Posted: Mon May 26, 2014 4:02 pm
by Simply
The blood lingered behind her eyes. Flashes of red that accumulated drop by drop until a steady stream traveled across her vision. It welled into a pool and completely filled her sight until she sat up, exhaling in a hiss of breath between her teeth. The nightmares had grown worse of late, bringing about a terrible pain beneath her forehead that slipped down behind her eyes. Wearily, she rubbed them and cast a glance at the window. The first flickers of light pressed against the horizon. It would be call soon and she was due to be part of the First Run. The limber woman rose from the straw cot and stretched, quietly literally, every muscle in her body. She touched her toes and lowered herself to the ground, legs apart before pressing her forehead to the floor. In this position, she closed her eyes and inhaled slowly whispering out a soft prayer to nothing or no one in particular, just a hushed word to the ground.
“Temp.” She looked up at the sound of her name and with quick reflects caught the item that was hurled towards her head. She examined it for a moment before taking a bite out of the stale bread that had, just a smidgeon of cheese rubbed across its surface. “Sleep well?” The man’s voice was deep and rough, as though from the cavernous confines of the western mines.
“As I always do.” She said, pushing herself upright and beginning to plait back her hair. The braid was long and black, before she began to twist it upon itself and took the only three pins that she owned and expertly held the hair against the top of her head. The warriors knot – the assassin’s tie – as Kaelet was typically calling it these days. The phrase used to be a point of pride in her life, something that she held on to and flaunted at camp – but now it made her stomach turn. The acidic taste of bile would rise into the back of the throat and linger like a bad houseguest.
“Not well then.” He said and she turned to shoot him a glance, grabbing her black clothing in her left hand and holding them against her side.
“What is it to you?”
“Nothing. But that you toss and your bed scratches the floor a little more each night and the evidence is visible to everyone. Liona will be ready to use it against you when she figures it out.”
“So never then?” She gave him a curled smile, though her eyes grew wary at his words. His response was a smile of his own, beneath the golden hairs of his beard.
“Don’t discredit her. She is powerful.”
“Power and intelligence are not the same, Kael. You know it as well as I.” Her heart kept its steady beat against her chest. Liona was the best equivalent that Temperance had to a rival, to a nemesis. Their feud began as most do – Temp bested her in training and Liona never forgot it. She had fed her hatred on the memory and it had grown into something that others took pleasure placing bets upon. Currently, in combat, Temp was the victory at seven to five, but in mental games she was behind by one. Liona may not be particularly clever but her magical prowess was considerable. But those thoughts were far from her mind as she began to change.
In the Guard, the normal hesitations and taboo associated with changing in front of the opposite sex were strongly discouraged. After all, in combat, everyone was the same. A soldier was a soldier, regardless of whether they had something between their legs or not. Yet, sometimes, Temp felt the pressure of eyes on her when her skin was bare and wanted to erect a shield barrier between her and the offending gaze. Kael must have sensed it – he was excellent at reading people – as he turned and excited the bunk, waiting patiently for her outside.
“Any idea of the targets?” She asked, taking the one step down from the stone structure to the barren ground beneath her feet.
“Rebel spies along the northern plains, next to the mountains.”
“Well chosen spot to pass word through the pass quickly, though far from any decent source of intelligence.” Her brows furrowed considerably. Why would spies be placed so far from Ategrellian cities? Her lips pursed and Kael shot his glance at her. “Relays? Middle-men, though all previous information suggests that they do not use middle-men, more room for error – which obviously makes complete sense and then there is”
“Stop.” Kael chastised her. “You’re fourth rank, not first. Don’t start spouting that off to the others of us in First Run.” To which Temp only rolled her eyes and her shoulders.
“Others in First Run?” She finally caught on and smiled at him. “Nice promotion!” She said, slapping him on the arm. He smiled at her affection and nodded. He was always so serious when they were walking around the Academy. “Though you’ll regret that, when you have to wake up this early every morning for a mission.”
They were promptly given horses and outfitted with a small amount of supplies, along with their four companions – one of which, unfortunately for Temp, was Liona. They could make it to the northern plains in two days, neutralize the targets and be back before the Hearing – whether or not any of the fourth rank would be given privilege into the third rank. Temp wanted to work her way up and part of her narcissism knew that she was better than this work. The travel was quick – little room for conversation and banter. Even Liona was focused on the job, but at times, Temp would cast a glance at her and see something that unsettled her. Excitement.
Swallowing, she slowed her horse to a walk and then a stop as the small house they had been instructed to find lay before them. Behind it were the picturesque mountains of Lorat that created a natural border between Ategrel and Feiucor – the pathetic country of minor magicians. As Temp stared at it, her mind wandered.
Unlike Ategrel, Feiucor’s citizens thrived in magic. Nearly two-thirds of their population had some magical ability – yet, no one ever manifested beyond a simple parlor trick, or at most a gentle rain to water the crops. While Ategrel struggled to find those with such talents - oh, but when they did, were those talents extraordinary. They were whisked off to the Academy, to train for the elite positions within the Ategrellian military. Temp had been sixteen when she was chosen and what an honor it had been. Her family had been showered in gold and gifts and encouraged to bear more children, if possible. She remembered the day, as she looked off in the distance towards Feiucor, that she had been taken to the Academy. The way they accepted her at the Academy had swelled her ego to a proportion that did not befit her and it was, perhaps, her largest flaw.
Shaking herself back into a more aware state, Temperance kicked her horse further forward a step, maybe to before Liona called them to a halt. “We’ll wait until dawn – we need to make sure all of the traitors are present before we strike.” Temp narrowed her eyes at those words and brushed a wisp of hair back from her face. “We don’t know if their time in our land has magnified any abilities that they may have.” Temperance opened her mouth but Kael brought his horse to stand beside her and nudge her leg with his foot. She turned her eyes to catch the way the setting sun made his blond hair sparkle with its lingering light. Her face pulled into a pout with irritating present in her gaze. They unpacked, with Temp’s small area being the furthest from Liona as regulation camp size would allow.
“Temperance. Make the patrols of the perimeter and report back.” The grating voice of the ranking officer called out and she winced, looking at Kael.
“I’ll kill her. One day I will.” She breathed to Kael, who was sharpening a small knife with his fingers. He was exceptionally skilled with metals, and while he had attempting numerous times to teach her his methods, Temp never paid much mind. Pushing herself up, she set off, preparing to scout around. While magic was immensely beneficial in these situations, their lack of knowledge of their target’s abilities meant they had to resort to more rudimentary methods.
An hour into her patrol, she sensed the familiar tingle of magic on her neck. She let the fire flow to the fingertips and whirled, assuming a defensive position before the stubble on the man’s face and the amused expression gave him away. “Fuck you Kael.” She exhaled, allowing her fingers to cool. “Aren’t you supposed to be back at camp? No way Liona would allow you to accompany me.” His grin gave way to something she didn’t quite recognize and she allowed her eyebrows to furrow. “What?” He took a few steps towards her.
“Of course she didn’t, Temp, but when we’re back at base, there’s never any time.”
“Time for what?” She took a step closer and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling okay.”
