What patchwork background has this dream given Marcus? He remembers the Circle of Starkhaven. He remembers the rebellion. Remembers—
That it ended. And a new world order has arrived. And his loves have ascended to great echelons of influence and rulership, and Kevin is no longer retired, for no Templars are alive to have ambushed him on the road one day.
What is his purpose, in this happiest of endings? To wear shining metal and be magnificent, maybe. He is not directly concerned with the duty of the various guards towards seeing Orlais— Kirkwall— Lamor secured, but makes the rounds anyway. As he enters the thoroughfare leading the palace, his presence earns some attention, all of it admiring. Dismounting his horse and leaving him to the care of whatever faceless servant hops forwards.
Entering the halls, the parties in full swing, he is in his formal uniform, cascading red velvet and polished steel, decorated with all the markings and formalities of a Knight General who is here to display himself as such. A sidearm lashed to his hip is among the few weapons permitted through the doors. An absence of a heavy war staff at his back feels like a phantom limb.
Stops. Observes the crowd, the proceedings. Appeals about land disputes and requests for charity, all the carryings on of an empire at peace. What is his purpose here?
and i'm here
That it ended. And a new world order has arrived. And his loves have ascended to great echelons of influence and rulership, and Kevin is no longer retired, for no Templars are alive to have ambushed him on the road one day.
What is his purpose, in this happiest of endings? To wear shining metal and be magnificent, maybe. He is not directly concerned with the duty of the various guards towards seeing Orlais— Kirkwall— Lamor secured, but makes the rounds anyway. As he enters the thoroughfare leading the palace, his presence earns some attention, all of it admiring. Dismounting his horse and leaving him to the care of whatever faceless servant hops forwards.
Entering the halls, the parties in full swing, he is in his formal uniform, cascading red velvet and polished steel, decorated with all the markings and formalities of a Knight General who is here to display himself as such. A sidearm lashed to his hip is among the few weapons permitted through the doors. An absence of a heavy war staff at his back feels like a phantom limb.
Stops. Observes the crowd, the proceedings. Appeals about land disputes and requests for charity, all the carryings on of an empire at peace. What is his purpose here?