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!
“That?” Ber squinted into the shop, one he’d walked by many times and never paid much attention to - until now. “I dunno, Zev, that seems a little…” His voice trailed off, though the air of skepticism remained. After a moment, he finished his sentence with a lack-luster, “Not you.” What exactly his friend’s style was, he couldn’t have said, but he didn’t think it was that. Admittedly, his aversion to the suit wasn’t helped by the price tag attached to it. With the reenlistment bonus and the general economic success that followed Nevermere’s militaristic conquests, Ber had a bit more money than he might have otherwise had to spend, but it still wasn’t an exorbitant amount.
Though details of the upcoming tournament itself had remained a secret, word had gotten out that a ball was on the horizon, and the soldiers of Nevermere found themselves scrambling to find suitable outfits. Or, at least, one soldier of Nevermere and his Dresmondi best friend found themselves scrambling to find suitable outfits. In theory, since it was his home kingdom, Ber ought to have known what was acceptable and expected with such an event, but though it had helped prepare him for many of the challenges he faced in the military wing, a childhood spent on the streets had taught him nothing about formal events except that he was very much not invited. Until, apparently, he was.
Making a face, the soldier glanced over the rest of the offerings on display before looking down at Rune. “I don’t know about this place,” He said. Maybe it was a little sad that he was asking a fox for her opinion, but between the three of them, she seemed to have the most to say about all this. “What do you think, Rune? Anything seem promising?”
Zevran frowned through the shop window and crossed his arms across his chest. "What do you mean? I like the color green." Indeed, they were currently eyeing a suit that was made entirely of a green velvet material. Though he would never be caught wearing the jacket that came with it, it looked far too stuffy and restrictive, he did kind of like the green pants and vest.
He turned an incredulous eye towards Ber when he deferred to Rune for her opinion. "You're asking Rune?! She's a fox!" Rune only sat between the two men, staring at the suit inside the glass, not deigning to answer either of them. Zevran already knew she disliked the suit without her having to voice so.
He clicked his tongue and turned away in defeat, "Fine. You're the Nevermeran here, just pick something out for me."
“Green in general isn’t bad,” Ber allowed, crossing his arms as well. “That green, though?” He shook his head in lieu of trying to find the proper words to describe why it was unacceptable. The material of the suit also left something to be desired, though the soldier was of the general opinion that anything that wasn’t durable or easy to wash wasn’t worth the effort. Though he couldn’t have named the fabric as velvet, he knew instinctively that it looked expensive and therefore easy to ruin.
When Zevran turned incredulously to him, Ber looked back at him with a shrug that was somewhere between somewhat exasperated and helpless. “I don’t know!” He defended himself, gesturing down at her. “She’s a fox, but you know as well as I do that she has her own opinions about everything!” When they had sat in that tavern, the Dresmondi had first described dyrs as having the mind of a person but in an animal body to the bemused Nevermerean, but months later, Ber had learned firsthand just how true that was. And when the dyr could control magic and had as much attitude as Rune did, he wasn’t totally above a little flattery.
At Zevran’s words, he sighed and rubbed his forehead with a hand. “How am I supposed to just pick something out for you? I haven’t done this either, you know.” He gestured toward the green monstrosity they’d both been staring at. “I just don’t think that—” The briefest of pauses as his gaze slid sideways toward his friend “—suits you, is all.” Ber was hilarious. “What did you wear to dress up before?”
He had been looking at the suit again and tilted his head as Ber questioned the color, making a disgruntled sound. "Sure she has her own opinions, but she's never worn clothing a day in her life. Because, again, she's a fox."
He looked at the various pieces on display again, not seeing anything that would help him make a decision. "Why did I agree to this? I should have told Alys I didn't want to go." He truly didn't. In fact, he should have told her how stupid it was that they were going to have a grand party while he was still waiting to save his people. But instead he had just smiled and accepted her offer.
He could only close his eyes and groan at Ber's sly joke, not even faintly amused by it. "We didn't," was his simple response. "I mean, I guess when we gathered for the Conclave I'd wear maybe a nice vest or something, but never anything this fancy."
A bit exasperated, he pointed at a vest on display a bit further back into the store, the golden patterns shimmering in the bit of light cast from a lantern inside. "What about that one?"
Ber had told Temperance that the two would be looking for something to wear to the military ball. Temperance had never been to such an event, but she'd spent enough time mingling among the richer commoners and the lower nobility to know what was expected of all of them. Between an orphan and a man from an entirely different kingdom, Temperance didn't expect the two of them to have much success alone.
