Note: Hello readers! Thank you for stopping by to read my newest endeavor in the world of Narnia.. well, in this case, the land of Archenland! I hope that you enjoy! Special thanks for Kirsten Erin for the betaing and wonderful advice!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything C.S. Lewis related. The only people belonging to me are Drestor's family, and their servants.
Without further ado, I present
Debt of Honor Chapter 1 - Invitation
Pronunciation Index: Mirah (Meer-uh); Serelise (Sara-leeze)
In the household of Lord Drestor of Archenland, there was never much excitement. Every day passed much like the next. The only exception was when the Lord left for business in Anvard, sometimes accompanied by his wife, Mirah. It was with much surprise, then, that Drestor's eldest child, Serelise, received her father's old servant, Val.
"Your father requests your presence for a pressing matter," he informed her.
"Thank you, Val. I will be there in a few moments."
The old man nodded, bowing his grey head respectfully as he left.
Serelise had mixed feelings swell within her. Her father never summoned her except to scold her for some misplaced word or action. This time something was different, Serelise felt it.
The seventeen year-old girl smoothed the skirts of her long dress and tucked back a stray piece of hair that had fallen out of her long braid. Well, she was as presentable as could be with such short notice.
Serelise peeked outside of her door and upon seeing no one about, she lifted her skirt a few inches and ran down the hall. Her father liked her to walk at a demure pace, but she had a feeling she needed to be there soon. Serelise stopped at the door of her father's study and tentatively knocked.
"Come in," the low voice of Drestor commanded and the girl slowly pushed open the door. Drestor was seated behind a large oaken desk and Jakin, Serelise's thirteen year-old brother sat on one of the fine cushioned seats.
"Serelise," Drestor said with apparent displeasure. "You have taken so long in coming."
Serelise curtsied. "Forgive me father."
Drestor waved a hand waving off the matter, so she sat on a beautiful velvet sofa brought from Calormen and waited for him to continue.
"Father," Jakin said softly, a far cry from his normally energetic self. "May I ask why we're here?"
Drestor glanced at his son before holding up a crisp white envelope with a royal red seal. "It's from Anvard." he said simply.
"Anvard?" Jakin asked, finding himself curious. Drestor often received many things from Anvard, but he'd never before summoned his children about them.
"It is an invitation pertaining to the two princes' eighteenth birthday." Serelise sat up a little straighter in her chair, wondering how he would continue. "It appears," Drestor continued, "That our entire family is going to Anvard."
"Anvard!" Serelise exclaimed, forgetting herself.
"Serelise, please remember to comport yourself in a lady like manner," Drestor reprimanded sharply.
"Yes, Father." she replied meekly.
"When do we leave, Father?" Jakin asked, effectively changing the subject.
"In two days. Instruct your servants to pack enough clothes for at least a week. Royal birthdays bring great feasting, which can last for some time."
"Yes, Father." the children answered.
As they left the room, Serelise felt the excitement begin to burn in her chest.
"Imagine, Jakin." she said once they were in the hall. "We're going to Anvard. Anvard! Perhaps we will even stay in the palace since father is a nobleman."
Jakin grinned at her, his blue eyes dancing. "You are very much excited." he commented.
She laughed musically. "And you're not?"
He shrugged. "I suppose I am."
"Jakin, do you realize we're going to see the crown prince and his brother?"
"They are just people like us." he reminded.
"Well, of course. Everyone's a person." she said, laughing again. Jakin just smiled.
Serelise sat on her bed, watching her maid, Emine, work and combing her fingers through her long golden hair.
"Do you want to take this one miss?" the maid asked, holding up a satin gown.
The dress' underside was cream colored and the over-skirt a vibrant blue that left an upside down v-shaped gap down the front so the cream could show through. The top of the dress was similar. The top did much the same, only the cream showed in the torso due to the blue going into a v-neck. This was complimented by blue stitching crisscrossed over it. The three-quarter sleeves also a slit in it which flared at the end, thus allowing more cream to show through. It was a very lovely dress and one of Serelise's favorites.
"Of course. Do bring it," she said, nodding her head as she spoke.
"Yes, Miss." the maid said.
"Emine, we are leaving in two days. Can you please finish the packing tomorrow and come here for a moment? I need you to brush my hair."
"Of course, Miss." the servant girl complied, crossing the room to pick up a brush engraved with silver. She approached Serelise, who was sitting in a chair in front of her vanity, and began to comb the girl's thick, lustrous hair. Serelise could honestly have brushed her own hair, but it was another of the many duties of a servant. A servant was trusted when they could brush the hair of those they worked for.
Serelise sat at the dinner table silently. As the daughter of Lord Drestor, she was obliged to be seen only, as if a bouquet of flowers to be admired. She was strongly advised to be seen and not heard, unless someone was directing what they said to her. Even then, she was told to choose her words most carefully and to not shame her father or family name with foolish prattle.
Tonight this was even more important due to the attendance of another lord and his son at supper. Serelise had the sneaking suspicion it had something to do with her, as her birthday would be approaching and eighteen was the marriageable age for Archenlandian women.
"Lady Serelise," Lord Dren said to the girl. "Your father tells me you will be traveling to Anvard for the first time."
"Yes, my lord," she said, keeping her deep brown eyes averted.
"Ah, and how do you feel about this?" the older man asked, leaning forward in his seat. His elbow inadvertently knocked over his cup and for a brief moment, Serelise wondered if this man even knew the meaning of table manners. His son certainly didn't. Young Cav slurped his soup as though he were in a common tavern. A servant quickly rushed to soak up the mess of red liquid and replace Lord Dren's cup.
"My feelings, Lord Dren?" Serelise asked uncertainly.
"Yes, yes. How do you feel about going to Anvard?" The man sounded a bit impatient. Out of the corner of her eye, the girl saw her father give her a look and hurried to give her answer.
"Well," she began, "I am very much excited."
Lord Dren nodded in full agreement. "Anvard is a wondrous place. A girl as clever as yourself could really do something there."
Serelise turned a shade of pink.
Clever? Dren certainly could not know about the Narnian poetry and novels she read. Lord Drestor didn't think girls needed a large book education, just the first basic years. That was why Serelise never mentioned it. If Drestor found out he might forbid it and Serelise just couldn't bear that.
"Well, I wish you the best of luck on your journey." Lord Dren said cheerfully, taking a sip from his new goblet. "The best of luck."