“For this.” He breathed and grabbed her face into his hands. He brought her face upwards towards hi, tangling his hands into her braid, pulling some of the strands free. She gasped in shock, frozen in place. His mouth descended on hers in a frenzy, pulling against her mouth with a ravenous hunger. His hand traveled down against her cheek as his teeth tugged at her lower lip. Heat, a purely physical manifestation, flared inside of her stomach, spreading outward in all directions. He drew back and exhaled, looking at her. She had never been rendered so completely useless. She brought her left hand upwards to touch her lips, running her finger against her bottom lip. Kael looked at her again before turning around and walking back to camp, leaving her in the stunned, slightly lascivious state. She frowned and continued to trail along before heading back to camp.
Temp gathered her things at camp, - two knives, a small canteen of water to use if necessary for magical purposes, and tying her horse securely to the post she had slid into the ground. She avoided Kael like the Yellow Death and took her position behind Liona when dawn was about to arrive, a few hours after they had made camp. Kael stood beside another one of the First Run officers and she felt his eyes on her and every time she felt his gaze a heat pressed against the lower part of her belly and it made her antsy all over.
The approached the cabin in the dark and fanned out. There were two entrances, a front and a rear. Kael was to take the front with Liona the rear. Two other were to remain outside while Temp scaled the house to the roof, to descend through the chimney. Delicately, Temperance slid through the small chimney, while Liona walked through the back door through phasing. The cabin was divided into small rooms with no one in the center where Kael, Liona and Temperance met from their respective entrances. “All residents.” Liona mouthed, indicated the rooms they were to survey and eliminate the inhabitants. Temperance’s was at the end of the hall and she made her way carefully to phase through the door and enter, fingers tingling. A small crib resided in the center, filled with small bundles of blankets and against the wall was a smaller bed. Her heart sank. Children.
She couldn’t kill children. Children. Children. Children. Her heart continued to sink and the bundles inside of the beds moved. They were sleeping. She could say the room was clear…she could say all targets had been eliminated. At least they’d live. Perhaps someone would find them. Slowly, she backed out of the room, bumping into Kael as she entered the hallway. Dazed,s he moved forward as Liona was coming out of her room. “All targets have been eliminated?”
“Yes commander. “ Kael answered. Liona’s eyes turned to Temp, who was still dazed, still in a place of unexpected emotion. Kael nudged her. “Yes commander.” She breathed.
“Good. Move out.” They began to walk down the hall and Temp was almost out of the house, almost out of earshot when the door opened.
“Momma?” Temperance turned as Liona did. A bright ball of light radiated from around Liona’s fingertips. Temperance faced her commander once more after she had seen the child exiting the room. Liona pointed her fingers at Temperance then the child. Her heart leapt in her chest, seeing the hunger to kill resting in Liona’s eyes.
“NO!” She screamed, shooting out her arm and knocking Liona backwards and out of the cabin, breaking through the walls. Liona slammed into the ground, breathless for a moment less than Temperance needed her to be.
“Traitor! Traitor! Seize her.” The words hit Temperance like a heavy hand and she whirled past Kael, scooping up the children and running back into the children’s bedroom. Hurriedly, she sealed the door and placed a hand on the crying child and the baby in the crib. Under her breath she uttered the words of protection and inhaled sharply. This was going to hurt. All of her magic poured into them and they began to glow brightly, their body’s vibrating so quickly that they began to look like a blur. Projection was difficult enough by oneself but projection two people, two living beings to another place was nearly impossible. She had to try and she shoved them forth toward Osiz, the capital, towards a small orphanage there that she remembered visiting once with her parents.
Falling to her knees, she struggled to breathe and the seal on the door was broken. Kael stood there, looking at her with disbelief. “Why?” It was all he managed as so much hurt punctuating his shaking voice.
“Children. I couldn’t…not again…Kael, I’m not.” She heard the footsteps of the other two and Liona and Kael moved over to her in anger, picking her up and shoving her roughly. He pushed her against the wall and whatever breath she may have had was forced outwards. “Get out.” He hissed and shoved her through the wall, phasing her. She stumbled backwards, alone and confused. Training rapidly kicked in and she turned, hurling herself towards the mountains. She was a traitor. She was a traitor and the only place she would not be slaughtered was Feiucor.
Temperance ran for days, hunted and struggled to make it to the border, beyond the mountains. They had to be tracking her, but she was too weak to shield herself for extended periods of time. She crossed the border at some point and kept walking, trying to keep going. Her feet were raw from the motion and her muscles ached. She hadn’t eaten in two days and her stomach had revolted against anything she had tried to consume. She found the stream by chance and fell towards it in exhaustion. If she could just close her eyes for a moment…just a moment, then she could get up late and keep going. Yes, that was the best idea. Sighing, she slipped into unconsciousness.
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Tue Jan 06, 2015 3:46 pm
by rejecteddounut
It was a beautiful day. The weather was warm; the sun was shining. It was a great reprieve from the gloomy rain-filled days of the past week and, to take advantage of that, the Queen of Feiucor decided to go out on a hunt. There was a small hunting party trailing after her, most on horses, though the Keeper of the Hounds walked at the end with the dogs, avoiding the steaming piles of horse shit.
One of the Queensguard was watching a hawk flying lazily above the trees. His blue eyes, nearly the same color as the sky, widened in surprise and awe as the hawk quickly changed course, diving into the trees as it obviously spotted prey.
At the same time, the hounds started to become restless, pulling at their leashes and chuffing. The Keeper yelled a few words and released them, allowing them to rush into the forest.
“Guard,” the Queen spoke, her voice smooth and velvety as she directed the man to go after the dogs.
Henry gave a nod, flicking the reigns of his horse to urge it into a quicker pace as he followed the hounds. They were excited at the opportunity for a chase, baying and leaping through the brush to find the creature that caught their noses. Sometimes, the Queen's Hunt was merely ceremonial; she would nock an arrow no bigger than a quill in her tiny crossbow with her long, delicate fingers after the creature was already knocking on death's door and shoot it. Sometimes, it was a brutal affair. One that Henry nor any of the other guards witnessed because it wasn't allowed, but whatever occurred caused the Queen to change her clothing to an exact copy (though less bloody) before she returned to her castle.
As the Queen was in the company of many others, the Queensguard knew that this hunt would be one of the former. No one knew the reason behind the bloody ritual; Henry had his ideas, but no one ever spoke of them because one never knew if someone was going to use this gossip against you. Henry had grown up in the court and knew how the game was played. He also knew, from a very young age, that he was merely a pawn on the board. That was rather apparent by the way his father had urged--no--demanded that his son and heir become a part of the Queensguard.
Henry dutifully obeyed, though, not without argument. It was his father's dream to see his eldest son in an exceptionally high standing with the Queen. Especially since the royal family line had been known to marry below their status for varying reasons. Not that Henry thought, nor wanted, to be a royal regent, but the idea had sprouted inside his father's head and there was no uprooting it. So, it was with great struggle that Henry asserted himself to the role of one of the Queensguard and, truthfully, he found himself to enjoy it.
Not the politics of it, no. That was a great bore and frustration to the young man, but the hunting and the duels and the rich, rich desserts that were typically reserved for the noble table. Ah, his mouth watered at the thought of the silky chocolate mousse that would be awaiting his return.
His horse seemed to take the opportunity of his distracted thoughts to take its head, but Henry tightened his hold on the reigns and pulled the horse to a halt while the dogs sniffed and howled as they found their catch.
The man’s brows furrowed as he quickly realized that this was neither fox nor fowl that the hounds had found, but a body. Henry jumped off the horse, giving the command for the dogs to cease. They obeyed, backing away from the body with tails wagging at the fact that they found something. Henry knelt down, a frown on his face as he brushed back the hair on the corpse’s head. No, his brows rose in surprise at the realization, no corpse. This woman was alive.
