We are who once we were,
but never again the same,
as the world changes do we,
and cycles pass without name,
rely not on man to alter his way,
nor on the individual to remain,
we ghosts are believed eternal,
yet even ageless,
I have changed.
– Writings of Theseus Moria, circa 410 E.R.
Estae 7th, 647 E.R.
The room was lush yet stark, dripping with showy regal splendor, from the tapestries on the walls to elaborate carpets with floral and geometric patterns. Fine rare vases held flowers along the walls, if their ancient cracked surfaces could bear water. Others – often in prominent positions – were clearly too old and fragile for actual use.
A blond haired man with a soft olive complexion considered the priest pacing his quarters. His expression was hard to read, but seemed perhaps concerned for the agitated older man. The priest, Idolus, wore a grey robe, and had recently shorn his hair down to the skin. This in itself was arguably an improvement, as he had been balding for years. Still, it seemed part of a larger, more unnerving pattern. One that included the way he was pacing frantically, his arms behind his back, his hands wringing fervently.
“Arlen, you must listen to me, she is the void itself I tell you,” Idolus implored more than said to his host.
“A wild half Sylvan thing, surely. A young woman of erratic nature without question, but the void itself, Idolus?” Arlen almost seemed amused past the look of concern that took over his face.
“What happened on that mountain…that she fought the dragon…naked…that is the least of it,” Idolus stopped, spun on his heel, and stared at his companion. “The very ground where we found her – the stone where she fell – it had been reduced to something like brittle clay beneath her. Like the very substance of the rock had been corrupted.”
“Perhaps it was merely an odd property of the area?” Arlen offered.
“No, no, no,” Idolus refused. “It was the same stone as everything else, but brittle, crumbled at a touch to a fine powder. Like the loadstone of an enchanted fire lamp. Laurel, the fool did not see it for what it was…and the way…she burned into my mind. I cannot think of anything but her. She is like a scar on the world. I see her face in dreams amidst a sea of light…but her hair…it has turned something wild, and more unnatural than those cursed eyes of hers. I feel something in my very bones at the thought of it.”
“We all stray to the thoughts of the flesh,” Arlen said consolingly. “Even the strongest of us.”
“No,” Idolus snapped, and slammed his fist on a table, his eyes wild. “I have found it in the Black Book. I have felt it since the first time she touched my hand in the square. The storm child walks among us, and she is the abyss, the void. She will tear this world into oblivion.”
“Idolus,” Alren said firmly. “She is just a girl. A mage, a troubled child, yes, but harmless. I have even consented to my wife’s wishes that Charles seek her favor. If her sister remains missing, then she stands to inherit a great swath of the north. My family could control two duchies, we could rival the King to reign in this land, and perhaps one day cast out the heretics.”
“Are you not listening?” Idolus all but screamed. “She is not what she appears. She is not. If you tie yourself to her…I will have no part of it.”
“Please,” Arlen said measuredly, “old friend. Find your senses. We will watch her, but consider her sister too bares the same face. Have you not possibly mistaken one for the other?” He did not really consider that any more likely, but it seemed an easy way to cast doubt. Normally he had high respect for Idolus, but his behavior had become slowly unstable for some time. Arlen no longer trusted his judgement as he once had. He worried if the ordeal with the dragon had broken the man for good.
Idolus sat down stiffly, and then wept. “I do not know, but the world is wrong. Something terrible is shifting. I must consult my books, I must understand. Do not let her be your undoing my friend. Be cautious of this one.”
“I will,” Arlen said, and set his hand on Idolus’ arm. His pity was honest, and what was more he thought little of Katrisha’s character. “Do not think I trust her,” he offered. “My son is erant, and I fear there is no bastion of correction left to send him too within Avrale. Wesrook is a cesspool that my brother can barely restrain. South Rook has fallen to that miserable man Perin…that they now call him, Duke…” He seemed ill.
“So what?” Idolus said trying to recover himself. “You have given up on your child?”
“I am attempting to make the best of many bad situations,” Arlen said. “If the boy is to be corrupt, then I shall at least exploit it for the greater good. If he can wed the wild creature, then there is at least potential to tame her, and use her dubious birthright to accomplish better things.”
⁃ ◇ ❖ ◇ ⁃
Estae 13th, 647 E.R.
Katrisha picked at her plate idly, not even looking up at those seated around her at dinner. To her left sat princess Maraline, as was often the case. The princess considered the melancholy girl with some concern, and brushed back an auburn lock that had come loose.
“You really should eat,” Maraline offered. “You’ll do your sister no favors starving yourself.”
