Monthly Archives: March 2013

by

Augustus 14, 357

(Various sketches for a suit of armor cover this page, each one bearing a bold charcoal outline and light shading within.  The margins are lined meticulously with instructions for mixing and working the metal for varying degrees of protection and malleability, and the items themselves seem to be of a vaguely exotic yet practical design.

Below the suits of armor, the author has sketched several swords in distinctly Farin styles, with curved blades and disc-hilts, some of which have knucklebows attached.  At the very bottom of the page, standing apart in a reckless, hasty script, is a single fragmented sentence.  A single line of thought.)

Dangers ahead.  Magic, deception.  What preparations?

by

Undated Entry

I remember a dull pain between my ears, accompanied by an incessant ringing, like a high-pitched flute played by a bard with unending breath.  Below that sound, I hear the low, deep thunder of hooves beating against the Plains.  I do not know how many hours, or even days, I have been unconscious, but my right eye is completely swollen shut.  When I manage to open my left, the world seems to have been turned on its end and all its colors washed together:  grey sky, yellow grass,  diffused splashes of orange.  I glimpse a pair of approaching feet, but by the time they grow near, I have already lapsed halfway back into nothingness.

I remember something pressing against my lips, and the cool salvation of water trickling down my parched throat.

When I come-to again, I am surrounded by the black of late evening.  I attempt to lift myself up, only to realize that my wrists are bound behind my back.  My ankles, too, are lashed together.  The world spins around me, though I can scarcely see it, with one eye useless and the other hindered by the dark.  Too tired to rise again, I begin to crawl toward the silhouette of the horizon.  Perhaps my captors won’t see me, I think to myself foolishly, with all the good sense of a young man half-battered to death.

Suddenly, I hear a young woman’s voice speak up behind me.  She barks two short words in a commanding, foreign tongue, and a few moments later, I feel a sudden pain against my ear.  This time, I do not lapse but lurch back into nothingness.

Weeks later, once my eye had begun to heal, I would spot her in my periphery from time to time, picking orange poppies or riding bareback on her dapple grey.  She couldn’t be older than sixteen or seventeen, I remember thinking.  She had long flaxen hair that reached the small of her back and eyes that were clear and blue as day.  Skin smooth, young, and fair.  Is that curiosity in her expression, I would sometimes wonder?  Or merely mild distaste?  Is she studying me, perhaps?  The young man with the dark skin and dark hair, who is far too tall to have come from Vandago…

And, just maybe, I remember being curious about her, too.

by

Of Uncertainty and Certainty

(The following letter is written in a tight, purposeful script across a sheet of parchment smudged here and there with black soot.)

To my dearest sister, who lives in Talfore:

Arlais, I hope you will forgive me for writing again so soon without waiting for a response after my last letter.  Much has happened in the past two weeks that I wish to share with you.  And, thinking back on my previous words, I hope you will forgive me for being so… ambiguous, self-centered, and even a bit meandering.  I have included a small gift for you this time, by way of apology:  a basket of ripe apples, a container of dried apples, and three containers of dried herbs, all from the orchard behind Edessan Blades.  Which reminds me, did I ever tell you that I relocated?  I have not been back to my cottage on Montford Way in some weeks, as the Commander has allowed me the use of her home behind the shop while she is away.  It is a far more comfortable living arrangement and the location is ideal.  As well, the Town Hall Courier is only a short ride away.

I picked the ripe apples myself, but the dried apples and herbs were prepared by Miss Shaylei le Orban, whom I believe I alluded to in my previous letter.  By the time this missive reaches you, she and I will have been friends for nearly three-quarters of a year.  How much has changed in so short a span of time!  There are moments when I feel as though I have been swept up in some current, one which spins me around and takes me to unexpected places… sometimes to meet unexpected people, for better or for worse.

Now, I do not wish to alarm you, but on the 23rd of last month, there was an incident at the tavern near the shop.  The Queen’s Inn, it’s called.  I was relaxing among some fellows, when a man in a green cloak burst in, holding a young woman hostage under his knife.  He threatened to kill her if one of those present, the Baron le Orban, did not give him what he wanted.  A key of some kind, apparently, though I know not to what.  The Baron and a man in his service, named Astartes, managed to save the girl, but the cloaked figure, known as the Tenebrae, was able to escape unharmed.  The Tenebrae is widely regarded as the leader of the Brotherhood of Common Goods and is considered an extremely dangerous, ruthless man.

