Felic wandered lazily through the wheat fields. His hands, calused from long work, brushed the ripe heads as they rippled in the wind. He didnt register the beauty of the sun rise or the crispness of the fresh breeze. His focus was turned inward. His thoughts lost on old friends and choices made long ago. His once bright pants were faded and bleached by the salty air. His hair thinner than when he had last walked these fields and his brow no longer held a crown. His days as emperor seemed to belong to another life. He had done his best not to think of those times in the last few years. Thoughts like those were dangerous and would do no good on the open sea. Not where he needed to be strong and level headed. He couldn't afford to lose himself in nostalgia and bitterness. Would any of them still be here? Calian's face flashed through his mind, flame coloured curls framed her angry eyes followed closely by seth's filled with hurt and confusion. Felic felt tears swelling up Nd clenched his eyes in an effort to stop them from spilling. If he saw them how would they react? He hoped for warm embraces but feared seth turning away from him and calian burning him to ash where he stood. Even the image of king richards stern face no longer kindled the inner fire that fuelled his old fight. No, the days of fighting were gone. Replaced by wanting to talk of old times over an ale. If anyone has asked him if he would return here he would have said not a chance, and when he saw the all too familiar towers loom on the horizon as he drifted into port his heart had filled with a black heavy dread. But the wind had brought him and his little boat back to these shores. Back to illian back to where it had all begun. The wind seemed to always be the begining and the end.
Reigning King of Typos and High Lord of bad grammar