Katrisha looked up, and seemed almost startled. “Sorry,” she said, “merely lost in thought.”
“You have been quite a lot of late,” the young man to Maraline’s left offered. “Though I dare say there is no blame to be had for such distraction. Were any of my dear relatives missing for so long, let alone a twin…” he seemed quite affected by the thought.
“Quite so Adrien,” Maraline said, “though it does for me present some trouble. I have been thinking to ask Katrisha to stand as my maid of honor, but if she is so distracted…”
“I think I could manage to focus,” Katrisha offered with only a touch of excitement, tinged with a hint of bewilderment, and her persistent malaise. “Though I had no idea I was being considered.”
“We’ve always been quite amiable,” Maraline offered.
“We have,” Katrisha agreed. “Still, I would think you to have closer friends than I.”
“My brother, of course, dear cousin Philip,” she nodded across the table to another young man, “but they are hardly maids. I dare say we are closer than any of my other cousins, or than I am to any of my servants. My mother’s efforts to find me proper handmaidens, ones I could call friend, have been…mixed. Yet all this aside, truly, to have a dragon slayer at my side, few brides could be so honored.”
“Attempted,” Katrisha corrected awkwardly.
“Yes,” Maraline agreed, “but that is not quite the tale being told in many quarters. Still, I think we can find more appropriate attire for you in the wedding party.” She smiled a bit coyly.
“I should hope,” Katrisha agreed, with a mixture of humor and embarrassment. “I would be honored if it is your wish.”
“Then it is settled,” Maraline smiled. “Perhaps you might even catch the eye of an eligible young nobleman.”
“I should hope Laurel would dissuade any such interest,” Katrisha countered. “Truly I agree with his current refrain. I am far more trouble than I am worth.”
“Nonsense,” Maraline protested, “you are becoming quite lovely, and I dare say I would give my title to be as capable as you.”
“Capable of misadventure,” Philip cut in.
“Cousin!” Maraline snapped, aghast.
“I merely agree with the young lady,” Philip said in lieu of apology for his poorly considered jab.
“Surely not all young men long for delicate flowers?” Maraline questioned. “Truly, I am such a prize – I will not deny – but if a young woman’s heart can flutter for a dashing man, why not a man’s for a fiery young lass? Surely you are as delicate as I, Philip,” she said with some restrained amusement.
“Alas,” Philip countered, “my delicacy, prefers delicacy. Though I do not deny the lady is lovely, and that her roguish nature is not without charm. What of you Charles? Want you mouse, or lion?”
Charles had been quiet, and seemed thoughtful when questioned. “Though we have not been without our differences,” he answered diplomatically, “I do agree Katrisha has some admirable qualities, and among them a budding beauty. I’m of mixed opinion on the affair with the dragon. On the one hand foolish, on the other quite brave.”
“Perhaps,” Adrien began, “there is little difference between the two. I’ve heard that our dear girl thought herself acting in the interest of her mentor. So brave then, for acting against the better judgement of her own well being, which then some would label foolish. Perspective.”
“Was that the reason?” Maraline asked.
Katrisha looked unhappy to answer, but felt she must. “Yes. A dream told me that Laurel would return dead, and Kiannae had the same vision. In that dream we were here when he returned. This told us that if we waited…still it was foolish.”
“And brave,” Adrien concluded.
“Agreed,” Charles laughed. Katrisha gave him a funny look, but found his expression amiable. She looked back to her plate.
“Now surely,” Maraline said, “you’ve some interest in a fine young man to wed?”
“I’ve not thought much on it,” Katrisha answered. “Not in some time anyway. Such daydreams were more my fancy when I was small, but I’ve had other interests with age.”
“How contrary,” Maraline shook her head, “that with the blooming of womanhood you have lost interest in love. We must see if we cannot get someone to catch your eye then. I’m sure if your heart was in it, your lovely charms could win any young man you wished.”
Katrisha gave Maraline a funny look. It all seemed to her a very misplaced endeavor, but the compliment suiter her a little all the same. If Marline, who had always seemed to her very pretty, thought she could have her pick, that surely was worth something.
⁃ ◇ ❖ ◇ ⁃
Estae 42nd, 647 E.R.
Katrisha blocked the sun from her eyes as she moved to exit the coach that had carried her, and the Princess for the last leg of their journey. She had not been pleased that accepting a place as Maraline’s maid of honor had meant traveling to South Rook. Her last visit had not gone entirely well.
