"Danticus! Danticus, wake up! Trust me, you don't want to miss tonight!"

Cristomir shook Danticus awake.

"Is...is it time for the feast already?" Danticus asked groggily.

"Yes, it's time for the party! Now get up! Don't want to keep the king waiting, do you?"

Dancticus sat up in his bed and rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. He sat in his bed, his cousin pulling him up. He had slept for longer than he planned too, the battle having drained him of nearly all energy.

"Come on, little more enthusiasm wouldn't kill ya. Hurry and get dressed."

Danticus scratched his head, and rubbed his sleepy eyes. He thought about what to wear. He had no sort of clothes worthy enough to don for a feast thrown by a king.

"I don't carry any formal clothes for a king's feast like this. What should I wear?" He asked Cristomir

"I thought you didn't, so I brought you a decent outfit, the one I wore when I was inducted into the order. Though I didn't get a feast."

Cristomir opened his pack and unveiled an outfit of blue and gray, embroidered with silver.

"It's nice," said Danticus, outfitting himself.

"And that's not all," said Cristomir.

"What?"

"Your suspicions were right...Jenna is with child."

"Thats brilliant news!" Danticus pulled his cousin in for a mighty hug. "Do you have any names picked out?"

"If its a boy, Ulric, after my father. If it be a girl...I'll let Jenna decide." Cristomir and Dantius shared a laugh.

"Have you told Gallador?" Danticus asked

"Jenna plans to do it tonight at the feast."

"Speaking of, we should get going."

"Aye. Don't wanna miss your big night!"

*****

Danticus and Cristomir left their quarters in the barracks, and made their way to the Banquet Hall. There, many feasts and gatherings have been held in honor of countless heroes of Jorden, their songs of praise still sung long after their death. Danticus was unsure if he could contain his excitement for much longer. Perhaps a song of his own would one day echo off the walls of the Hall, hearty with the voices of warriors and melodious with the voices of maidens.

As his cousin and he approached the doors containing laughter and excitement, a voice called out to Cristomir.

Cristomir turned his attention towards the shadows that the voice called out from. "Yes?" He said with uncertainty.

"It's good to see you. I had hoped you lived through the battle...though I'd call it more of a skirmish. All the best battles last more than just a half hour."

The man to whom the voice belonged to emerged, and sauntered over to the two cousins. His platinum blonde hair fell to his shoulders, a straight curl dangling over his forehead. He was thin, but fairly muscled. He wore a gray tunic with black embroidery and red silk. His black boots were shined, and his gloves were lined with fur, as was his collar. A small black cape hung from his left shoulder. He reeked of family fortune.

There was a certain arrogance in his icy blue eyes that made Danticus stay on guard. He seemed to be the kind of man who would do anything to get his way, no matter the cost.

"I don't recall seeing you on the battlefield, Whitelocke. Tell me, did the whore you buried yourself in moan louder than the horn of Jorden? Is that why you didn't come to the aid of your city?"

Whitelocke gave a sly, half smile. His stare was penetrating, and his icy blue eyes froze you where you stood. Though it seemed he had no such effect on Cristomir, Danticus noticed.

"Not far off, my friend, but it seems you didn't need my aid."

He turned his attention to Danticus, who's chest instinctively raised. "You must be Danticus. Pleasure." He held out his hand, his stretched fingers creasing the black leather gloves. That sly smile turned to a smirk as Danticus hesitated to take his hand. Finally, Danticus erased the tension by meeting the rangers hand with his. Siegfrieds grasp was loose, but his stare made Danticus feel like he was the only person in the world. That mattered at least. Whitelocke broke the handshake, and kept his gaze on Danticus.

"Slayer of the Oathbreaker...has a nice ring to it. Maybe the bards will write a song about you."

"Maybe your father will listen to the bard's songs about you...tell me, which one is your favorite?" Cristomir asked, with a hint of malice in his voice.

If the words had cut Whitelocke, he didn't bleed. His face was emotionless, save for that sly smile that plastered his lips. Cristomir seemed to be seconds away from slapping it off.

