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Falling: An Epic Fantasy
page: 11share:
a reply to: PrairieShepherd
I pretty much believe the difference between good and bad behaviour is all in the motives behind the actions.
A person can do/say something that appears to be selfish and horrible, but they may have a reason that is actually of benefit to someone else, but they take the heat to keep a secret (that is perhaps not theirs to tell).
I am actually 'guilty' of this myself.
Wait, this is your story thread...not True Confessions!
*mutters something about 'tamborae' and shuffles back to the Shed*
I pretty much believe the difference between good and bad behaviour is all in the motives behind the actions.
A person can do/say something that appears to be selfish and horrible, but they may have a reason that is actually of benefit to someone else, but they take the heat to keep a secret (that is perhaps not theirs to tell).
I am actually 'guilty' of this myself.
Wait, this is your story thread...not True Confessions!
*mutters something about 'tamborae' and shuffles back to the Shed*
originally posted by: jacygirl
a reply to: PrairieShepherd
I pretty much believe the difference between good and bad behaviour is all in the motives behind the actions.
I think there's a WHOLE lot of philosophical discussion that could be had right around that statement. Are there any absolutes in terms of morality? Are there things which are universally ethical or unethical? Who determines what is right, and how do they get the right to determine it?
A person can do/say something that appears to be selfish and horrible, but they may have a reason that is actually of benefit to someone else, but they take the heat to keep a secret (that is perhaps not theirs to tell).
I am actually 'guilty' of this myself.
Wait, this is your story thread...not True Confessions!
*mutters something about 'tamborae' and shuffles back to the Shed*
HAHA!
I wonder if Siere is capable of making donuts with tamborae?
a reply to: PrairieShepherd
Ok, discussion it is!
Are there any absolutes in terms of morality?
Not really, methinks.
Funny...in another thread I recently was mocked for admitting that I have never had a one-night stand. I wasn't accusing anyone of being "slutty" (I think was the word used)...just speaking personally about my own personal morals (and what I find acceptable behaviour for myself).
Hard to talk about such things without sounding judgemental I suppose?
Good topic. You should start a thread.
Siere is da bomb! I'm sure she makes a mean donut, hehe...
Ok, discussion it is!
Are there any absolutes in terms of morality?
Not really, methinks.
Funny...in another thread I recently was mocked for admitting that I have never had a one-night stand. I wasn't accusing anyone of being "slutty" (I think was the word used)...just speaking personally about my own personal morals (and what I find acceptable behaviour for myself).
Hard to talk about such things without sounding judgemental I suppose?
Good topic. You should start a thread.
Siere is da bomb! I'm sure she makes a mean donut, hehe...
a reply to: jacygirl
I'm going to have to think about that question pretty carefully before answering - you may have to wait until tomorrow.
I may indeed start a thread on that, but not right now. I'm about to head out - 7 minutes and counting.
Never having a one-night stand is impressive, actually. I can tell you I am NOT of the same moral character, and that's about all I'll say on that.
*Shep blushes*
However, I will say wisdom can be gained from experiences - good or bad - if one is willing to learn.
Are there any absolutes in terms of morality?
Not really, methinks.
I'm going to have to think about that question pretty carefully before answering - you may have to wait until tomorrow.
I may indeed start a thread on that, but not right now. I'm about to head out - 7 minutes and counting.
Never having a one-night stand is impressive, actually. I can tell you I am NOT of the same moral character, and that's about all I'll say on that.
*Shep blushes*
However, I will say wisdom can be gained from experiences - good or bad - if one is willing to learn.
a reply to: PrairieShepherd
Okay, I know you're leaving soon.
I just wanted to clarify that when I was younger I was really old fashioned. My thoughts were always along the lines of, "I don't want to be anybody's nothing." (meaning one night stand, use and forget)
Not judging anybody else, my friends come in all shapes, sizes and morals.
This was my own personal rule for myself and I stuck to it.
Can't see why that would ruffle anybody else's feathers, honestly.
Great story segment...fun discussion! Talk to you soon!
jacy
Okay, I know you're leaving soon.
I just wanted to clarify that when I was younger I was really old fashioned. My thoughts were always along the lines of, "I don't want to be anybody's nothing." (meaning one night stand, use and forget)
Not judging anybody else, my friends come in all shapes, sizes and morals.
This was my own personal rule for myself and I stuck to it.