It had been an ever shifting set of plans, but ultimately it was decided that the wedding should occur there, to ease the lingering tensions from the events that had displaced the former duke. The reasoning – as it was explained – was that it must be perceived that South Rook gained a princess, not lost the heir to the seat. All very political, and Katrisha could not disagree with the premise, though she prefered the comforts of home.
She surveyed South Rook, and looked up to the tower that loomed high above. It hardly seemed any less grand than when she had been much younger. To her surprise, Katrisha found Charles offering her a hand down, which only earned an odd look from her. She slipped from the seat without accepting the hand, and landed with grace. She nodded to him more challengingly than cordially, and stepped aside.
The princess for her part took his hand, and got down more carefully. “I do adore South Rook,” Maraline declared as she looked around the city.
“That is fortunate,” Katirsha laughed, “since you are marrying the man destined to rule it.”
“It is certainly some comfort,” Maraline agreed, ”given I must leave Broken Hill behind, and only visit. Still, that the city and the man are a pair…. Yes, I dare say my heart is content in this.”
Charles bowed to Maraline, and showed almost as much difference to Katrisha, who found it more than a bit odd, but consented to nod to him politely as he walked off to see to his own affairs.
“Why is Charles here any way?” Katrisha asked quietly of Maraline as they began to walk towards the keep’s outer gate.
“Appearances, mostly,” Maraline answered. “His whole family was invited. His father had no interest, but I expect to see the Duchess of Wesrook, and…” The princess covered her mouth, laughed, and Katrisha followed her gaze in the direction Charles had gone.
“Charlie!” could be heard as a blond haired girl a head shorter than the young man finished her run at her brother, and to even Katrisha’s amazement lifted him off his feet.
“My, she’s getting quite strong,” Maraline said trying to reign in her humor. “I think she got that one from you. The only other young woman I can think of who lifts her brother off his feet.”
“At least Wren is smaller than me,” Katrisha laughed, “and younger.”
“Millarae!” an equally fair haired older woman yelled as she walked up on the scene. “Show some dignity, please!”
“Duchess Meloria,” Maraline nodded as she and Katrisha approached the family reunion.
“Princess Maraline, Lady Ashton,” the Duchess nodded. “Curtsy dear,” she said nudging Millarae, who did as she was bid. “It is Katrisha, I presume? Do forgive me, I never did learn to tell you from your twin…who I believe I have heard is still, absent. Oh dear… Forgive me, that was poorly done, wasn’t it.”
Katrisha was stony faced. “Yes, on all counts,” she took a breath, “and you would not be the first to raise the issue in precisely that way.”
“Again, my apologies,” Meloria offered. “Still, it is very good to see you. It has been several years since I have found cause to visit Broken Hill.”
“And it is good to see you as well,” Katrisha nodded. “I barely remember little Millarae from my visit to Wesrook. Not quite so little any more, she seems to have caught up to me.”
“I remember you,” Millarae laughed, “mostly ‘cause Charles could not be quiet about you.”
“Only because you would not stop asking questions about her,” Charles cut back.
“I asked about both of them,” Millarae scrunched her face up at her brother. “You were all Katrisha did this, Katrisha did that. You would swear her sister wasn’t even there.”
“Millarae,” her mother chided with false calm.
“Oh,” Millarae said uncomfortably. “Sorry…”
Katrisha was already over it, but found the stony look on Charles’ face perplexing. She was interrupted from her curiosity as Mercu arrived.
“Lady Meloria,” Mercu declared as he walked up on the exchange.
“Oh, good Mercu,” Meloria said. “A pleasure to see you.”
“More so on my account, I assure you,” Mercu offered his hand, and Meloria obliged for him to kiss hers. “I’d hoped you might attend the wedding.”
“I would not miss the opportunity,” Meloria said with a wry smile. “Not every day a princess marries the heir of South Rook, and clears up this whole mess about succession.”
“Indeed,” Mercu obliged. “I’m sure you have no other designs in your visit.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Meloria said with a laugh. “Never to early to nudge things along in the right directions.”
“Any particular directions in mind?” Mercu asked conspiratorially.
“That, would be telling,” Meloria said with a smirk. “Let us head in, so much to do. So many details to wrap up. Most unfortunate that so much of the affair has been left to the last minute over political waffling on locations. Men,” she muttered. “So worried about how things look, that they undermine getting everything to look right.”
“I’d know nothing about that,” Mercu offered with a chuckle.
⁃ ◇ ❖ ◇ ⁃
Katrisha glanced across the ballroom. She had begun to lose interest in balls some years before. She loved the dresses the women wore, the grace of some of the dancers, but the pomp and posturing had worn thin on her. She was also not terribly fond of dancing any more herself, though perhaps it was the game implied with the coming of age. She had other interests, the whole thing seemed a frivolous distraction, and she had enough of those.
