His Legacy – Kinship

“Grand Marshal! Grand Marshal!” A voice cried from across the court yard. “Grand Marshal Langley!” The Young man bellowed, finally obtaining the attention of the man at arms; Bureston Theodore Langley. “You’ve my ear, lad, speak swiftly.” He replied, approaching him slowly. “Missive for you sir! From one Asleon De’Forte!” The Veteran of Lordaeron’s Fall, The Icecrown Siege, and Attack on Orgrimmar was taken aback momentarily. “…Hand it over then.” He replied bluntly, taking the relatively crumpled letter from the boy’s hand and looking it over at length. It was his handwriting, his seal, and there were few that could even correlate the two. He surrendered to a sigh, wandering past the training fields to sit within his office. He hadn’t realized it yet, but he was breathing heavily in anticipation.

“Nearly two decades pass and you reach out from beyond the veil?” He unfolded the parchment, old eyes taking in every word as if it were a tankard of water to a man dying of thirst.

To The Esteemed Grand Marshal Bureston T. Langley; Lordaeron 2nd Army, 7th Division, 10th Cavalry

As you’re no doubt aware by now, the vast majority of the old company has passed; Some more violently in recent days than others. Such is the fate of a soldier, as you once told me. We’ve only one another to lean upon in times of strife. I hope to bring some closure, however cruel it may be, in regards to Liaskar Moonwalker; The Paladin we shared company with at the behest of Halinor prior to departing Southshore for Dalaran. He perished years ago – In the Twilight Highlands attempting to subvert one Anetho Dawnpride from a horrid scheme destined only to end in brutality and despair. He, regrettably failed. You yourself had dealings with then Magister Dawnpride whom acted as a liason on behalf of Silvermoon filtering information of value through SI:7.

He too has fallen to darkness, though fittingly so. In his wake however, there was something left to you – you whom had grown cold and callous as he in an unforgiving world that has forgotten all memory of Lordaeron, her flag, and her fallen liegemen. You who are the sole remaining book detailing our united exploits in a desperate bid for survival. I’ve one final chapter to include within your pages, one late in the making. Asleon De’Forte did not fall to the hands of the Scourge – rather he was taken forcibly by those whom worshipped a far more insidious diety not worth naming upon these pages. They twisted him and warped what once was your friend and confidant into a servant of darkness.

He festered in this world of pain and misery until it was all that he could ever be. That man, was Anetho Dawnpride. Before he met his end however, he would gaze upon the light one last time. He would fall to his knees and pray that you should possess the means to provide for your family as he once did, before falling to his tragic ending. Enclosed is a writ of transaction with the Kirin Tor Collective Holdings  for the sum of one thousand gold coins. This should elevate the status of your young ones and provide sufficient education on my behalf. This comes only with a request. That you remember Asleon De’Forte as he was, a just and fine man; Rather than the abomination he would inevitably become. You are perhaps the last living friend I shall ever know to be true, and I regret that I was the most fickle of the company at the very end.

Know that I have seen beyond mortal eyes, a thousand parallels. A thousand possibilities beyond warped doors of magic; and though deceptive are the flows of mana and unknowable is the future, I bore witness to a world wherein you, myself, Liaskar, Johan and the rest all stood merry and unblemished within the halls of our Capital City; serving the heir to the throne. We knew not the threat of the Scourge, nor the hardship of the Orcish Horde, or great trauma. We are, in some fashion or another, always together. Alive as we were meant to be.

Stay true to your oath and vigil. Uphold your honor and your virtues. I know you to be the strongest, or at the very least, stronger than I am. Thank you for your service in name of king, country, and family.

For Lordaeron,

Asleon De’Forte 

Tears swept along the Marshal’s face, and it was all he could do to keep from whimpering. His bigotry and xenophobia had blinded him to what he’d always held dearest. Camaraderie. He reverently set the parchment down, and procured the bank slip. Dull red-grey hair fell over his eyes and he allowed himself a sigh. He’d never changed, Asleon, he’d only forgotten whom he was, as the Grand Marshal too, had forgotten himself. “Yours is a story that does have a happy ending, Priest.”


~ by anethodawnpride on August 2, 2014.

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