Not very long, I'm sorry.

More to come,

I just wanted to see if anyone actually reviews it before more is written.


Corus - 512 H.E.

It had been one hundred years since King Jonathan's reign, and Tortall had been at it's highest peak. Little prospering has been done since the fabled time of King Jonathan and Queen Thayet, along with his Champion and other famous companions. His son had done a well enough job as king, but nobles, spurned by Jonathan, had plotted against the young Roald. His rule was a haggard one, trying to keep the people from turning on themselves. Now Corus is a ground down and tired city. A few months ago, King Roald passed away, leaving his oldest son, Martin, to become the soviergn. Nobles attempting to overthrow the monarchy saw a perfect opportunity. Martin's younger brother, Hallin, was a canvas waiting to be molded. His crafty and plotting mind would go along well with their plans. Whispers are heard everywhere, rumors that the rogue's are joining Hallin's cause. The country holds it's breath, waiting for the turning point. No one can yet determine the outcome.


Curled under thin sheets, balled up to keep warm, Emma of Corus was sleeping soundly. The sun, set to rise in a few minutes, would soon wake the sleeping girl. Her room was a tiny apartment, dark and bare. She had a stool in the corner and a bedside table, one leg in danger of tipping the whole thing, wobbly as it was. The door lead down a cramped hallway, ending in another door. The sun, peeking above the earth, shone brightly through Emma's window. The tiny amount of light, in such a dark space, startled the girl into waking. Stretching and blinking, she greeted the day with a slight smile. Mornings were a good time for Emma, sort of a new start in her mind. Kicking her legs over the side of her bed, she got up and changed into her simple garbs. Her brown frock was placed over a white blouse. The cheapest clothes were most often what she wore. When visiting a temple or for a special occasions, she wore a pretty but still simple blue dress over her white blouse. Today was no special occasion, however, as she needed to get to work as soon as possible. She had no mirror to view her big brown eyes. Her straight brown hair, holding curls with much difficulty, was brushed without knowing how it looked. A mirror was a frivolity she had never knew to have in the morning, so she didn't miss it. Emma was tall for age, a good half of a head over other girls. Her strong crooked nose never seemed to detract from her over all appearance. Most boys thought her quite the catch, even if she wasn't the most beautiful girl around the marketplace.

Dressed completey from head to toe, she patted her shirt down and headed out the door. Her sturdy everyday boots clomped across the floor as she reached the stair landing. She walked slower to quiet them, trying not to wake her sleeping sister and mother. Emma and her family lived above the milliner's shop, paying a rent to the milliner man and his wife. Emma's mother was always sick, never able to keep a job. She laid, invalid, in bed for days at a time. Because of this, Emma and her father worked hard to keep the rooms and food on the table. She had had two siblings, but her younger brother had died of a fever a few years back. The other was a eight-year-old sister, Ava. She helped around the house when their mother couldn't and made sure the sick woman was comfortable at all times while Emma was at work.

Down the hall, her father was quietly closing the door leading to his bedroom. He was tucking his shirt in to his brown breeches, and his black boots echoed her own. White teeth flashed against skin, tanned from many years working in the sun, as he smiled. Lawrence of Corus shared with Emma, along with all his children, a prominent nose. The nose went well with his squared jaw, creating a man that looked capable of lifting a boulder. His daughters knew a man who would feed one of their last scraps to a starving kitten. She greeted her da with a cheerful, "Good morning." They both headed downstairs to the milliner's shop, and thus outside. The milliner, creating the hats, worked with his wife, a stubborn woman who really ran the shop, and his eldest son, Conall. His wife was there to keep the bills and pick out the fashionable details. Conall helped out around the shop, apprenticing and running errands. He was a wiry young man, about a head taller than Emma, and had a nice easygoing look to his countenance. He smiled at Emma as she and her father passed by. Emma had noticed the older boy's eyes had lingered longer than neccessary on her curves of late. She smiled and waved back, just the same. They had been friends for a long time, no matter that Conall was acting silly right now.