As much as she admired many of the dresses she had rejected all of the options presented to her, and gone for her finest formal black robe, with silver trim. She wore her favorite silver pin, gemmed with green glass. While cheap in fact it held up quite well in practice.
She had accepted, with less reluctance, a loan of emerald cuff earrings, and and a necklace to match. Her hair was up, held in a bun with pins. On the whole she looked like a more refined version of her usual self. She had successfully avoided being asked to dance, and stood along a wall simply watching the affair absently.
Millarae had largely dominated her brother’s time on the dance floor, and Katrisha was oddly heartened by how much the girl adored him. That he showed her a remarkable amount of deference stood in odd contrast to Katrisha’s usual opinion of the boy. Certainly it seemed he had some virtues that had escaped her, though she was little more capable of naming them for the observation.
Katrisha sipped her drink, and began idly forming an arrangement of orbiting spheres. This drew passing attention from the other guests near her. She quickly became lost in her idle entertainment, and barely noticed as someone approached her.
“I do not believe I have seen you dance at all tonight,” Charles commented.
It took Katrisha a moment to even realize the words had been meant for her, and she gave the hand being held out to her a rather curious glance. “I would not wish to deprive your sister of a partner,” she opened with, in an attempt to politely reject the extended offer.
“She has already found one,” Charles said gesturing across the ballroom where Millarae danced with a young man of about her age.
Katrisha considered her options, found a place to set her drink, and rather than dispel her array of spheres, scattered them out into a slow moving cloud around them. She raised an eyebrow, and took the hand, permitting Charles to lead her onto the dance floor. “I never had the impression,” she began as the song started, and Charles took her other hand, “that you, and I were on such amiable terms.”
“We’ve certainly had our issues,” Charles answered, “but you, I believe made the first efforts long ago to mend that.”
“And you have continued to bungle matters,” Katrisha counterrd frankly.
“Through no intention, I assure you,” Charles replied as they moved through the crowd that gave some space to Katrisha’s orbiting light show. “I admit though that I have little understood how to speak with you.”
“Presumptions, I think have always been your problem,” Katrisha offered. “You presume that the world is, as you have been taught.”
“To be fair,” Charles countered, “I have been taught, what I have been taught. Am I to think otherwise?”
“Are you incapable of considering things for yourself, and reading of your own accord?”
“Fair,” Charles offered, with some displeasure to admit. Failing to find a good argument he moved on. “My mother, and sister certainly think highly of you.”
“Curious,” Katrisha said. “I barely know either.”
“Ah, but they have made it their business to know of you,” Charles countered.
“Mother’s reasons are her own, but I think you, and your sister have become something of an inspiration to Millarae. She has refused all efforts to dissuade her from practicing with the guard trainees. At first of course they would go easy on her, when she would jump into a practice against orders, and start swinging. I hear however, that she has begun to require more serious effort to avoid embarrassing them. My father is fuming that it has been permitted, my uncle disgusted with her behavior. He even gave the order to knock her down in any way that wouldn’t leave a mark, which has only lead to her getting better,” he laughed lightly. “Mother I think has made peace with it at least.”
“Have you spared with her?” Katrisha asked.
“I have. No challenge, but I have many years on her,” Charles offered.
“You do not think it is merely because she is a girl then?” Katrisha challenged.
“She is younger, yes, but you are both of these as well, and have bested me.”
It seemed only a slight dodge. Katrisha let it slide. “No excuses this time?”
“Less an excuse, than a fact,” Charles answered. “You are still the only opponent I have faced armed with a stave.”
“We could try again,” Katrisha offered. “Perhaps in the morning?”
“Not enough dancing tonight?” Charles asked with nervous humor.
“More fun in the ring, I’m allowed to knock you on your rear,” Katrisha countered.
“Won’t you be busy though?”
“The wedding is not for another day,” Katrisha protested. “Are you making excuses?”
“Only making sure.” Charles laughed uncomfortably.
⁃ ◇ ❖ ◇ ⁃
Rahst 1st, 647 E.R.
It was very early, but this had not stopped a collection of curious onlookers from gathering. Word had spread quickly of a duel proposed between the young mage who had fought a dragon, and the heir of Wesrook. Many whispers had curiously mentioned that it had been arranged over a dance, and the novelty of that alone had something of a draw.