So she had first gone to Thomas, because she knew money would be tight and after the destruction of her greenhouse, she couldn't afford to toss her own around, either. He didn't keep much in the way of clothes, and he generally dressed fairly simply, but nicely. After digging through some of his old things, she found a suit he'd grown out of at some point and folded it neatly into a bag. Then made her way toward the place she'd been told they would be.
As she entered, a woman walked up and greeted her. "What can I help you with, madam?" The woman asked, and Temperance smiled.
"Oh, hello! I'm actually looking for my friends. Two men who look like they have no idea what they're looking for."
"Ah, the pair with the fox?" She said, grinning. "Yes, they're right this way." The two women snickered as she showed Temperance toward the section of the shop which held the mens formal-wear. When she spotted them, she thanked the lady for their help and walked up to them, hands on her hips. She looked toward the vest that Zevran had pointed toward, and clicked her tongue against the top of her mouth.
"That one is a little...loud," Temperance interrupted, grinning at the pair. "I hope you two haven't been here long, it doesn't look like you've gotten very far."
Ber let out a quiet, amused breath when Zevran emphasized that Rune was a fox and let the matter drop. He followed it up with a commiserating noise as his friend questioned his past decisions. “It probably won’t be that bad,” The younger man tried, though it might have been more reassuring if he hadn’t sounded like he was also trying to convince himself. “There’ll be lots of free food and drinks, remember? And it’ll be the good stuff, too.” Because the king would be there, and they could hardly have him eating tavern-food.
The groan was expected, but the complete lack of formal occasions in Dresmond had him glancing over at his companion again. He supposed that fit what he knew of the people there; like Ber, Zevran himself was certainly more of a tavern-goer than someone who frequented formal events like a military ball. “Well,” The soldier began, scanning the interior of the shop once more. “It looks like they have some vests—” But Zevran had already found them and was pointing out a rather striking black and gold one. Looking back at his friend, Ber made a considering noise and nodded toward the entrance. In his opinion, it looked pretty cool - better than the green suit, at any rate. “Seems promising. Wanna go in and see?”
He lead the way inside, and they meandered their way to the part of the shop where the vests were displayed. After glancing around at the other nearby offerings, Ber considered the vest that had caught Zevran’s attention and had just opened his mouth to comment on it when a noise from behind them caught his attention. Turning around, he found Temperance standing there with her hands on her hips. “Hey Temperance, and uh, no, we just walked in,” Ber said, glancing at Zevran before facing the vest again, moving aside so the witch could join them. “Loud?” He repeated. “I think it looks cool.” Whether he could afford it, however, was a different question entirely.
Zevran could only grimace in response to Ber's attempts to assuage the situation. Hopefully it would be the last time he'd ever have the pleasure of eating Nevermeran food or drinking their beverages. All he wanted was a beer from Ermir's tavern.
With a small sigh he followed Ber into the store and realized seeing the clothes up close and not from behind a window did not, at all, make his decision easier. His gaze lingered on various pieces as they passed by, each more intricate than the last, until they finally got to the vests towards the back of the store.
He was studying the vest, about to reach out and brush a finger across it when a familiar voice sounded from behind them. He turned and upon seeing Temperance, his face split into a wide grin. "Temperance! I'm so glad you're here. Ber has been utterly useless today." He winked at Ber to show he was joking (mostly).
Turning back to the vest, his grin faulted but he didn't question Temperance as he had Ber. "So not this one then. What would you recommend?"
Temperance was happy to see the two of them together. Although she'd spent many days with Ber in the last two seasons, she'd never gotten to see him with any of his friends. In fact, he rarely spoke of any friends. The most she heard were those complaints about Lieutenant Woodwick and while she knew Zevran wasn't part of the military, the two had likely found each other because of it.
"Oh, good. I'm glad I caught you both before you settled on anything," she said as she approached them with a smile, and then giggled as Zevran joked that Ber hadn't been any help so far. "I'm happy to help, though I admit I was curious to see what the two of you might end up picking out without any help." She looked down to scan the floor and once she found Rune, she gave the fox a smile as well. "Hello, Rune. You must be glad that you don't have to worry over your clothes. You already have the perfect coat."
She stepped closer to the vest, looking it over more closely. "By loud I mean it's...busy. It draws quite a lot of attention. The stitching is neat, but it's very detailed. And gold is a regal color, it will make him stand out. Like a show-pony," she frowned. "Zevran's been stuck on display here quite enough as it is, don't you think?" Turning, she looked Zevran up and down, tapping her chin with her index finger. "Something well-fitted, classic and neat, perhaps. It will be more comfortable than the showy stuff as well. Let's see."