But here is what concerns me most, Arlais.  Before the Tenebrae escaped, he made a vile threat against Miss Shaylei’s life.  I cannot tell you how angry I was that he had made such a threat and then escaped with his own skin in tact.  As angry as I have been in some time, I can tell you.  But, looking back upon the incident, I am not sure there was much to be done for it.  Evidently, there are some who think Lord le Orban and his man should have run the Tenebrae through, even at the cost of the young woman’s life.  What do you think, sister?  Was it right to prioritize saving the hostage over capturing a known and dangerous criminal?  What if there are others who die by his hand, because he was allowed to flee unhindered?  As for myself, I doubt I would have–or could have–sacrificed the girl… but I cannot help but wonder whether that makes me a fool or perhaps merely weak.

I believe I may have been unnecessarily insubordinate to Lord le Orban, as well.  In my anger and frustration, I rounded on him afterward in a way that was admittedly… less than becoming of a Knight.  We spoke again a week or so later, and I apologized.  He told me that he didn’t think the Tenebrae would act upon the threat that was given.  Yet, he made arrangements to help Miss Shaylei secure protection, all the same.  It would seem he is saying one thing but thinking another.  Were I clever enough to understand why.  And it irks me, something he said:  that I could not possibly be more concerned about Miss Shaylei’s safety than he.  This temperamental nobleman who always seems as though he must have the last word.   If it weren’t for his relationship to Miss Shaylei and her fondness for him, I should care a great deal less about his esteem.  And I think that, if anything, the incident at the Queen’s Inn has shown me just how deeply I do care for her.

I cant bear the thought of something happening to her, Arlais.  These past few months especially, they are more than I could have imaged or have hoped for, coming to this city.  They have changed… everything.  Just as the seasons stole away the dreary winter and replaced it with the colors of spring–that is what it was like, when Miss Shaylei entered my life and became my friend.  Before, I thought only to fight for high ideals and to make up for past wrongs; now it is flesh and blood that drives me to be a better man.  Around her, I feel almost human.

In time, if and when I am promoted to Esquire, I think I will ask Harith for his permission to court Miss Shaylei le Orban.  What do you think of that, Arlais?  Of course you do not know Miss Shaylei personally, but from what little I have told you of her so far, do you think you would be supportive of such a thing?  I have already hinted to Harith that she has family in the business of trade, who are looking for southern markets.  Do you think Harith would be more apt to agree to such a union, if it brought our family wealth and northern connections?  It certainly is the Farin way, and our family has never shirked from marrying across the duchies.  But… I get get ahead of myself, dear sister.  I still worry over my relationship with Miss Shaylei’s noble cousin, who is acting as her guardian while she remains in the city.  And of course, there is the matter of my status within the Knights.  I work myself ragged trying to improve myself and to impress the Earl Marshall with my progress, but I have hardly had a glimpse of him in these past few months.  Somehow, I was able to make an audience with the new Cardinal of Lithmore, and yet, I cannot seem to get the attention of my own leader in the Knights Lithmorran.  I wonder why that is, when there are so few active Knights at present?  Perhaps there is something ill in my own timing that I should be concerned about?

Well, that is enough mulling for now, I think.  No doubt you’ve tired of it already, even with your level of patience.  In better news, I have sold three sets of armor in the past month, which is more business than I could have hoped for in such a short span of time.  It feels as though some of my hard work around the forge has finally begun to pay off.  Soon, I shall be able to send you a pretty silk shawl that you deserve and some toys for the children, lest I fall out of favor as brother and uncle, respectively.  It also means that I will be able to supply the Knights Lithmorran with adequate weapons, should they be required… but I’ll save that topic for another letter.

I miss you a great deal, Arlais.  I hope all is well and that you will forgive me for being such a self-centered sibling.  And do give your husband my best.

By my hand this Arendas, Augustus 3, in the year of Our Lord, 357,
Your loving brother,

A_____ de R______