| Latest Posts | Zaelia - Side Stories VI: Arrendale
The Baroness
As she descended down the grand staircase of the manor. a sombre expression on her face, her eyes fell over the spot upon the floor. A clean spot, where dust refused settle, even after months. An area the Baroness of Arrendale could not bare to approach after the first. As she looked, she fingered the amulet around her neck in habit. The only semblance of humanity left to her. A string tied to her throat that threatened to snap each time she moved. Her clothes were simple, and beginning to get slightly worn. Her boots still dirty from the days before, when she toiled the fields. She had found many books in the large library of the manor, but stark few on farming. Fewer still on the agriculture of grapes. She did not have much anymore. She abandoned her home, her friends, so had worked with a single-minded determination, simply for something to fill the long lonely days that would continue for her evermore. She pushed open the doors to the manor, to find her courtyard a buzz with noise and chatter. A group of around fifty or so people were there. All grew silent, as she looked out to group. People, some in tattered clothes, some in well-worn and clean clothes. Some looking hungry, some looking tired, some looking like they wanted a fresh start. She stared out at them questioningly. As she looked into they bright soulful eyes, she felt nothing in return in her dark, indifferent ones. Soon, after a few moments, a man came forward. "Good Morning Your grace. I am Samuel" He paused for a moment, as the Baroness now stared at him.".. and umm.. this is my wife and boy.". Two more people came forward. The woman curtsied, and the boy bowed awkwardly. "We are simple people, looking for fortune and heard that you were trying to revitilise this here land, and start something new." Samuel continued, only to stop again, at the stare being put on him by the Baroness. She finally realised, as she looked out to the others faces. They looked afraid of her. The Baroness finally spoke. Her face remained emotionless, her eyes still indifferent, " Does anyone here know how to grow grapes?". Her voice carried over the entire group, and there was a pause... a long pause. A man with a gruff voice and badly kept beard raised his hand. "I fink I know the basic idea, Y-yer grace." The man then awkwardly bowed, almost tripping on his feet. Soon, more hand began to rise amongst them. Some even raised tools they carried from their belongings. The Baroness nodded, and began to walk down the steps and past the group towards the vineyard. The group continued to stare, stock-still as she passed. The Baroness turned around, an impatience in her eyes. "Come along, we shall work still noon, eat and then try and restore some of those houses in the town.". She turned around again, and continued to stalk away. "I prefer to keep my home to myself.". ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( The Baroness finished scrubbing the dining room floor, wiping her brow of non-existent sweat. A gesture brought out by habit, and goes unnoticed by her mind. Just this morning, the Baroness had been unceremoniously banished from her own vineyard, after her new subjects had decreed that it was unbecoming of their noble baroness to dirty her hands in the fields. She did not know what to make of this. Should she be angry, insulted, or pleased and humbled? Their first crop of Heathfyrd's Red wine had been matured and sold just a month ago to various areas around Bulund, and the Baroness had handed a lion's share of the profits back to her subjects. Half of her own share had then been used to arm Alwen's guards with suitable mail and spears. Most of her guards were older citizens of Bastion, who wished for an early retirement in a scenic and quiet town. But others were simply newcomers. Some were bandits, former law-abiders thrown from their farms and homes by the changes to the realms, some were youngsters who wanted a home and coin, even some former mercenaries. The Baroness' indifference to these people caused her to turn away no one who came to her lands. There had been three such instances of trouble over the last year. Three times these instances were dealt with by the Baroness with force and violence. She remembered the looks of fear and surprise in her citizen's eyes, as the trouble-makers were put to her sword. The Baroness found no space in her heart for regret anymore. Those who stood in her way would be dealt with with force, if only to send a message. She