Mounting Expectations

Chapter One - Unrequited Return.

Cold breeze blew through large doorways as Demetra pushed both wooden doors apart, walking with a strict demeanor. Following behind was Mirune and the guard sent with her as the sound of heavy armor clattering together ckt, ckt, ckted louder as they approached the throne. Her attention undivided, Demetra quickly fell to a kneel in front of King Philippe. Mirune and the second guard joined, before he was dismissed, leaving the Half-orc and Triton. Both rose from the red carpet ground at the Kings request.

"Demetra, thank you for running this errand," He smiled as his Head Guard joined him by his side at the throne, looking to Mirune. "Thank you for joining me traveler. It has come to the understanding you have quite a large legend behind you. The one they call, "The Wandering Warrior," that is your is it not?" He asked, placing his elbow on the throne and resting his chin on his knuckles, intently listening.

"I have been called many thing, your Majesty, but I would prefer Mirune. Yes, Wandering Warrior is one of them," She explained before adjusting the patch that hung over her right eye. Scars riddled the Half-orc face, prominently over the nose, left eye, and lips. Small tusks stuck out from her closed mouth at all times. Her eye seemed to widen slightly as the King adjusted his stance with shock.

"Mirune, I see. My father was many things I wish not to be. If my memory serves me correctly he had two special girls he had been training. One stands next to me, and I believe one stands in front of me. Am I correct with this assumption Demetra?" He asked looking up at the Triton, her face darkened with a mixture of anger and onset confusion at the return of someone she had presumed dead for all these years.

"Yes, your Majesty. We trained as children to replace the Head Guard when time came," she agreed finally looking at Mirune in the eye, something she hadn't been able to do at the tavern since.

"Hmm, well then, welcome back to Caicilon Mirune. In return for enduring the deeds of my father, I offer you stay at my castle under the protection of my guard. I wouldn't want the continent's legend being smothered to death in a tavern," Philippe laughed. Turning he looked to the Head Guard, "Demetra, please show our guest to one of the living quarters if you would? Make sure she is comfortable," he gestured her to lower her head to him before whispering, "and talk to her."

"Yes, your Majesty, as you wish. Follow me," she said walking to the side of the throne down one of the large hallways. Mirune followed behind silent. Approaching closer Mirune reached her hand out to put on her shoulder but was met with hostility as soon as she touched her. Demetra turned, slamming her elbow into her neck, pinning her to the wall. "Don't touch me," she ordered before quickly releasing her. Demetra was obviously shaken at the mere sight of Mirune, contact was a whole new level of upset she couldn't handle at the moment. Opening the door she let Mirune into a guest bedroom before she glared, saying, "You have free reigns to the training court and anything you ask the chefs to make. Don't get in the way of my guards." Demetra left, a cold air following behind as her bitter aura left a sour taste. Mirune sat on the bed, taking the large axe off the back of her back and set it against the sheets. Pulling the red jacket off Mirune took a moment to think. Taking a brown long sleeve shirt out of her bag she grasped the end of her green shirt, before she could pull it past her torso the door opened.

"Oh! My apologies! The King has requested you join him for dinner tonight! Sorry again!" The guard stammered, quickly pulling the iron handle to close the wooden door again. With a small sigh Mirune continued to change. The past couple years have been of this legendary warrior who saves towns, when really she just went around collecting coin to survive. She didn't understand the appeal, why so many people crowed her with questions and comments. Thankfully she was saved from another tavern, and that was enough for her to accept the invitation to eat with King Philippe. He words were bold, but she believed him when he promised he was better than his father. It didn't take much, that man was a monster.

Down the hall walked Demetra, her head hanging low, her hands balled into fists. Huffing she took the blade from her back and slashed one of the walls, the wallpaper cover tearing in a perfect strip, the bottom half folding on itself as it fell to the floor. A distinct voice cleared down the hall, Demetra turned to see King Philippe watching her.

"Pleased I'm not the only one who hates the decor my father has kept around for 50 years. Talk to me Demetra, you know I'm an honest man," he placed a hand over his chest with a smile.

"You won't get it," She huffed turning to leave.

"I won't?" He asked rhetorically, causing the Triton to stop in her tracks. After a moment or two of ambient silence she turned back.

"She disappeared as a kid and never told me. I thought she was dead," Demetra explained, sheathing her blade. The King nodded slowly and stepped closer to the guard. "I thought I could forget and then she just shows up out of the blue?"

"So express that. Ask her why she left. That's an order, tonight. You are joining me for dinner. Not in your armor, and I mean it," he pointed to her placing a hand on her shoulder. Before she could refuse or rebuttal he slinked away with a small smug smile on stupid face. That fucker.