Jocelyn could barely keep atop her mount as she rode into Circhester. Her wounds were mostly healed, but still ached, and she was exhausted. She had not rested since her brief stay in Spikemouth.
She pulled her Rapidash to a stop, and for a moment her vision went blurry. The only thing that was keeping her going at this point was sheer determination.
Snow drifted past her Rapidash’s hooves as she nudged her back into a trot. Jocelyn would ride without stopping until she reached the Lord’s manor, and she bit back her exhaustion to see through that promise.
She slowed her Rapidash outside the Lord’s house, and called out loudly to attract anyone’s attention-
“Lord Otis Blackwell!“ She called out, hoping that one of his men would report her call to him, “I am Jocelyn Ackermane - a Knight in service to the King. I request a council with Lord Blackwell.“
She was relying heavily on the fact that the rumors of King Ulric’s death, the Prince’s Exile, and Bryce’s takeover would have reached this far. She was risking a lot giving her name though.
Jocelyn Ackermane - the ‘Crimson Knight’. A famous and well-versed Knight from Motostoke who served the King… there wasn’t many who didn’t know her name. Whenever there was danger, she was the first one sent out to solve it, and her and her men always saw results. She was a Lady General who’s men respected and feared her.
That was until the King died, and Bryce took over. Now there were rumors spreading that she was dead - killed by Bryce’s men when she tried to defend the ‘traitorous Prince’.
But that was down South, where people put more support behind the late King. Here in the North, the people here had mostly supported Lord Aldebrand before the King destroyed the family and subjugated the North.
She was putting a lot of faith into revealing herself here… but she knew it would be better than lying. She was relying on the hope that Lord Blackwell had heard the rumors and would want to know more… relying on the hope that he may be willing to hear her out and possibly help.
There was a lot of ‘Ifs’… but she could not die here. She had made an oath to help build Youta an army to take back his Father’s throne… and she was going to see that oath through until the very end.
(( @feralknightblackwall ))
The doors of the manor slowly opened, a young woman stepping out into the snow. Her hair was a silvery blond, and her eyes an icy blue, befitting the residents of Circhester, but she didn’t seem to be the lord’s wife. “Oh! Oh dear! Lady Ackermane, please come in and allow me to tend to your wounds!” She ushered the injured knight and her steed into the entrance.
The entry hall of the manor was fairly sparse, as if the resident lord didn’t have much money to use beyond just tending to the house. Only a few chairs for guests to sit in were present, with one of them currently occupied by a shaggy, tired-looking man, who seemed to be a hunter of some sort, with several weavile curled up at his feet.
The woman, who had yet to introduce herself, gently shook the sleeping man. “Mister Duarde, please wake up! I can use a second set of hands!” She pleaded before turning back to Jocelyne. “M-my apologies, Lady Ackermane, but whatever council you seek with Lord Blackwall, I must insist that it is nowhere near as important as your health. Please let us tend to you.” She said, motioning for Jocelyne to sit in one of the chairs as the man, Duarde, groggily stretched.
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