In Honour of Those Who Have Gone...

It was a weekend of atrocities for many people. In honour of those who have gone, we are giving away our Remembrance Day novella. Follow the link HERE, and download the novella A Flower for Rolande. Please share with your friends and family.

She met the Adjudicator in the hallway, and with a bow, he led her toward the balcony, where she was to carry with her the representation of Marridon’s freedom and her continual vexation. She had lost Rolande, but she had gained a nation, and together, they should Remember those who had selflessly acted on behalf of those they loved most, to save a kingdom and way of life that had merited their best. Rolande was with her, and as Jaina mounted the stairs to the balcony, the knights of the arena following her train, marching in rhythmic cadence with her stride. With a hem and a flourish, she stood on the balcony with a dignified aspect, her head high and features turned toward the skies, appearing before all of Marridon in the fullness of her position, and she was met with resounding approbation, the square below erupting in a fulmination of cheers. She held the sabre high, saluted the Marridon armed forces gathered below, and as she began her address for Remembrance Day, she felt a familiar presence behind her, the same one that had been there a year ago when she had appeared for her coronation. There was the same touch on her arm, the same odd trick of a passing gale, but she need not turn around now: she knew it was him. Rolande was there, rejoicing in all her achievements and sharing in all her glory, and standing with his sabre at her side, Jaina recounted all the minutiae of a battle that had given as much anguish as it did reason for celebration. The triumph of her brother, her husband, the King of Marridon, and all those like them now belonged to the whole of Marridon, and their sacrifices would never be forgotten. In the midst of her speech, Jaina asked for a moment of silence, to stand side by side one another in dutiful commemoration, to honour those who made themselves a part Marridon’s memory, creating for themselves a history of selflessness and valour that was now Marridon’s collective inheritance. The events of that day would forever be remembered, and they stood together as a united Marridon, a nation that would lead in innovation and liberality, taking up the thread that had been left for them, the essence of selfless love woven along a national loom. In the stillness of their communal mourning, Jaina bowed her head, holding her brother’s sword at her side, and with downcast eyes and grateful conscience, she placed a hand over her heart and offered herself anew to the pledge she had made one year ago, to succeed in honour of those who had given their life for hers, to thrive in spite of those who tried to subdue them, and she smiled at the nation below her, hundreds of thousands of faces looking to her for guidance and resolution, her hand still laid over the pimpernel on her lapel, her hand still touching the flower for Rolande.