PM to join [Stone Gardens]Rememberance

[Kreig Messer]

spring 514 day 23 12th Bell 3rd chime

Kreig looked upon the rows upon rows of stones that rested in the garden, each representing a fallen knight, each representing a life that feel for the ideal of peace, justice and order. Kreig had to admire these fallen men and women as he crouched down and looked at a group of stones. He wondered who each stone belonged to, who were these brave people that selflessly gave their lives? He could ask any of the knights who were present here, he could ask any of the civilians who watched these stones with interest and a look of mourning on their face.

....Should he really ask? He looked up to the sky, as if asking both Dira and Yahal for help, wondering if he should disturb these moment's of mourning by asking them of the dead and should he really dredge up memories of the past? " The dead need to be remembered" He told himself as he stood up, but yet he found himself hesitating on who to ask. He looked down at his fists, wondering why it couldn't be as easy as punching a foe. He sighed as he looked up back at the sky again, he wondered if the wind would rely his questions to the gods, he wondered if they had the time to answer him these questions. He lowered his hat over his eyes and thought of his mother, wondering how her grave was and felt guilt that he had not visited her in so long.

"What should I do?" He mumbled to himself.

x

[Dalavesta Stalinsa]

Dalavesta Stalinsa

Dalavesta found herself to be in a reflective mood this day, forgoing the sweat and clamour of the training grounds for the peaceful, if melancholy, atmosphere of the Stone Gardens. It was a misnomer in truth, the gardens were there but for the most part merely a backdrop to the sorrow of the centuries. Lives were said to be etched into the very stones of Stormhold, the deep fabric of the Order always ingrained into the city of Syliras – the one they had carved with their own hands. She had always thought though that whilst the bodies lay in the walls, the soul in the Temple of All Gods – the heart of its life lay in the Stone Gardens, in the graves and embrace of Dira.

It is where the truly honoure are laid to rest. The worthy. The sacrificed she thought to herself, remembering the lessons she had been given as a Page and the wide-eyed looks she had cast upon the vast arrangement of burials.

She had vowed to herself that day, at the age of only 9, that she would find a way to be buried the same way upon her own passing. She would honour that name of Stalinsa and bring prestige to the small line of the that blood which she was a part of. As she walked around the edge of the gardens, left hadn upon the hilt of her sword an armour clanking gently with each step, she still had little ide of how to achieve such an honour. Oh she had plans and dreams. She had those aplenty but, for the most part, she was an aging squire whom had not yet achieved Knighthood. Not even the quest from her superiors had been requested. She was alone and forlorn for now.

“But I will make myself stronger, as Tyveth is my shield and Sylir is my sword” she breathed to herself, reforming the promise she had taken to making on a aily basis now. Faith, she hoped, might grant her the dreams to help others that her body just couldn’t achieve perhaps.

As she paced, noting the random etching of a name not yet work off the stones here an there she note a man that she had met previously upon occasion. They had ha adventures before, of a kind and he was a decent sort she had determined – even if he were a bit mouthy and forwards. A bit of a ruffian too she had placed him as. Still, he was a squire and a familiar face.

One should never be alone when remembering the past she sighed to herself as she approached him. She caught the last words he spoke quite clearly, almost as a plea to the world.

“You ask the dead as if they can answer Kreig, they have earned their rest. Do you think they would answer us even if they could?” she asked him quietly from behind his left shoulder.

[Kreig Messer]

Kreig turned his eyes to look at at Stalinsa and smiled gently before returning his gaze back to the stones. Stalinsa was a nice lass, if a bit too serious at times when it came to her training, he was sure if he told her that she'd say she had to be even MORE serious if she wishes to become a knight like the majority of her lineage. He couldn't blame her really, but he did wonder if she was just preasurring herself just a tad too much "Indeed they have Stalinsa, but still....sometimes you just wish you could hear the tale's of their glory from their own mouth, its one thing to follow the example they've set but if I could.....I'd wish to know more about them individually. What were they like other than the noble Knights of the Order?" He looked at her, then looked back at the stones as he raised himself and scratched the back of his head, looking to the sky.

"I've so many questions.....but you are right, the dead have earned their due" He sighed as he turned to look at her "So are you paying your respects to the dead as well, or paying a visit to a more specific soul?" He had asked, but then raised his hand and shrugged his shoulders "Never mind, that is perhaps something personal. Do forgive me for asking, Stalinsa" He slowly spun around to look at the people present.

"I am always amazed by how well kept this place is, not like the graveyard back where I'm thats for certain. Ours are larger but not as.... tranquil... as here. Makes me wish I could bring my mother's remain here but then again she's not a knight" He chuckled humorlessly as he faced away from Stalinsa then turned to look at her "So, what does bring you here if you don't mind me asking?"

x

[Dalavesta Stalinsa]

Dalavesta Stalinsa

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Ves took a long, hard look at the man before her and for the first time since they had met found herself believing that he might not be entirely an arrogant arse with a grunt’s intelligence. His words were insightful and driven by a deep emotion that she was not sure that she understood but could sympathize with wholeheartedly. She cast her gaze across the scores of mounds and noted their neat, almost polished appearance. Of course erosion had something to do with the effect but he was correct in the presumption that they were well maintained – they were the Order’s past, the best of it. She had no illusions that things were not always good for the Order but they had scraped their way to their dominance through the blood of martyrs to the cause.

Martyrs who now lie here, forever watched in death by those who they watched in life she told herself with a small hint of sorrow upon her face.

“I come here often enough Kreig, many of my ancestors are within this place. I come here to see them, the ones that still have names to indicate who they are. Some are worn off now but I know them from memory,” she spoke softly, kindly for once, “I ask myself the same questions that you do. As do we all I’d imagine”

She sighed and sat down next to him, the closeness making her uncomfortable but this is what people did wasn’t it? Good people comforted others. Decent leaders tried to reassure their people. His words were almost pleading, something she had not expected to ever see from the giant of a man. Still…everyone had their weaknesses and clearly his was self-doubt. She could see it in him as clear as sunlight in the morning. He came to this place to ask questions, to learn of others past as people and not knights. That told her enough to think he wondered if he was worthy of being a Knight. It was a good question to ask and one she had resolved already – she wasn’t good enough but she would be soon.

“We all ask questions Kreig, but answers don’t come from others to the questions we ask ourselves here. Only we can answer those questions. Ultimately they had the same doubts, worries and problems as we do now. Time hasn’t made things harder, our lives are easier by far than theirs were” she opened with quietly.

“Their example is the fact that they were worthy of being buried here, it’s why this place is well tended. So we don’t forget that, in the end, it doesn’t matter who you are under the armour. What matters is that when you put it upon yourself you are willing to give what they did – give everything of yourself – for Syliras and the Order”

“Or, at least that is what I think. You must make up your own mind” she suggested simply.