Disclaimer: All rights go to the owner of Akagami no Shirayukihime, I only own my OC's (this applies to the whole story because I know I'll forget)
"-and the new recruits have almost finished their training with the Imperial Guards. They will be graduating in a month's time and placed on guard duty with some of the current soldiers after the ceremony, in order to keep an eye on them. "
A slow, authoritative nod came from the figure by the window, the last of the suns golden rays illuminating his face, giving his light blond hair a rich, golden hue, and casting long shadows across the grand, but quiet room, the only two living creatures occupying it being the two men. The herald looked down again at his report, quickly scanning the information before he relayed it to the prince:
"However, I'm afraid there will be no ceremonial swords for the recruit's graduation, Your Highness, due to an unfortunate accident concerning the Court Blacksmith."
At this the prince's head turned slightly towards the herald in interest, having not yet heard of this 'unfortunate accident' concerning the Palaces only blacksmith. The herald continued:
"Whilst re-shoeing one of the Palaces stallions the horse became spooked, causing it to buck. The Court Blacksmith was able to dodge most of the blow and escape with his life, however his right arm is broken and the Court Herbalists have informed me he will be unable to work for… six weeks at least, two months at most."
The first Prince of Clarines looked down in thought, the sun sinking ever lower in the sky and the shadows cast by the frames of the tall windows becoming longer and darker. The herald stood in the middle of the large room, attentively waiting for his prince's reply.
Izana knew that the graduation ceremony could continue without the ceremonial swords, which could be given to the new soldiers at a later date, however that wasn't following tradition and a few of the recruits would most likely be a little upset at the small change to their graduation; they had spent the good part of two years training, after all. He also knew that their graduation could be postponed until the blacksmith was well again, however that would again likely upset the recruits and put too much pressure onto the blacksmith to make the swords quickly, putting too much strain on his newly healed arm.
No, Izana thought, neither of these options will suffice.
The Court Blacksmith had been from the same family for generations, sons becoming apprentices to their fathers until the latter passed away, passing on the mantel to his son, who by that time had learned all of the skills necessary and of course the families tricks of the trade. Yet it happened to be the case that the current blacksmith did not have a son, nor any children, nor a wife for that matter. He had no legacy, no-one to which he could pass on his knowledge to before he eventually passed away; though that was thankfully quite a way off.
I think it is time our Court Blacksmith finally gained an apprentice.
Once again gazing out at the sunset, Izana said, "Inform the blacksmith that he must hold an exam in a weeks' time to find an apprentice. He may only take on one, but it is his decision as to who it shall be and what the exam will comprise of. If he has any inquires he may come and see me."
The herald quickly scribbled the details onto a new piece of paper, bowing to the Crown Prince saying, "I shall inform him immediately, Your Highness."
Sensing that the herald had finished his report, Izana dismissed him.
It will be interesting to see what test the blacksmith devises on such short notice, Izana pondered, and who it is he shall pick to be his apprentice.
The cloaked figure's boots thumped against the packed earth of the Eastern village's main road, the two rabbits that were tied to her belt by their hind paws swinging to the rhythm of her footsteps. In her left hand she held her bow, the ends of the dark, polished wood gently curving upwards, the twisted sinew of the bowstring taut between the two limbs, and on her back was slung a simple leather quiver, full of finely fletched arrows.
She walked along the edges of the village centre on her way home from the mornings hunt, hoping to grab some lunch before getting to work, but upon hearing a commotion coming from the centre of the market square, she paused and glanced towards the sound.
Upon the hooded figure turning her head, you would be able to discern the bright, welcoming face of a lightly tanned young woman in her late teens, her eyes a rich brown, like fresh soil after a downpour of rain, and it was only if you could get close enough to her that you would be able to see the light green flecks in the centre of her iris, like the first shoots emerging from the ground in spring. Under these eyes was a slightly crooked nose, as though it had been broken many years ago, and above the eyes, in the shadow created by the hood, was a barely visible side fringe of chestnut brown hair.
As the archer stood tall and proud she observed the commotion in the market square. Everyone was gathered round the village's noticeboard, muttering excitedly to each other as men, woman and children speculated as to what was happening, the villagers at the back craning their necks and standing on their tiptoes to try and get a better view of the action. The archer had no idea as to what the fuss was about – especially when it was centred on the village's noticeboard – but decided she would return later anyway, when the crowd had diffused, so she could satisfy her curiosity.
