Post by King Jarvan Lightshield III on Jan 31, 2013 21:31:37 GMT -5
Morning: January 28, 23 CLE[/i]
King Jarvan the Third sat in a wing-backed chair in his study, the Demacian Herald Newspaper unfurled before him, a half-eaten plateful of scones upon his lamp-table. Perusing the articles, he knit his brows, pursed his lips in thought. His benevolent eyes flicked over one doom-filled article after another: the Void attack on Freljord, the death of a diamond summoner in Icathia, speculation on Nocturne's current whereabouts, heated debate over Noxus' secession from the League, a supernatural assault on Bilgewater... "What is the world coming to?" He posed the question to his empty study.
The king folded up his paper, laid it on the coffee table and sat back in his armchair. A gentle knock came at the grand doors. "Come in," he said. One door creaked open.
The timid form of a blonde-haired maid crossed the threshold. She curtsied low as she drew near his majesty, breathing, "Your Grace," and began to straighten the room. She ran her feather duster over the books and shelves, gathered crumpled scraps of paper in her arms. "Shall I clear the table, Your Grace?" she inquired in reference to the half-full plate of scones.
Jarvan III appeared to have been deep in thought. He raised his eyebrows. His benevolent gaze fell upon her mousy form. "Hm? Oh, no. still picking," he responded with a gentle smile.
"Yes, of course, Your Grace." The maid bowed her head and continued her tidying of the study.
"In our eternal forward march, we must stomp out evil all across Valoran wherever it may grow. Leave no stone unturned: the roots of one ignored weed will inevitably corrupt the whole of the garden.”
The Prince entered his Father's well-lit study and glanced around, breathing in the smell of the room he'd once been forbidden from entering as a child. He smiled, taking his seat on one of the many armchairs in front of his Father's desk before devouring the scones set on the table. "Hello Father." He mumbled in between mouthfuls, glancing at the maid and grinning. "She's a pretty one isn't she? In a quiet, bookish kinda way. I love our city."
Post by King Jarvan Lightshield III on Feb 1, 2013 0:02:57 GMT -5
The king chuckled in response to his son's observation. He eyed the prince up and down with a paternal smile, which widened as the scones disappeared. "Are you hungry?" he teased. "She is pretty, but, then, so are a lot of noble girls."
Jarvan III sat back in his chair, a knowing grin deepening the laugh-lines beneath his neatly trimmed goatee. "Any plans today, son?"
"In our eternal forward march, we must stomp out evil all across Valoran wherever it may grow. Leave no stone unturned: the roots of one ignored weed will inevitably corrupt the whole of the garden.”
"I thought I'd simply take the day for myself. Maybe go see about taking a boat into the harbor. I'm not entirely sure yet." He said, glancing up at his father, laughing with him. "Yes, yes, NOBLE ladies Father, of which I'm getting more and more comfortable with one. The De'Vara family, you remember? The one I wasn't supposed to approach? Bingo." He began, a smile on his face.
"Actually...what about you? And Noxus seceding from the league? A lot of things happened in Icathia. The death of that Summoner wasn't the only issue. What is Demacia going to do?" He asked, curiosity overwhelming his features.
Post by King Jarvan Lightshield III on Feb 2, 2013 11:38:57 GMT -5
Jarvan III's smile faltered under the onslaught of questions. His benevolent eyes rested gently upon his son's countenance, an echo of his own: the black hair, the strong jaw, the chiseled features. "De'Vera, hm?" he asked. "I think in my heart of hearts I always hoped you might pursue Madame Buvelle, but ah. What can we do against the whispers of the heart?"
He smiled again, but this time there was a sadness behind his gentle expression. "Times are grave, my son. The League will send reinforcements to Freljord. We await their official report of the goings on." The king's fist balled in his lap as he continued, "In light of the recent moves of our adversary, we cannot spare many Demacian troops.. But a few units should perhaps be dispatched, to help Ashe guard the capital while her own forces are spread thin."
Then Jarvan III's grimace faded slowly into a veritable frown of concern. "What of Icathia, my son? Does it trouble your dreams?"
"In our eternal forward march, we must stomp out evil all across Valoran wherever it may grow. Leave no stone unturned: the roots of one ignored weed will inevitably corrupt the whole of the garden.”
The Prince began running his hands over the scars that had been left on him, a testament to the Void's power, from the expedition to Icathia. "Truth be told, Father, I can hardly sleep. And when I do sleep I'm riddled with nightmares. My dreams consume me as fire does paper, leaving nothing but ash and dust in their wake." He started, his voice cracking a bit. His hands found his face and he sat in quiet introspection, holding himself. "The Queen does need help. I suggest we send Shyvana and a few battalions to aid her." He finished, straightening and regaining his composure before looking around hesitantly.
Post by King Jarvan Lightshield III on Feb 3, 2013 22:32:52 GMT -5
The king knit his brows, the sparkle in his benevolent eyes quickly fading into sorrow for his son. His gaze grew pained, glassy, as he watched his only child suffer in silence. "My son..." he said quietly. "Perhaps you should request a healer's aid. There are herbs and such to help you sleep."
He sighed, "I worry for you. Sincerely, I do. I know this burden is heavy on your shoulders, but it is not for you to bear alone. There is strength in companionship." What these words of advice truly implied, the king did not define. Instead, he gave a nod of approval to his son's idea. "That is an appropriate gesture. Their assignment will be your responsibility."
"In our eternal forward march, we must stomp out evil all across Valoran wherever it may grow. Leave no stone unturned: the roots of one ignored weed will inevitably corrupt the whole of the garden.”
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