[Ivory Citadel] The Silver Gates

[Bunny]

The alabaster walls of the Ivory Citadel encompass nearly a third of the real estate within the bounds of Kriskinstat, cordoning off the Hand of Aslan within their pearly confines. Within the western wall of the Citadel lies the only entrance and exit, the gatehouse at once immaculately kept and fully functional. The opening is wide enough to accomodate four mounted Brothers abreast, the paving stones well chipped and pitted by the tread of countless steel-shod hooves. The main doors are of hewn and polished oak, bound with thick iron straps every foot, the both polished to near mirror brightness. During normal times, the outer portcullis is raised, though the iron teeth of it hang menacingly within view, ready to crash down upon any who would seek to sully the sacred grounds of the Citadel with ill intent on their mind.

A brace of figures stand on either side of the opening, unmoving as statues save for the snow-white woolen cloaks draping their frames. These move slightly in the stiff breeze whipping through the gateway, the sentries' gauntlet-clad hands grasping long lances in perfect plumb. These appear to be quite well-kept, and wickedly sharp, nothing about the hand of Aslan being purely for show.

Anyone not of the Hand approaching the Silver Gates are challenged immediately, but with the barest hint of politeness.

"Halt and state your purpose, citizen."

Not great conversationalists, apparently.

[Tanri Sol'kebah]

Timestamp:
Late Brightening/Early Darkening
Eighth Brightening of the Third Cycle
Month of Optia.
Summer of Era XIV Post Fractum.
Paradigm Shift: Olympia Reopens! Kriskinstat Opens at Last!

The canid nose that stuck out from under the hood that was once again raised sniffed the air. He recognized that smell. The scent of a pseudo-military headquarters. He'd visited Imperia during it's rebuilding, and had been present for the legion relocation debacle when that meanace of an elf Imperial Marshal had sent the soldiers there from Syl'rosya, much to the anger of so many.

Not that the Katta that replaced him as Minister of War was much better; the Katta could go and hang himself, much to the preference of both Tanri and much of Dorinkind, he imagined. The human that had taken over the role--the third one to hold the role in about an era--had thusfar not done anything stupid but, the canine surmised, it was only a matter of time.

No, military and government were not his thing. Warriors' places were in the wars, not among the decision-makers, he felt. Thus, he would never have anything to do with either the government or the official military paid for by said government.

As he approached the gates, just as before, he peeled back his hood to expose his visage, and coal-black eyes twinkled as they met those of the guards of the Silver Gates.

"Serale," The dorin spoke, his tone just as all-business as theirs, "I'm here to speak with someone about enlistment. An interview or sign-up perhaps. If it's too late in the brightening, I understand, and would be content coming back at a more approrpiate time on the morrow or later, if necessary."

The dorin waited, hoping for the best, but based on the reaction from the other gate guard, expecting the worst. Ri was used to disappointment in his life, he only hoped he didn't find it here, which seemed to be the job of his dreams.

[Bunny]

The massive form of the rust red dorin was seen and acknowledged by the brace of acolytes on duty, the easy grace of the two swordsmen belied by their statuesque demeanor. At the answer of Tanri, they froze momentarily, unsure of the Son of Arakmat's intentions, or indeed their own reactions. Honor had to be preserved, but not at the cost of the truth. "Your quest is not without merit, sir." the one who had spoken answered. "I do not know, however, if you will find..." he began, before being interrupted by another white-cloaked figure which had emerged from within the Citadel.

"Find what?" came the outwardly placid voice, one which demanded respect and deference, gauging from the two sentries' reaction thereto, the two young men snapping to attention briskly. The speaker was certainly an unremarkable specimen of humanity, slightly sort of middle age, with perhaps premature grey flecks in his hair and beard. However, there was that unmistakable air of authority about him which even Tanri felt obliged to at least recognize, if not defer to.

"What seems to be the issue here, Acolyte..." he asked, trailing off.

"Tanis, Knight-Commander." the sentry answered, pausing before he could quite phrase his answer to his satisfaction. "This citizen is seeking to 'enlist', Commander." he said, a hint of distaste at the word.

"And this is a problem precisely how?"

"I don't believe that joining the Hand of Aslan should be treated like signing up with the city watch. It is a calling, Commander."

"Indeed it is, Acolyte Tanis. I will not, however turn a blind eye to one whose heart may be true, yet has not had the benefit of listening to Chaplain Malkav's sermons on faith and honor."

"But the Father-General..."

"Is not here, prospect. If you wish to be ordained as a Brother, you need to learn to think for yourself. If you are bringing the light to Lauryl, you cannot wait for a letter from the Ivory Citadel to answer every question you may have."

"Yes, Knight-Commander." the acolyte answered, clearly not exactly happy with being rebuked before an outsider, but likewise knowing himself powerless to complain.

"Meditate upon that for the next cycle, mucking the stables after pracenda."

"Sir, that's a neophyte's job!" Tanis exclaimed before he could stop himself.

The Commander, for his part, pondered the point visibly for a moment before replying. "I suppose it is. Perhaps a second cycle will give you time to find the clarity you need to understand."

"Yes, Knight-Commander." he said, ashen-faced now.

The flat set of the Commander's mouth softened a bit, the faintest hint of a smile ticking at the corner of his lips. A few moments later he looked to Tanri, assaying him briefly before speaking. "Serale, Son of Shalimar. May Aslan find honor in your purpose here. I am Knight-Commander Joshua Richter. Walk with me." he continued, moving forward and out towards town, anticipating that Tanri would follow.

[Tanri Sol'kebah]

The canine watched the exchange without emotion, though he did feel a slight sense of smugness that he did not let show--if these furless creatures could even read such an expression--at the way that the guard was chastized for his self-importent, superior behavior. As Richter introduced himself, the dorin bowed before him deeply in humble respect before following.