Kevin Tomas
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The Septovices Mission
The Septovices Mission 37th Kynespring 241.3 Chapter 1: Cometh the hour Silence filled the air of the Ikarian war room as strands of red evening sun illuminated the varnished floor. In the centre of the room sat a gargantuan war table awash with paperwork which made the intricate world map painted on its surface barely visible. Nestled beside the table was the famous yet almost decrepit naval hero. The years of cigars and brandy were apparent in the gentleman’s voice as the half-choked wisp of a voice drifted across the silent chamber from Commodore Wulfbacker. ‘Congratulations Midshipman.. cough cough’. Opposite, a young cadet officer with sand coloured hair tied neatly at the back of his head, was obediently stood to attention before the commodore. He wore an untarnished, deep blue officer’s uniform with white breeches and stockings. He wore the ‘Kingsman’ ribbon on his lapel denoting his excellency throughout his recent training. Lord Yorik Wulfbacker however was an aged man, yet a formidable naval commander - with one arm amputated below his left elbow sporting a small brass ring in place of a hand, which he smoked with. ‘Thank you, sir’ the midshipman replied sternly, masquerading his nervous enthusiasm. A leather satchel containing his few belongings hung diagonally from his shoulder, underneath which he clutched his black bicorn naval hat in veneration of the aged sea bear before him. This man’s name was Leo Meridias. He held the bound edict papers he had been handed with an equal reverence.
By Kevin Tomas4 years ago in Fiction
The Septovices Mission
The Septovices Mission 37th Kynespring 241.3 Chapter 1: Cometh the hour Silence filled the air of the Ikarian war room as strands of red evening sun illuminated the varnished floor. In the centre of the room sat a gargantuan war table awash with paperwork which made the intricate world map painted on its surface barely visible. Nestled beside the table was the famous yet almost decrepit naval hero. The years of cigars and brandy were apparent in the gentleman’s voice as the half-choked wisp of a voice drifted across the silent chamber from Commodore Wulfbacker. ‘Congratulations Midshipman.. cough cough’. Opposite, a young cadet officer with sand coloured hair tied neatly at the back of his head, was obediently stood to attention before the commodore. He wore an untarnished, deep blue officer’s uniform with white breeches and stockings. He wore the ‘Kingsman’ ribbon on his lapel denoting his excellency throughout his recent training. Lord Yorik Wulfbacker however was an aged man, yet a formidable naval commander - with one arm amputated below his left elbow sporting a small brass ring in place of a hand, which he smoked with. ‘Thank you, sir’ the midshipman replied sternly, masquerading his nervous enthusiasm. A leather satchel containing his few belongings hung diagonally from his shoulder, underneath which he clutched his black bicorn naval hat in veneration of the aged sea bear before him. This man’s name was Leo Meridias. He held the bound edict papers he had been handed with an equal reverence.
By Kevin Tomas4 years ago in Fiction
