In the high stony hills of the Viscounty of DunBroch lay the mountains of Ben Vair. It was a land of tall pines, caves, and short grasses, which were decimated by the livestock that fed against them. This mountain range tumbled into a grey loch, surrounded on its left shoulder by a half valley, which was more like a low lying range of hills upon which sat Castle DunBroch. Surrounding the half valley on its climb to the Ben Vair was a range of pines huddled close and dark where the hunting parties went on. The valley was for archery. And on this strange day it was unnaturally hot. The wind came by in lazy gusts, humid thanks to the lake. But the sweat glistened on the brows of the nobles and their servants alike.
While most of the party straddled the lake, one girl with a head full of flames tucked her curls up and pressed her fingers against the damp cloth on her back. Then she commanded her fingers away from the moist skin and sent them padding around the edge of her quiver for an available arrow. Once she set hands on a good one she slipped it out and strung it up in her long bow. With closed left eye she set her right on the target, pursing her lips to the side as she tilted her arrow forward. Then, she let go, and the sharp head went sailing right into the target's center. Merida grinned.
"The Archadian Empire continues to cause trouble in the south," a melodious voice murmured a distance behind, so low it came to Merida's ears in a whisper. It made her grit her teeth. But she strung another arrow anyway. Then a booming laugh erupted, enveloping the whole valley, causing the falcons to jitter. And Merida relaxed and shot. Another perfect hit.
"The Archadian Empire is filled with fiends," responded the great laughing voice of Merida's father. "The southern Margravies shall snuff its advances."
"It is rumored that they have a new weapon," the soft voice returned in a whisper, even quieter than his statement before. At this Merida's ears pricked up and she listened, pretending to string another bow. She did not dare look over her shoulder, though she wished she could. The shuffling of her father's feet made her uneasy. So she shot again, just missing her mark. She scowled. One arrow left. But instead of stringing it in her bow, she wiped her palms and used her sleeve to swab her wet brow. Then she retied her hair as the men continued speaking behind her.
"What weapons could be greater than our marksmen?" boomed Merida's father, and Merida scowled deeper. He expected her to shoot her last arrow. So with reluctance, she strung it, shut her left eye, took her mark, and let go. Another perfection, this time shredding the previous arrow in half, right to the head. Her father chuckled and she heard his feet padding towards her. Then his hand fell against her shoulder and she looked up.
"My daughter may be our finest," chuckled Fergus with pride, staring at Merida with a crinkly-eyed smile. Merida grinned back without stopping herself. But her eyes fell dull as they lay upon her father's companion. Though there was not a bead of sweat on his brow, his eyes moved across the landscape covered in narrowed lids, their warm greys insipid. His skin was grey as well; at times blue when in the sun. They said it was due to silver in his blood, and not to stare because of his rank. But he seemed to belong to the loch more than anything else. Merida greeted him with a curtsy and a mumbled hello.
"Your daughter is fair and mild of tongue," murmured the stranger.
"Only to men who shimmer of honor," replied Merida. In surprise the stranger pursed his lips, while Merida's father slapped his knees and let out a sailing guffaw. In between laughter and breath, the viscount pointed to his daughter and grabbed her shoulder again, beaming. "She's got a tongue on her alright, but I wouldn't ascribe it 'mild'."
The stranger did not find it so funny, and instead stood in silence as his companion's chuckles tapered to nil. When all was quiet except the wind of the loch, the stranger smiled. "Is her cousin not still in the fencing arena?"
With a nod Fergus fumbled to grasp Merida's arm and push her towards the castle, and the sudden display raised the heads of the servants scavenging the valley for an occasional bit of information to intermit their work. But as Merida's gaze fell on each set of sheep like eyes, they turned downward while the hands busied themselves. A brave one, upon being stared down, said, "Milady, have you want of your arrows?" But Merida shook her head and stalked towards the target herself, calling "I will do it," behind her back. Once in front of the red and white circle, she tugged her arrows from the canvas and returned them to her quiver. Then she trudged for the castle, which lay fifty meters ahead. Another servant offered to walk her up, but upon Merida's following scowl, instead chose to walk a yard behind her.
Once she'd reached the gatehouse, checking to see that her brothers were not peering over its roof's edge, she stepped through the entrance to the castle courtyard and asked one of the roaming gardeners about her cousin. None but the head Webster knew anything of her location, and she only offered a general direction with the point of her finger. But upon trudging towards the line of empty halls serving as classrooms, the familiar whine of metal against itself entered her ears. The third hall was the one, its tables and chairs pushed to the room's sides to afford ample dueling space. At its center stood the combatants, the tips of their rapiers glancing off one another. Their thick trousered legs held taught, right leg to the front and left to the back, grounded them, while the muscles of their fighting arms were covered in a thick leather wrap. Their left arms were held behind their backs. They began.
