Entry

I suppose I should have posted this before the last piece, as it gives you a description of the armour that Vakis wears.  I felt that it was kind of short, so I lengthened it by adding in the part where he looks out the window, but I don't necessarily think that the digression detracts overall from the section.


He approached the grand audience hall, walking down a cavernous hallway lined with columns, each with a different story carved into its face.  The breeze listed gently through the hall’s huge open windows, giving a pleasing respite from the summer heat.  It brought with it the chirping of songbirds from the gardens outside, as well as the smell of lavender.  It soothed him, and he needed soothing.  What was to transpire was a far-cry from the tranquil sounds and smells of the gardens which flanked him.

He even stopped for a moment and stepped to the side, resting his elbows wearily upon the wooden window seal, hunching over to take in the view of the courtyard garden.  Instantly the sun bore down heavily upon his brow, impeding his view, but soon enough it came to bear.  There was a garden on either side of the hallway he was in, each large enough to fit an entire home.  Before him he saw most strikingly the lavender which had its smell precede it, lining the far sides of the garden along the walls.  In the middle lay a small pond surrounded by Narcissus, many drooping towards the chill liquid, and many yet more resting in the shade provided by a number of olive trees, all surrounded by the walls lined with a trumpet-shaped flowering vine.

A number of songbirds enjoyed the scene whilst no one else was there to bother them, and he noticed in particular a swallow with a body of bluish-black and of a head of red, juxtaposed to its white belly with black spots, jumping to and fro in the shallow pool, enjoying itself thoroughly.  Were only that I could be that bird for this moment, to switch its life with my very own, he thought to himself.

As he approached the door he could hear the murmur of speech.  Few were loud, addressing all, but many whispered among the crowd.  This palace, this hall, it didn’t always belong to them, naught but a few generations before it belong to lavish foreign kings, unknowing of our justice, our prestige, our greatness.  We informed them.  It was designed with grandeur and decadence in mind, everything larger than it needed to be.  Even the entrance was large enough that horsemen could have ridden through it.

The door was flanked by two royal Agema, two of the Princeps’ sacred guard of three hundred.  They wore bronze muscle cuirasses coloured crimson, standing out from their stark white tunics and cloaks.  Their helmets bore a small metal crest and visor, as well as cheekpieces, all coloured crimson, framing a face-mask of iron.  So too did they wear ptyrges made of leather, bleached white, covering their thighs and shoulders, and bronze greaves made of the same bronze coloured crimson as their cuirasses.  The cloaks were parted in the middle to make room for the signature mark of the Agema, the palm branch they had strapped to their backs, fanning out behind them.

With one hand on the hilt of the long Kopis they wore and the other grasping an infantryman’s spear, they stood motionless, like two statues looming to either side of the door.  He wore a soldier’s uniform.  He wore a sash denoting his command.  He looked the part entirely.  These two statues should not give him pause, but even still sweat began to form at his temples, his hands began to shake, his heart began to race.  He tried his best to ignore all of these things, to not be scared, and he continued to hold his head up high and look forward as he continued on.  He walked right in.