Writings, musings and inspirations for Lord Elendenal Pendragon.
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Elendenal sat down with a creak of plate, moving his right hand - unadorned in plate, to enable his intended task - to take the pen from its place inside the holder, looking down to the parchment spread before him. A moment’s consideration and he set the pen to paper, writing his thoughts upon its surface.
Zephyr 25, 1300 AE
I find myself at something of a crossroads, writing these thoughts upon paper as a means to draw the feelings associated to them from me, and perhaps establish a record to be used in future. Let me state for the record herein, that I am a man conflicted. These past weeks have seen extraordinary developments in my life, but so too have they seen me face challenges I did not - perhaps naively - expect to have to confront again. There are barriers in my path, now, that must be removed with utmost delicacy: lest the effort to do so shatter the very thing I wish to reach beyond their obstacle.
I have been made Field Marshal of the Coalition, if that is what it can be called, at Lake Doric. This is not how I intended to spend my time at this Camp, but neither can I write here in honesty that it is a turn of events I am going to strive to oppose. My arrival in Lake Doric was less a conscious decision and more a matter of providence: a path that was laid for me by Balthazar, I suspect, through my mortal associates. If not for that night in the Rurikton Cafe, I never would be here.
None of this would have happened, had I not met Margrave Elysian, my now-dear friend and brother in cause, upon that auspicious evening.
It is ironic, I believe the term is, that I am impeded in my task to rid the enemies of mankind from Lake Doric by the very people that convinced me to give my aid here. Lady Aubrey Valente knows not how much she changed my life, with that simple suggestion of hers. Luxelen, my friend - or so I hope - stands as the largest impediment in my attempts to bring an end to the carnage and suffering in Lake Doric. I have attempted to reason with her, and shown her respect and courtesy in the act, and at best she has responded with cool disdain.
I am told by Alissa Lepre, the newest member of the Scions of the Six, that it is Luxelen’s way of adapting - that she will ‘come around’ eventually. While I am not opposed to her having the time she needs, it makes me worry for the people of Lake Doric. While the one that should be an ardent ally dithers, they die by the dozens, and more refugees are created every day. It is not that I do not understand her recalcitrance, it is simply that I do not believe that this is the place for it. I will never understand her mind, I fear, for we are naturally opposed creatures, her and I.
The Refuge Defense Force will be recalled, according to Alissa, and that is for the better. Luxelen does not understand the fundamental necessitation of war: she is too passionate, too focused on what she sees - whether correct or incorrect - as an enemy to understand when she does not know something, or when her views are damaging, if not outright destructive. A rogue element in a battlefield, be it a single person or a full unit, pose a danger to their parent force and allies even greater than an enemy. A single misstep in the grand strategy, a single unforeseen disobedience, and the entire army risks shattering. It is one thing for your enemy to surprise you, it is far more catastrophic to be sabotaged from within - especially when that sabotage is entirely unintended.
If the R.F.D take to the field without being part of the chain of command, they will kill a great many people, and I fear many of them will be due to nothing more than idealistic ignorance. War is not like the stories, it is not a tale where a valorous few can make the difference in spite of everything else. It is methodical, it is alive, it is a constant game of chess between Commanders. One piece out of place, and the entire board is compromised. If against all odds they take the field and refuse orders, I will not sanction a diverting of force to save them, and nor will I allow them to deploy within a mile of Coalition forces.
I cannot justify killing dozens, perhaps hundreds more, and crippling our forces to rescue a unit that is at this stage more of a strategic impediment than a benefit. I pray they do not fight, they are good people, kind people, even if they make terrible soldiers. Humanity needs their compassion, their kindness, and their benevolence - but I cannot use a sword that refuses to swing where it is directed, and the R.F.D is akin to the most unreliable blade in the armoury.