Whitelocke mused to himself, and started humming a tune. "My favorite one is The Wandering Cock of Whitelocke...but that's just my personal preference. I find it flattering someone finds my cock worthy of song." He paused, and smacked his thin lips that rested above his dimpled chin. "Well, of any matter, I hope you have a great night, young Stormwell. Just remember...you are still just a bowman. You'd do well to keep from getting a swelled head."

"He'll do fine," Cristomir snarled. "Come on Danticus. We have a party to attend." Cristomir grabbed Danticus' arm and flicked his neck to the Banquet Hall. Whitelocke smiled as they left him there, shaking his head and leaving to return to his favorite brothel, whistling the tune of The Wandering Cock Of Whitelocke

"I didn't find him very...pleasant," said Danticus as they entered the party hall. The smell of wine and a warmth of laughter greeted them. "Who is he exactly?"

Cristomir sneered at the thought of him. "That arrogant prick would be Seigfreid Whitelocke. A former jouster for the king's entertainment. Somehow, that ass became a ranger. He's cocky, selfish and only a ranger because his father said so. He just likes it for the glamour."

"How did he become a ranger?"

"His daddy pulled a few strings and poof! He's one of us."

"Does he even know how to wield a sword, or any weapon for that matter?" Danticus asked

"As much as I hate to admit it, he knows how to wield a halberd. Likely because of his jousting days. Enough about him, though. This feast is about you."

The hall was filled with music and the smell of delicious roasted meats and ale. Red banners covered the walls, bearing a golden lion with a crown roaring over a broken chain, the sigil of Jorden. King Joras sat towards the end of the hall in a grand, decorated feast chair. His long brown hair rested on his shoulders, his chin beard trimmed and his blue eyes filled with delight. His wife, Queen Victoria, sat to his left. Her pregnant belly was slightly above the table. One of her hands rested on her stomach, as if to protect her unborn child. She wore a magnificent white dress with red lace, her curly golden hair tied behind her head.

To his right, his advisor and younger brother, Prince Aldrien shifted in his seat, looking rather annoyed. His dark oaken hair fell to his shoulders and his beard had been trimmed to a goatee.

Further to his right was Gallador. He was wearing his dress uniform, a dark grey coat traced with black embroidery and black trousers. A red cord wrapped around his arm, and his red mantle hung from his shoulders. His bushy beard had been trimmed and his blonde hair was slicked back. Jenna sat to his side and smiled when her's and Cristomir's gazes crossed.

"I'm going to sit with Jenna. Why don't you go get drunk and find yourself a lovely dame?" Cristomir suggested

Danticus smiled and punched Cristomir in the shoulder.

"Get out of here. I'll think about finding myself my own Jenna, but not while I'm drunk."

Cristomir left to accompany his soon to be wife. Danticus walked from the great grand doors of the feast hall down the red and gold carpet to the front of the royal feast table, decorated with roasted pigs, goblets of wine, and delicious pies. He approached King Joras and his company. He bowed to his grace and rose.

"Danticus. I was beginning to think you wouldn't show," the King jested.

"My King, no sum of gold could convince me not to come." Danticus looked to the Queen. "How do you fare, my lady?"

"I'm quite well, considering my husband would be dead today lest you had not been there."

"Yes, and Ragnar would be on throne once more. I think that is the true reason we are celebrating! Oh, that's good. I'll use that in my speech. May the bastard rot in the Abyss." Joras paused, and sipped his wine. "Well, now that you're here, I suppose it's time for my addressing the crowd." He stood up and walked to the front of his banquet table.

"Dukes, commoners, knights, we are all here today to thank the heavens Ragnar Oathbreaker is not on the throne!"

The crowd roared with laughter. Joras, pleased with his joke, smiled and continued his speech.

"Today, I saw my life flash before my eyes as Ragnar gained the advantage over me in battle. I saw my father, Varrus Freemane, slain by his hand, his armies slaying innocents, his undeserved seating on the Royal Throne, my brother chained in the dungeons, the crown of daggers atop his head! However, none of the events lie in vain, as Ragnar lies dead on the battlefield!"

Again, the crowd roared, chanting the name of Joras.

"Friends, it is not me you should cheer for! Ragnar is dead due to this young man, Danticus Stormwell! Quite the warrior and quite the sport!"