Can't see why that would ruffle anybody else's feathers, honestly.
Great story segment...fun discussion! Talk to you soon!
jacy
a reply to: Night Star
That gif is hilarious. Johnny Depp was at some of his finest playing Jack Sparrow.
That gif is hilarious. Johnny Depp was at some of his finest playing Jack Sparrow.
69 - Etielien
“Are you alright, Galicarr?” Siere asked the tall Lanceguard. She had invited him in to her apartments after their visit with Casera the Bearer, and they sat now in her anteroom with some hot spiced Norvikzaag tea. She realized that may raise some eyebrows among the Seers and Seeresses, but there was no vow of celibacy among the Temple leadership, even if Aomm’s command proscribed intimacy outside of marriage. This was not that kind of visit, of course, and even a cursory interview using Galicarr’s kir would prove it out. Siere’s need to be sure of him overrode other considerations.
“Yes, your Grace,” he replied, “just a bit tired. I am sorry I could not break her Command. I hope you know I would never hurt you, Seeress.”
“I believe you, Galicarr. That girl has quite mastered the kir, it appears. Not all Commands are so difficult to break, yes?”
“That may be, but regardless, my duty is to protect you,” he said stiffly. “I failed at that today – you had to protect yourself from me. I am ashamed, Seeress.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Let it drop as I have. Am I clear?” she assured him gently.
After a moment, he gave a small nod. “Your Grace, may I ask a question?”
“You may,” she murmured over a sip of tea.
“What did she do to my Lord Captain?”
Siere sighed. How much to tell him? “That is not my story to tell, Galicarr. Suffice it to say, she treated him ill and deserved every moment of what she got tonight and more. You must not let on to anyone about this situation. If word of our efforts tonight were to come out,” she set her teacup down, “Well, people will gossip, yes? He is a –“, she hesitated, “a good man, and I would not see his credibility damaged. In addition, if certain people were to find out about Casera, quite frankly she may end up dead. There is no need for it to go that far. I wish her actions stopped, not her heart. Life is precious, and I believe she is under control for the time being. Do you understand?”
“I do, Seeress.” He continued to gaze at her, the expression on his beautiful face unreadable.
“What is it?”
“I, ah, that is,” he seemed unsure of himself suddenly.
“Speak freely, Lanceguard.”
“Thank you, your Grace. If I may be so bold, you are a truly remarkable woman, your Grace. If there is anything I may ever do for you, even above and beyond my duties for Braeghe Color, I am your servant.”
To her surprise, he set his tea aside and stood. He drew his sword, reversed his grip, and descended to one knee, keeping the point firmly on the flagstones. It was an old ceremony, one she had never actually seen performed.
“I accept your service, Master Galicarr. Please rise,” she replied. It was the formal acceptance of the ceremony. “How do you know of the Etielien?” referring to the ritual by its proper name.
“I grew up in the Eastholds, your Grace. We were a small estate. My mum and da and almost all my household were killed by Mons Rosians when I was a young boy. I was brought to the local Temple by my governor, Master --”
“Vidielet,” Siere breathed. “You were saved by Jin Vidielet, how did I not put it together? He brought you to the Temple in Besh-Hammaonn. I’m so sorry about your family, Galicarr. I remember that day – the day we heard about it in Lithelwaite. Father was so angry. He rode out with a hundred men to chase down the raiders, but he never found them. Your father was a good man,” she put a hand on his broad shoulder.
“Thank you, my Lady. I thought perhaps you had been too young to remember,” he said softly.
“How did you come to serve under Lord Braeghe?”
“Ah, yes,” he smiled, “It was Lord Hyn Braeghe, your Grace. I had just come to the Bastion – with no estate, no mother or sisters, I was an orphan. Master Vidielet brought me to Avaanse and petitioned the Queen to allow me to enter the Bastion. She refused at first, but Lord Hyn happened to be at court that day. He came up the aisle and vouched for me, took me under his wing. Never expected that. It was a sad day when he was taken,” he finished somberly.
“Well I am glad to have you here, Galicarr,” Siere smiled at him. “Now, if you please, it has been a long day, and I would like to rest. You may,” she hesitated a moment, unsure of herself. “You may stay here in the anteroom if you choose,” she finished in a rush.