Luminary Drake Griggs also appears to be a potential obstacle, which is odd from a man I considered a fast friend. At the meeting I called for the military leaders of the camp, Lord Griggs was at best a quiet observer, at worst mildly disinterested. He strikes me as a man of few words absent cause, yet it was his support I was accounting as one of the most resolute. Perhaps this estimate of him as a man unconcerned with politics was overhasty. The Luminary offered no objection when I was nominated with Aodhan and Cainneth, yet now he appears almost to be avoiding me, as if he does not wish to acknowledge the reality of what occurred.
This is worrisome, as I factored he and Cervato Haswari both as staunch and committed allies in this war. I pray I can still count on Cervato in this, but if the Luminary is hedging, I cannot help but feel she will follow him in doing so. This would be crippling to our coalition; the Accord is set to lead the main core of our infantry.
Aodhan Helstrom, Morgan Valister and Cainneth Cross I have no concerns about. The first is a man of war, he knows what’s needed and he understands the demands of honour and commitment to purpose. I foresee many late evenings discussing strategy and tactics with the weathered Headmaster, a disciple of Balthazar in both thought and deed. Cainneth Cross I can safely say has become a treasured friend, and a source of unerring integrity and wise counsel. Of all those to have joined the Scions, he truly is an Exemplar in truth. As for Morgan Valister, she is precisely what one would expect: austere, stoic, and utterly merciless. In her eyes, I see the rage of butchered Ascalon, and a war fervour to rival mine own. Lady Valister will be an integral part of this war effort, both for her mental acumen and the morale she will inspire in those around her.
These allied forces hold much promise, in the prosecution of the war against the Mantle. With Crown support coming from Cainneth, and the combined forces of the Accord, and Noble Houses part of the various organisations in camp, and the brilliance of the Schools, I had expected a powerful war machine. I am reminded, at this time, of one of my first initiatives: a campaign against a banner of Dragonsworn on behalf of the Vigil, in Scion 215, 1327 AE. We had tracked their forces to a large expanse near the Ascalon border, and I had been commissioned by the Vigil to prosecute the hunt for the heretics. I still remember their mad screeches as my couched lancers shattered them, the impact of the lances blowing apart their bodies and the thunder of the charge crushing skull and bone underhoof.
There is nothing more satisfying than a victory won through adherence to the doctrines of war: to adherence to honour, loyalty, and love of one’s comrades. I cannot think of a more fitting reward than the smiles of joy on the faces of those you led not into death, but into the new dawn, through superior use of assets and dominion of the strategic and tactical planes. There is a beautiful purity in the attainment of a good victory, of a pure victory, and the successful prosecution of an entire campaign - absent regret, or the stain of unsavoury deeds, neither of which I am pleased to say I have ever had the displeasure of experiencing.
Cristian Eskara is not in the same situation.
A man of considerable zeal, he continues to teeter between redeemed and damned, switching one day from humility and sombre remorse to arrogance and unapologetic savagery. The High Exemplar has become a wraith of his own destruction, justifying things that could never be justified, impugning my reputation and motivations, and diverting from the conversation the moment his contradictions and falsifications are highlighted. It saddens me. I have faith in Cristian Eskara, more faith than Genevieve believes I should have, but I cannot turn away from him nor forsake him. In many ways, he is a victim of his own circumstance, a war casualty over a much greater period of conflict. I wish to believe he can save himself from his own demons, even if nobody else will.
My next decisions will shape what is to come, and I know I must tread carefully. If I can secure the Luminary’s support, dispel Luxelen’s doubts, and manage to unite these people - to gain the chance I need, I can shatter any lingering misgivings. I will prosecute this war with integrity, honour, and valour befitting the God of War. I will take this burden upon my shoulders and carry it to the end of the line. I have no aspirations for Empire, no matter what Cristian believes: I just wish to end the suffering, end the bloodshed, and protect those falling victim to its growing violence. Every day this war drags on, good men, good women, pay for it. It is my duty to defend mankind against that which assails it, and no threat is greater in its immediacy than the Mantle at Lake Doric.