With a short whistle, Henry called over his horse while he lifted the woman into his arms with an ‘umph’ before laying her across the horse’s saddle. Giving another, longer whistle, he called the dogs after him and made the trek out of the woods towards the hunting party. If the dogs were following any sort of prey, it was long gone, but they may have saved this woman’s life. Whether or not that was a good thing remains to be seen.
“Your Grace,” Henry said, placing his right fist over his heart in a salute. “The hounds found something… different this time.” He turned the horse so the Queen could see.
Her dark brow quirked and she urged her mount forward so she could get a closer look. Inspecting the unconscious woman, the Queen’s lips pursed before they relaxed enough so she could speak. “The hunt is over. Take this woman back to the castle, to the main quarters. It is obvious that she is not Feiucoran.”
Henry bit his lip at this announcement; he was hoping that would have been a quieter realization, but he nodded his head. “Yes, Your Grace,” he replied as the rest of the party brought their horses to a decent gait in the direction of the castle. Henry’s pace was slower; he didn’t want to jostle the woman and cause her more injury than she already had. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as the horse plodded along, questions swirling around his head. What was she doing in Feiucor? It was true that they were only a day’s ride from the border, but she looked rather worse for wear. With a furrow of his brows, he turned his attention away from the woman, towards the castle.
When he arrived at the castle, there was a pair of servants just outside the doors, holding a travois between them. Henry shifted the woman from the horse to the travois and followed the servants into the castle where the Queen awaited them. “Your Highness, I’ve brought the woman. She is still unconscious. What do you wish we do with her?” A small part of him hoped that she would show mercy and allow the servants to care for the woman until she was in better health, but Henry knew that this would likely be a weak wish.
He and the servants stood there, awaiting the Queen’s orders.
ooc; holy shit. i did it.
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Sun Jan 18, 2015 11:24 am
by Simply
Temp lay in the half place between utter exhaustion and consciousness against the lapping water on her cheeks for nearly a day. The water might have rejuvenated her to the point that when she heard voices, her eyes fluttered briefly. The voices were familiar and strange all at the same time. Feiucorans. She slipped back to the darkness from which she had risen, just as someone uttered the words. Your Grace. If her stomach had any contents to expel, Temp might have vomited at realization of her misfortune.
Minutes passed and still, she did not awaken. It would have been better fi the water had imparted its revitalizing powers for more than a minute. She bounced along on his horse, her limp limbs hanging about her like those of a weeping willow. They smacked against the thick hide of the guard’s horse, until finally, one last smack drew her towards the sounds and noises around her. She inhaled through gritted teeth, the hiss of air rushing past the whites of her enamel. Her heart pounded in her chest and the assassin willed it to be still, to be silent, lest those around her hear it. They lifted and shifted her, depositing her down in a way that indicated they clearly thought she was still unconscious.
Unbeknownst to Temperance, they entered the receiving room of the Feiucoran Queen. As Her Royal Majesty studied the girl, the queen whipped out a slender hand and flickered her wrist expertly. The movement had clearly been given many times. A servant moved to raise the girl’s head from the slumped position it remained against her chest and Temperance did her best to remain limp. Her survival depended on it. However, she could not keep her eyes from opening partially, fluttering at the sudden assault of the light around her.
“She’s filthy.” The queen stated. “And barely lucid.” The ruler didn’t even bother to look at the servants that she addressed. “Bathe her and bring her back to me.” Her eyes turned to Henry, as they hadn’t with the individuals she deemed inferior. “Stay with her and alert me when she is capable of speaking. Refugee or spy. I will have the answer.” In her stupor, Temperance still felt the icy fingers of fear grip her heart and squeeze and she was carried away by the servants that did the Queen of Feiurcor’s bidding.
The bathed her with soft sponges, brushing away the days of filth and grime. Her head rolled back and forth as she drifted in and out during their ministrations. The only time she came fully awake was when they brushed the sponge along the bottom of her roughened feet. Despite the blistered, the skin was ticklish beyond belief and she jerked her foot back, leaned forward and grasped the arm of the serving girl. Her grip was tight, an assassin’s hold, until she grew too fatigued and slipped back into the wooden tub.
Someone patted Temperance’s cheeks with coarse hands to awaken her. She was dressed in soft linens, but simple servant’s clothing. The comfort of the white shirt distracted her initially from the ropes binding her wrists in front of her. She frowned and then drew her eyes upward to the face that was close to hers. The accent was harsh to her ears as she motioned a bowl towards Temperance’s lips. “Broth. Drink.” For a moment, the Ategrellian woman didn’t realize that they were speaking a different tongue. She parted her lips and then her training kicked in. She shouldn’t know the Feiurcor language. Furrowing her brows purposely, she narrowed her eyes at the older woman. The servant clearly realized she didn’t understand her and brought the liquid to her own lips before gesturing towards Temperance’s face again. “Drink. Food.” She said, but Temperance still played dumb. The woman pushed the bowl closer to Temperance’s mouth and her stomach growled, urging her to consume the food before her. The moment the broth hit her tongue, she swallowed it all, gulp after gulp until nothing remained.
The older woman took this with a large smile and wobbled away to retrieve more, placing stale bread into the broth to soak it. She offered it to Temperance again, who ate much like a ravenous beast until she released a soft belch. The servant smiled and began muttered to herself. Temperance hastily looked around her. She tested the ropes. Their strength was minimal ad she could easily slip them and make her escape…but she was in the castle. The Feiurcoran castle – whose layout she knew nothing of. It would be best to play the refugee, to figure out how she could survive in this country because he own would never welcome here again.
Strengthened by the meal, she used her energy to wrap her magic around her, tighter and tighter and tighter until she was impenetrable. No one would be able to see what she didn’t want to them to. The Queen likely had a Reader – capable of extracting thoughts and histories from those that they touched. As she thought this, the door opened and the servant beckoned in the guard. “She’s ready.” The servant dipped her head and stepped back, making space for the Queensguard.
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2015 6:07 pm
by rejecteddounut
Despite his attempts to keep his eyes trained on the floor before the Queen’s feet like a good guardsman, he kept glancing towards the unconscious woman. Henry’s lips pressed together because he knew that the woman would likely have been better off if he’d left her by the water. She may have died, but she might have been better off. The young man had hoped that the Queen would have been in one of her fairer moods; that she would agree to give the woman food and a bath and then send her to the poorer outskirts of the kingdom where Ategrellian refugees lived. However, it seemed like that wasn’t the case.
His attention snapped up to the Queen when she started speaking to him. Her voice would always hold a different tone when she was conversing with someone she thought held more worth than the servants; how much worth he had compared to them in her eyes, Henry didn’t know, but it was better than being them. “Yes, Your Grace,” he replied with a bow before following the servants that carried the woman towards the baths. The Queen had already turned her attentions towards others, demanding things be done for her and people scurried about making sure they were accomplished before the last word of her sentence could fall from her lips.
Henry had no desire to keep his eyes on the woman the entire time. He trusted the servant women to give her a bath and clothe her well. While they tended to the Ategrellian, Henry stood guard at the entrance to the baths, having an internal struggle whether or not he should have left her in the woods rather than brought her here.
“Henry!” His name was hissed from down the hall and he lifted his brow in confusion until he realized it was another one of the Queen’s guards.
“Charles,” he replied curtly, giving a short nod in hopes that the other man would continue on his way but, of course not, this was Charles, he never knew when to be discreet.
