[RPG] [AT][MI] Anton Anaris ~ The Price of Opportunity

[Timothy Collett]

Exhausted after the long day of policing the streets and fields of  
Amdor and coordinating the rest of the army, Anton sinks down into  
his bed at last.  His head still seems to spin with the many plans  
and strategies that he looked at during the day--many new  
possibilities brought on by the taking, or at least attempted taking,  
of Barad Lacirith.  Not all of them were good possibilities.  Even  
some of the ones that were good leave Anton uneasy.

 From uneasy thought to unquiet sleep is an unnoticeable transition.   
Anton stands atop the highest tower of Barad Lacirith, upon his brow  
a Ducal coronet.  His sword, the Sunblade, flashes from its sheath,  
and he raises it high to the sky, pointing it to the north, to  
Hawthorne.  The armies of Minas Ithil roar forth at his command from  
the gates of the city, far below, and the sun breaks through the  
clouds to illumine their might.

He rides at their head, pausing only briefly to swat militia aside  
like pestering flies, coming before long to the gates of Eston's  
capital.  The army inside is small, and ill-fed: they have not left  
the city in weeks, for they have seen their support and supplies  
dwindle as Minas Ithil's army burned crops and slaughtered all who  
opposed them on their way to the city.

With a joyous shout, Anton orders the attack.  The scaling ladders  
are brought forward, the siege towers wheeled carefully to the  
walls.  The gates are opened in a matter of minutes, and the army  
streams in.  The defenders are woefully unprepared.  The battle is  
over, and Eston is no more.

Soon, Anton stands atop the battlements of this city--this time  
wearing the crown of a King, as he surveys his new land, spreading  
from the mountains of Moramroth to the lake of Tintar, from the river  
to the Sea.  But now when he raises his sword, it does not shine, and  
the sun turns its face from him.  Great clouds cover the sky, and  
sheets of rain pour down.

Reflected in the puddles growing on the tower floor, he sees images  
of trees, the trees of his homeland...then the trees lie dying, and  
men and inhuman creatures rampage through them, slaughtering the  
people, his people, whom he swore to protect.  At last, as the puddle  
grows to a pool that covers the entire tower top, one face stares out  
at him: his father's face, which he last saw in death, as he lit the  
pyre sending him to the Gardens of Aya.  Then the eyes change,  
turning to flame, and the face becomes a face he has seen only once  
before, the same night he lit that pyre, in the remains of Her church  
in the ruined village he had once called home.  She looks at him, and  
there is a question in Her face.

Anton awakens, shivering in cold sweat.  He sits up, swings his legs  
over the edge of the bed, and closes his eyes tightly, feeling the  
pain of that gaze and the...what was it in it?  Disappointment?

Hoping to at least calm himself, if not the Goddess herself, he  
murmurs a prayer:

"Oh Arelien, Lady of the Sun, have mercy on me for my unworthy  
thoughts and deeds.  I shall always strive to make war only where it  
is just or necessary to do so.  I shall endeavour to do Your will, in  
this, as in everything."

Then, after making the sign of the sun and sword, he sighs shakily,  
and lies back down...but he does not sleep, only lies awake, staring  
into the darkness, seeing those eyes of flame stare back at him.

--

"The only thing you can't trade for your heart's desire is your heart."
  ~ Miles Naismith Vorkosigan

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