“As comfortable as that would be, your Grace, I would just as soon protect your reputation as well as your person,” he bowed slightly. “Sleep well, Seeress. I will watch over you,” he said with a dazzling smile, then turned smoothly and let himself out.
Siere released the breath she had been unconsciously holding.
“Are you alright, Galicarr?” Siere asked the tall Lanceguard. She had invited him in to her apartments after their visit with Casera the Bearer, and they sat now in her anteroom with some hot spiced Norvikzaag tea. She realized that may raise some eyebrows among the Seers and Seeresses, but there was no vow of celibacy among the Temple leadership, even if Aomm’s command proscribed intimacy outside of marriage. This was not that kind of visit, of course, and even a cursory interview using Galicarr’s kir would prove it out. Siere’s need to be sure of him overrode other considerations.
“Yes, your Grace,” he replied, “just a bit tired. I am sorry I could not break her Command. I hope you know I would never hurt you, Seeress.”
“I believe you, Galicarr. That girl has quite mastered the kir, it appears. Not all Commands are so difficult to break, yes?”
“That may be, but regardless, my duty is to protect you,” he said stiffly. “I failed at that today – you had to protect yourself from me. I am ashamed, Seeress.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Let it drop as I have. Am I clear?” she assured him gently.
After a moment, he gave a small nod. “Your Grace, may I ask a question?”
“You may,” she murmured over a sip of tea.
“What did she do to my Lord Captain?”
Siere sighed. How much to tell him? “That is not my story to tell, Galicarr. Suffice it to say, she treated him ill and deserved every moment of what she got tonight and more. You must not let on to anyone about this situation. If word of our efforts tonight were to come out,” she set her teacup down, “Well, people will gossip, yes? He is a –“, she hesitated, “a good man, and I would not see his credibility damaged. In addition, if certain people were to find out about Casera, quite frankly she may end up dead. There is no need for it to go that far. I wish her actions stopped, not her heart. Life is precious, and I believe she is under control for the time being. Do you understand?”
“I do, Seeress.” He continued to gaze at her, the expression on his beautiful face unreadable.
“What is it?”
“I, ah, that is,” he seemed unsure of himself suddenly.
“Speak freely, Lanceguard.”
“Thank you, your Grace. If I may be so bold, you are a truly remarkable woman, your Grace. If there is anything I may ever do for you, even above and beyond my duties for Braeghe Color, I am your servant.”
To her surprise, he set his tea aside and stood. He drew his sword, reversed his grip, and descended to one knee, keeping the point firmly on the flagstones. It was an old ceremony, one she had never actually seen performed.
“I accept your service, Master Galicarr. Please rise,” she replied. It was the formal acceptance of the ceremony. “How do you know of the Etielien?” referring to the ritual by its proper name.
“I grew up in the Eastholds, your Grace. We were a small estate. My mum and da and almost all my household were killed by Mons Rosians when I was a young boy. I was brought to the local Temple by my governor, Master --”
“Vidielet,” Siere breathed. “You were saved by Jin Vidielet, how did I not put it together? He brought you to the Temple in Besh-Hammaonn. I’m so sorry about your family, Galicarr. I remember that day – the day we heard about it in Lithelwaite. Father was so angry. He rode out with a hundred men to chase down the raiders, but he never found them. Your father was a good man,” she put a hand on his broad shoulder.
“Thank you, my Lady. I thought perhaps you had been too young to remember,” he said softly.
“How did you come to serve under Lord Braeghe?”
“Ah, yes,” he smiled, “It was Lord Hyn Braeghe, your Grace. I had just come to the Bastion – with no estate, no mother or sisters, I was an orphan. Master Vidielet brought me to Avaanse and petitioned the Queen to allow me to enter the Bastion. She refused at first, but Lord Hyn happened to be at court that day. He came up the aisle and vouched for me, took me under his wing. Never expected that. It was a sad day when he was taken,” he finished somberly.
“Well I am glad to have you here, Galicarr,” Siere smiled at him. “Now, if you please, it has been a long day, and I would like to rest. You may,” she hesitated a moment, unsure of herself. “You may stay here in the anteroom if you choose,” she finished in a rush.
“As comfortable as that would be, your Grace, I would just as soon protect your reputation as well as your person,” he bowed slightly. “Sleep well, Seeress. I will watch over you,” he said with a dazzling smile, then turned smoothly and let himself out.