Emma had gotten a job as a serving girl at the Dancing Dove. Known for housing the Rogue's court, the bar paid the most and was the closest to her house, only around the corner from the milliner's shop. Her father worked in an old blacksmith's shop; the older man had gotten an injury pertaining to his age, and Lawrence was now working in his stead. Out on the streets, Emma and her father waved and split to head off in seperate ways. Rounding the corner, streaming people pushed in on her from all sides. Most of the laboring class were up and busy at this time in the day. Fighting to reach the inn, she had to shove a few bodies out of her way. The disgruntled folk grumbled a few impolite words, reaching Emma's well trained ears. She headed inside, ignoring the grumblers, and walked back into the kitchen area. Samara, a young woman five years older than Emma and another serving maid, was already there, lounging on a stool. The woman was a curvy blonde, a favorite with the rogues they served. "G'morning, Emma." Samara greeted her sleepily. "Ellen's not here yet. Probably lost her way among the alleys." Emma giggled a bit, agreeing with Samara. Ellen, a much older woman, was always getting lost or confused when traveling from her house into the streets. Ellen, bursting into the area, replied, "I heard that. I could still outsmart you Samara, when it comes to wits." Gray hair curled around her small ears, despite being braided back tightly. The short stumpy woman commanded the serving maids at the Dancing Dove. Emma followed her orders alone, even if she didn't own the place.

Soon, the inn was filled with it's usuals, looking to catch up on gossip and sip an early morning ale. Emma, a wooden tray balanced on her hip, hopped from table to table, delivering the usual to her customers. Samara grinned across the room from her, doing the exact same routine. The two, despite an age difference, had developed an affection among themselves that only women could share. Emma's eyes quickly scanned the room, her sharp mind memorizing everyone's faces before in an instant. She had always had good memory, since she was a little thing, though it had never come in handy as of yet, except in the schools. She had done well in school, always thankful to the dead Queen Thayet, for establishing them for everyone. Emma had learned her letters the fastest in her class, and could still remember even without use, unlike most.

A hush fell over the room, breaking Emma from her trance. Her eyes automatically fell on the newcomers, as was everyone else's. There, in the doorway, stood two tall young men, taking off richly embroidered cloaks hinting at their wealth. These were no rogues, as everyone in the inn knew. One rogue, Twitch she recalled, whispered loudly. "We don't need no nobles in our inn." The men walked casually towards an open table, as if no one was staring at them. Emma, hurrying back to the kitchen, deposited her tray on a nearby table. Upon finding Ellen, she hurried whispered, "Should we be serving them?" Ellen twisting a strand around a finger, waved her away, meaning a yes. Samara, now having joined them, nodded her encouragement to Emma. She gulped and went back to collect her tray. Talking to nobles was intimidating, even for one as bold as she was. An uneducated girl was all they would see me as, she thought bashedly. Despite the shame she felt creeping into her features, she knew someone had to serve them. She wished she could just ignore them and hope they might go away. Gathering her courage, she opened her mouth to speak to knights for the very first time. "Welcome to the Dancing Dove. What can I get for you this fine morning?" She accompanied the chant with a winning, she hoped, smile, as she had been taught to do. The tallest, a man with dancing brown eyes and curly brown hair, smiled up at her. "We would like some ale and bread, thank you." His friend, a few inches shorter and with cropped red hair, smiled, too. They were both tan and wore crests that were undoubtedly also on their shields. The knights resumed a cozy chat when she turned her back on them. Returning with their food and drinks a few minutes later, they were still talking animatedly about something that obviously interested them. "May I ask what your name is, serving maid?" The dark-haired man asked. Emma blushed a little, then even more embarrased, answered. "Why yes, if you can give me yours along with his." She indicated the red-haired man with her head. They both chuckled appreciatively. "I am Robert of Sherrybrook, and this is Arnell of Pirate's Swoop." Emma's eyes got wide as she recognized the fief. "B-but that is where the Lioness lived."