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The Lure of Prester John 16.08.2010 12:05:55 --- 1 Year, 9 Months ago
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the story starts here: http://knights-honor.com/component/option,com_fireboard/Itemid,181/func,view/id,36463/catid,9/
Only bread and olives, thank you! the host of the guesthouse bowed exiting the door of the small room, only to return shortly with a small plate he left on the table.
The man watched as the door was closing discretely behind the keeper and bit the bread piece distracted. It was early in the morning and the sunshine was already painting in red the waves of the sea. Noisy seagulls were circling around a small fishing boat leaving the harbor, in a futile attempt of an effortless breakfast. Fishermen were preparing their nets, as they sailed into the sunshine, before the torrid light of midday chase their prey away. It was particularly hot this year on the shores of Italy, even for this month and during mornings too, and the whole nature looked like it was liquefying under the burning sun - from stone to wood and living beings alike. Only the birds seemed undisturbed by the pouring from the sky inferno and professed their love for light in loud voices. And we are not birds.smiled to himself the man, sinking his head again in the bucket next to him.
Through the drops drawing circles on its mirror, a face wreathed in wrinkles of a man well beyond his thirties was watching him through a pair of tired eyes. Eyes tired of a life filled with worries and countless nights spent awoke at the light of the candle in studying parchments. Eyes tired of too much suffering they have witnessed, and too much death they have contemplated. Sad eyes, troubled eyes, but well knowing of the world's matters. Shiny eyes, and filled with hope and happiness, for they have witnessed such splendors no other man on this part of the world has.
With a quick move of his hand, the man severed the reflection in the water and walked his hand through the hair already showing its stains of gray.No one will believe me. But, maybe it's for the best.the man sighed and took his few belongings, tucking them in a small bag.
Four years have passed since he left, without a word, on a fool's mission he can't even bothered to think at. People would have forgot his name by now, or his deeds, he was thinking, and the times he decided to return were not fortunate, if he was to follow the gossips of the inns and guesthouses his path took him. But even if others would, he could not forget who he was and what his driving force was. Many have changed since that day he slipped secretly from the Sistine Chapel, leaving duty, family, and friends behind. The world itself has changed, as new forces were risen on the shoulders of the ones doing down. But the treasure he was carrying need not to be concealed, and its ineffable presence would exceed any petty interest or border skirmish.
Eyes closed, he pressed his palms hard on his temples, as if to preserve something inside as much as possible. With a sigh, he exited the door of the guesthouse and hurried to the harbor, for the small vessel ready to set sail.
I suppose I can be happy if, after they find out who I am, to make even to the gates of the citadel. he snickered.I wonder if the catacombs of the citadels are as foul as I was told, as I may be very well spending a lifetime there.
He was returning home.
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Favoured: 2
Schlimme Puppen 
Ritterheere 
Antique Empire 
Antique Empire 
Der Reeder 
Evolution Master 
Sternenheere 