Siere released the breath she had been unconsciously holding.
a reply to: Night Star
Thanks, Night Star! This scene was really fun to write! I kept smiling at Siere's irritated/fluttery reactions to Galicarr.
Thanks, Night Star! This scene was really fun to write! I kept smiling at Siere's irritated/fluttery reactions to Galicarr.
70 - A Few Small Vials
Gaalen sat at the table in his chambers, pondering the wooden crate on the floor. It contained the personal belongings of the undervalet who had been killed by – if you believed Elder Poliara – some terrible demon. He was more than a bit skeptical.
He began taking the items out and setting them on the desk. There was not much to go through – the undervalet had not had many possessions. What was there still bore darkened stains in places.
He pulled out the Book of Voices and paged through it. The undervalet – Jedron, he had been told – was apparently a devout young man. The pages of the book were well worn, the edges and corners bearing the mark of having been turned or held many times, and some pages even had writing in the margins. In one, a table of the matriarchs of nations, one of the sections of unfamiliar-sounding names was bracketed, with some of the names annotated. In another, in Jedron’s neat writing was “Aomm desires mercy more than judgment. We rest on the hope of a benevolent God.”
At the back of the book were several loose, folded pages of cramped handwriting. Gaalen pulled one out and began to read.
“Do we know anything about Aomm? Truly? Is Aomm really male? Would a mortal restriction like gender even apply to a spiritual, omnipresent being like Aomm? The beginning of wisdom is the admission that we know little if anything about God…”
Gaalen shook his head. What did it matter if Aomm was a man or a woman? Weren’t there more important things to spend one’s time on? This was the kind of thing that made him so reluctant to attend the weekly Temple services. He opened another page hoping for something besides philosophical rambling.
“What language does Aomm speak? It is ridiculous to assume an all-powerful God would be limited by human – or other – language. I find it impossible to believe Aomm’s native language is the Modern Graytongue, or even Ancient Tyrwyllan. Aomm must contemplate in terms we can scarcely even comprehend, much less form ideas and words about.”
Gaalen folded the page back up. This was getting him nowhere. What kind of an undervalet wrote page after page like this? Undervalets were some of the first up and the last to bed. When did he find the time?
With morbid curiosity he opened one more page. The writing on this page was untidy, hurried. It seemed to be the same hand, but it was as if Jedron had been writing as fast as he could. “The Dark King of the Abyss is real. This I know to be true. His minions walk the Garden of Aomm, I have now seen one. Drenched in blood and oozing death and darkness. Aomm Lord Father protect me from unclean spirits! My faith is the armor which they cannot penetrate. Guide me and protect me! They will come for me because of what I have found. Aomm, be my shield! 38 – 17. 12 – 25. 60 – 1-10. The chains must break.”
The hair on the back Gaalen’s neck stood up, and his pulse quickened. He tucked the pages back into the Book of Voices.
He began pulling the rest of Jedron’s things out of the crate and setting them out on the table. Another small book, bound with a leather thong. All the pages were blank. A few more pages of parchment – Gaalen recognized them from the desk. He could make almost nothing out on them, as they had been nearly covered in blood. In the corner of one he noted, the word “gemaatu”, and another, “…will be dead by year’s end unless…”
A bundle of cloth was all that remained. He pulled it out and to his surprise heard the clinking of glass. Carefully he set the bundle on the table and unwrapped the cloths. There lay several small vials, in blue and green glass. His heart skipped – he had seen vials like these before.
He picked one up to examine it. There, near the bottom, was a small getli'al leaf. He let out the breath he was holding. It would have been nice to connect the undervalet’s murder to Mistress Thannen’s apothecary, but he remembered seeing small telgar leaves on her vials, not getli'al.
Still, he wondered if maybe the same glassblower who had made Mistress Thannen’s vials made these. Perhaps they knew which apothecary the ones marked with getli'al belonged to.
Gaalen sat at the table in his chambers, pondering the wooden crate on the floor. It contained the personal belongings of the undervalet who had been killed by – if you believed Elder Poliara – some terrible demon. He was more than a bit skeptical.
He began taking the items out and setting them on the desk. There was not much to go through – the undervalet had not had many possessions. What was there still bore darkened stains in places.