expected her subjects to think badly of her, to leave her lands for somewhere safer. Instead, they looked at her with respect and adoration. A strong ruler, who would not quibble and politic, but take action. The Baroness' feet had taken her out of her manor, and to her dilapidated stable, which housed a single horse. Raspberry looked up from his hay, and eyed her shrewdly, munching away at his food. The Baroness gave him a quick look, then went to collect his grooming implements. She groomed him thoroughly in the silence of the stable. Raspberry, an obnoxiously bad-tempered horse was growing accustomed to his new quiet life. Even when his mistress rode him, he wouldn't try and throw her off at every opportunity. His current owner had never tried to over work him, or tried to hurt him physically without cause. But, he could sense something had changed in her. His attempts to annoy or vex her often ended in failure, and there was no outcry of indignation as there had been in the past. He was often regarded with a cool, indifferent gaze for a moment, and then nothing. He did not yet know how he felt about this. The silence of the stable had begun to fade, as a small buzz of noise had entered it from behind the stable door. "She's just groomin' 'er 'orse.". "Go then, ask 'er Tommy.". "No, yer go ask her.". The Baroness hid a smile, something Raspberry took note of. The not-so-quiet whispers of what seemed like a group of children could be clearly heard by both occupants of the stable. Finally, the group appeared. 2 sons and 2 daughters of her new citizens stepped nervously into the stable. A boy of about ten stepped forward to the stare placed on them by the baroness, and cleared his throat. ".. h-hallo Yer Grace. I-I'm Harvey-". The Baroness laid her brush down, and took a step out of Raspberry stall. She looked down at Tommy,an eager boy. Always out and about the town. The Baroness could not think of a time she had not seen Harvey moving or running. " Samuel's Son." She looked among the others there. Betha, a quiet, shy girl whose eyes were always hidden behind her brown locks. Gwri, a smaller boy named for his gold hair by his adoptive mother. The last one was Fianna. She and her family were some of the newer citizens of her lands. Harvey, was quiet as the Baroness looked among him and his friends, a rare sight. Finally, Betha spoke up. "We want to go on adventures when we're older.". Her voice quivered. "..a-and c-could you tell us about your adventures... your Grace.". Harvey piqued up suddenly. " an-and teach us how t' fight like you do.". The other two children took a step forward, and refused to be cowed by the Baroness' stare. The Baroness finally moved. She gave a small smile, and walked over to her saddle-bags. She removed a large sword from among it's contents. Something she had not moved in a year. She walked past past the bewildered children, and planted the sword into the ground beside the stable. She turned to the children. " Fighting will be taught when all four of you can lift this sword from the dirt here.". She looked down the children, as they looked in awe at the worn old sword. "Stories will be told whenever the mood takes me. I have plenty of spare time, after your parents so graciously banished me from my own fields. Repeat what I said about the sword.". The children, surprised by the sudden order, began to hurriedly repeat what she had said out of order with each other. The Baroness planted them with another cold stare, and then they repeated her words in time with another. "Fighting will be taught when all four of you can lift this sword from the dirt here.". ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( Betha stared in wide-eyed fascination, as the Baroness finished her latest tale. Betha and Fianna were sitting on the floor beneath the step leading to a side to the mansion, a few few feet away Harvey and Gwri were taking turns to lift the Baroness' sword from the ground. The Baroness was sitting on the steps themselves, a small shawl draped over her head to keep the sun off. " Your Grace truly fought the champion of a clan? Back before Valdomr?". The Baroness stared at the four pairs of wide eyes surrounding her. Harvey, stopping from his attempts to pull the sword from the ground to listen, Fianna leaning forward on her knees in eagerness, and Gwri's blue eyes staring in awe. The Baroness sighed. "That is indeed what I said.". "Who-", Fianna began to speak, before the Baroness interrupted with a harsh, angry passion. "It was a tie. I would have won, if we