation hold for all existing members begins 6/5/2023. Ended 8/5/2023.
10.29.2023
Change in how times flows. Was 4 IC seasons, now only 2 IC seasons per 1 OOC year.
5 whole years of Heir Apparent goodness! When I started the site, I knew I was hunkering down for the long haul, but I never could have predicted the numerous twists and turns this roleplay site has seen. Hundreds of plots, characters, and members have come and gone, all leaving marks on the site. I am so very thankful for those who have invested. Because you keep coming back, keep getting on, and keep writing, Heir Apparent has the legacy it does today. Three cheers to us!
Warren saw it very clearly. He had seen it a hundred times. He remembered seeing it in the mirror, a long, long time ago. It was the same for every soldier who had ever served in the military. You didn't know until you knew. And even now, even though the reality had hit him, Torsten Mosse still didn't know. He wouldn't, until he had actually put these actions into practice.
So Warren caught the shield as it slipped from Tor's fingers, setting it aside on the ground as he sat up, resting his elbows on his knees as he craned his neck to look up at the much taller soldier. He gave a single nod when finally the man spoke, then pushed himself up off the ground and swiped his hands along the backside of his trousers to brush off any dirt. "It is not an easy thought, but I suggest you familiarize yourself with it, Mr. Mosse. When the times come, you cannot afford to hesitate."
He bent down to pick up both the sword and the shield, walked over, and offered them to him. Many of the soldiers would go without this deafening realization until it was far too late, but there was no way to reach every single one of them. The trigger would be different for each and every one of them. For some, there would be no way to make the reality of war real to them until they were entangled in it. Warren could only hope that moment was met with mercy, and not the sharp end of a blade, or the blunt end of a shield.
Last Edit: Mar 19, 2023 20:36:33 GMT -5 by Deleted
Some flicker of emotion passed over the other man's expression and Tor couldn't quite define it to just one thing. Regret? Memory? Woodwick was a stolid man of honor and an excellent teacher, so Tor trusted him implicitly. Although the words' mean was amply conveyed, the young man had to come to terms with he would most certainly be expect to kill, as Woodwick and thousands of other soldiers did.
"No sir. I won't hesitate. I made an oath to Nevermere and I will keep it."
How many lives had the man before him taken? But killing was wrong! Doing the wrong thing for the right reason was still wrong! Was it still murder? It had to be righteous when in defense of your kingdom's oath. His oath was to defend and protect, and that meant killing, so that wasn't wrong. Mosse was sure of this. The more he thought on it, the warmer his hands got and the feeling came back in them. He'd sworn to protect and defend, and nothing would make him go back on that promise.
He stepped forward with a different attitude, a stronger sense of purpose, and took the offered shield and sword back from Woodwick.
Everyone had different things that got them through. Warren had considered telling Torsten about the Eldouir. The enemy they would be fighting certainly deserved everything that would eventually be handed to them. Whether it be a sword or a shield or magic or the teeth of wolf, the Eldouir deserved it. Knowing that made it easier sometimes.
But he couldn't say that this time, because it was unlikely the young solder would even come into contact with the Eldouir. It was more likely the foot soldiers, the non-magic wielding soldiers, would be fighting Dresmondi and the reality was that the majority of those Dresmondi were victims, too. Forced into servitude and forced into battle by the very family who had enslaved them. They had no choice. They hadn't voluntarily enlisted like Nevermeran soldiers did. So there was no comfort to be had from knowing thine enemy.
Luckily, it didn't seem necessary. Torsten, it seemed, reasoned with himself in the same way Warren always had. He had made an oath. His service was to Nevermere, and for Nevermere, this war was necessary. Warren very much believed in that. "As good a reason as any," Warren said with a nod. And it did seem to help the young man, who took the weapons anew. "Don't be so hard on yourself, you did well. You learn quickly. Help the others do the same." Hands on his hips, he looked around the courtyard.
"Thank you sir for all your help." Torsten looked over at Lieutenant Woodwick and he was thoroughly grateful for experienced, honest, hardworking soldiers like him. "Death is inevitable and with the war coming up, there's no hiding from it. The sooner we all learn and accept it, the better we can try to deal with it." The tall young man looked miserable at the concept, but he was also resolute with this newfound grim purpose. No one said life's raison d'être was going to be all puppies and cake; especially in the military.
"It's my job, Mr. Mosse," Warren replied, though it was nice to receive a little bit of appreciation every once in a while. It was still clear that the younger soldier was having trouble with all of it and Warren couldn't blame him. But there was little to be said about it that might have comforted him.
He thought he might say something like it gets easier with time, because in a way it was true. In a way you could push the thoughts away long enough to do the job, and later find ways to justify the blood you'd spilled. Torsten wouldn't understand that either, though, until it happened. And until it happened, hearing it would probably only be jarring, only sound harsh.
Instead he just nodded and dropped his hands to his side. "If that's all, then, I'll be on my way. Good day, Mr. Mosse." Warren would return to the rack he'd pulled the wooden sword, retrieve his jacket, and begin on the path to his office as he pulled his arms through the sleeves.
[ END THREAD ]
Last Edit: Mar 23, 2023 19:38:23 GMT -5 by Deleted