The man with the straw-colored hair looked up the hall to make sure there was no one around and then he tried to pull open the heavy wooden door to peek inside the bathing room until Henry stepped in front of him. “What’s this I hear about an Atregellian woman? You found her while out on the hunt?”
“Yes, well, the hounds found her. I brought her to the Queen who will interrogate her after she is deemed fit to stand before the Queen.” He honestly had no patience with Charles on the best of days and today definitely wasn’t one of those. “Do you not have some maiden’s skirt to chase? A new kitchen hand of some sort?”
Charles guffawed, clapping Henry on the shoulder like they were friends. “I just wanted to get a look! I want to know if I should volunteer myself into guard duty.” He wiggled his brows while Henry’s expression hardened. Charles fell silent after that, finally coming to the conclusion that Henry was not going to allow him in. “Well. Keep me updated, eh? Lots of gossip going around.” He let the words trail off before clearing his throat and continuing on down the hall.
Henry took up his stance, sighing gently. It wasn’t too much longer before one of the women informed him that the refugee was ready. He gave a nod and entered the room, a stern look on his face as he noticed that she was bound. This was obviously an order from the Queen and it gave an idea of what she thought of the Ategrellian.
If nothing else, she didn’t look like she was too harmed from whatever it was that caused her to be found unconscious by the stream. “You are to be brought before the Queen,” he informed her in his native tongue. He knew how to speak Ategrellian; most of the guards are taught to speak it on a basic level at the very least. Henry was able to converse quite well in it, but no one is supposed to know that. The Guardsmen are supposed to be silent ears, silent spies that stand in plain sight when they are sent to Ategrellian court.
He wasn’t supposed to inform her of anything, but he would have wanted some idea of what was to come if he were in her position. “If you speak our language, I suggest you answer all questions freely, for your own good.” With that said, Henry placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her down the halls towards the Queen’s receiving room.
Once entering the room, Henry gave a short bow, placing a fist over his heart in a salute of his loyalty towards the Queen. “Your Grace, the woman has been cleaned and given nourishment in order to better serve you.”
It didn’t go without notice that the court’s Reader was at the Queen’s right hand, who quickly closed the distance between him and the refugee at a simple wave of the Queen’s hand. Servants were obviously told what to do before Henry’s arrival because they pulled up a chair, forcing the refugee to sit upon it.
So the interrogation began.
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2015 8:32 pm
by Simply
A face that tingled in her mind with slight recognition appeared before her. It was attached to the man that the servant had beckoned. He was clearly a knight or a guard. As he headache throbbed, she began to slowly work out that he was certainly a guard – a member of the Queensguard. Temperance scanned his face as he began to speak to her and she shook her head. Tempie, as she would present herself to the Reader because it was simply a lower class name, didn’t speak Feiucorian. The Ategrellian spy certainly did but the persona that she wrapped herself in would give no indication of such. After all, most Ategrellians could barely say “hello” in their neighboring country’s tongue.
Temperance began to shake slightly. “I – what are you saying? Where are we going? Please, just let me go. I just –” She unleashing a sob, letting her chest heave with the effort. The shaking continued as they walked down the hall towards her fate. As she whimpered slightly, she made certain that her defenses were impenetrable. It would be terribly irritating to undo, later, all the work that she was putting in now but it would be worth it when the Reader discerned only what she desired them to.
When Henry drew her into the receiving room, Temperance looked around in wonder and fear. Her body still shook and she saw the hovering aura around the individual next to the Queen. The Reader was weathered and the wrinkles in his face had wrinkles of their own. Nervousness was evident on her face and she couldn’t even lie to herself that she didn’t truly feel that way. If her defenses failed…she would be executed on sight. The Queen may choose to cause her blood to boil from underneath her skin. She may choose to block the air from reaching her lungs. A number of horrible magical alternatives presented themselves in her mind and she tossed them aside to focus on the task at hand.
Even an Ategrellian knew not to address the Queen without first being spoken to. She dropped to her knees and bowed her head as the knight stood erect beside her. The Queen waved a hand and spoke to an attendant, who began to speak in Temperance’s native language. “You are brought before the Queen of Feiucor. Your presence inside our borders, so close to the Queen’s private grounds casts suspicion upon your arrival.”
“I-I had to flee. The Guard, they-they sought to try me for treason.” True. “I saved some children and I-I wasn’t supposed to.” True. “Puh-puhlease I –“ The Queen waved a hand and spoke to her Feiucorian Reader., cutting Temperance off. She clearly had no time to hear her sob story. She barely tilted her head to speak to address the one that would peruse her own thoughts.
“Read her. I do no have time for such prattling. “ The Reader inclined his head in affirmation of the command. “Strip her. If nothing remains after you come to fully know her mind, then we shall dispose of what remains.” Her delicate, un-calloused hand waved again. Temperance understood those words. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. No one should notice the slip, but it occurred. She temporarily prayed that no one had noticed the indiscernible dilation of her pupils.
The Reader approached her and tilted her head upward, her chin at an eighty-degree angle from her chest. Unceremoniously, he placed his hands on the temples of her head and pressed. The magic bound her knees to the floor, kept her head from tossing back and forth in the arthritic hands. Temperance whimpered as the pain exploded through her, piercing her skull and attempting to turn her mind to mush. Clenching her eyes tightly closed, she tried to pull away, as anyone who had never been exposed to magic would do. He raced through her childhood, her real childhood. He saw when she fell into the well at six years old. He witnessed when she was sent to the city to earn money for her family. His eyes saw through hers. They saw her helping the children escape the coal mills. The Reader read her hunger and blisters and sunburn as she crossed into Feicor. He felt her fear and hysteria at being brought before the Queen of the country she now resided in. Temperance screamed as he pushed, trying to discern if she was a spy. It was excruciatingly painful.
The Reader released her and she slumped down, her body falling to the side and brushing against Henry’s leg until she rested over his boots, the toe of the leader pressing against her shoulder. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the old man made his way to the Queen and imparted what he saw.
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Wed Apr 29, 2015 6:30 pm
by rejecteddounut
When she started shaking, Henry’s lips pulled themselves into a frown. The poor girl was frightened beyond measure; she had to be. He had heard the things that the Ategrellian ambassadors have said about the Queen. While they weren’t awful, the guard knew that they held a tone of fear. They knew the Queen had a temper; that she was unpredictable; and she didn’t care for anyone that was below status. And, if they said all of that while a supposed unassuming guard was standing before them, there was no telling what they whispered and wrote behind closed doors—likely it was all true.
He didn't want to lead the girl to an unknown fate, but Henry knew that he must. The Queen's words were All--this phrase was ingrained into the guardsmen. "I'm sorry," he stated quietly in her language before they entered the Great Hall, purposefully stumbling over the pronunciation like he wasn't a fairly fluent speaker. Then he had to put the woman into the hands of the Queen's Reader.
As the servant translated the Queen's words for the Ategrellian, Henry stood firm beside her. He felt... protective of her. IT was, after all, his fault that she was in this predicament. If the Queen wanted to execute her, it was likely that Henry could do nothing, but it was any other sort of punishment, perhaps it was possible that he could lessen her sentence. There may be sacrifices on his part, but it would be necessary. And there was no doubt in his mind that there would be a punishment for her crime of being so close to the border, it was just a matter of how devious and offended the Queen was feeling as to how severe it would be.
