It is hard to believe the Christmas
season is once again upon us.
It seemed only yesterday that I started
this archive and yet it is now nearly a year old.
The Agmar castle is aglow with festive
decorations. Each object of garland hung on the walls and mantels
speak of Christmas cheer, candles from every corner spreads an inner
warmth and joy.
The dull gray stone walls have never
looked more radiant in all their adornments.
A week ago the Ruler came into
Saundros, the Krespanian sea-port, with Captain Christian Bentione
bringing an invitation from my brother to join him at his castle for
the holidays.
It has been several years since I have
had Christmas at Agmar, usually having my own festivities to host at
LunaMara, that Lennox always came to me but I thought this would be a
good change of pace.
Since most of my childhood was spent at
Agmar the place holds a dear position in my heart.
The familiarity in every wall, beam and
staircase gives a heartwarming reminder of my parents and the many
Christmas's we celebrated there together as I grew up.
The memories are bittersweet when I
recall how we four sat by the fireplace many a time, sipping hot
apple cider and listening to Father retelling a story of his younger
days and his many adventures.
I can picture Lennox as he listened
intently to Father, drinking in every word with wide eyes, and with a
grin so large it filled half his face.
That same love for adventure has never
been lost in him since.
Then there was Mother, sitting there as
graceful and beautiful as ever I can remember, with a gentle smile,
softly interjecting here and there that she remembered the story a
little different then how Father was describing it.
And I remember how the fire glowed in
the reflection of Father's animated eyes just as strong as the joy of
telling his narrative.
And how his deep, strong voice rose and
fell with the suspense of the tale, and when he laughed it filled the
room with a sound both joyous and warmhearted.
Those were precious moments that I will
not forget, and though our parents are not with us anymore, we still
find joy in reminiscing those times and making our own traditions
between the two of us.
Such as the tradition of handpicking
our own Christmas tree.
A few days ago, Lennox and I,
accompanied by a party of friends and servants, rode out to the
forest close to the castle and searched for the perfect tree.
It was several hours before both Lennox
and I were satisfied and agreed on one, and then he continued in his
customary way to cut down the tree with his favorite ceremonial axe,
that is too large and lavish to be of any ordinary use.
The tree is a glorious one, standing
twelve feet high, and fills the Great Hall with it's fresh and earthy
aroma. The foliage is a rich, deep green and it's branches are
straight and well formed.
The hall's appearance was much improved
by the Christmas tree once it was decorated and arrayed in all it's
glory, and my brother and I are exceedingly satisfied at choosing it.
I cannot think of ever having a better
one.
-Emerald de Gavrillac
Queen of Krespania
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