I pray that my comrades in this cause rally to me, that Drake, Cervato, Luxelen, Cainneth, Aodhan, Morgan, William and Cristian - yes, even dear, misguided Cristian - stand with me and give me the faith I need, the faith I have given them, to not just end this war: but do so in a way that every man, woman, and otherwise can look back on and say was done rightly, and properly. If they but offer me the moment, I will seize it, and victory will follow. This is not simply a fight for land or territory, it is a war for the human soul. How we fight it and how we win it are equally as important as winning itself.
I will pray they recognise the truth of my intent, and give me their support.
The alternative, I fear, is an end to all we have worked for.
Signed,
Elendenal Pendragon IV,
Scion of Honour.
( @luxelen, @cristianeskara, @genevievekent, @lordgriggs, @rising-ember )
#lake doric#the stormfall crusade#the stormfall coalition#cristian eskara#drake griggs#lucas elysian#luxelen larkspur#genevieve kent#morgan valister#cainneth cross#aodhan helstrom#cervato haswari#elendenal pendragon#story#the scions of the six#journal entry#memoirs
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The Reprimand

A letter came for Cris, carried by a Shining Blade runner, and sealed with the Blade emblem. He pursed his lips, already guessing what lay within, and he moved to a quiet, out of the way part of Camp Dam to read it. To High Exemplar Cristian Eskara You are hereby receiving this letter of reprimand for immoral actions taken in the war against the White Mantle. You are notified that this is your third offense. Due to the current situation of the war around Lake Doric, and the pending trials of the remaining Ministers and Ministry Guard, your court marshal hearing is post-poned until the conflict is resolved. You will retain your current command and duties, until your court marshal hearing. You are to be further reminded that continued transgressions will no longer be tolerated, and will be considered acts of insubordination, punishable by field execution. Remember that acts of atrocity are only warranted under extreme circumstances unless authorized under the mission rules of engagement. Such authorizations are not currently in effect. Final warning. Long Live the Queen. Cris grimaced and ground his teeth a bit in annoyance, “Don’t need to remind me what the punishment is…” he muttered as he took the letter over to a camp fire and burned it, watching it until it was nothing but cinders and ash. He’d obey. Between this and the deal he’d made with Pendragon earlier in the evening, he had little choice. “Valor, Courage, and Honor. Wonder who the first two are among the priest’s fan club” he muttered, “Wonder if they have a spot for Vengeance… I could be that…” Sniffing in annoyance, he returned to patrolling the camp to seek out more of the spies and traitors in their midst.
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Often the ways of others baffled him, but in war, Elendenal always saw more than most - and clearer than many.
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I should have expected the savagery, but somehow I was both parts surprised and welcoming.
It’s too soon to say what I will decide, but I fear he has been winning me over. Thought I know the consequences of my acceptance, and that seems to be the point of my hesitation. Perhaps I will show him more and in the coming days we can find an agreement.
It’s a shame that I have ruined myself with just one taste. I find myself craving more though I must show restraint.
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In the Ascalonian wars against Krytan Guilds, Pendragon forces became a symbol of dread, for the thunder of their hooves, the heat of their fire magic, and the song of their steel heralded certain doom for their western cousins.
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A mounted Knight of Pendragon is worth twenty men on their feet.
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The Knights of Pendragon have ever been famed for the power of their charging lances.
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Few can stand before the deadly thunder of charging Pendragon Lances.
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The likenesses of the Six were prominently displayed within Albion, as the tradition of House Pendragon demanded, dating back all those years to Arah itself.
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The Pendragon home revered all the Six, but none were more proudly or grandly displayed than the tapestries of Balthazar, God of War, patron of their bloodline.
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None did Elendenal revere more than his patron, Balthazar, God of War, Fire, and Courage.
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The Six were, and ever would be, the cornerstone of Humanity.
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The War God wore many guises.
None were strange to Elendenal.
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The Scions rise...
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