Despite the fact that he was supposed to be at full attention in the Queen’s presence, the guard was more relaxed than he had ever been in the Great Hall. Well, perhaps relaxed wasn’t the best description; Henry was actually quite tense. His hands were clasped together tightly behind his back as the Queen ordered her Reader to invade the mind of the Ategrellian. His attention darted towards the captured woman and he saw heer eyes widen—almost as if she understood what the Queen was saying… but… that couldn’t be right.
Could it?
Perhaps he was looking too much into her fearful expression. Her eyes were widening in fright, not understanding.
Henry winced as the Reader clasped his liver-spotted hands on her temple; all of the servants grimaced in one way or another. The Queen, however, kept her cold expression with her lips pursed slightly in pleasure at causing pain. Henry recognized that look quite well.
While the Reader probed the captive’s mind, the guardsman forced himself to look straight ahead. He couldn’t afford to show sympathy. Finally, after what felt like hours, the Reader let go of the woman and she slumped towards the floor. Henry made no move to catch her; his hands remained behind his back and his form was straighter than it had been earlier.
The Reader whispered to the Queen while Henry strained his ears to listen. The quicker he knew the sentence, the quicker he could attempt to change it.
“Guard,” the Queen flicked her hand in his direction, “pick the trash up off the floor.”
He nodded and quickly stooped down, pulling the woman to her feet. “What shall I do with her, Your Grace?”
The Queen’s nose wrinkled at the question and she conversed more with the Reader before responding. “For now, shackle her. And, I gift her to you. To serve you and your house as a thank you for your great service to my kingdom. Do not let her escape, Henry. I feel as if there is more than what is let on to her. I will find these hidden spaces; I will dig them out from within, examine them, and, with great pleasure, I will destroy them.” The woman grinned cruely. “However, not tonight. I am tired from the hunt.” She waved her hand again, dismissing the extra crowd that had formed to observe the examination.
Stepping from her throne, she took the exit that lead towards her chambers, leaving Henry holding the woman.
“Fuck,” he murmured, unsure of what to do now.
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Mon May 25, 2015 3:02 pm
by Simply
Well, the situation could have ended up being infinitely worse than it was. The thought crossed her mind and she almost smiled. Only a First Run operative would have managed to string those words together after what had just occurred. She was a captive of the Queen who possessed more power than Temperance had ever seen one person retain within the human form. It would have been remarkable, if she were not at the mercy of someone so utterly sadistic. As she lay there, crumpled like garbage on the floor, she listened to the exchange of her captor and his liege.
A laugh would have erupted from her lips, had the strength remained in her. A gift. She was a gift, like a trinket purchased at the local market instead of a human being suffering through the psychological torture that Reader’s inflicted on their subjects. Her mind reeled at the realization of just how extreme the Queen’s cruelty was.. Swallowed the minuscule amount of saliva that still lingered in her parched mouth, she attempted to push herself up, trying to at least bring herself to her knees. She faltered, her hand slipping out from under her weight on the slick tile of the Queen’s receiving chamber. A soft mew of - what? – frustration, exhaustion, a combination of both most likely – escaped her lips.
She heard his curse but of course, had to pretend that she did not understand the nuances of Feiucorian expletives. “Please.” She croaked, her throat raw from the Reading, “Please just…” Just what? Let her go? She limply tossed her head back and forth and managed to bring herself to her knees, where she promptly vomited all over the floor. Side-effect of the Reading. She wiped her mouth crudely on her sleeve and dry-heaved once more, just as a servant appeared in the now relatively empty hall.
“Sire,” she said meekly, keeping her eyes cast down, though Temperance did not miss the wrinkle of the servant’s nose at the smell that her vomit certainly presented. “Sire, the collar-maker is ready for you in your receiving chamber.” Receiving chamber? He was certainly no ordinary Queensguardsman. The spy had heard that certain members of the Feiucorian guard were of the royalty. No common guard would have a receiving chamber in the castle unless they had multiple chambers gifted to them by the Queen herself, which is typically only did to those royal members. It would have occupied more of her mental capacity if there had been more to designate to thoughts.
Something was said but the corners of her eyes were starting to spot with black tinges. She felt an arm lift her to her feet and lead her bodily away. Stumbling awkwardly, they managed to navigate the passageways until entering the guard’s hall. It was larger than Temperance had expected with opulent tapestries hanging from the cool, stone walls. A squat, balding man with a small chest at his side stood towards the left of. A slender, female servant knelt at his side, drawing out metals and leathers and silks. Temperance knelt on the floor the moment the hand holding her up had released its grip.
“Sire, what collar would you prefer on the girl?” He began to draw them all out. “Of course, we will fashion your insignia to hang from the material you select. We have so many options…” The man continued to prattle on but Temp stopped listening to him speak of her new sign of slavery as though it was a high honor.
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Sun Jul 12, 2015 9:44 pm
by rejecteddounut
Henry took in a deep breath through his nose, pressing his lips together in a fine line as he did so. The man had never collared a servant. The idea of such a thing left a… taste in his mouth that wasn’t very pleasant. But now he had no choice. The bloody queen loved to make sure that people knew they were owned. She did it with her most highly trusted advisors all the way down to the lowest of slaves. Everyone had to not only know their own place, but to know the place of others as well.
For the nobles, there was a ceremony during their eleventh year of life where they shed blood to prove their loyalty to the Queen. It was a simple prick of the thumb where blood was collected in a small vial, which the Queen graciously accepted. There was no questioning that this had to be done; it was accepted because it was tradition. The ceremony went back generations. And, whenever there was a new ruler, all of the nobility—no matter what their age—lined up to do it again.
Henry, being a guard of the Queen, had a symbol of his own servitude. It was an arrow inside a circle imprinted on his skin, a tattoo on his chest, right above his heart. The Queen loved seeing pain and loyalty.
The rotund man cleared his throat, obviously wanting the lord to get on with making a decision. Henry shook his head and blinked to clear his thoughts. “My apologies,” the taller man responded, turning his attention towards the collars spread out before him. There were so many, each one would provide a different fate for the woman. Thick leather was usually reserved for slaves of hard labor; they were typically adorned with iron links to show a hierarchy of the servant. White linen was for the kitchen staff.
“May I suggest, my lord, a silk that compliments her skin?” The collar-maker held up a handful of silks and attempted to place them in Henry’s hands.
The Queensguard stammered, his eyes widening as he pulled his hands away and shook his head. “Ah, no. Er—a simple house servant collar will suffice, sir.”
For a moment, the collar-maker looked as if he was going to say something, but he remembered his place and gave a small bow. “As you wish, my lord,” he stated as he snapped for his assistant to place the guard’s sigil on the black velvet.
Glancing at the Ategrellian, Henry gave a short nod. Silk collars were reserved for servants who attended to the pleasures of their lords (or ladies) in the bedchamber. While she was “given” to him by the Queen to do what he wished, Henry would not put the poor woman in that position. If Henry were a lesser man, perhaps he would have done so. She had a lovely face, especially after she was bathed, which is why the collar-maker likely implied that she would do well as a bed servant, but she was spared the role.
It was only a matter of minutes before the collar-maker was placing the velvet collar around the woman’s neck. Securing the lock, he handed the key to the Queensguard and bowed his way out of the receiving chamber.