Glancing around, she walked over first to a set of shirts, a dark red vest layered over a neat, grey tunic. "What do you think of this red color?" She asked, before turning to Ber. "Oh, and Berengar, you did intend to wear something as well, right?"
“Utterly useless?” Ber echoed with mock outrage, turning to stare at Zevran, who winked at him. “I’ve been some help today.” He’d stopped the Dresmondi from considering going in that green suit, after all, which he thought ought to count for something, but he hardly felt the need to truly defend himself from the teasing. While Temperance stepped up to examine the vest and elaborated on her previous statement, Ber tilted his head slightly, eyes tracing the gold stitching, and considered the points she brought up. It was certainly true that Zevran stood out enough on his own.
“Okay,” He repeated under his breath to himself, looking around again at the assorted vests. “Something quiet.” It was good that Temperance had arrived because Ber’s gaze kept being drawn to the ones that were the most interesting to look at - and therefore inherently too flashy. When Temperance called their attention to a dark red vest, the soldier tore his gaze away from one such vest, which he thought might have had abstract werewolves woven into its design, to glance around for her. He meandered over, eyeing the red before turning to Zevran and trying to imagine it on him. Though it wasn’t his call, Ber shrugged, for he was of the general opinion that his friend could probably pull off almost any color, except for that green, he liked.
Then Temperance turned to him with a question that had Ber nodding, though he wasn’t quite sure where she was going with this. “Yeah,” He answered, glancing toward Zevran before shrugging again. “They said we could wear our dress uniforms, so I’m just going to go in that.” It was easy and cheap, and the soldier didn’t really mind missing out on the opportunity to dress up. If this search for a suitable outfit for Zev was any indication, Ber was saving himself a headache.
Rune yipped at Temperance, her ears pointing forward towards the woman. She was easily one of the foxes favorite people, echoing Zevran's own sentiments about the witch.
He followed Temperance to the red and gray pairing that she pointed out. He stood before it, looking it over before he grimaced and shrugged. "It's nice and all, I'm just not sure I like these colors." He was mulling over what Temperance said about him being on display all the time when the conversation turned towards what Ber would wear.
He lifted an eyebrow towards his friend as he explained he was just going to wear his uniform to the ball, and before Temperance could even say anything about it, Zevran was tsking and turning to face his friend. "You cannot just wear your uniform. This a party, even if it's looking to be a rather stuffy party."
He placed his hands on his hips, running an appraising eye over Ber. "All this time we spent together here, and I don't think I have ever once heard you talk about being interested in anyone. Not even in me," a pause for a small wink, "But this would be the perfect opportunity for you. In fact, in Dresmond, one of the best things about a party was taking someone home afterwards." Turning back to Temperance, he waved a hand at Ber, "Please tell me you have a plan for him."
When Zevran added that he didn't care much for the colors, Temperance nodded and she moved on to another wrack of clothes to find something else. As she did, Ber answered her question with something she had entirely expected, but even as she opened her mouth to protest, Zevran beat her to it.
She couldn't help but laugh as he gently criticized the young solder. He and Temperance had spoken once about this; rather, she'd asked if he was interested in anyone, and Ber had made it clear at the time that he didn't have any women in mind for marriage. It wouldn't have been all that strange for someone his age to settle down and start having children, or at least begin courting. She was an outlier in that regard, and it had seemed to her like Ber might follow in her footsteps.
Her eyes did turn to Zevran, her lips parting in a quiet gasp as he spoke of taking someone home after the party. "Zevran, I think perhaps you might be a bad influence on him," she said with somewhat bewildered grin. "However, I am inclined to agree that you simply cannot wear your uniform. Luckily, I do have a plan."
Reaching into the bag she had brought with her, she held up a nice, simple suit, though even as she lifted her arm as high into the air as possible, the pants legs still dragged the ground. "It's one of Thomas's suits. We'll have to have it altered, of course, but I believe it will look good on Berengar." She offered the clothing to the young soldier with a smile. "Why don't you go try it on and we can have them mark it up while Zevran and I continue to search for something for him?"
Ber had been expecting protests from Temperance about his choice in attire for the ball - and indeed, she looked like she was about voice them - but he ended up fielding objections from Zevran instead. Surprised, he turned to see his friend appraising him skeptically, one eyebrow raised and his hands on his hips. A disbelieving smile found its way onto the soldier’s face as he listened to the Dresmondi’s words, and he glanced between his friend and the witch to find her in apparent agreement. Regardless of what they thought he ought to wear instead of his uniform, he could think of one massive factor the two of them clearly hadn’t considered in their arguments, and that was— Oh, maybe Temperance had thought of it.