Danticus tried hard not to blush as the crowd cheered. A smile spread on his lips.

"His story will be told for generations, not only as the slayer of Ragnar Oathbreaker, but as a ranger of the Ranger Order. Aldrien, bring me the mantle and bow."

Aldrien gathered a package wrapped in string and a beautiful bow made of a dark wood. It was well crafted, with gold metal bindings wrapped around the limbs. Two small curved blades were mounted on the golden bands to assist in battle, an addition Danticus would welcome. Aldrien brought them to Joras, who presented them to Danticus.

"I had my best blacksmith create this bow for you. It's crafted of mahogany, a royal wood. A small payment for what I owe you. Along with your bow is your mantle, the cape signifying your status as a ranger. Take them, Danticus. You deserve this."

Danticus took the bow from Joras. It was truly a bow fit for a legend. It felt light yet sturdy, and the grip formed well to his fingers. He drew back the string, feeling the flexibility and force behind it.

"Well lad, what will you name it?" Joras asked.

"I'll name it...Stormbolt."

"A splendid name Danticus. May you slay many of your enemies with it. Lord Thornshield, " Joras said to Gallador "would you like to say a few words?"

Gallador stood up from his seat and went to join Danticus and Joras in the center of the room.

"Aye, I would." He paused. "I met Danticus three years ago. He was younger lad at the time. A cutthroat had stolen my coin purse when I was purchasing myself a new shield from the blacksmith. This young hero chased the thief down and retrieved my belongings, not even knowing whom they belonged to. Danticus Stormwell has been a hero long before today, friends. And he will continue to be as long as he is under my command as a royal ranger!" The crowd roared as Gallador raised Danticus' arm in his hand.

Gallador turned to Danticus, his voice softer. "Ah, I'm not usually one for speeches. Come speak to me when you're ready for your oath and initiation. Enjoy the rest of your night." Gallador said, going to sit back down in his chair.

The crowd cheered and Danticus took a bow. He put on his cape and slung Stormbolt around his back.

"Congratulations, Danticus. Now let the feast commence!" Said Joras.

Danticus and his fellow partiers began downing ale, laughing, eating and dancing. Behind him, the band played fast paced folk music, merrily doing so. Nobles and residents of the city were dancing, conversing and playing games, and a warm, welcoming aura traveled throughout the feast hall.

Danticus sat and chomped on a roasted pig leg, savoring every bite of the tender pork. The savory meat was complemented by a drink of sweet red wine, and Danticus couldn't remember a time when he'd eaten so well. With his wage as a bowman, he considered bread and ale delicacies.

"Hello, young warrior." Said a voice from behind him, soft and reminiscent of calm ocean wave.

Danticus had turned to meet with his guest, his mouth still full of pig meat. A young woman stood there, radiant and glowing in the light of the flaming chandeliers above. Her light brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, forming into curls at the bottom like the foam of the sea. Her face was small and soft, supple pink lips resting beneath her nose. Her eyes were like little brown hazelnuts in her sockets, curious and charming. She wore a dress of white, accented by soft shades of pink and lace.

Her beauty captured the breath of Danticus, holding his pupils hostage as he found himself unable to look away from her.

Danticus swallowed the food in his mouth hard, and it left a small pain in his chest as he stared at the beautiful young lady.

Say something you fool!

She giggled. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Adelyn Granmund." She held out her hand. Danticus was unfamiliar with noble customs, as life in the soldiers barracks were anything but noble, but he had seen nobles interact enough to have some idea of their culture. With all the nobility he could muster, he took her hand in his and awkwardly, but gently, kissed it.

"Hello, Adelyn. My name is-"

She smiled. "As if anyone in this hall does not know your name, nor Jorden for that matter, Danticus."

Danticus had smiled back and tried not to let the compliment go to his head. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Her sweet smile remained constant. "I wish only to meet the savior of our King. And to give you this." She pulled a soft, pale pink handkerchief from her sleeve. "Something to remind you of me."

Danticus took the soft fabric in his hand. It smelled of flowers, which usually made him sneeze. The smell didn't bother him too much, and he wouldn't let it. He stared back into Adelyn's eyes of amber. "I am honored."