Katrisha, for once, had been up very early, and been waiting for Charles for some time. She was meditating as the crowd had gathered. Meditation had never been her strong suit, so she was surprised to notice that she had missed the gathering, and Charles’ arrival. She did her best to hide her foggy frame of mind as she glanced about.
Katrisha considered that there was quite a royal audience at the front. The Duchess of Wesrook, and Millarae were behind Charles. The King, Crown Prince, and Maraline to her left. The Princess looked as though she was worried that her maid of honor might be bruised for her wedding day, in spite of Katrisha’s assurances that she could heal anything unsightly. In of course the implausible event Charles could even land a blow.
The groom to be, and the sitting Duke Parin were to Maraline’s right. Mercu stood a few steps behind, and had an uncharacteristic expression that was hard to read. Something less than jovial, shrewd certainly. She doubted he entirely approved of her little challenge, but had kept his silence. He had no power to dissuade her, and wouldn’t think to do so now that a crowd had gathered. Katrisha was less certain of the rest of the gathered onlookers, but she intended to put on a good show. Mercu might not approve, but he had certainly taught her showmanship.
“So, sticking with sword and shield?” Katrisha asked as charles moved to arm himself. She lept up, and struck a fighting stance, a little more exaggerated to be showy. “The stave does still have the advantage of reach.”
“Though you said I was the only one you’ve fought with a stave,” Katrisha observed teasingly.
“Wasn’t really proper matches, just pointers.”
“And have you beaten Horence?” Katrisha asked.
“Once,” Charles said.
“Twice,” Katrisha smiled, and bowed to her opponent.
“Who opens?” Charles asked, and bowed himself.
“The one with the guts,” she taunted, and before Charles could set himself to it, she had already struck. He was more than able to catch her blow, the shield providing defensive advantage, where the stave had reach.
Charles of course could not remain defensive, and maintain face, so made his own cautious move. This was easily deflected into a counter strike, taken again loudly by his shield. Neither move had been serious, not merely testing, but there was an unspoken showmanship that went with dueling before a large crowd. You open slow, not merely to avoid overcommitting, but also to not finish quickly.
The following series of traded blows were faster than the first. Charles parried with his practice sword, and tried instead an attack with the shield. Early for such an opening gambit, but the surprise did earn him more effort, and some dramatic movement by Katrisha to deal with the threat. Charles attempted to exploit this and get a thrust in, but she evaded it, and brought her staff around hard into another successful block.
“No magic,” Charles taunted.
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” Katrisha laughed, and another series of quick blows were traded, parried, blocked. Katrisha made ample use of the flexibility of the staff to deflect a blow, and carry through an attack with the other end. Charles easily dealt with this, the independance of the sword, and shield showing advantage.
Katrisha came down from above with a swing, Charles brought himself under the wild move, blocking above, and thrusting forward, but Katrisha was already out of the way of the thrust, and flicked the sword away with the other end of the staff.
“Sure you aren’t using magic?” Charles laughed.
“Magic,” Katrisha said, “is spells. The gift is in the blood, the bone, and the flesh.”
They exchanged more blows quickly to no advantage. “Still seems like cheating to me,” Charles said.
“Would you have me hold back? Tie a hand behind my back?” Katrisha chided. “You even use a bit of gift yourself, the blood of dukes, and all that. Nothing worth training for magic, but I can read your stronger strikes before you make them, because you are channeling it. Typically, I expect you would think you have an advantage in strength, being a man.” She moved quickly, striking several times with great force, and pushing Charles onto defense. “But I have the greater gift by far, so I can actually hit harder than you.”
“Still sounds like cheating,” Charles countered.
“Whatever helps you save face,” Katrisha laughed, and parried a series of his blows with no thought to counter any of them. “Here, let me help. I will tie a hand behind my back, more or less.” She threw out a series of light orbs with sweeps of her staff that hovered around the edge of the ring. “I’ll maintain these, while fighting you. Just a little distraction to keep things interesting. Of course if you get distracted by them too, that’s your problem.”
Charles dubiously tried several more attacks, but found Katrisha still more than capable. He hardly trusted that what she had just done did not help her in some way. She had however been honest, it was a distraction to do so, but the temptation to have some fun crept in. She absorbed some of the force from every blow she blocked, storing it off into the orbs, making new ones if any showed signs of overloading.
“What are you up to?” Charles asked after their dance had gone on a while longer.
“Just a little fun,” Katrisha smiled. “Nothing I’ll use on you, promise. Really quite distracting. I might have to start trying to fight you soon.”
Charles got more aggressive at the taunting, and true to her word Katrisha did have to start struggling with some of his blows, but not so much as to keep her from counter attacking frequently. One particular parry let her get her staff behind his shield to strike his shoulder, and knock him off balance. She parried a counter stroke that he tried anyway, and swept his leg landing him on his rear.
