A Hard Decision

The sounds of horse hooves hit the cobble stoned ground of Citel Rhun, the capital of Anumias. A high mountain air blew hard as the horse and its rider road up a long snaking path toward a giant palace at the top. The Old Imperial Palace, long up kept for the historical memories of Anumian past, loomed ahead of the rider. He stopped atop a spectacular parapet, one that overlooked the entirety of Ryerdae. The horsemen who dismounted rattled. He wore dark plate armor, with light chainmail beneath. On the horses side was hung a similarly metal shield. On the soldiers hip was a longsword, on his back a quiver of green feathered arrows, and a bow. He was a Imperial Soldier.

Earlier, when he rode toward Citel Rhun, the civilians of Anumias were surprised. A Imperial Soldier hadn't been seen in the Capital for many many years, especially not one who bore the fabled Emperors Seal and Dark Ore Armor. The soldier was an Imperial Guard, something that struck fear into the hearts of many, as they, for centuries had been known as the most skilled killers that could possibly walk upon a battlefield. When conflict occurred, stories have told that the enemy of the Imperial crown would cower before "Knights with the Green Stallion Plume".

Upon entering the Palace, the Imperial Guard removed his helm, which did indeed have the same green stallion plume resting atop. The butler or servant gave a respectful nod and hustled off into another room, no doubt fetching the Feudal Lord of Anumias. Argo the Great, the current Lord slowly, as if over-cautiously came down the high stairs to the next level of the palace. He bowed in respect to the Imperial Guard, who in turn knelt on the floor before the Lord. Afterward, he stood back up and retrieved a scroll from a rucksack he had hanging from his side.

The Imperial Guard, with no emotion, as Argo read the scroll before him. A appearance, as if he were sick, took form upon his already pale face. He looked to the Guard, and then back to the scroll in apparent agony. Intentionally, although making it seem less so, the Imperial Guard lay his hand next to the hilt of his sword. Argo's eyes grew wide in fear, until he composed himself once more. He stood straight once again, not realizing that he was hunched over the scroll as he read, and then faced the Guard with as much confidence and pride as he could muster.

"Tell his Lord Otopan, that I accept his proposal and will continue on the path as always." Argo said in an unintentionally trembling voice.

The Guard, hiding a smirk, bowed and nodded before the Lord, and left the Palace, back to his horse. As soon as he left, the horses hooves kicking up dirt in its midst, Argo looked once more at the scroll. All feeling left his face and he looked to his butler, looking for some hint of reassurance.

"I-it was for the best, I think." Argo said, more or less to himself.

He lay the scroll on the bottom step of the stairs, and then walked up them toward the throne room, back to his own worries. The scroll started to roll open and down the stairs: