Jordyn

We arrive at the beautiful Korinth court. The gathering is swarming with noblemen and women all seemingly tensed by the weighty matter at hand. War is coming, and Korinth may very well be plunged into it whether we accept it or not. The young King Damien sits atop the dais with his wife, the Queen Lorrianne on his right.

The hall quietens at the arrival of Lord Trowe and the general is announced. To my surprise, Lord Trowe looked to be in his mid twenties and certainly did the rumors justice. He had pale blonde hair and eyes like honey. He seemed rather young to be bestowed a position so grand but then again, The king of Durrac was barely into his thirties. The general was a stern looking man who looked well into his forties. He was dressed neatly and walked in a controlled manner, a soldier no less.

The Lord Trowe made his speech, requesting for aid in Durrac against the Southern armies that were invading. All eyes were on the king as he considered. Occasionally, I caught the King glancing subtly to the right each time Lord Trowe made a point, and I did not have to look to know who he was glancing at. The King was young when he took his father`s place on the throne and my father who had served in his Father's court from before he was born, was his most revered advisor. Thus, the king practically seeked my fathers approval in everything.

The King straightened, not particularly seeming too concerned about their predicament as he said "I have heard your request, Lord Trowe. Allow my advisors and I time to consider your request. Surely you understand that this is no small petition you ask of us. But I must ask, why does a country as large as yours with one of the best military support in the continent, require aid from our kingdom? Surely your armies are more than sufficient"

"We are told the threat is far greater that we can anticipate, your majesty. They do not strike alone, but with the aid of many neighbouring kingdoms of their own continent. Surely you must see that they have a much big agenda in mind than simply Durrac. If we lose the war, they will dock their ships on your shores next." Lord Trowe answers.

"Very well, as I mentioned, we will consider further. In the mean time, You are welcome to stay at my court and we will consult you in our plans should we require it."

At that, Lord Trowe and the General bow deeply, thanking the king and turn to join the festivities. The musicians begin their playing, and the dancing begins.

I join my father and brothers, Terence and Weylan as my father introduces himself and us to Lord Trowe and the General. "Lord Trowe, it is a pleasure to have you at court especially on Nekros Moreal. We hope your time here at court is pleasant" Lord Jerod says.

"I was not aware we had come on a special holiday for Korinth. Tell me, what is The Nekros Moreal."

"It is a Neshryian term. Nekros Moreal loosely translated means day of rebirth. You see, in our culture it is believed that the deity Kristona, god of mortal affairs had gone to war on behalf of a mortal king to conquer another kingdom in order to cultivate praise and reverence for himself, making him a monumental deity. This of course was against the laws of the deities as they were not allowed to meddle in mortal affairs. The deity of destruction, Neshra was so enranged that she wiped out the entire mortal army but instead of the soldiers dying in dishonor, she mercifully allowed them to be reincarnated instead that they may have a second chance as the blame was mainly to be placed on Kristona and not them."

"My, my that is quite a story" Lord Trowe said looking as though it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

"Yes well, story or not, it does seem to say a great deal about greed." Father said enouncing the last word.

Seemingly affronted at the implication, Lord Trowe excuses himself, done with the conversation.

We reach home from the gathering late and I join my mother in the sitting room for a glass of wine, tired from the day. Just then, Weylan strides into the sitting room at a quarter to midnight, jaunty as usual. Not embodying even a hint of the day's toil or burdens. "I m going to the North this summer" he announces.

"Whatever for?" my mother asks.

Going to the North has always been a dream of mine. The seasons there are different, unlike ours where its hot and humid and always feels like summer.

"Brycen has an estate there, he does travel back and forth quite often. He s going back for his sisters wedding. I thought I might take advantage and go along with him" Weylan says, plopping down beside me.

The cost of living up north was exorbant, even for us. Nearly five times our own coin value. My father's lands and holdings will go mostly to Terence, his heir, leaving only a modest sum for Weylan but we all knew Weylan had several other streams of income though none of us really knew how he managed it.

It was moments like these when my curiosity got the better of me and I couldn't help but wonder just how much he had stashed away. My brother was certainly no fool and was the type to live exceedingly below his means if it meant building his reserves.

It was wrong, I knew I shouldn't feel envious but that tiny seedling had begun to take root. It wasn't only the trip that irked me, but of all people to go with, Brycen.

Brycen Torre was my age, we had classes together till we were twelve which now seems like another lifetime ago. He was my best friend but eventually when we stopped having classes together, we lost touch and honestly, I was grateful for it.

There was a charming ease about him that was somewhat irresistible and advantageous on his part. The way he spoke, the way he smiled, and especially the way he could put a smile on anyones face with that effortless sense of humour.

People loved having him around, which is the same energy my brother eminates. Brycen was almost as famous for his family's wealth and influence as we were. He had plenty of connections and noblemen offering up favors, at his disposal. Most of the time he extended that courtesy to Weylan since Weylan practically lived at Brycen's estate, courtesy of the Torres and the endless parties they threw.

The Torres' never missed an opportunity to throw a party for every and any occasion and they loved Weylan since he was as exuberant and sociable as they were. Brycen never however, extended the same courtesy to me. Not that I cared, I would never quite have fitted in with him and his gaggle of geese. But the thought of being so miserably forgotten was like an internal bruise that never quite healed and manifested itself everytime the topic of Brycen and the Torres came up.