LOREN
Abasi was right about peace. Both about it being a good ideal and about people abandoning it when times were tough. However, that didn’t mean that they should give up on it easily. ”Sometimes the right and good thing to do is the hardest thing to do. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it.” And that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt, or people wouldn’t fail to live up to their ideals every now and then. They were only human. Even Loren, who demanded perfection from himself, would admit that much.
As the conversation shifted to Ronin, the Launceleyn nodded in response to Abasi’s question. ”He survived.” As for the rest of it—and why the king had been so absent—the summoner couldn’t say. Unfortunately, he agreed with the other man’s statement: a leader, even a weak one, should be there for their people. If they couldn’t, they should abdicate, or appoint others to manage in their absence. While it could be argued that Wessex was doing just that, it hadn’t officially been spelled out. That was leading to no small amount of unrest among the populace.
Apparently the cosmetics were close enough that they’d serve the other man's purposes just fine. However, Abasi’s question about the owner of the room gave Loren pause. He was silent for a long moment. ”My cousin, Zariah. She was queen here, for a time, before Wessex and Ronin. However, my cousin...she turned into a tyrant, from everything I heard. Then she disappeared, and no one has seen or heard from her since. However, they all live in fear of her return.” The summoner didn’t, though maybe he should. However, he knew Zariah clung to the old ways. While she might harm Loren, she wouldn’t kill him. And while he probably wouldn’t kill her, he would stand against her if he had to. ”If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not linger here.” There were too many painful memories.
Assuming the other man was amenable, the summoner would lead them to a bedroom a few doors down; opening it, he would reveal another lavish set of furniture and clothes. However, this time, the bed would look entirely unslept in, and while the room was clean and full of dust, it would have no signs of life. Because this was Loren’s bedroom, and he didn’t spend any time there. It was too fancy and luxurious for his tastes, given what he’d gotten used to growing up. Taking a few steps in, he would come to stand before the mirror, almost not recognizing his reflection.
As the conversation shifted to Ronin, the Launceleyn nodded in response to Abasi’s question. ”He survived.” As for the rest of it—and why the king had been so absent—the summoner couldn’t say. Unfortunately, he agreed with the other man’s statement: a leader, even a weak one, should be there for their people. If they couldn’t, they should abdicate, or appoint others to manage in their absence. While it could be argued that Wessex was doing just that, it hadn’t officially been spelled out. That was leading to no small amount of unrest among the populace.
Apparently the cosmetics were close enough that they’d serve the other man's purposes just fine. However, Abasi’s question about the owner of the room gave Loren pause. He was silent for a long moment. ”My cousin, Zariah. She was queen here, for a time, before Wessex and Ronin. However, my cousin...she turned into a tyrant, from everything I heard. Then she disappeared, and no one has seen or heard from her since. However, they all live in fear of her return.” The summoner didn’t, though maybe he should. However, he knew Zariah clung to the old ways. While she might harm Loren, she wouldn’t kill him. And while he probably wouldn’t kill her, he would stand against her if he had to. ”If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not linger here.” There were too many painful memories.
Assuming the other man was amenable, the summoner would lead them to a bedroom a few doors down; opening it, he would reveal another lavish set of furniture and clothes. However, this time, the bed would look entirely unslept in, and while the room was clean and full of dust, it would have no signs of life. Because this was Loren’s bedroom, and he didn’t spend any time there. It was too fancy and luxurious for his tastes, given what he’d gotten used to growing up. Taking a few steps in, he would come to stand before the mirror, almost not recognizing his reflection.
But don’t be weary if it’s broken
Families are like that—
they’re split up and always torn.