He pulled out the Book of Voices and paged through it. The undervalet – Jedron, he had been told – was apparently a devout young man. The pages of the book were well worn, the edges and corners bearing the mark of having been turned or held many times, and some pages even had writing in the margins. In one, a table of the matriarchs of nations, one of the sections of unfamiliar-sounding names was bracketed, with some of the names annotated. In another, in Jedron’s neat writing was “Aomm desires mercy more than judgment. We rest on the hope of a benevolent God.”
At the back of the book were several loose, folded pages of cramped handwriting. Gaalen pulled one out and began to read.
“Do we know anything about Aomm? Truly? Is Aomm really male? Would a mortal restriction like gender even apply to a spiritual, omnipresent being like Aomm? The beginning of wisdom is the admission that we know little if anything about God…”
Gaalen shook his head. What did it matter if Aomm was a man or a woman? Weren’t there more important things to spend one’s time on? This was the kind of thing that made him so reluctant to attend the weekly Temple services. He opened another page hoping for something besides philosophical rambling.
“What language does Aomm speak? It is ridiculous to assume an all-powerful God would be limited by human – or other – language. I find it impossible to believe Aomm’s native language is the Modern Graytongue, or even Ancient Tyrwyllan. Aomm must contemplate in terms we can scarcely even comprehend, much less form ideas and words about.”
Gaalen folded the page back up. This was getting him nowhere. What kind of an undervalet wrote page after page like this? Undervalets were some of the first up and the last to bed. When did he find the time?
With morbid curiosity he opened one more page. The writing on this page was untidy, hurried. It seemed to be the same hand, but it was as if Jedron had been writing as fast as he could. “The Dark King of the Abyss is real. This I know to be true. His minions walk the Garden of Aomm, I have now seen one. Drenched in blood and oozing death and darkness. Aomm Lord Father protect me from unclean spirits! My faith is the armor which they cannot penetrate. Guide me and protect me! They will come for me because of what I have found. Aomm, be my shield! 38 – 17. 12 – 25. 60 – 1-10. The chains must break.”
The hair on the back Gaalen’s neck stood up, and his pulse quickened. He tucked the pages back into the Book of Voices.
He began pulling the rest of Jedron’s things out of the crate and setting them out on the table. Another small book, bound with a leather thong. All the pages were blank. A few more pages of parchment – Gaalen recognized them from the desk. He could make almost nothing out on them, as they had been nearly covered in blood. In the corner of one he noted, the word “gemaatu”, and another, “…will be dead by year’s end unless…”
A bundle of cloth was all that remained. He pulled it out and to his surprise heard the clinking of glass. Carefully he set the bundle on the table and unwrapped the cloths. There lay several small vials, in blue and green glass. His heart skipped – he had seen vials like these before.
He picked one up to examine it. There, near the bottom, was a small getli'al leaf. He let out the breath he was holding. It would have been nice to connect the undervalet’s murder to Mistress Thannen’s apothecary, but he remembered seeing small telgar leaves on her vials, not getli'al.
Still, he wondered if maybe the same glassblower who had made Mistress Thannen’s vials made these. Perhaps they knew which apothecary the ones marked with getli'al belonged to.
a reply to: PrairieShepherd
Very good Shep! I loved the mysteries of the crate of the undervalet, the book of voices, his notes and vials.
Very good Shep! I loved the mysteries of the crate of the undervalet, the book of voices, his notes and vials.
edit on 11-5-2017 by Night Star because: (no reason given)
a reply to: PrairieShepherd
Sounds like Gaalen needs to investigate further!
What a conundrum.
Beautifully written as usual and a break from the stressful encounters with Siere. Very detailed and descriptive and now a new mystery emerges.
I'm still enjoying it all very much and looking forward to reading more.
Your faithful gropie,
jacy
Sounds like Gaalen needs to investigate further!
What a conundrum.
Beautifully written as usual and a break from the stressful encounters with Siere. Very detailed and descriptive and now a new mystery emerges.
I'm still enjoying it all very much and looking forward to reading more.
Your faithful gropie,
jacy
71 - A Summons
Siere walked along the curve of the Ringhall’s central corridor, her Braeghe Color shadow just a few steps behind - Sir Andahl, she believed his name was. The rough looking man was scarred and walked with an unusual gait, but he had an ominous aura about him, almost as though he was a profoundly dangerous person. And yet, the small, simple kir over his heart was pristine, glittering and shining in the beams of sunlight that streamed in the tall, narrow windows they passed. The refracted light sparkled tiny splashes of rainbow color on the walls. Such a strange existence she lived these days, to find beauty in the subjugation of an entire gender.
