Artemisia
Long had it been since the glory of war graced their continent; ripe for those hungry with ambition to climb to succession. If not for your own prestige, then for the power of the house you claimed fealty to. And if not for your house, then family. But in all things, there would always be great sacrifice. Be it the bonds of friendship built over the years. The love of the common people... or perhaps the loyalty of even your own kin.
Yet, Artemisia did not desire power or a seat at the King’s Counsel - not for herself. She desired security, and the ease in knowing that her house was necessary for order across the continent. Even at the cost of bitterness growing in the hearts of those enlisted for the cause. The Dysmas girl would fight tooth and nail for a stake in the claim. She would train until too fatigued to continue forward. She would consume herself in studies of battle tactics and history. Befriend the vile and wicked, if that was what was necessary.
The citadel only ignited the young Templar’s ambition. The golden halls seemed to gleam with opportunity and prosperity; as if all she needed to do was lean in and take it; as easy as a thief surrounded by unguarded coin.
Knights and soldiers of all backgrounds impregnated the grounds. Nothing could smother the forge that raged here. All things would be swallowed by it; knowing no temperament from its heat - no shield from its light. It nurtured a fire so great in the girls heart that it would surely be the end of her. Perhaps, until only the ash remained, but her story was not yet written.
"Speak"