It was hard to believe that anyone had survived that gruesome "war" as some of his people called it. His distant relatives seemed lost in history as their blood spilled onto the grounds. His uncle, aunt, and children were among the causalities, or so it was said. None of the known children- Krystopher, Blaine or Misty were spotted on the battlefield or in the lost kingdom. His own father was sure that they were dumped somewhere else, perhaps as a last cruel gesture, or they were taken in as slaves. Either way, they seemed lost and life continued on after the dead were sent to the heavens by the pyre.
It had been about thirty years and Jordas had taken the reins of leadership a few years after his father's passing. It wasn't easy but he was bred for the role from the start of birth. For the most part, he kept the peace over his kingdom and would soon have to choose a wife and later on, have an heir to take over when he could no longer. The thought was a bit depressing over thinking that far into life, but what wasn't was news that a Wintercrest was up north. A couple of men that claimed that surname was in allegiance with the Rosenites of Arri. At first, it seemed like someone was slandering the good name but he suppose that it would be up to him to find out.
With a couple of guards, Jordas made the travel up to Sularia. The desert's climate wasn't exactly comfortable, especially for those that were used to the much colder weather, but they made it through unscathed. The moment he hit the city, he was sure that his nose was deceiving him. Blinking, he sniffed again and was amazed that he smelled another lycan. No, more than one. More than two even? What was the hell going on? He was told at a young age that his cousins were dead, but again, none of their bodies were recovered or found.
Signaling his men, he followed the smell. His movement was brisk as they eventually made it to a manor and without warning, he made his way inside, keeping the others out as he continued to trail the scent.
"Who the hell are you?", a voice came from the stairs. Turning, he spotted an older looking man with blond hair, eying him with a questioning look. "I am looking for the men that call themselves Wintercrest."
Quickly, the man of the house made his way done, "Yea, I'm one of them. Blaine. Now, who the hell are you again?"
"Blaine? Can't be. There's no way."
Blaine was really confused by all this. There was something familiar about this stranger, but here he was, busting into his home and demanding Wintercrests for some reason. "Blaine…if it's really you…it's me…Jordas…"
It was Blaine's turn to be surprised, "What…little goofy Jordas?" The man started to laugh, that stupid nickname that was bestowed on him by his older cousins. Soon the laughter turned to a tear or two before he moved over to Blaine and they embraced in a hug. "You are a sight for sore eyes. Didn't think that you'd be here at all. It's been ages…"
"Yes, indeed. We all thought you and the others were dead."
"Not all of us. Krystopher's around here somewhere. Misty's who-knows-where. And Paige…not sure if you know about her, but she's in the same boat as Misty."
Jordas was still a bit flabbergasted; he didn't think that the rumors were true. But here he was, standing before the Wolf King, acting nearly the same as he had back then. Gods, that was such a long time ago. "I'm happy for you all. A lot has changed for me. My father, your uncle, passed away years ago and I succeeded as king. The others are fine and well, though. With their support, we made it through these trying times."
"My apologies for your father; he was a good man and now he can join his brother in the heavens. But please, come with me. We have some catching up to do."
Blaine led Jordas over to the living room and broke out a decanter and a pair of glasses. "Think you can handle the strong stuff or you still sipping milk?" Jordas snatched the glass out of his hand and along with the decanter. "Please. Think you can keep up with me, old man?" It wasn't too long before the house was filled with laughter and old stories by the two as they had their fill. Perhaps a little too loud and a little too drunk.