She shook her head at the thought.
“Seeress Meron!” called a voice behind her. “Ai, Seeress!”
A wiry young man in his teens - a Bearer by his attire - was trotting around the bend as she turned. He stopped sharply as Andahl moved slightly ahead of her, a suspicious look in his icy blue eyes.
“Seeress Meron,” he got out breathlessly, “I have a message for you. They said it was urgent.”
“They, lad? Who is ‘they’?”
“One of the Bastion Ladyguard, Seeress.”
“I see. Your name, boy?”
“Weis Donael, your Grace,” he said, smiling and bowing slightly.
“Thank you, Weis Donael,” she said.
There was an uncomfortable moment where she waited for the boy’s brain to catch up. She cleared her throat.
“Oh!” he squeaked, his voice cracking. He fumbled in his robe and produced a parchment, sealed with the signet of the Amaerke Avaanse.
“Stay here a moment, Bearer,” she said as she broke the seal and opened the letter.
It was signed simply, "Anna." Bewildered, she tucked the letter inside her robes. “Follow me, Bearer.” She strode purposefully down the hall until she neared the crossing hallway that led to the main doors of the Temple. Turning toward the entrance, she stopped at the receiving desk to request parchment, a quill pen, and wax. She dashed off a reply - one simply did not leave royalty waiting when requested.
She dripped white wax upon the fold and pressed her own signet ring into the seal.
“Now then, Bearer, you are to take this to the palace. I expect you to run the entire way - we do not keep the Crown waiting. Do you require a Command for this or will you obey? I will be able to find out quite easily if you fail to perform your duty.”
“I require no Command, Seeress. I serve as the Temple requires, your Grace.” He bowed deeply.
“Off you go, then.”
The slender boy took the letter and rushed off, dodging his way through the petitioners crowding the gate.
Siere walked along the curve of the Ringhall’s central corridor, her Braeghe Color shadow just a few steps behind - Sir Andahl, she believed his name was. The rough looking man was scarred and walked with an unusual gait, but he had an ominous aura about him, almost as though he was a profoundly dangerous person. And yet, the small, simple kir over his heart was pristine, glittering and shining in the beams of sunlight that streamed in the tall, narrow windows they passed. The refracted light sparkled tiny splashes of rainbow color on the walls. Such a strange existence she lived these days, to find beauty in the subjugation of an entire gender.
She shook her head at the thought.
“Seeress Meron!” called a voice behind her. “Ai, Seeress!”
A wiry young man in his teens - a Bearer by his attire - was trotting around the bend as she turned. He stopped sharply as Andahl moved slightly ahead of her, a suspicious look in his icy blue eyes.
“Seeress Meron,” he got out breathlessly, “I have a message for you. They said it was urgent.”
“They, lad? Who is ‘they’?”
“One of the Bastion Ladyguard, Seeress.”
“I see. Your name, boy?”
“Weis Donael, your Grace,” he said, smiling and bowing slightly.
“Thank you, Weis Donael,” she said.
There was an uncomfortable moment where she waited for the boy’s brain to catch up. She cleared her throat.
“Oh!” he squeaked, his voice cracking. He fumbled in his robe and produced a parchment, sealed with the signet of the Amaerke Avaanse.
“Stay here a moment, Bearer,” she said as she broke the seal and opened the letter.
Anna Kire
To Her Grace Seeress Lady Siere Meron
Peace and Aomm’s blessing be upon you.
I have received news of import to your family. Attend me in the Hall of Arches of the Royal Palace before the bells sound Taar.
It was signed simply, "Anna." Bewildered, she tucked the letter inside her robes. “Follow me, Bearer.” She strode purposefully down the hall until she neared the crossing hallway that led to the main doors of the Temple. Turning toward the entrance, she stopped at the receiving desk to request parchment, a quill pen, and wax. She dashed off a reply - one simply did not leave royalty waiting when requested.
Seeress Lady Siere Meron, Servant of Aomm
To Her Royal Highness, Princess of Avalae, Amaerke Avaanse, Graced of Aomm Anna Kire Daecullon
Aomm’s blessings be upon you and your family, may the grace of the One shine ever upon House Daecullon.
I shall attend Your Highness immediately.
I humbly request that you would have your servants attend to the needs of the young Bearer delivering this letter. I have instructed him to run the
distance.