Henry looked at the key, sighing again before slipping it into a pocket and looking at the woman. “Your name?” He questioned with raised brows. He wasn’t sure how much of his language she knew, if any. And he wasn’t allowed to indulge just how much of hers he knew. Pointing at himself, he tried to get the idea across, “Henry. Or, I suppose you are to call me Lord Brackwell…”
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Sun Jul 12, 2015 11:19 pm
by Simply
Temperance was well informed of the slave hierarchy in the southern kingdom. She knew that field and labor workers were secured with a thick leather strap, tight around their necks. They could be studded with a variety of metals to indicate their particular position in the queen’s vast slave holdings. Silk, as the gentleman suggested, was for bedroom slaves. Her composure remained in place, despite the slight tensing of her muscles at the back of her neck. Her eyes fearfully looked at the contents of the man’s chest, running her eyes over the burgundy silk and deep gray silk. Velvets and leathers and feathers and silks. The idea of being collared made her feel ill.
The man placed the fabric around her neck and she tensed, looking wildly at the guard with her. She was given like property without a second thought. The idea made her stomach churn. She tried to remain calm as the velvet was locked securely around her neck. She was his. The key shimmered in his hand and she swallowed hard as he began to speak. Oh, he was attempting to communicate her in his native tongue. Come on, knight, please. He clearly wasn’t all that intelligent. Temperance had made is abundantly clear that she could not understand a word of Feiucorian. Grinding her teeth together, the young spy continued to look afraid. One of the servants helped her rise.
The part she now played was very important. Not only to her as a spy, but to surviving this world she had been thrust into. Temp’s head throbbed and she pressed a hand to it. “I don’t,” her voice shook, as did her lower lip, “I don’t know what you want from me.” She began to cry, using the pain from her head and the exhaustion she felt to fuel the tears that ran down her cheeks. They rolled across her soft skin and her lower lip, dripping onto the floor. One hand pressed to the velvet, feeling it against the pulse in her neck. “What is this? Why are you doing this to me?”
A sob escaped her lips and it was a true one. Temperance was utterly exhausted from the excursion she had been on and now she was a captive of the queen, enslaved to one of the Queensguard, who didn’t even want her for a bedroom slave. She should consider herself fortunate for that small blessing, but she had been recruited and trained as a spy. She reminded herself that she could have been a bedroom slave and seduced the Queen herself, if she so chose. Gods. The delirium was setting in. I’m crying about not being someone’s bedroom toy. I’m crying in general. Dear gods, please just kill me now. Temperance was even talking to herself. She rarely did that. She must truly be at her mind’s limit.
The servant that had helped her rise translated for her lord. His name was Henry. Lord Blackwell to be precise. He did not go by Guard or Knight – meaning that he had some status other than a member of the queen’s guardians. She placed the information in her mind, for use if she could remember later on. “Please, please. I shouldn’t have come here. My husband…he-he-he.” She uttered that word multiple times, stuttering and stumbling. “He-he-he-he hurt the children and - and I had to,” her breathing came in large gasps as she tugged at the collar on her neck. “The children.” She sobbed again, her knees going weak and giving out beneath her, she stumbled forward towards him.
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Fri Nov 20, 2015 9:28 pm
by rejecteddounut
He didn’t want this. That’s what kept running through his mind throughout this whole scenario. Henry hadn’t wanted this to happen. When he found this woman—seemingly so close to death, or pneumonia—he hadn’t thought it would play out like this. Oh, he knew that the Queen would think she was suspicious and, hopefully, lock her in the dungeon until her suspicions or interest waned. However, he never thought that he would be forced to collar the poor woman.
The man stared down at the key in his hand before attempting to make some sort of speech with her. If he chose, he could’ve spoken to her in her native tongue, but if word had gotten out that he knew another language, the Queen would chop of his head quicker than dismissing a noble for wearing something displeasing to court. So, instead, he used his female servant to translate for him. She, too, came from Ategrellia. Madelyn was part of a peace trade between the two countries; she, along with other servants and goods were given to the Queen, who distributed all of it amongst her most loyal members of the court. Madelyn was bestowed upon Henry’s father, who, in turn, gifted her to Henry. A ‘gift to soothe his itches,’ his father had said. Obviously, she was intended to be a warm body in his bed, but Henry left the house servant collar on her instead of exchanging it for a silk one. She proved to be quite adept at keeping his receiving chamber in order—which Henry was grateful for after a long day dealing with Her Majesty.
As the new house servant started crying, Henry’s lips pressed themselves into a fine line. He was not made for this; for tearing down a soul. The Queen reveled in it—it was whispered throughout the court that she enjoyed hurting others, even her lovers. For a Queensguard, Henry’s role was to obey the Queen, though even she knew that there were other knights that took greater pleasure in doing harm and it was them that tortured information out of prisoners. Bestowing this particular captive upon him was quite confusing, though it obviously meant that she didn’t want the crying woman harmed too much… by a hand other than her own, at least.
“Miss…” He started, chewing on his bottom lip. How in the world was he supposed to handle this? “I am sorry that you’re in such a situation. It was not my intention for this to happen.”
As he spoke, Madelyn translated, patting the woman’s hand in an attempt to console her. She also added, “he is kind and gentle, which is more than what can be said for some of the other men in the Queensguard.”
Henry’s lips twitched upward slightly at that, thankful that Madelyn thought of him in such a way. “Stop crying, please.”
Madelyn started to translate Temp’s words back to her master, mentioning the husband and the children as Temp’s knees came out from under her.
Henry quickly caught her, the key clattering to the floor—which Madelyn quickly picked up and held on to. “You obviously need rest. Madelyn, please make sure she is put to bed. Then we must gather our things. We will be going to Montiplier as scheduled.”
Exchanging the key for Temp, Madelyn nodded. “I’ve already had letters and your larger items sent ahead. The home will be warmed before we arrive.” She attempted to guide Temp towards the servant’s quarters, which was hardly big enough for Madelyn, but she was willing to share it. “Come now. Lord Blackwell will likely bring you to his home. It will be much nicer there away from the busy court.” And the Queen Madelyn thought, but she dared not say that aloud.
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Sun Nov 29, 2015 1:21 pm
by Simply
Madelyn translated and as tired as she was, Temperance forced herself to pretend that she only understood the words that the other servant was telling her. How kind her master was. How generous he was. How lucky Temperance was to be in his care. Yes, being a slave was so fortunate. Mentally, she rolled her eyes around. As she fell towards him, he caught her. The key made a soft tink onto the floor and if she had been quick enough, she might have managed to take it and…what? It was a foolish fleeting thought but at least she knew that the other servant had it now. Should be easier to retrieve it from another servant than from the Queen’s knight himself.
Montiplier. She raced across the landscape of her mental map of Feiucor. It was further away from the Ategrellian border and that made her nervous, but it also permitted her some respite from the Queen and her penetrating Reader. Swallowing, she landed on Madelyn for a moment as the master of the household she now belonged to moved down the hallway. She had given the key back.
Fuck.
“You…you’re from home.” Temperance asked as they moved down the hallway. It was not a question but a statement. She could tell the precise region that the other woman came from. It was the foundation of their training. Members of Ategrellian Guard knew the sounds, lisps, nuances of all of the regions of Feiucor and Ategrel. She could discern the high born and lower class from their patterns of speech. She knew Madelyn was from home, close to where Temperance herself had grown up. They arrived back at Henry’s quarters and looked around hesitantly, nervously.
A runaway, now trapped as a slave, would naturally be anxious. She had to play the part, she told herself, even if part of her anxiety was genuine. She wrung her hands in front of her, taking in the fine tapestries and woodwork with careful, supposedly cautious glances. Lord Blackwell of the Blackwell family. Their crest was something she had skimmed over during her studies. She closed her eyes, trying to make it look like she was on the verge of tears. Remember. Remember. It eluded her still but she was sure it would come to her in time.