continued.". She shook her head, and sighed. "Nevermind.". After the scene, Gwri took up his turn to try and wrench the sword from the ground. The Baroness watched the small boy arch his back and grunt with the effort. The Baroness looked up at the darkening sky. "What did I say about the sword?". She asked to the children before her. Harvey sighed in exasperation before the children all chorused together, "Fighting will be taught when all four of you can lift this sword from the dirt here.". Harvey stood up, wiping his sweaty brow roughly. "I kno', I kno'. But it's impossible Yer Grace. If I can' do it, how can the other do it?" He waved his hand impatiently to the other three. "No offense in me meaning guys, but I am the bigges' an' the stronges' 'ere. Is this some grown up way o' tellin' us we're to young to learn." Harvey spat, before scowling up at the Baroness. Harvey was beginning to get braver and braver in the Baroness' presence, something which brought her slight amusement. The Baroness hid her smile as she returned Harvey's scowl with her own cold gaze. Harvey began to cow back, as the other children suddenly found great fascination with either the ground, the sky, or their own fingernails. The children felt as though time stood still for hours, as though they were trapped in this uncomfortable moment. Harvey's rudeness holding them in a realm they could never return from, imprisoned by some indifferent entity that cared not for them. Neither to see them suffer or smile. Only to trap them here for it's own amusement... The Baroness finally spoke, releasing them from their entrapment. "I was your age when I started to learn. Some of my friends were younger.". The first drops of rain fell upon the children's shoulders, the heavy sky finally shaking it's weight free. The Baroness sighed. "I think that's enough for today..". She stood up and began to open the door. Betha spoke up suddenly. "Oh please your Grace. If we go back now, we'll have to go home. It's our day off, and it's barely past noon." Betha stepped forward to the steps, seemingly to have gained some sort of accidental bravery. Accidental, as a deep blush began to grow across her cheeks and travel to the tips of her ears. "Y-you promised the whole day.. your Grace.". The Baroness looked down at Betha. She too seemed to be less cowed by her now. A small smile crept to the Baroness' lips, as she turned to open the door behind her. "Come then. Let's go the library. Wait for the rain to pass at least.". The children looked up in surprise to Betha and eagerly hurried to the door to escape the rain.. ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - (
The Smith and The Dressmaker
Gwen stared out across Alwen from the golden sandy shores. The Eastern breeze sweeping her auburn hair across her right shoulder. Her dark eyes squinting and watering in the cold. As the sun began to hide away behind the misty peak of the towering mountains to the west. Gwen had travelled far to reach here. When word had got around that the curse over the Lake had been lifted, right after Bulund had began to change. As the new territories of Bulund were established, more and more people were feeling left out. As strife and conflict grew, Gwen decided to leave her small town and venture forth to something new. There was something she was running from, something that was never far from her mind... Gwen was seamstress. A seamstress who had yet to sell her first dress. She had so far been repairing holes and rips in the farmer's clothes, but she knew it was more of a favour to her than anything else. Some of the kindly wives took pity on her and claimed they were too busy to fix their husbands clothes themselves. Only a fewer of the younger men and women truly needed her. Unfortunately, she had no other trades to ply. She was a terrible cook, weak bodied for farm work, and unable to read and write. All Gwen could offer was her skills at being better than average at sewing. Anger sparked in her eyes as she remembered the moment she had presented her first completed dress to the Baroness. Gwen had worked through the night on the gift. She had presented it publicly, and in the name of gratitude for the home the Baroness had shared with her. She could still remember the Baroness' cold stare at the pale blue dress, it's borders an emerald and brown knot around the hem and neckline. "Is it not a bit too constricting for fieldwork?". Gwen pressed her lips into a fine line, as she remembered how the Baroness had assumed her dress was some labour's outfit. Did she really think her finely made dress was something deserving of the muddy hard work of her farmlands. She wrenched open the door to her home, and slammed the door shut behind her. "I'll bloody show her!" Gwen exclaimed to her empty home. Her previous worries gone as she set about her spindle. ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( Fianna and Betha struggled under pile of work clothes, as they knocked on Gwen's door. They gave strained greetings as the door opened. Gwen watched them dump the pile on the table, before turning to her with exhausted faces. Fianna brushed her hair behind her ear as she handed Gwen a pouch full of gemshards. Gwen smiled to herself as she took the pouch. "Thank you girls, I don't know what I would do without you." She fished a couple of shards from the pouch and gave Betha and Fianna one each. They girls gave breathless, barely understandable thanks. Gwen, walked to her fire place. " I was just making some tea, come sit.". Fianna was the first to catch her breath, and pulled a chair for Betha to sit. Betha and Fianna had become runners for the town since Arrendale's first sale of wine. Somehow, everything had gotten both less busy and more complicated. The two girls had become carriers of messages and objects. Fianna was taking to it quickly, but Betha was having a lot of problems with her new job. She would drop things, tire easily, and sometimes become too nervous to relay messages. Gwen set the tea down as Betha pushed her sweaty hair from her eyes. Gwen didn't know Betha very well, but she had travelled to Arrendale with Fianna's family. She had set aside some material to make both of some dresses. There weren't many children their ages in the town. Most were older and working alongside their parents. Gwen had started to think of both of them as younger sisters, despite never having siblings. Gwen and Fianna began to chat about their day. Fianna chattered to Gwen about her day, the small things like how Harvey tripped over his how that morning, or the fact Gwri had just started work at the smithy across the road. Betha, shy as always, simply sipped her tea and nodded when spoken too. Fianna sipped her tea. "Gwen, have you been making dresses again?". Gwen shook her head and grimaced. "No not yet. Just spinning wool to thread. Just bought some pig's fat from your Father" Gwen nodded to Betha. Betha's father was an adept butcher, and well-known in the small community in Arrendale. Betha continued to look down at her tea. She cleared her throat, and spoke quietly. " I just read a book on sewing. Baroness let us in the library when it was raining last week.". Fianna knew that Betha had taken it upon herself to be a bit more talkative, and overcome her shyness. Unfortunately, Betha had bought up the wrong subject. " Are you going to melt the fat and mix it with soot to make black dye.." Betha began to rattle off her rehearsed lines, until she noticed the older girl's face. Gwen scowled angrily at the table. Fianna looked at Gwen with a worried expression. Gwen shook her head a moment later and smiled. "Oh, that sounds interesting.". She quickly swigged the rest of her tea, and sighed in contentment. "Well, I'd better get back to work.". Gwen immediately stood up, and went to the back of her house to collect pins and thread. After which, Fianna and Betha finished their tea, and were shooed out. Gwen ignored the piles of work clothes that needed stitching, and went straight for a roll of pale blue cloth she had spent part of savings on. After the first shipment of wine had been delivered to Watercrest, a trader caravan had travelled to Arrendale. It had been the full of items that the new residents of Arrendale could not craft themselves. She remembered seeing Culain, from the smithy across from her looking into a mirror that was being peddled. She had thought he was quite a handsome man, but in that moment, as he admired his own reflection in that mirror, Gwen had thought him to be quite a bit conceited. Just simply his expression. It seemed quite obvious he was much too in love with himself to have anymore room in heart for another. Still, he was nice to look at, Gwen had thought as she laid the roll of cloth on her table. ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( Culain hammered down on the his anvil, the horseshoe sparking in the light of the furnace beside him. He gritted his teeth in anger, as he let his frustration and rage out on the curved piece of iron in front him. "...stupid hair? Need to cut it? Damn her!" Culain mumbled under his breath. He threw his head back, throwing his long orange hair back over his head. His mop of hair balled and spiked with sweat and soot like thorny, berry-laden bush. Culain growled again, and threw his last hammer stroke down with the last of his vitriol and roared, before plunging his shoe-laden tong into the ice bucket with a grunt. Gwri finally poked his head out from behind the wooden pillar of the open smithy. The violence of the last ten minutes had sent sparks flying in all directions, leaving a smouldering stink of burnt hair emanating from Culain. Gwri nervously moved from the safety of pillar before the steam of cooling metal. He gulped "Umm.. I like your hair Culain. I honestly think the Baroness was just thinking you might not have noticed, or something.". Gwri shrank from the wrathful glare flung at him from Culain. Culain was heart-breaker. He had always prided his appearance, his lean strong arms, his thin sharp facial features, and his long orange hair. His pride was well-earned, as his travels to Arrendale were to escape the consequences of his string on conquests. Of course he had been rejected a few times in his past, but no one had insulted him like this. ~ His indignation came from an encounter with the Baroness from the previous day. Culain had taken in the visage of the tall, elegant woman who stepped through his doors, her golden hair strewn over her shoulder like a cascading waterfall, her cold blue eyes staring with indifference at him. Culain presented his most dangerous smile. Charming and big, but slightly crooked to give it a mischievous shadow. "Hello there Your Grace, what brings you to my humble little home?". He reached forward and took the Baroness' hand in his own, and brought it to his lips. Culain slowly looked up to the Baroness' face. He saw her small, strong nose, full lips and look of complete disinterest in what was happening.. "I need shoes for my horse. They need replacing." the Baroness withdrew her hand and brought out a small pouch of bulundian crowns. Culain was not deterred, and shook his head the coin. "I cannot take your coin, Your Grace. You have given us so much. A new home, low taxes, and the living embodiment of beauty for a ruler" He went to take her hand again, but grabbed at empty air, as the Baroness had already turned around. "Alright then, I'll like them as soon as possible." As she stopped by the door, she turned around a final time to Culain. Of course she turned around, Culain thought. They always do, just to see that smile one more time. Culain looked to see the Baroness' grimace, "By the way, your hair looks stupid. I think you need to cut it.". Culain stared in amazement at the statement. He speechless, as the critique cut deep into his psyche. he moved his mouth in silence, as the Baroness left before he could formulate a retort, or speak in any kind. "No, your hair is stupid.." He whispered to an empty smithy. Culain stared around stupidly, then growled in frustration at his own ridiculous retort. only pleased by the happenstance that no one had been around to witness it. Well, until Gwri knocked on his door and cleared his throat nervously. "Umm, Is this a bad time Mister Smith?".. ~ He withdrew the horseshoe from the bucket, and flung it to the pile beside it. He had totally forgotten that he had hired this golden-haired youth to help him around the smithy during his passionate forging. His gaze softened as he sighed. "Sorry Gwri, lost myself a bit there." He nodded to the four horseshoes beside the bucket as he wiped his brow. "You want to give those to her judgemental Majesty on her hill?". Culain went to gather some gemshards to pay him for his day's work. He frowned and threw in a few extra shards into a cloth. He was happy they finally had some currency to trade in after they had sold some wine to Watercrest. He turned around to hand Gwri the wrapped shards. Gwri nervously turned drove his left toes into the floor of the dusty smithy, he made a indiscernible noise, and made an uneasy smile. "Culain, the Baroness said we don't have a farrier, so... she wants you to do it." His eyes were looking at the floor, as though he was looking for something. He looked up brightly. "But she said she'd pay you for it.". Gwri saw Culain light up in an instant. He seemed to be smirking. He seemed to have regained something, as whistled his way to gather his tools. "Course she does." Culain chuckled, and walked past Gwri. "Come along lad, I'll teach ya a thing or two about shoeing.. and women." He chuckled again.