She dripped white wax upon the fold and pressed her own signet ring into the seal.
“Now then, Bearer, you are to take this to the palace. I expect you to run the entire way - we do not keep the Crown waiting. Do you require a Command for this or will you obey? I will be able to find out quite easily if you fail to perform your duty.”
“I require no Command, Seeress. I serve as the Temple requires, your Grace.” He bowed deeply.
“Off you go, then.”
The slender boy took the letter and rushed off, dodging his way through the petitioners crowding the gate.
edit on 5-11-2017 by PrairieShepherd because: (no reason given)
72 - News of Import
Only a short time later Siere stepped out of a Temple carriage before the gates of the Royal Palace, assisted by the watchful Sir Andahl. He had jogged alongside the carriage, refusing the invitation to climb inside. He wore only lightweight Lanceguard armor, but it still weighed several stone. Yet, upon arrival at the Palace, the only sign of his exertion was a slight flaring of his nostrils.
“Seeress Lady Siere Meron to see Her Royal Highness the Princess Anna Kire,” she said to the helmeted guards in black-and-gold Daecullon livery.
“Yes, your Grace, she is expecting you.”
Siere passed through the gates and started up the walkway in the center of the wide plaza. Sir Andahl went before her, cat-like, hand on his sword, and eyes scanning everywhere as if he expected Siere to be attacked any moment.
Of course, she was uncontested until reaching the Hall of Arches itself, where the two guards blocked her before the noblethorn doors inlaid with silver and black enamel, their long-bladed spears ready for battle. Royal Guardsmen were not ornamental figures in Avaanse, as they were in some of the foreign cities she had traveled to. These women and men wore battle gear, had bows nearby, and each carried a spear, and either two longknives or a longsword. Their clothing and equipment was functional, not ceremonial, and they took their duty quite seriously.
She repeated her identity to the guards, waiting until bidden to enter by the Herald. She was motioned forward and Sir Andahl made to follow her.
“I’m sorry, your Grace, your guard must remain outside.” Andahl grimaced, looking past the guards into the Hall where a throng of courtiers and petitioners stood.
“It’s alright, Sir Andahl. I can manage,” she said reassuringly. Reluctantly, he stepped back.
“The Seeress Lady Siere Meron, Servant of Aomm, Daughter of House Lithelwaite,” the white-haired man called out as she entered and strode up the black carpet toward the exquisitely beautiful woman seated there. Princess Anna Kire’s sharp green eyes twinkled in the light of the afternoon sun. As Amaerke Avaanse, she held audience regularly much like the Queen did. A flash of irritation stung Siere - she felt like a common petitioner. I am a Seeress, and in the line of daughters to the largest estate on the Eastern Holds!
“Seeress, thank you for coming so quickly,” said the Princess.
Siere curtsied. “Your Royal Highness,” she murmured, “May I inquire as to the reason I have been summoned?”
The Princess looked around the room. “Leave us,” she commanded, and with hushed whispers and furtive glances the room began to empty.
“Stay, Lady High Commander,” the Princess said, looking past Siere. Siere cursed herself for being unobservant. She had been so preoccupied about why she was being summoned she hadn’t even noticed the tall, dark-skinned, blue-eyed woman in Bastion white and gold.
“Yes, your Highness.”
When the room had emptied, the Princess stood up. “Please, Seeress, Lady Macosai,” she gestured to the fireplace, around which were set several chairs and a couch. The three women made their way over, and Siere noted - not entirely without envy - how feminine and elegant the Princess was. Her every motion was a study in the grace of economy, simple and precise. She radiated confident beauty, even her speech was pleasing and melodic to hear. And yet, somehow her very presence was formidable. Siere felt insignificant and quite plain next to the Princess and the athletic Lady High Commander who was lovely in her own right.
To Siere’s shock, Lady Macosai poured goblets of wine for the Princess and Siere before sitting down herself with a third. What is going on?
“Seeress, I fear I have received some difficult news. After returning from a trip to Besh-Elimlaac, your mother has fallen gravely ill. According to messages, it has worsened progressively. She is not expected to survive long. As it takes several days to travel from Lithelwaite, it is entirely possible she has already passed. We offer our sincere condolences.”
