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The roof of the manor was some hundred fulms from the ground. That much Emmanellain knew from his trigonometry lessons which often involved working out the heights of trees and buildings. His bedroom window which overlooked the stone-paved courtyard below was only a few fulms lower.
It had been a favorite place to play when he was little. He and his best friend, Chlode Haillenarte, had spent hours there. Mother’s only rule was to be careful of the roses that climbed the trellis on the eastern wall. As he grew older, it became a wonderful place to study his lessons.
He couldn’t count the number of times he’d stood at his window looking out over the courtyard. In the spring, there was the scent of new growth, new grass. The fountain was reconnected and the sound of splashing water had been his lullaby. Summer had brought his mother’s roses into bloom, as red as the unicorn on the House arms. Often their scent made it up to his room here. Fall meant the fountain would be taken in, but there would often be fires in the firepit and woodsmoke would tickle his nose if he opened the window. Winter, though, had always been bleak.
It had once been a pleasant place, a paradise of green amidst the grey stone of Ishgard. That had changed last year, when the moon fell and more snow and ice than Emmanellain had ever seen before dropped on the city in a single night.
The courtyard had been his mother’s favorite spot when she was alive. He was glad she wasn’t alive to see the destruction. The broken bench had been repaired, the dead plants and bushes cleared away, but it was no longer green. It was a dirty, ugly, grey-brown wasteland of old snow, mud, and damaged paving stones.
Like Steel Vigil, just smaller. That was supposed to be a safe posting, so many of the noble houses sent their sons there for a little combat experience. Emmanellain himself had been there for some three moons. He’d made no secret of how he’d hated it. It was ugly and lonesome and he didn’t want to be a knight anyway.
Chlode had understood; he hadn’t wanted to be a knight either. But neither of his elder brothers had any skill with sword and shield - so it had fallen to the third Haillenarte son to take up arms when the call came. He would have come home at the end of the moon.
But the Horde had come, and they’d destroyed the Steel Vigil, and they’d torn Chlode to pieces. Like the Calamity had destroyed the courtyard. There was nothing left.
He climbed out the window and let himself fall.