Exhilarated Katrisha came out of the sweep, and struck the ground hard, using all the stored energy she had to launch herself upward spectacularly, shattering the spheres, and cresting a good ten feet in the air. She lacked the actual grace to control the resulting tumble, and had to use magic to correct it. She shed the force of her fall into the air around her as she landed some distance behind the already downed Charles. In truth she nearly toppled from the landing, but quick use of her stave for balance made the whole thing look quite nearly flawless.
She huffed several times wondering what had come over her. It had felt so natural, riding a wave of adrenaline, but it had been wildly impetuous. The stunned crowd started clapping for the finish. Katrisha straightened up, and walked over to offer Charles her hand. “Sorry, got carried away.”
He took the hand reluctantly. “Shall we try that again, without showing off?” He said.
“If you insist,” Katrisha laughed, “but it will only go worse for you.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“What do you all say?” Katrisha hollered, turning to look over the crowd. “Would you like an encore? Without the flourish?”
“With!” Someone yelled back.
“I’ll take another challenger after I give Charles his boring round,” Katrisha laughed. Mercu’s expression underwent a barely perceptible shift. “Or three!” She turned back, and bowed to Charles, who returned it. Already warmed up the two went quickly into real attacks, no longer really needing to test the other. It was evident to Katrisha that Charles was putting everything he had into the match then, and she kept it simple, making sure that there was no chance it looked as though she did anything but fight him fair, and square. However in simple truth he was at a disadvantage.
The match ended almost the same – save no dramatic aerial performance – but with a twirl that took her out of the path of a swing, and brought her staff behind Charles, knocking him forward. She offered him her hand again, and he took it.
“Let’s hear a round for Charles,” Katrisha said, and there was some modest clapping, though more enthusiastic from his sister. “Alright. I’ll need three volunteers. Let’s help the boy save some face by showing what I can really do. I’m the girl who fought a dragon, who wants a go?” What had become at times a thing of some embarrassment, right that moment, high from victory, was an almost giddy badge of honor.
The knight commander of South Rook stepped forth, as did two of the guard. “You sure it’s a fair fight?” he asked.
“Only one way to find out,” Katrisha laughed, and grinned a bit impishly. “But I will be going all in this time, magic and all. Nothing too rough of course.”
The commander nodded. “Alright, swords, and shields boys.”
“Little more room everybody,” Katrisha yelled out. “Don’t want any bystanders getting in the way.” She rolled her shoulders, and the three men armed with practices swords, and shields surrounded her. Her barrier went up, a simple enough spell that would slow anything inert except her own stave, which she quickly enchanted to counter the effect. She made sure though not to slow the incoming attacks too much, just for the sake of show. It would give her a strong advantage, but not directly tip off ungifted observers what was going on.
“Gentlemen first.” Katrisha laughed, and bowed. Her three opponents returned it, though only two were in view. Taking Katrisha’s comment as an instruction the commander opened. His attacks were testing, and no real threat. “Come on,” Katrisha chided the other two, “join in. I want to make this interesting.”
The barrier slowed the strikes of her attackers just enough to allow Katrisha to deflect two separate blows with a single swing. To them it felt as though they were striking molasses, and they could feel a chill in their blades. The guard behind her, seeing she was distracted tried for obvious advantage, only to find his thrust parried, as Katrisha could sense it entering her field. Though she largely had to guess where precisely the strike was, her staff made a broad sweep effective.
She turned into the single opponent, gave him a quick thrust to the chest that he failed to block, and put him on his rear. Pulling out of her previous attack, she came around again with a wave of force stored up in her barrier. This knocked the other guard from his feet, and staggered the commander.
She dueled with the commander momentarily for fun, while the other two got back up. He was good, much better than her, and in a fair fight she wouldn’t have stood a chance, but she wasn’t arranging a fair fight, she was showing off. He was also gifted, even more so than Charles, which was still to his disadvantage. She could read his moves before he made them, while he had to read her body language, and tells. Something that decades of experience made him quite good at.
On the whole Katrisha suspected the man to be Horence’s equal at least, if not slightly his better. He did not however have the same talent for reading the moves of gifted, and this in turn was in Katrisha’s favor. On the whole it was only managing two other opponents that was making it a nearly fair fight.
