The Castle Of All Elements

The castle was dark-bricked and forboding, yet boasted sun-filled courtyards and warm and cozy rooms. This had always annoyed Keane, if you were going to make a castle, why make it midnight dark but with a fireplace in each room to keep the always chilly halls bearable? Why not, say, make a castle out of normal brick, like everyone else did, and have a room on opposite sides of the castle, each devoted to either Light or Dark.

"Oh well", he though, "not like I'm an architect or anything... but still."

He was 17, had medium length red hair with strands of white running through it randomly... And eyes of two different colours, one was icy blue (although he had yet to see ice that was anything but white or clear) and one was a deep gold-tinted brown. He had always thought it funny that he had white hair, but it suited him, and why complain? Apparently, he had set a style among some of the younger Court members and rising merchant families. Plus, older court members weren't so quick to hide their own snowy white hair. (Although, as a child, he had always found it amusing how people had tried to hide colour-lacking hair with odd hats and ill-suiting hair dyes)

Right now, he was 'enjoying' a Court Dinner. Everyone was seated at a massive and very long table. (Made of the finest ebony wood for one half, and the extraordinary wood of a Golden Oak for the other half) At the head of the table, closest to the fireplace, was his father, a grey haired man with a kindly smile and laugh-lines around his eyes. Keane didn't look much like his father, really, where his father was tall and powerfully built (and still quite muscular for his age), Keane was lean and just slightly over the average height of people his age. On his Father's right side was his brother, Ivar, who was more the image of his Dad and was the Heir to the Throne. And on the other side was his mother, whom Keane most resembled. She was quick-witted, intellgent, and very attractive. She had a narrow face with hair that didn't want to let go of its vibrant red, just yet.

Keane sat beside her... But on his other side, was a pudgy man, new to the Court after his new-found affluence in trading farm implements. He had apparently gone from average weight to a large lard-bucket in only a couple months after trying every food-type that was available to people with large sums of gold.

His story about how he used to play on his family's farm and how almost going hungry somehow made him start his business really wasn't all that interesting, but Sparrow just kept nodding and smiling at the now drunk man's jokes about how he would be working on that same farm right now if he hadn't started selling shovels to his farm-neighbors.

He was just hoping this would end, soon. Although, of course, 'soon' was a scientific term at Court. End something too early, and people would think the King was either: 1.) Getting old and needed to retire sooner for his bed-chamber 2.) Bored of the company, which would greatly offend many powerful families, or 3.) In a hurry to get something 'great' done. If nothing did happen, people would resort back to 'One' or 'Two,' for a solution (that they felt made the most sense). End something too late... And avid gossipers would find SOMETHING to gossip about... Then, if you ended things at the same time every time, people would, of course, complain about the King having too structured a day, et cetera, et cetera.

Keane snapped back to attention as a loud "THUMP" from beside him shook the table. Apparently the trader had had a bit too much fine wine... He was passed out with his head beside his plate. Amazing how he managed to miss that huge platter, thought Keane. The chubby man had insisted on bringing his own dishes, after complaining about the dainty size of the ones the Castle boasted.

The man had been lying there for less than half a minute before the Dining Room Guards were (gruffly, but gently) waking him up and walking him back to the stables to be taken home by his carriage. Good. He wasn't their problem anymore...

That was when the King decided everyone was done for the night, and signaled for the 'Farewell Wine' that marked the end of the Dinner to be brought out. Drinks wer poured, a toast was given, glasses were clanked together, and everyone finished the beverage... And went home. Slowly. As a Prince, he was expected to wait for everyone to leave (which was a bit of a nuisance, at times).

When the last Court-goer had been escorted to his or her carriage, Keane excused himself from the table. His Father, Mother and brother knew where he was going, of course.

In fact, he was going to see his best friend. And he wasn't just any noble or whatnot, he was the Court's Sorcerer, and, indeed, the only Sorcerer for miles around. His name was Kenneth, and, as much of a scandal as it had been, he was not form Somerhill. Truthfully, Keane still had no idea where his friend was from. Nor did Kenneth, for that matter. He had come when he was only a child, no more than six years. His mother had been finely dressed, and rode on a sturdy war-horse. Sadly, she had died soon after buying her son a place as a page in the castle to some unknown illness.

It wasn't until four years later that his magic became apparent, when he passed out delivering a message to the emissary from Wengrove. When he came to, the herbalist tending to him swore she saw his eyes glow when he first opened them. And the words he said were hardly commonplace.

In a strong but weary voice, he stated simply, "there's a storm coming." The herbalist immediatly sent out for the visiting Healer. It was rather lucky the old man had been in the area, too, since he was the one to diagnose Kenneth with a case of highly-powerful magic. Luckier still was the fact that he asked the boy for details, otherwise the worst storm in a century would have been, well, even worse. As it was, the five messengers that went out just managed to warn everyone, and to invite those who had no other place to go into the castle's main hall. There were still losses, although, thankfully, no loss of life. Roofs were blown off, homes were destroyed, and, in one case, moved. One lucky family had their house blown around for a bit, and then gently set down a quarter mile or so from where it had been. Surprisingly, nothing much had been broken inside and the family settled back in with new neighbors and friends. (Everyone from that family had been in the castle, at the time of the big move)

Life afterwards (and during) was quite different for Kenneth. He went from a lowly page to the Kingdom's hero in less than an hour, and from hero to Sorcerer's apprentice five days later.

Now, he was living a life of 'luxury if he wanted it,' as Keane always joked. Indeed, he could have a private estate with servants and bards and people to look up to him, but he preferred to live in a stout little wood house just off the castle grounds. That didn't mean he had no 'minor(-minor) luxuries.' He liked clothes, simple as that. Everything else could be the bare minimum: four paintings for decoration, a small fireplace, one door, a few lamps that never seemed to be lit, and a maximum of five mid-sized rooms with another room, the bedroom, upstairs. True, it was larger than most common-folk houses in Somerhill, but the way he lived, it might as well have been the smallest. The closets, though... THAT was a whole other story. If he sold all of his various outfits, he would likely have enough for three more houses the same size, or possibly larger. He didn't really use them often, unless it was a special day.

A day like today. And what a monumentous day it was... Kenneth was finally tying the knot. For years the girls at Court had fawned over him, and he had (attempted) to ignore their not-too-well hidden feelings. Apparently a Sorcerer was more interesting than the next head of any noble household, which was, of course, true. After a while it had become hard ignoring their unspoken pleas for his hand in marriage, and he retired from daily court life, only leaving his house when asked by someone important. Just as well, too, since he was going through a rather... awkward time. For one, he had hardly come of age, and, for another, he was going through a funny stage in the life of a magic-user. 'Mage's puberty,' his mentor at the time had called it. (He was still rather young and the king requested the aid of a far-away Sorcerer to get Kenneth ready for his new life) It was, in a way, worse than normal puberty. He would often expell random bursts of magic, and had almost set his house on fire during one of the occurences.

Keane was in the front courtyard now, and his personal guard was with him. The captain, Corrik towered a good foot and a bit over most of his soldiers (and Keane), but everyone knew he was a big softie. "Wouldn't hurt a fly" they said. Unless, somehow that fly threatened the King or his family. Then that fly might find itself waking up with no memory of falling asleep, and sitting in a small room being questioned.

"Where to?" asked the giant, in what people called a stereotypically deep and gruff voice for someone so large.

"Kenneth's house," replied Keane, with a glance up and a grin, "I haven't teased them about it in days."

"More like hours, I reckon," was the response,"but off to see your real brother it is."

Among their friends, Keane and Kenneth were known as brothers because... they looked more alike than, well, brothers.