10 Celestiath 550

From: Priestess Coralin of Andas Khor-Lòmen
To: His Lordship the Earl of Núrinen Khor-Dhol

Greetings, Father.

Blessings of our Bright Lady of Paladins be with you and yours. I hope this
missive finds you in good health and prosperity, and that you and the land
blossom in the new spring.

I write to tell you I have been given leave to visit home in the month of Pælanna. I shall leave Khor-Lòmen on the sixteenth of that month, and plan to stop at Khor-kîr to visit our Lord King, should his duties spare him the time.

I shall, with the Lady's vigilance, arrive at my beloved home no later than
the seventeenth of Pælanna. I cannot find the words to tell you how much I
have missed it, and you ...

Please convey my deepest regards and purest love to Anathas. Until then, be
well. May the Lord and Lady guide you in all things ...

Your Devoted Ward,

Coralin

The thunder of the surf echoed up the rocky cliffs of the bay as the small
knot of horses and mounted riders wound their way up switchbacks and narrow
trails to the mighty walls of Khor-Dhol, tall and forbidding looking in the
midday sunlight. The glimpses they'd gotten in the crumbling boulders to
either side revealed bright pennants hung from every visible the battlement
and tower, snapping sharply in the salty breeze. Despite its quelling air of
severity and duty, the castle appeared bedecked for revelry, for one of its
very own was coming home.

One of the riders drew her horse to a halt, taking in the sight with hungry
eyes. It had been six years since the day she departed, leaving all this
behind for a new life in the service of the Guardian Paladin and his church.
So little had changed in that time--it was as if the castle itself was immune
to the passing of the days and months. Khor-Dhol seemed as if it would always
stand, a fastness in wilds, a last refuge of safety, security and hope when
all other such refuges were gone ...

Coralin nudged her young mount back into motion, eager to be inside those
walls and with her own people once again. As she and her party cleared the
last of the switchbacks to approach the gates, trumpets sounded from the
walls, ringing out like brassy bells in the clear spring sky. The notes
themselves dissolved the weariness she had felt a scant hour ago. She was
Coralin of Andas once more, beloved daughter and ward of one of the oldest
families in Vin-Nôrë. She was full priestess and knight of the Guardian
Paladin, returning home.

Barded horses thundered through the gates of the castles, their riders in full
battle dress. Their pennants, which identified them to her shocked eyes as
members of the king's royal guard, flowed out gracefully behind them. The
knights wordlessly took up station at each side of her as polished infantry
lined both sides of the street, providing a corridor of bristling spears and
shining armor for them to ride through to the castle gates.

So that's why he'd left Khor-kîr, Coralin smiled to herself. Her
royal foster brother had journeyed here ahead of her. She straightened even
taller in her saddle and led her squire and the pack-horses through, her own
pennant flying gaily from the post and hitch on her saddle. It demarked the
rider as fully blooded knight and priest of the most powerful religious body
in the kingdom, a banner she'd earned the right to carry through her own hard
work and nothing more. She was proud, prouder than she could ever remember
being, to know that a larger version of it would join her family's other
banners before the day's sun had set.

Inside the packed castle courtyard a stage had been erected and upon it were
the three men she most loved in the world. In the center and upon a heavily
ornamented throne sat her eldest foster brother, King Khevin IV of
Vin-Nôrë in his full robes of state. To his right stood her foster father
Earl Roland Mirác of Núrinen. To the king's left, her girlhood love,
Anathas Mirác, heir to the throne of Vin-Nôrë and the Earldom of
Núrinen. Both were bedecked in robes nearly as regal as His Majesty's. The
only face missing from her immediate foster family was that of her
foster-sister Eriellë, only recently married to a colonial senator in
Numenore.

Other, lesser noble families of the Earldom were well represented. The rich
smell of cooking meat permeated the air, as did the aroma of new bread. A
feast had been prepared in honor of her homecoming, and when the Earl feasted,
so did the earldom.

The lump in her throat made it difficult to breathe. Her eyes stung with
unshed tears, tears of fierce pride and depthless love. She sat her horse for
a moment and gazed longingly at her foster father, her King and Lord... 
and when her eyes rested on Anathas, she found she could not tear them away.
The intervening years sat well upon him, for he was no longer a boy, but a
man.

With a start, Coralin remembered her duty and dismounted with muted
clank! With measured tread, she walked to the lowest stair of the stage
and knelt on one knee as befit one under arms, knelt in obesience and fealty
to her King.

King Khevin's skills as a politician had much improved during her six year
absence, it appeared, for he left her kneeling for several moments, waiting
for the full attention of the assembled crowd to be focused on him. And when
he finally spoke it was in a well-practiced stage whisper that commanded the
audience's full attention. "Rise, dear sister," he said in a voice thick with
emotion, "and join us." Then he stood, sceptre in hand. "And welcome home."

She arose, climbing the steps with head held high. Duty again compelled her,
and she knelt once more before her King, determined not to glance at Anathas
and give herself away completely. Grasping the proffered hand with hers, she
delicately kissed it and was surprised to find her hands trembling
slightly. The King urged her to her feet, hugged and kissed her tenderly on
the cheek, then passed her off to their father and began a purely political
speech about Coralin being living proof of the close ties between the Crown
and the Church of the Paladin.

``Welcome home my dear,'' the Earl whispered into her ear as he hugged
her. ``I hope your journey was uneventful.''

She returned his hug with all the strength she could muster, yet mindful of
the armor she wore and the audience around them. ``Thank you, father. It is
good to be home.'' She took the opportunity to kiss his cheek in the
embrace. ``Oh, I've missed you... ''

``Is it my turn yet?'' The familiar voice of Anathas said from behind
them. In a calculated breech of protocol the young man had crossed the
dais behind his speechifying brother. Without waiting for an answer he
embraced her hungrily. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers as the
smiling Earl looked on, for their continued courtship was the stuff of
many tales through out the earldom.

``Anathas ... '' was all she could say, so lost was she in his arms.

Khevin IV, King of Vin-Nôrë, cut short his speech.

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