|Summary:||Logen writes what he feels down|
|Royal Suite Three Darfield Castle|
|Should you enter the room at day, you will immediately notice the sunlight entering the room at every angle. The wall to the west is a wall of glass, towering windows reaching to the ceiling and overlooking The Great Sea. The wall curves at the top, resulting in an arched ceiling, thick oak slabs crossing the ceiling at the base of the arch. A grand piano is before the window, a scattering of sheet music along the top. The floor is a thick lush carpet, the color of red wine. The middle of the room holds a cushy divan and love seat, facing one another. Large overstuffed cream colored chairs rest by a fireplace, along with a matching couch, and a low table in the center. On the center of the table is a vase, with fresh lillies resting in a bouquet. A bookcase is on either side of the fireplace, each containing a large collection. The walls hold various paintings of country scenes and horses, with a large painting over the fireplace, a scene of royal hunters on the move, painted by none other than Valous the Great. By the door to the hall is a beautiful and highly detailed grandfather clock, which chimes every hour.|
|Alasair 27, 229|
I come home but a grim ghost of who went off to war. But home no longer exists. That world shattered like a mirror the first time I was slashed at. The splintering glass of everything I knew fell at my feet, revealing what was standing behind the mirror – grinning Death – and I am face to face, nose to nose with it.
The shock was so great that the boy I was died of fright. He was replaced by a stranger who slipped into my body, a man from the warrior’s world. In that savage place I gave my word of honor to dance with Death instead of running away from it. This suicidal waltz is known as: “Doing my duty.”
I did my duty, survived the dance, and returned home but not all of me came back to the noble world. My heart and mind are still in the Warrior’s World, as far away from the noble world as Cri. They will always be in the warrior’s world. They will never leave, they are buried there. In that far off hallowed home of honor, life is about keeping your word.
The brutal truth is that earning honor in the white-hot forge of combat hammered the soft noble into a hardened Warrior accustomed to dancing the suicidal “Doing your duty” waltz with Death. This unspeakable, indescribable, life changing experience picked me up like a whirlwind and hurled me so far away that when I came back I feel like a stranger in my own home, a visitor from another world, alone in a crowd of those I once knew.
Earning honor in war changed who I was. The furnace of battle burned away impurities encrusting my soul. The combat hammered me into a purified, hardened warrior willing to die rather than break my word – my honor.
Influenced by The Warriors Code of Honor By Paul R. Allen