His gaze flicked between her and Zevran when she pulled one of Thom’s suits out of the bag she had been carrying. “Thom?” Torn between exasperated and amused, Ber shook his head even as he stepped forward to take the suit off her hands. Bundling it into his arms, he looked at Temperance. “Your Thom? You know there’s no way this is going to fit me.” Thom was a full head taller than Ber, who would look utterly ridiculous in any of the other man’s clothing before it had been altered to fit him. Perhaps even after, too, for the investigator had a certain charisma and presence to him that the soldier sorely lacked.
“If my dress uniform is good enough for a parade,” He pointed out to both of them, feeling compelled to put up at least a token resistance despite recognizing a losing fight when he saw one. “It’s good enough for the ball.” But he couldn’t help the small smile as he looked around the shop for somewhere to change.
Ber was right. He looked utterly ridiculous in this suit. Both the sleeves went past his hands, and for the sake of not stepping on the fabric, he resorted to rolling up the legs of the pants. Like everything else, the jacket hung loosely off his shoulders, and he had to hold the pants up with one hand as he stepped carefully back into view. He hadn’t even bothered with trying to tie the tie that he’d found amidst the mass of fabric. Already anticipating the laughter at his expense, which he would accept in good humor, he announced his presence with a dry, “I think it’s a little big on me.”
A bad influence? It took him a moment to understand what Temperance was talking about. With a smirk he said, "I happen to think I'm a great influence. Someone needs to teach you guys how to lighten up a bit."
He silently watched the exchange between Ber and Temperance, his brows raising at Ber's complaints but only responding with a wry smile in return. He would simply not allow his friend to be boring and cliché as to wear his dress uniform, even if it was a military ball.
While they waited for Ber to put on the suit Temperance had brought with her, he wandered the other selections the store had to offer with Temperance, nothing particularly jumping out to him. When Ber emerged from the dressing room and called attention to himself, Zevran turned and had to bite down on his lip to stop the bark of laughter that threatened to his escape. He cleared his throat a few times before being able to speak, though his voice still wobbled as he said, "It's not that bad. It... It could be worse."
His initial objection to wearing one of Thomas's suits was understandable. "I know, trust me, we'll make it work before we're done." She insisted. After all, as long as it was a matter of taking away fabric and not adding it, the effort and expense was much less. Altering the suit to fit Ber wouldn't be all that hard for any good seamstress.
"Everyone was wearing their dress uniforms for the parade, that's entirely different," she said, pushing his back lightly and shooing him toward the dressing rooms to change.
Once he was gone, Temperance began to meander the room as well, keeping an eye out for whatever colors she thought might look good on Zevran while he looked as well. "Hmm.." she paused as a black tunic/vest combination, picked it up, and draped it over her arm, then continued looking. A simple, white tunic flew over next, following by a grey vest on it's own, and then a dark green one. By the time she'd found them, Ber re-entered. Her eyes grew and she, too, rolled her lips inward and bit down on them so as not too laugh. Zevran's attempts were much more obvious, and she walked over to him, slapping him lightly on the arm. "Don't you laugh at him," she said, still holding in her own giggles.
"It's just fine, Berengar. The colors look good on you, we'll just have the seamstress fix it up." Turning, she held the clothes she'd collected out to Zevran, expecting him to take them. "You should try these on, perhaps in a few different combinations so we can get a feel for what colors look best on you. I'll be right back with the seamstress."
With that, she moved toward the front of the shop to look for the woman who had greeted her.
“How is it different,” Ber protested incredulously as Temperance nudged him toward the dressing room.
Upon leaving, his gaze found Zevran first, and by now he had spent enough time alongside the other man to easily recognize when he was attempting to hold back laughter, especially when his efforts went so poorly. Though hardly offended, Ber simply looked at him, with the corners of his own lips twitching upward despite his own endeavor to keep them flat, as the Dresmondi worked to recover and compose himself. If doing so wouldn’t have forced him to let the pants drop and make him look even more ridiculous, he might have crossed his arms to complete the image of attempting to appear unimpressed at his friend’s wavering reassurance. “Thanks, Zev.” The words were dry but contained no heat.
Although she chided Zevran for his poorly hidden amusement, Temperance was hardly the pinnacle of solemnity herself. Ber watched as she looked him over and expressed her satisfaction with the colors, which caused him to glance down at the suit himself. “My dress uniform is also blue,” He pointed out, another token protest, but she was already turning to hand Zevran the bundle that she had held into her arms.
As Temperance left, Ber shook his head and turned to Zevran. “How does she just… find stuff?” He asked, mystified, before his lips curved upward in a grin that bordered on a smirk. The soldier nodded toward the clothes the witch had given his friend, eager to see him looking ridiculous, too. “Your turn now.”