Katrisha felt another strike coming from behind, and dodged, sweeping the leg of the second guard who had only just gotten back up, and returning him to the ground. She struck the back of the man who had come from behind, and pushed him forward, forcing the commander to back off. All three were then in front of her. She brought her staff around for several more swings with reach, each of which were parried. She made a move that was better to dodge than block, and forced the commander into position for a blow of force that teetered him, and forced the others to the ground. He almost recovered before her next staff swing brought him down.
Katrisha bowed again, and the crowd clapped. “Now that,” she laughed. “Is how you cheat.” She offered a hand to a guard who was still down, and then to the commander. “Thank you,” she said, “I’ve never gotten to do that before.” He did not look particularly more pleased.
Katrisha walked over to Maraline who was particularly enthusiastic with her applause. She curtsied to the princess. “So, still worried about me being marked up for tomorrow?”
“No, but I do have some concerns about my other guests,” Maraline laughed.
“Why?” Katrisha grinned, “I’ll protect them.”
“But who ever will protect them from you?”
“Their own good sense not to fight me?” Katrisha suggested.
“After today, I should hope.”
⁃ ◇ ❖ ◇ ⁃
Rahst 2nd, 647 E.R.
The wedding was a lovely affair. Far grander than anything Katrisha had witnessed, and even for all the regal airs it did touch something in her. Still, even a more spectacular ball than the one which had first welcomed the wedding party to South Rook, could not hold her interest for very long. She had heard that there would be fireworks, and retreated to a higher floor, where from years past she recalled a public balcony.
The view out over South Rook was a lovely thing, and for a moment it brought Katrisha some peace. Though a moment of calm from the storm growing in her mind, only provided opportunity for her to grapple with what was truly troubling her. She was happy for Maraline, she was, she assured herself. There was no question in her mind that Lukus was dear to her, and that she would be content in South Rook. It was South Rook that bothered her.
Katrisha remembered all too well the conversation that she and her sister had overheard in that very spot years before. The schemes of a duke and baron to elevate criminals, and blame the innocent. As distasteful as that aspect was, it was her sister that bothered her. Kiannae was gone, somewhere far away. That was if she still lived, and Katrisha had to believe her sister had not come to some terrible end. Yet believing so at that moment took far more effort that she was comfortable with. Effort, that if Laurel’s theories were correct, Kiannae had not given to imagining Katrisha could have survived. She waffled from sorrow, to anger, and then settled on thoughts of Maraline.
She was honored, and touched that Maraline had chosen her to stand as maid of honor, but also troubled by it. Katrisha was unsure if she really considered Maraline a friend, but if she was not, then Katrisha had to accept she had none. Wren counted, surely, even if he was blood, but the distinction whittled away at the thin comfort.
Even if Maraline was Katrisha’s friend, she would no longer reside at court on Broken Hill, and Wren lived in the north with Renae. The wedding meant that Katrisha would be alone, with no confidant at all, save Laurel and Mercu. However much she loved each they were like fathers to her, not the easy comfort of friendship, or her bond with her sister.
“I thought I saw you head up into the tower,” Charles commented behind her. She was almost startled, but even distracted by her own thoughts, on some level she had known someone had approached, and stood there for some time. Maybe even on some level knew who, Charles did have gift enough that his presence gave a unique impression. Not unlike the feel of soft piled hay, a fleeting memory from a childhood home long gone.
Katrisha turned irritably to the young man, who for his part looked to her with none of the venom she offered. He wore a kind smile, and regal attire appropriate to the day’s festivities. His blond hair was swept to the side, and on the whole he was very put together. For just a moment she could forget how often in her life he had annoyed her. He had been trying so very hard to be better it seemed, yet she was ill at ease to release the grudges she held.
“I sought solitude,” Katrisha began, but then thought better of it, “and have come to question if I truly desire it.” She was not inclined to encourage Charles to remain, nor as she thought on it entirely ready to be alone anymore. She leaned against the rail, and crossed her arms, giving him a look she couldn’t have read herself.
“Tell me what it is you would prefer,” Charles offered.
“That I have any friends left in this world,” she offered in confidence that she immediately reconsidered.
“Surely you are Maraline’s friend,” Charles questioned, “she did name you her maid of honor.”
“She and I,” Katrisha began with some reservation, “are somewhat in the same predicament. I’m not sure if either of us would readily say friend of the other, save to be polite, and not split hairs unnecessarily. Yet what real confidence we have, I cannot say. No, perhaps I am unfair. She has often offered me confidence more than once regarding her beloved, now husband. I’ve had nothing similar to offer in kind, nor do I know if I would have. However much we have been raised in the same court, I feel none the less like we are part of different worlds.”