She bowed her head and this time, put teeth into her smile. "I hope to see you again." She stood from the bench and began to walk back into the crowd.

"Wait!" He called after her.

She turned and raised her eyebrows. "Yes?"

"Do you wish to dance?" He instantly wished he could stuff the words back into his mouth. He was an absolutely awful dancer.

She laughed. "Can you?"

He grinned hopelessly. "If I said yes, would you be impressed?"

She nodded and Danticus left the table to her side. "Well then...I guess I can." He walked her to the dance floor, and more partygoers followed, seeing Danticus take the floor. The musicians were playing music of a fast tempo, and Danticus took Adelyn in his arms. He clasped his hand around hers and held it out to the side, his other resting on her waist. She had hers on his shoulder. They swung around the room, stepping to the left, the right, to the front, moving elegantly and lightly.

"You're not bad at this," she whispered in his ear.

"You aren't too bad either," Danticus whispered back. They continued dancing among fellow citizens for two more songs and finished, Adelyn desiring the taste of wine. Danticus walked her back to his feast table and sat with her, eating more food and drinking more wine.

"So Danticus...tell me about yourself. What was it like ending the life of the Oathbreaker?" she said, her eyes more flirtatious than her words.

"Honestly...I just happened to be in the right place at the right time," he said, somewhat chuckling to himself at the escalation of events in the past day.

Adelyn laughed and caressed his arm with her hand.

"And what of you, my lady? What kind of life do you lead?"

"Why would I bore you with the details of my simple life?" she said.

"I doubt a woman of your stature could have one. Tell me."

She smiled at him and moved her hand into his.

"Perhaps another time. My father no doubt is wondering where I am. I should leave. It was nice speaking with you, Sir Danticus." She rose from the table and pecked him on the cheek. He watched as she walked away, her hips swaying back and forth with each stride.

I'm going to marry that woman one day

He resumed sipping wine from his goblet, and if the alcohol wouldn't make his head fuzzy, that woman sure would.

Cristomir stumbled towards him "Danticus, I think I'm going to throw up!" He was laughing gleefully.

"You better get away from me then! Have you told Gallador about Jenna yet?"

"We were going to, but," he pointed to Gallador's empty seat. "No idea where he is. We'll wait till tomorrow. Let the ale wear off." He started to walk off, attempting to do in a sober manner, but turned around quickly. "Oh and, who was that?" He was pointing at Adelyn, who sat among her friends who were pointing at Danticus.

Danticus felt his cheeks redden,  and he smiled. "Adelyn Granmund. Quite the dame."

Cristomir whistled. "A Granmund? Well done my friend. I guess you did find your own Jenna."

Danticus smiled as well. "We'll see." Cristomir squeezed his shoulder and left again. He found Jenna, and the two left through the door, laughing and holding hands, stumbling like toddlers.

Drunk toddlers, in all honesty...

More minutes would pass by as Danticus declined the favors of more women and drank more wine. All he could think of was Adelyn. He never thought much of the companionship of a woman. He was always so focused on achieving his status as a ranger. Maybe now that he had what he desired, perhaps he could pursue the likes of Adelyn.

He sat at his table, almost to drunk to stand. Why had he drank so much wine, he thought to himself. His mind wandered to depths he only discovered when thinking deeply. Images blurred together and his face was warmed from the alcohol coursing through his veins. A heavy feeling rested in the back of his throat, and he vowed to himself to never drink as much wine as he did again. The room began to shake violently and rumble as he attempted to stand up, but something told him it wasn't from the wine. Plates and goblets fell to the floor, shattering and wetting the ground.

"Ground quake!" Yelled out a concerned partygoer.

Danticus stumbled around, trying to maintain his balance. He heard the partygoers cry out exclamations, curses, and swears. He heard shrieks from around the hall as people scrambled under tables and ran out through the doors of the hall.

A man, frantic as a hunted deer, knocked Danticus over as he ran out of the feast hall, arms flailing wildly behind him. Danticus' head slammed into a bench of hard oak and black shrouded his vision, the panicked wailing of the party goers ringing in his ears, their cries and screams fading to silence.

*****

(Thanks for reading, and I'd love to know what you think! Sound off in the comments! Your feedback is always appreciated!)