Chapter 1:
Paredes [Walls]
Las masa de piedra me protegen, me impido, me encierro
Del cosmos hermoso de mundo
Que yo nunca he visto.
Espero aquí solo, pacientemente
Para tu sonrisa
A illumine mi día.
Ávila de los Caballeros, Spain, 1600 AD.
Dawn bathed the rich Spanish hills in its cool, soft light, the morning air breathing calmly through the grass blades and teasing the first clouds drifting lazily across the blue abyss of sky reigning over the land.
Uncovered from night's black shade, the walled city of Ávila revealed its colossal circular fortress to the world, gleaming proudly in the steadily rising humidity of the autumn sun, as if relishing in its impenetrability. Its sheer terrifying mass, scale and height broke down even the most daring of hearts and dominated the smooth green landscape with its ominous stone immensity.
Skylarks sang lowly over the cool cobbled streets as if to proclaim the coming of the unknown, the dwellers of the ancient city already stirring drowsily and filtering out from their humble stone abodes to set up their market stalls or open their shops. Already the city of Avila hummed with jovial activity, the fresh scent of baking, ripe fruit and rich tobacco smoke mingling with the warmth comfortably embracing the land.
Away from the lively hustle and bustle of the city and the fast chatter of the people, a little girl slept soundly in her bedchambers within the humble stone royal palace, Palacio de Don Diego del Águila being its official name.
Located in the centre of the city, it was a rather small affair in comparison to palaces outside the city walls, but this was a safety precaution as well as a tradition among ancient pieces of architecture. Despite its size, its walls were as thick as the wall of Avila itself, bent on protecting its precious occupants.
The most precious occupant was none other than Feliciana Cuaresma, fifteenth princess of the royal lineage, having just completed her tenth year within the palace walls.
Her bedchamber was as modest as her home. The granite-tiled floor was painstakingly polished, the stone walls decorated with exquisite Spanish tapestries and paintings of lush landscapes, a finely-carved wardrobe standing tall at the other end of the room adjacent from the bed.
A small cupboard stood beside the bed, in which Feliciana kept her most prized possessions. Standing on its smooth surface was a candle-stick with which she used to read from the books given to her from foreign visitors, translated into her native tongue.
The princess's four-poster bed was the most regal aspect of the room—wonderfully decorated with carvings of intricate swirls and designs etched into the wood on each pillar, the curtains fine white satin laced with gold, the sheets a soft honey-beige colour that complemented the wood's dark oak brown.
The morning sun's soft rays filtered in from the window on the far left of the bed, through the semi-transparent curtains, spilling across the sheets and onto the young princess's sweet, peach-coloured face.
The light prompted her eyes to flutter open, revealing a brilliant dark azure blue uncommon in her people's features. Equally uncommon were her warm chocolate-brown locks lying in two clusters of sensible curls framing her face upon the sheets, the rest long, naturally straight and flowing down her back and spread across the fluffy white satin pillows.
A soft yet firm knock on her door greeted her.
'Please, enter,' Feliciana bode politely, sitting up and brushing the sleep out of her eyes.
Presently, a young man of no more than eighteen years stepped into her chamber, bowing low before the princess before proceeding across the room and stopping beside her bed.
With a careful black-gloved hand, he gently drew back the curtains to reveal himself to his mistress.
The young man was Tesla Lindocruz, a foreigner with Spanish blood, who had been appointed Feliciana's personal manservant as a reward for his excellent military service for Spain and to the royal court, being of noble blood himself. Now he attended upon the princess every waking hour of the day, and during the night slept in the next room from his mistress in case he should be needed.
He wore an elegant doublet typical of men of the court, but his lace shirt was white while his sleeveless waistcoat was a brilliant black, fastened with golden buttons, his semi-lose breeches were as white as his shirt, tucked into gleaming, spotless black boots.
An oddly-shaped rapier hung from his belt on his left side, its scabbard a pure white.
Tesla's tapered face was honest, steadfast and homely, all three qualities combined to make him appear wholly handsome in an almost boyish yet wholly adult way. His face was framed by dirty-blond locks that made him stand out from the crowd and betrayed his foreign roots; slightly unkempt, but as Feliciana made no fuss over this aspect of her manservant's appearance, he made no attempt to tidy it, nor did any of his fellow courtiers complain about it...well, not directly, at least. His firm hazel eyes looked about him with an air of dedication and politeness that defined his character.
A black eyepatch covered his right eye.
A polite smile graced Tesla's attractive features, and Feliciana beamed. Such a smile, frank and untainted by rigid etiquette, was the highlight of the princess's day.
His smile made the day so much brighter.
'Buenos días a Su Alteza,*' Tesla greeted, bowing once again.
Feliciana giggled.
'Buenos dias, Tesla!'
Straitening up with his smile still present on his face, Tesla relayed his outline of his mistress's breakfast and her lessons for the day.
'For breakfast today we have prepared a small dish of mixed salad and buttered rolls for your highness, a side of fresh sardines and a cup of newly squeezed orange juice. Does this please you, mistress?' he added, glancing at her questioningly although he knew her answer would be the same as always:
'Perfect, thank you!'
Tesla nodded, satisfied, and then did something he had not done before. Instead of leaving to bring in her breakfast immediately, he leaned in and whispered:
'I have also managed to aquire some iYemas/i cakes* for your highness' pleasure. As you well know, the October Fiesta de Santa Teresa is fast approaching, and these delicacies are already being made in preparation for the event.'
Feliciana's face lit up with happiness and she clapped her hands.
'Oh Tesla, thank you so much!' she cried, lowering her voice as Tesla gestured politely for her to quiet down. 'Oh... I almost forgot about the Fiesta! Thank you!'
She giggled into her hands, and suddenly embraced her young manservant in her delight.
Tesla stared, stunned. Gathering himself quickly, he somewhat awkwardly and briefly patted the young princess on the back and waited until she pulled back.
Feliciana gazed up at him, eyes a little saddened.
Her dutiful manservant cleared his throat and attempted another smile, but this one noticeably weak.
'Anything to please your highness,' he said seriously. Feliciana brightened at this.
'Hee, you're so funny,'
Tesla was about to say something in reply when a loud banging erupted from outside the door.
'U-um...enter,' Feliciana bode shakily, alarmed.
Instantly a court guard burst into the bedchambers, bowing hastily to the princess before relating the cause of his distress.
'Signor Tesla, young highness...I...I don't know how to properly relate this tragedy to you and lessen the grief, but...His Majesty the King is dead!'
From the moment those dreadful words left the man's lips, the world around the princess and her servant imploded into a hell more terrifying than the nightmares of the Devil himself.
Chapter poem translation:
Stone masses shield me, bar me, encase me
From the world's beautiful cosmos
I have never seen.
I wait here alone, patiently
For your smile
To illuminate my day.