• Closed • The Lost Rose

Seated on the shores of Lake Lovalus, Rharne serves as the home of the Lighting Knights, the Thunder Priestesses, and the Merchant's guild. This beautiful trade city is filled with a happy and contented people who rarely need an excuse to party.

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Tristan Venora
Approved Character
Posts: 919
Joined: Sun Apr 24, 2016 11:47 am
Race: Human
Profession: Duke of Oakleigh
Renown: +494
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Wealth Tier: Tier 8




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The Lost Rose

Wed Sep 25, 2019 3:42 am

Ymiden 64, Arc 719

There had been a time when Tristan had wanted nothing more than to travel to Rharne. Two or three arcs prior, he had first met Ilaren, the Immortal of Alcohol, in a tavern in Andaris, taken her home with him and made love to her. There had been a time when he had wanted nothing more than to marry her and be with her – for as long as he lived. It was ironic that he had finally made his way to her city now, when he had stopped thinking about her and moved on, he thought, as he stood behind the railing of the Lady Celeste, and looked at the harbor that was becoming visible in the distance.

“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it, my lord?” Captain Sorensen, a tall, bearded human with a weathered face stepped near him and took a puff on his pipe before he extended his empty hand towards the young duke, a clear sign that he was expecting something. Tristan looked at him for a moment before he nodded curtly, reached into a pocket of his blue brocade coat and dumped a bag into his palm. The captain opened it, removed a shimmering golden coin and bit into it to make sure that it was genuine before he grinned.

Hjalmar Sorensen who had previously smuggled drugs and other illegal goods into Rynmere, had turned to smuggling people out of Rynmere after the Plague had hit. He had been the only one who had been willing to take the risk when Tristan had asked around after he had received Faith’s letter – and he’d demanded a fortune. Not that Tristan had cared. Money didn’t particularly interest him anymore since he had returned from his exile on Scalvoris and buried some of his relatives that had died from the Plague with his own hands because nobody else had been willing to touch them.


A break later, Tristan, his three bodyguards and his Mortalborn daughter Ayla were walking through the city. Mistral, Tristan’s beloved cat who was really a mystical creature from the Misty Miasma was sitting on Tristan’s shoulder and taking in the scenery. Captain Sorensen had been right, Tristan thought. The city was indeed beautiful. Had this been a different trial, he would be smiling all the time. He’d be singing and dancing and telling everybody how happy he was, but as it was, he was thinking rather melancholic thoughts.

He hadn’t thought that he’d be so good at being melancholic. It felt strange and unpleasant.

Faith had told him that Rose, the daughter she had insisted had been illusion once, might be alive after all. He remembered the trial when they had first talked about her – and how upset Faith had been. She had asked him to travel to Rharne and help her because she couldn’t do it herself.

He hoped that he’d be able to bring her good news. He wasn’t sure if Faith would be able to bear another heartbreak. He didn’t want to see her in pain again. Even though she had fallen in love with another man, he still cared about her – more than he cared about most people in Idalos.


After he had found an inn and left his bodyguards, his child and his cat there (he didn’t think he’d need protection in a place that was full of healers, besides it might leave the wrong impression if he brought a bunch of armed people), Tristan made his way to the Order of the Adunih and knocked on the door.

The young duke didn’t look quite like himself at the moment. He was pale and thinner than he used to be because he’d been terribly seasick for the first half of the journey and barely eaten anything, and his clothes, while of very fine quality, were several seasons out of fashion because nobody in Rynmere was interested in such things anymore, and most of the shops that he had frequented were closed – due to the owner dying.

“Faith … err … Mrs. Augustin sent me a message”, he said as soon as somebody opened the door. He said her last name with some reluctance. He was mostly okay with her husband Padraig after their alchemy lesson on Scalvoris (although he’d never say so out loud!), but he’d probably never love him. “She asked me to help her find Rose. I assume that you know what I’m talking about?” he asked and raised an eyebrow questioningly before he added, “I’m Tristan Venora, the Duke of Oakleigh.” He realized that they might not know who he was otherwise. “Faith and I are close friends.”
word count: 803
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