“Where are we going? Are you certain he is going to take me? I don’t want to go. I want to go home but I can’t.” The words were pressed together forcefully, rushed and leaving her mouth with an exhalation. “The Queen. She frightens me. Please, I can’t stay here. Please.” She begged, dropping to her knees. The carpet under her knees was soft, meaning it was certainly expensive. She looked up at Madelyn. “I can be useful.” She said suddenly, standing up against and brushing herself off. “I can be useful.” A repeat. “Please tell me what will make me useful to him so that he won’t leave me here, so that I won’t be left to…” She left it unsaid but her eyes expressed it. The Queen.
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Wed Dec 09, 2015 8:31 pm
by rejecteddounut
Henry decided to leave the new servant in Madelyn’s care. The man was certain that she would be able to show her a proper place to sleep and eat if she wanted. Lord Blackwell, unlike some of the men who had receiving chambers within the castle, let his chambermaid have her own private space. It wasn’t a large area by any means. Henry was sure that there were changing rooms that were bigger, but he let Madelyn claim that tiny space as her own. He knew of some of his fellow Queensguard who kept chambermaids for bed servants as well, which caused a few wrinkling of noses amongst court simply because there were those who thought servants should be collared according to their rank. Bed servants often got more lavish rooms to spend their nights in; some even were allowed to come to court if they were properly groomed and clothed.
The Queensguard shook his head as he rubbed his face. Why on earth was he thinking about bed servants He wasn’t going to re-collar the woman, though his father…. Oh, god, his father will hear of this new woman. Henry rolled his eyes and a small groan escaped him. His father was urging Henry, almost weekly, to do all sorts of things that he didn’t want to do. One of them was to find a bed servant; another was to bed the Queen—neither of which Henry cared to do at the moment.
He somehow found himself undressed (likely with the help of his male servant who attended his dress) and flopped into the large, plush bed. All of this thinking would have to cease. He had a journey in the morning…
xxx
Madelyn smiled gently as she patted Tempe’s hand. “Yes, I am from home. Near Thedas. And I am Madelyn.” She wasn’t going to get into the story of how she came to be in a completely different country; it wasn’t the right tale for this moment in time, especially when Tempe was having such troubles.
The newer house servant seemed to tremble all over and Madelyn completely understood. Hopefully, Tempe’s experience would be better than hers in this new land. After all, she had someone that could share her language. Madelyn tried to guide the other girl towards her sleeping area, nodding slowly as she fired off tear-filled questions.
As the girl fell to her knees, Madelyn moved to help her up before she made it to her feet by herself. “Calm yourself,” she said in a soothing tone, pressing a palm to Tempe’s cheek in a gesture that should be familiar to a fellow Ategrellian. “M’lord will take us to his home. There you will be taught to service him and his household. You won’t get the best training here. He will surely take you as all of his staff, save for two follows him. And we are not those two.”
The young woman escorted Tempe to her small quarters, helping her into bed. “You should sleep now. We will have a busy day in the morning,” she smiled sweetly and tucked Tempe in before finishing some last minute duties.
xxx
The next morning was rather busy. Henry had to tend to his affairs, making sure that the Queen and other members of the court knew he was returning to his land. He could still be called upon by the Queen, of course, but it was rare that it ever happened. She emphasized that he was to take careful watch of ‘that foul Ategrellian woman,’ which Henry bowed and swore that he would.
Meanwhile, Madelyn directed the men to load the carriages with the remainder of Lord Blackwell’s items and even told Tempe to do a few things as well. It was part of her training, after all.
Once they were in the carriage reserved for Lord Blackwell’s servants and headed towards Montiplier, Madelyn informed Tempe of some of the differences between their homeland and this one. She explained how these people had more magic, but it was much weaker. How this culture was much more open about their sexuality, which explained the collars specifically for bed servants and how no one was exactly shunned for bedding someone if they were not married. She especially informed Tempe about how Lord Blackwell’s household ran and how she had requested to be the one to train Tempe in becoming a good chambermaid. “So you will not have to be with that bitch,” Madelyn stated, but wasn’t able to speak any further as they had arrived at his home.
“Go on, look out,” Madelyn encouraged. “It is a beautiful home. You will like it here, I’m sure of it.”
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Wed Dec 09, 2015 10:09 pm
by Simply
Sexual slaves were not a practice in Ategrel. In fact, it was strictly forbidden and punishable by hanging. Brothels were commonplace and a large source of revenue for major cities, but those women and men were employees. They were not subjected to tasks without adequate compensation. Being of the occupation that she was, Temperance knew of the practice of slavery in their southern neighbor. Slaves for carnal pleasure were a passing thought but not something she had considered at length. Thankfully, she was administered the collar of a common housemaid. The sigh of relief still lingered in the back of her mind.
Madelyn, the other Ategrellian housemaid, did her very best to made Temperance comfortable and calm. A sinking guilty feeling slipped into her stomach and wedged itself there. The infiltrator did not feel guilty for deceiving the Queensguard and certainly not their sinister head of state. A small part of her though, felt deceitful towards Madelyn, but she could not break the cover that she had fabricated for herself. The façade was intricately woven and while they were both of the same ethnicity, Temp could not afford to trust anyone.
The night passed uneventfully after she allowed herself to calm down. The small cot in the closet-sized room felt as though it was the Queen’s personal featherbed. Temperance dissolved into it. The moment her eyes closed she dissolved into a dreamless slumber.
xxx
The carriage for the serving staff were cramped and packed to the brim with all of the items that Lord Blackwell took when he traveled. The countryside passed without Temperance really bothering to take it in. She discussed the household she was to work in at length, making a point to ask important questions. It had to seem as though she was truly grateful to the guardman that was to be her master. At certain points, she made certain to make faces and appear disgusted, but it mainly was because part of her was. It was not so much an act as all that. Ategrellians were more sexually conservative. The idea of being allowed to have someone outside of the one was intended for…frankly fascinated and appalled the spy.
“Who?” She asked, but then Madelyn encouraged her to look and her bright eyes captured the view of the scenery outside. It was beautiful land and the mansion that rested in the distance steadily grew larger. “This is Montiplier?” Questions lingered in her tone and her awe was genuine. The brickwork of the castle indicated how old it was, indeed, and she needed to remember more about the Blackwell family. It was passed in her studies but she could not recall certain facts, still. Temperance attributed to the detrimental side effects that she had suffered at the hands of the Queen’s Reader.
The carriages came to a halt and as she sprang from the confines of the carriage, she noticed, feet away, Henry Blackwell demounting his horse. He was tall and in this light, something about him seemed…like formidable. She cocked her head to the side and realized she was staring when Madelyn bumped her with her elbow. She was readily given things to carry up through the servants’ quarters but she did miss the moment another man, similar in height to Lord Blackwell, emerging from the entrance to the manor.
“Who is that?” The inquiry hung softly between the two Ategrellians. Dark hair brushed against her cheeks and the sun beamed down on her freckles. “And her?” A woman, of the same age as the man that had just arrived, appeared. She had streaks of gray in her hair and her stature was short. She seemed frail but held herself with all of the grace a noble might. “His parents?” She finally pieced together, following Madelyn when they made their move inside.
“What will I learn during my training? What is it that you do precisely, here for him?”
