<aside> ⚔️ Titles are shadows, crowns are empty things, the good subjects is the end of kings.
</aside>
Full Name: Ivyalen Ming Montefuror
Nicknames: Ivya (common amongst close acquaintances), Yen (within the clan and selective friends), Ming (within the immediate family only)
Date of Birth, Age: 43 Before Perfidy, 44 Years Old
Length of Reign: 15 years from 14BP to Present Day, total of 20 years in Zoraqi politics
Hometown: southwest of Zoraq, by the Dunes of Durrah
Titled as: the Dauntless, the Pride and Prodigy (of the House Montefuror)
Affiliation: loyal to Zoraq
Moral Alignment: Neutral Good
MBTI: ISFJ-A, the Defender
Prologue — The House Montefuror
The history of the House of Great Fury–or better known as the Montefuror–is quite extensive. Just like any other clan within Zoraq, they were nomads in their own land, traveling from place to place and never settling permanently. The elder head, as much of a lighthearted man he is, would suggest otherwise; he believed that they should invest in a business and settle down in the south-west dunes as only a few of their members would go out to traverse. To his surprise, soon later the clan had picked up on the art of bladesmith and they were excellent at it. (tbc)
The Montefurors worshipped the god Ignus as settlers nearby the Dunes of Durrah and utilizing fire for their works. Every year, the clan would organize a reunion where every member travels to a certain place to reunite with each other and pay homage to their god.
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Illara LaReune was expected to be like any other (half-)elf of their clan: practice her gift, follow higher orders, and be a behaved lady. It was a mundane life for her, like a rinse and repeat routine. There was nothing special to think about—nothing new to look forward to everyday. Though there was this boy that she would periodically see, and he was the most bothersome in her opinion.
She soon learned that the boy who kept bothering her (actually named Lucyn, pronounced as Lucan) was part of a large nomadic clan who was known for their weapon works. So that’s what the sword was about. Illara thought to herself as she examined the dagger gifted to her. In all honesty, she couldn’t really care less of who he was (yet there was that bubbly feeling in her stomach that cannot be settle and she doesn’t know why).
Oh, I’m pretty sure he gives other people swords and daggers made and decorated by him. Yeah! And he also gives them the, uh, butterflies… definitely…
Chapter One — The Beginnings of a Prodigy
Coming from a well-known house, Ivyalen was immediately placed under a heavy pressure of carrying the family legacy. Not that she enjoyed being in the spotlight whenever she achieves things, the young girl knew that every family member was watching her every move and it felt tiring being some kind of trophy child. There were talks that it was prophesied she was to bring greatness not just to the Montefuror name but to the whole nation as well. Not until her sister was born was when she fully carried the responsibility of being the clan’s pride if it meant her sister did not have to go through hellish expectations from everyone else. (tbc)
In her adolescence, Ivyalen was once a smitten girl over a boy of an elvish clan close to her mother’s. And like certain romance stories, it didn’t really end well for the both of them. [details? idk]
Chapter Two — Ambitions and Aspirations
The young Montefuror entered Zoraqi politics by the age 24, quite late if the elders might say but Ivyalen was an achiever if she placed her mind into it. First year as the representative of their house, Ivyalen was lost. She did not have anyone there to guide her to teach her the ropes of surviving royal court mainly because not one person in their clan was interested dipping their feet into it. So Ivyalen was silent. And calculating. She watched how high councilors control their court and studied how the royals command attention across the room and the girl was in awe—particularly of the queen. The way she held her head up high while allowing a hint of vulnerability to show, not as a weakness, was admirable. Queen Adira was known for her humanitarian ways of dealing with the issues around the kingdom, and this made the spark within Ivyalen burn even more. She was taught that great things can be achieved without using force or violence.
“The sword is a forceful thing,” the queen would say, “but words are much stronger. Inspiring and sparking even!”
Yet an unfortunate event occurred within the temple one time—the queen fell ill until she could not get back up anymore. Some say there were plottings against her and she was poisoned while the others shook their heads in disappointment and said that her time was come. Ivyalen, on the other hand, was devastated. She could not just sit there and watch her guiding figure to die of such unexplainable-that-might-be-explainable causes! Burying herself in the library, she tried her best to find a solution but the queen was displeased of this.
“This is the cycle of life, my dear. Not even death could stop it for me.”
Ivyalen tried her best to be strong, which 28 year old woman would bawl her eyes out on her dying mentor? Maybe her.
“You know what I’m going to do?” Ivyalen’s ears perked up at Queen Adira’s straining voice, “I will make you queen.”
“W-what? That’s too much, Your Majesty! I could not possibly exceed the things you’ve done for thi––”