“I see,” Charles nodded, and stepped further onto the balcony. He leaned on the rail a respectful distance away. “Who has my confidence, I am also less than certain,” he offered. “I’ve sparring partners certainly,” he said thoughtfully, “and a camaraderie of sorts that comes naturally with my fellow heirs.”
“What of Philip?” Katrisha pressed. “The two of you have always seemed quite amiable.”
“Perhaps,” Charles seemed quite dubious on the suggestion. “Yet what interests do we really share? Polite conversation over affairs of a nation that one day will actually be our responsibility? He’s more favorable of the views my father holds than his cousin, or you…or the King. It seems a losing proposition altogether.”
“Do I hear doubt in your voice for Clarion teaching?” Katrisha asked cautiously.
“Doubt…certainly,” Charles offered. “Who in this world is without doubt? Yet who am I to question, and all the more who am I to ignore that my betters question. I cannot say that I do not find a sense of peace in the teaching, and yet there is so much fire that belies the harmony promised.”
“Life is suffering,” Katrisha mused.
“Not words I would imagine to hear from your lips,” Charles pressed curiously.
“And why wouldn’t I?” Katrisha countered. “My sister is lost to me, and I must cling defiantly to the hope that she lives. I have no true friends, save my own brother who spends much of the year far away. Further I have not felt entirely right since the mountain.”
“Surely your injuries were an ordeal, and the strain of the circumstances would linger,” Charles suggested kindly.
“I keep feeling it is more.” Katrisha shook her head. “That something other than the obvious is wrong. Not even the shadow of a war that ever looms, but never comes, seems to answer the call of what troubles me. I find that… I am drifting, losing focus. That time sometimes slips by, and I fail to even notice.”
“You seemed focused enough in our duel,” Charles countered, “or when you defeated three grown men, expertly trained to fight.”
“When I have something to focus on,” Katrisha said, “particularly something as invigorating as a sparring, it is not so difficult.”
“Does conversation help?”
“It would seem,” Katrisha consented, and looked back out over the city.
“Then perhaps I will remain here with you.”
Katrisha glanced at the young man. She was still not sure she liked him at all, but there was something pleasant in the way he looked at her. She nodded, and turned back to the city. “As you will.”
A series of fireworks began to light the darkening sky, and as lovely as they were, Katrisha found herself closing her eyes, and listening to the sound. She felt a hand beside hers on the rail, nothing quite so forward as to place it atop hers. She barely looked down, somewhat willfully ignored that Charles had moved closer, and returned to the display in the sky.
⁃ ◇ ❖ ◇ ⁃
Rhaeus 12th, 647 E.R.
Laurel considered with some curiosity the complex array of orbs that buzzed about Katrisha’s tower chamber. It filled most of the room, and was to his eye the most detailed recreation of the solar system he had ever seen, rivaling anything he had ever done himself. Planets, moons, and even asteroids moved along projected arcs, and a great many arcane symbols followed, or labeled the courses. Though he recognized most of the symbols, the notation meant nothing to him. It seemed likely something of Katrisha’s own devising.
He dodged planets as he made his way towards where Katrisha sat, seemingly absent mindedly in bed. His passage slightly disrupted the projected paths, but seemed to do little to the overall function of the spell. He stopped to consider a number of runes that moved on their own curious paths not seeming to label anything obvious, but quickly became more concerned with Katrisha’s acknowledgement of his presence.
Taking less care to avoid the moving parts of the spell he waked to Katrisha’s bed. Still she just sat there, staring distantly past the center of the room.
“Katrisha?” Laurel pressed, and received no response. He grabbed her by the shoulders gently, still nothing. He gave a light shake. “Kat, wake up.”
Still Katrisha sat there unblinking, and Laurel could barely have cared less as a large planet and accompanying moons crashed into him, and dissolved in swirls of light that washed over them.
Katrisha blinked, and looked around. “What?” she asked.
Laurel got down on his knees. “Are you alright?”
“I think so,” Katrisha seemed confused. “What’s going on?”
“That’s my question,” Laurel demanded.
“What?” Katrisha looked around even more confused.
“What were you doing?” Laurel asked in a measured tone.
“I wasn’t doing anything…I…” She looked bewildered. “I was just laying down for a nap.”
“When was the last time you ate?” Laurel asked befuddled, and worried.
“Breakfast,” Katrisha answered.
“Go get some lunch,” Laurel ordered, and Katrisha nodded somewhat absently. She got up, and Laurel got out of her way as she walked out of the room. There were no traces of the spell, and Laurel was less than certain if she had dispelled it, or if it’s decay had been what had finally woken her.
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