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Tue Feb 02, 2016 4:47 pm
by rejecteddounut
At Tempe’s question of ‘who’, Madelyn pressed her lips together and shook her head. “You’ll likely find out. Or I will tell you later.” There was a servant who stayed at Montiplier who was quite… well, Madelyn wasn’t exactly sure what her motives were. Perhaps she was jealous that Madelyn was able to go to court when she was a ‘simple Ategrellian’ or some other crazed idea. Whatever it may be, it didn’t matter.
“This is Montiplier,” she confirmed in between directing servants, furniture, and chests. “It has been part of the Blackwell family for generations. Take the chest to m’lord’s chambers, yes. A gift from a king who took it from a nobleman who fell out of favor and was beheaded—no, the bigger chest. It goes to the heir of the Blackwell estate.”
The handling of the travel between court and the estate was sometimes exhausting, but Madelyn took pride in the fact that she was allowed to arrange all of this. Some of the nobles believed it was only a man’s duty—even if he were a simple man. Her eyebrow quirked at Tempe’s question and she turned her attention towards the other gentleman. Her nose wrinkled slightly as she huffed out a short puff of air.
“Yes, that is his parents. I’m sure they are here to get the latest court gossip. It’s actually…” she trailed off, looking amongst them to see if there were any eavesdroppers. “It’s actually rude of them to arrive before m’lord. They are supposed to send a card ahead to see if he’s made it home.” The woman spoke in a lowered voice. “And, I advise you stay away from Baron Blackwell.”
Clearing her throat, she straightened up and was very glad to go into depth of how Tempe was supposed to tend to her duties. “I will train you so pay attention to my tasks. In court, I am to keep Lord Blackwell’s receiving chambers neat and comfortable. Anything he requires in his chambers, I am to find it for him. That task is left to others when we are here. At the estate, I am a lower servant and tend to keeping certain areas clean. Though, sometimes, Lord Blackwell asks specific tasks of me that goes beyond my level. It… truly offends some.” She said with a grin as she gathered up the last pieces and directed Tempe into the home.
***
For Henry, going home was always a relief. It meant that he didn’t have to deal with the politics of the court for every waking moment. There were still things that he had to attend to, of course, and there was always letters that were sent to him from his friends (or people who thought they were friends) with all sorts of gossip and information about court. He read them and responded, even though he wanted nothing more than to burn them in one of the castle fires. Being a lord, he could never truly escape the influence of the queen and her kingdom, but when he was home, he could at least put things off for a couple days.
That is, if his parents left him alone…
As he was taking in the view of his home, extremely grateful of the reprieve he would get, he saw his mother and father exited the manor. A low groan escaped Henry as he handed the reins of his horse to his groomsman. He didn’t know who told them that he would be arriving today, but he wanted to find out and give them a piece of his mind.
Yet, he had the graces to act accordingly, even though he was highly annoyed. “Mother,” he stated, kissing both of her cheeks. “Father,” Henry gave a curt nod as he drifted his attention towards his staff. He would have to remember to compliment Madelyn on her efficiency at overseeing the traveling.
“We heard rumors, my boy,” ah, his father never was one to beat around the bush, except in court where it was fashionable to do just that, “of a new servant?”
Henry pulled off his riding gloves and handed them to his groomsman who was coming to attend to him. “Indeed. News travels quite quickly, doesn’t it?” It only furthered his suspicions that his father kept a few little birds in court to twitter when they saw Henry about. “Yes, I have a new servant, though she knows very little of our speech. However, my head servant at court is taking her on as they speak the same language. So neither will be alone.” Though his last sentence could be taken to mean the two women will share similar cultures and, perhaps, interests, Henry meant for it to be a warning towards his father that the new servant will have someone to fend off the old man.
“I must oversee a few things,” he changed the subject, kissing his mother on the cheek again. “Please come by again when my home is more in order; I am aghast that you likely saw it in such disarray. I will tell the kitchen staff to make your favorites further into the week and we will dine together.” Henry all but dismissed his family as he walked into his home, sighing heavily and rubbing his face as he got out of their vision.
Re: [r] Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.[18+]
Posted: Sat Feb 06, 2016 10:57 am
by Simply
Temperance followed Madelyn, observing carefully how she instructed the other servants as one of the heads of Lord Blackwell’s household. It was a well-functioning organism, each part moving with a distinct purpose all to Henry’s advantage. Dark gaze flickered back and forth as she trailed after the other servant, much like an obedient pup. “Why are his parents not at court?” She inquired, focusing on her own tongue and trying not to appear as though she was understanding all of the order that Madelyn and the other servants tossed back and forth at each other. She had trained for such operations but it was difficult to focus and gather information in this scenario. The warning caught her off guard but before she could ask further, they were hurried inside to begin preparing his main chambers for his comfort and occupation.
“This estate is rather large. Does he entertain frequently here? I assume our quarters are, ah,” some of the smaller items, those of the servants, were moved off to the side down a narrow hallway. The servant’s quarters. “What am I to do while you are assisting his Lordship.” She dropped it in as she had never said those words in her life. Ategrel did not have such titles. They were not a monarchy and therefore, the stations and rules and etiquette of court should entirely elude her – if she wanted to keep up her façade, at least. “That seems ridiculous, does it not? This monarchy business, I mean.” She lowered her voice, even though the odds of another servant understanding their language were minute as best. “If you are better at the tasks than those of higher station then you should.
Temperance would have immensely preferred to be eavesdropping on Lord Blackwell and figuring a way to get the collar off of her neck. She reached up and scratched the skin beneath it. “Do you ever get used to this as well?” The inquiry was filled with irritation and that much was genuine for the infiltrator. She assisted with the division of the servants’ items, placing them as the ascribed location. She found two at the end that were empty and clearly not relegated to someone particular. “I assume I’m in one of these at the end. The…closet.” She scanned inside one that had a rough spun blanket and a cot that was clearly stuffed with mildewed straw. It was not the worst condition she had ever resided in but it certainly was not the room someone of her fabricated statue in Ategrel would have been used to.
In her fake life, Temp had a husband and children. He husband was abusive and he was of a minimal stature that afforded them a small home and comfortable living. Yet, she couldn’t take it anymore and fled, hiding the children and running across the border. Unlike her Feicour neighboring kingdom, men still had a higher standing over women. The only place they were equals was in the Guard.
Someone must have instructed Madelyn to Henry’s chambers and Temp scurried after her, assisting with the carrying of a very large chest. “Does he carry chunks of iron and stone in here?” She grinned slightly, attempting to make a joke with her newfound friend. They arrived at a very ornate wooden door and Madelyn produced the key to opening it. The inside took her breath away. There was splendor in the simplicity of it. Wood-carvings of deer and lions chased each other up the polls around the four-poster bed. She followed Madelyn at a short distance before relinquishing her hold on the chest. It found its position with a formidable thunk.
“This is his room? And then here.” She saw three doors that opened off of it. Ah, one must be the receiving chamber. It, too, had an ornate door. Temperance found herself wandering about and heard someone behind her. “All of this for one individual? Seems...a bit much.” She whirled with a smile, only to allow it to turn into a small ‘o’ of surprise. She dropped to a low curtsy as she had seen others do. She inclined her head and kept it down. Should she look at him? Court protocol dictated that she call him by his title and only tilt her head up if he acknowledged her. But fake Temperance wasn’t going to know that information so she rose back upward and stepped back. “I’m sorry.” She cast a side-glance at Madelyn, seeking help.