Just as she was about to turn and continue on her journey home, a man broke free from the crowd and headed towards an ochre stallion tied to one of the posts at the edge of the market square. The middle-aged man's clothes caught her eye, and she followed his movement as the crowd of villagers descended upon the noticeboard; the clothes were much finer than anything the people in the village wore and much cleaner too. She studied the well-groomed man as he mounted his horse, and just before he rode off she spotted a symbol embroidered into one of the saddlebags.
No wonder everyone's excited, she thought in slight awe, her curiosity rising at the sight it.
It was the sigil of the Royal family of Clarines; a flower like shape composed of six diamonds, set above a square with two sets of wing like shapes on either side of it.
Which meant that man was a messenger from Wistal Palace. From the capital of Clarines. From the Royal family themselves.
No matter how much her curiosity begged her to go and take a look at whatever it was the Royal Messenger had hammered to the noticeboard, the young woman knew it would be almost impossible to get a good look at it with the bustling swarm of people surrounding it, and even from this distance she could make out elbows jabbing and feet stomping. She could even hear a few disgruntled shouts as people barged each other out of the way in their eagerness. She shuddered slightly at the thought of such close and intimate contact with so many people, so decided it would be best to wait till later as she had originally planned.
Yet just as she turned to continue on her journey for a second time that day, the shrill voices of two middle-aged women met her ears.
She could recognise those two voices anywhere; almost everyone in the village could. They belonged to two of the biggest gossips in the Eastern settlement, and the archer suspected that they could be the biggest gossips in all of Clarines. It was highly probable that they had arrived at the noticeboard first, as soon as the Royal Messenger had been spotted, and it was likely that they had spread the news of his arrival even faster. It was even more probable that they had gotten to the information on the noticeboard first, most likely pushing and jabbing anyone who dared get in their way. In fact, the young woman was willing to bet everything she owned on the fact that they had, upon reaching the information first, pushed and jabbed their way back out of the crowd, going off to spread their newly acquired information to anyone who hadn't been able to leave home or work for the event.
Despite knowing that their gossip was mostly just that and could not be entirely trusted, due to the women's inclinations to exaggerate and lie, the hooded figures ears perked at the sound of their loud, shrill voices.
"What a shame it wasn't something juicer. It is very rare after all, that we hear news from the Palace."
"Still, some information is better than none, even if it is just about the Courts Blacksmith."
It was at those two precious words, Court Blacksmith, that the world stopped turning for the young woman standing by the edge of the market square. The shrill voices of the two gossipers were drowned out by those two words, all sounds ceased to be for the girl in fact, the words echoing in her mind as they repeated themselves over and over and over.
Court Blacksmith. Court Blacksmith. Court Blacksmith.
Sucking in a deep breath, the girl suddenly spun on her heel, her feet racing towards the noticeboard as fast as they could, her cloak billowing behind her.
People be damned, she had to get a look at that notice. And it couldn't wait till later, not anymore.
With those same two words still repeating themselves in her mind, she pushed her way through the crowd that was still gathered around the noticeboard, accidentally clocking an old man around the face with the ends of her arrows on her way through.
When she finally reached the noticeboard she was panting heavily, great huffs of air being released from her lungs despite the shortness of the journey. In her excitement, it took the young woman a few minutes to register what was written upon the poster nailed to the village's noticeboard. But all she needed to see was the word 'Apprentice', written in neat cursive, before she ripped the poster from the noticeboard and once again spun on her heel, pushing her way back through the crowd.
The young woman did not notice the crowds murmuring, nor did she see the angry and disapproving looks she got from a few members of the crowd, most of which came from people she had shoved or accidentally hit with her arrows on her way through.
The only sensations the girl could feel was her feet pounding the solid earth beneath her, and the stiff parchment of the poster gripped tightly in her gloved hand as she headed for home.
In her haste, the rabbits on her belt thumped into her legs due to their erratic swinging, and the hood that had once covered her head flew down, revealing the rest of her long, slightly frizzy brown hair to be in a ponytail, tied with a wide, plain, emerald ribbon, the wavy locks swinging just as erratically as the rabbits; but the young woman's hair was not completely brown, as there was a good portion at the end of her hair that was deep, rich shade of forest green.
A/N: Hi guys. So this is my first story and I welcome any constructive criticism you may have. I've been planning this story for a while now, doing research and an awful lot of daydreaming (an hour long bus journey everyday can actually be quite useful!) and I really hope you like it. I've only just starting writing because I have now finished college for the year so please review and tell me what you think! Thank you for reading,
-Limegreenarcher