Only a short time later Siere stepped out of a Temple carriage before the gates of the Royal Palace, assisted by the watchful Sir Andahl. He had jogged alongside the carriage, refusing the invitation to climb inside. He wore only lightweight Lanceguard armor, but it still weighed several stone. Yet, upon arrival at the Palace, the only sign of his exertion was a slight flaring of his nostrils.
“Seeress Lady Siere Meron to see Her Royal Highness the Princess Anna Kire,” she said to the helmeted guards in black-and-gold Daecullon livery.
“Yes, your Grace, she is expecting you.”
Siere passed through the gates and started up the walkway in the center of the wide plaza. Sir Andahl went before her, cat-like, hand on his sword, and eyes scanning everywhere as if he expected Siere to be attacked any moment.
Of course, she was uncontested until reaching the Hall of Arches itself, where the two guards blocked her before the noblethorn doors inlaid with silver and black enamel, their long-bladed spears ready for battle. Royal Guardsmen were not ornamental figures in Avaanse, as they were in some of the foreign cities she had traveled to. These women and men wore battle gear, had bows nearby, and each carried a spear, and either two longknives or a longsword. Their clothing and equipment was functional, not ceremonial, and they took their duty quite seriously.
She repeated her identity to the guards, waiting until bidden to enter by the Herald. She was motioned forward and Sir Andahl made to follow her.
“I’m sorry, your Grace, your guard must remain outside.” Andahl grimaced, looking past the guards into the Hall where a throng of courtiers and petitioners stood.
“It’s alright, Sir Andahl. I can manage,” she said reassuringly. Reluctantly, he stepped back.
“The Seeress Lady Siere Meron, Servant of Aomm, Daughter of House Lithelwaite,” the white-haired man called out as she entered and strode up the black carpet toward the exquisitely beautiful woman seated there. Princess Anna Kire’s sharp green eyes twinkled in the light of the afternoon sun. As Amaerke Avaanse, she held audience regularly much like the Queen did. A flash of irritation stung Siere - she felt like a common petitioner. I am a Seeress, and in the line of daughters to the largest estate on the Eastern Holds!
“Seeress, thank you for coming so quickly,” said the Princess.
Siere curtsied. “Your Royal Highness,” she murmured, “May I inquire as to the reason I have been summoned?”
The Princess looked around the room. “Leave us,” she commanded, and with hushed whispers and furtive glances the room began to empty.
“Stay, Lady High Commander,” the Princess said, looking past Siere. Siere cursed herself for being unobservant. She had been so preoccupied about why she was being summoned she hadn’t even noticed the tall, dark-skinned, blue-eyed woman in Bastion white and gold.
“Yes, your Highness.”
When the room had emptied, the Princess stood up. “Please, Seeress, Lady Macosai,” she gestured to the fireplace, around which were set several chairs and a couch. The three women made their way over, and Siere noted - not entirely without envy - how feminine and elegant the Princess was. Her every motion was a study in the grace of economy, simple and precise. She radiated confident beauty, even her speech was pleasing and melodic to hear. And yet, somehow her very presence was formidable. Siere felt insignificant and quite plain next to the Princess and the athletic Lady High Commander who was lovely in her own right.
To Siere’s shock, Lady Macosai poured goblets of wine for the Princess and Siere before sitting down herself with a third. What is going on?
“Seeress, I fear I have received some difficult news. After returning from a trip to Besh-Elimlaac, your mother has fallen gravely ill. According to messages, it has worsened progressively. She is not expected to survive long. As it takes several days to travel from Lithelwaite, it is entirely possible she has already passed. We offer our sincere condolences.”
Gah, can't have her Mom dying, it's almost Mother's day! Oh yeah, we're in a different realm. Carry on!
edit on 12-5-2017 by Night Star
because: (no reason given)
a reply to: Night Star
Boy, I didn't even think about that, Night Star! EEK!
However, you are correct, in Geaomm, it's the Feast of Commencement, which marks the beginning of the harvest season. So, early fall. Feast of Midsummer was roughly at the beginning of this story arc. So, nowhere near where our Mother's Day is.
Not to mention it takes place on another planet.
Boy, I didn't even think about that, Night Star! EEK!
However, you are correct, in Geaomm, it's the Feast of Commencement, which marks the beginning of the harvest season. So, early fall. Feast of Midsummer was roughly at the beginning of this story arc. So, nowhere near where our Mother's Day is.
Not to mention it takes place on another planet.
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