The Life and Lies of Gwri Veralaeos
[i]Blood pooled across the chestnut floors, ebbing and flowing around bare feet. It collided with skin, then retreated almost immediately as though in fear. Dull green eyes stared down at the massacre before them, not a glimmer of light in their emerald depths. Silence reigned in that room, a silence so deafening it it seemed to pain the ear of those around, whether they be living or dead...[/i] Gwri woke with a start, the sounds of a crackling fire and the smell of onion stew sent the dream to the furthest reaches of his mind. "Gwri dear, come have your breakfast. You'll need your strength for the day." a old, weak voice called out, coughing as the sentence finished. Gwri climbed out of bed, and walked yawning to the main of their small home. As he entered, he rushed forward to help his adoptive mother, Estrid lift the heaving pot of stew from the fire. "Mother, you heard what the physician said. You should be resting." The fifteen year old boy took the pot from the frail hands that had raised him these past ten years. Estrid grumbled, and abated. "So this is what happens as soon as your poor old mother gets a visit from the doctor? You bully her, and wait to receive your inheritance." She growls. "Bah" She spits and goes to sit at the table, as her able-bodied son begins to ladle soup into bowls. Gwri smiles to himself. His mother was always making jokes about inheritance. They lived in a small wooden house with three rooms west of the town of Arrendale. The house was close to the Lake, and was serenely quiet. It was an especially sought after home, as it was far from the fields. Luckily, no one who lived here worked there. Three year ago, the Baroness came to the fields and grimaced at the old crone working there and banished Estrid to this place. Her reason was that if the old crone died, the drops would be ruined. So she should as far from the fields as possible. A cruel Baroness indeed, forcing Gwri and Estrid from their ramshackle little house in the town to one away from town. Gwri remembered the day he and Baroness were alone one afternoon, his friends busy that day. He was nervous, and quite intimidated, and babbled non-stop at the expressionless woman as she groomed her horse. He remembered saying how the noises of the town were making it hard for his mother to sleep, and the work was leaving her aching. Of how he wished he could help her out. He remembered The Baroness' words to him, after he finished. "Nothing is free in this world." She then asked him to show his arms to her. "Go speak to the Smith, he needs help and I need more smiths.". The next day, they were sent here, with a ridiculous excuse. Gwri finished his breakfast, smiling as his mother continued to curse at him. ".. and you'll never get that inheritance boy.." She broke into a fit of coughing, and Gwri was beside her in an instant. "Mother, please settle down. You can curse me some more after your feeling better, I promise.". Estrid smiled at her son, her shoulders shaking slightly. " I shall hold you to that, my boy.". Gwri got ready for work, and turned to his mother. "Betha will be by later to check on you and make you some lunch.". His mother waved him aside, and he set off. ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - Sweat poured from Gwri, as he swung at the wooden post with his blunt practice sword. The Baroness watched him from the steps, chewing on a piece of dried meat. Harvey stood beside him, in front of an identical wooden post. Betha and Fianna sat beside the Baroness, exhausted from their own turn at the posts. Gwri looked up at the Baroness, her beautiful face bored by the scene in front of her. Gwri could not stand that, he wanted her to look at him. To see him, and praise him. He had always trained as hard as he could. From when he was a short boy, to now where he stood tall. Yet, his teacher always seemed like training him was such a huge burden. It was maddening. His frustration began to show, as he hit the post with more vigor, the sword in his hand jarring his fingers with every blow. He felt the same rage he had spent years suppressing, rising again. The world looked gray now, only him and the post in front of him. His muscled arms swung against the post again and again, as even the sounds around him disappeared. The silence was deafening, until a sound finally broke through. The crunch and the snap of his blade burying it self into the post in front of him and the feeling of his whole body coming to a stop all of a sudden as his reflexes held his lower body in place. He could now hear the concerned cries of his friends. "Gwri, stop already. Your face looks scary." Fianna shouted at him, as his other friends stood back from him, worried. "That was a good stance." The Baroness spoke, breaking him away from the stares of his friends. She then waved them away, the lesson being over for the day. ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - ( o ) - Please log in to add a comment. |
An old key inherited by young, lost girl, cast was adrift in a sea of sorrow and tragedy.
Riddled by a curse which only propagates only more curses, the most recent of which leaves her to spend eternity alone and fighting for her humanity.
The Tales of a slowly growing town, full of people looking for fresh horizons, and working towards the bright and sought-after idea of happiness in new and changing Bulund.
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