Dondarian sat in his quarters, arising once more from a restfull slumber to begin his daily routine. He had convinced himself already at the young age of 17 that he could predict the future, from the mere fact that he constantly repeated the same routine day, after day.

Disrupting him from his breakfast a man, his fathers messenger ran into his living quarters.

Messenger:"Sire, terrible news!"
Dondarian:"Sire?"

His face dropped, consumed in a hot flush of panic as he understood fully what the title he was addressed with meant.

"Etienne!.......... Father!!"

No more words were said as he rose, in an almost robotic fashion and followed the man through the corridors to his fathers private wing of the palace. The reality of the situation still not fully presenting itself to him as he entered the wing to gaze blankly at his fathers still form slumped in his chair, grasping a cup of french red wine left half empty in his hands. Instintively Dondarian turned away, numb with emotion. He loved his father, despite their obvious differences in character and attitude. The man had elevated their bloodline to unknown heights, he felt that his inheretance of that respect was irrelevant as he was unproven and unknown to the people and that respect should not by rights immediatley fall fall upon him. He turned to the messenger ignoring the pale face of his father that seemed to watch him closely.

"What of my brother Castathius? Has he been told?"

The messenger swallowed hard at the question which made the young Dondarian flinch as if struck by an iron fist.

"Sire, the body of your brother and heir to the position of our former lord Etienne was found near Buda. It is known that he single handedly unveiled and eliminated the threat of assassination to your bloodline. But the cost was too great for him to withstand and he fell upon the bodies of his, and your foes. He wanted a clean slate to begin his life. It appears his legacy was now all for you. Message of his deeds has only now reached our ears. He has been dead now for almost six months. This position has, since that time, always been yours to take"

The sudden flow of life changing information seemed too much for the young knight to absorb. But he forced his emotions back forming the only words he could, the sound of them hissing from hs mouth with the venom that often came with his foul temper.

"Begone!"

he continued looking at the statuesque figure of his father,

"Bury him immediatley, he has earnt the right to proper Christian burial despite the land we now live upon. Let his soul feed the land of his people, let it bring the flowers to bloom, let it bring our crops to full harvest. He would have wanted it this way. Throw a feast and ensure that no woman, man or child is left unfed from it, we will celebrate his life and then continue on, as we must in these times."

Messenger. "But lord, the funds from our travels here are depleted, we cant afford to..."

Dondarian merely pointed at his father armor with his arm raised limply and almost uncaringly.

"Sell it. What is lost can be remade, but what is gone can only be said goodbye to once, make sure it is an occasion to never be forgotten!"

Turning Dondarian took long strides out of the wing and back toward his own living quarters, alone he felt it now appropriate to let the tears run down his face, not daring to wipe them from his face, to leave them as a visible sign of respect in his solitude to his father. They were his token to his father, who had done so much to build the foundations for his future.