The left opponent's front foot moved first, raised on the toes before landing with the heel turned out. His weight moved from his back to his front foot, and the back foot glided to the front as he lunged forward. In return, the right opponent's blade, before held adjacent to her chest, curled parallel to the line of her body as she beat back the attacking lunge. Circling past her opponent's blade, she straightened her right arm as her blade ran across her opponent's bicep. Once "finit!" was called, the match ended. As Merida clapped in the background her cousin's helmet came off, revealing a twin head of fire, albeit with curls more tame than Merida's, parted severely down the center of her scalp. The same, brilliant teal eyes stared from an indignant face. Then they were gone, turned away. When her opponent pushed his cap from his own head and moved towards, she snapped her fingers and he left, exiting the room with a bow. Then there were only the two girls.
"Is the party returning for supper?" asked Juri in a clipping tone. Merida tried grinning in response. But then she added, "the sun is too high yet," moving closer to her cousin to watch her put her fencing tools away. Juri's dress lay in a bunch beneath her scabbard, as did her petticoat. She looked upon the articles of clothing in disdain before removing her fencing sleeve from her arm, and then her sleeved vest, setting both to the ground as she pulled her chemise and cote over her head. After she was attired in her dress, her trousers were taken off and folded near her scabbard. Juri looked at the linen cloth in longing, before pushing it aside and turning to face Merida. "Shall we move to meet them?" she asked. Merida nodded and both exited the room.
The sun was now lower in the sky, a bright orange against a slow blushing horizon. Merida sucked it all in in one swoop of a breath, before puffing it back out into the air. Juri was silent beside her as they walked.
"Don't the trousers feel strange against your bare legs?" asked Merida finally, unable to contain herself. Beside her Juri's eyes closed and her fists clenched. "Are you planning on informing my father?" she murmured, but Merida shook her head with vigor. "The strangeness of it impresses me," added Merida, sheepish. She thought she noted a hint of a grin play across Juri's lips. But only for an instance, then it was gone.
"Did you hear what they were speaking of?" whispered Juri. Merida shook her head again. Then she saw that the grey man and her father were still in the valley, at the foot of the stone steps leading to the gatehouse of their manor. "They sent me off before I had time to listen."
"You were too loud," responded Juri. "When they think you stupid, they allow you to stay."
Merida turned to Juri in deep surprise and examined her face. The girl stared forward with pursed lips and bent brows, an expression strange to the people of DunBroch save for Merida's mother, Eleanor. Juri's held more bitterness, though.
"I heard what they were saying," Juri murmured in soft reply, gaining back Merida's full attention. They both stared in the direction of the grey man, examining him as he spoke, and the way he touched Fergus's shoulder and bent near to his ear, speaking words crafted solely for the viscount.
"They spoke of the Archadian Empire," murmured Juri further. "They said it holds a new weapon, a human one. Or perhaps something less than human."
"God bless us," whispered Merida in response. "To fight such fiends in reward of such graces."
Amused, Juri's eyes softened. Then, bending close to Merida and looking over the loch she whispered, "they are searching far and wide for soldiers of strong character and ability. They search among us as we speak."
Purpose met in such strange circumstance, Merida took time to settle in to the new information, using her nails for tactile distraction. Juri watched her press around their rims in exasperation, but the sullen girl did not speak out against it. Instead her eyes moved again to the loch, where they seemed tied. Rummaging in her skirts, Juri pulled out her metal pomander, nuzzling it to her nose and sucking in its scent, one of crushed lavender. Merida looked on with indignation. "If my odor offends you, do not stand so close," she barked, and Juri scowled in response, the pomander disappearing again in the left sleeve of her surcote. "It is not you, Merida. It is the world. I hate the smell of it." After imparting this Juri disappeared from Merida's side and trudged back to the gatehouse and into the castle just as her father and the grey man mounted the last seven stone steps. When they reached Merida's side, the grey man disappeared inside the gatehouse while Fergus stayed.
For a while the pair stood in silence. Then with deep breath Fergus announced, "there is a strange school on the coast of the Barony of Destin."
"Is that in Corona?" replied Merida. Her father nodded. "Corona's count is sending his daughter to Destin, as are many noble-borns within the borders of our kingdom." Then, as if surprised himself, he added, "even the Holy Emperor of Gestahl sends his son and daughter."
The tendons that wrapped around the bones of Merida's fingers tingled. She did not look at her father as she spoke.
"Am I to go as well?"
"You and Juri will go together."
"What about Adam?"
"Adam is not to be trusted. You will go with Juri."
Nodding, Merida left her father's side and climbed to the gatehouse, where she stumbled towards the great hall ahead of her family. Her mother was caught in conversation with her sister in law, but when she spotted Merida heading towards her she held out her arms and sighed. "Where is your cousin?" she murmured, gripping Merida's shoulder with a sure hand. Merida shrugged away from her and walked ahead of the party with a high chin. "She went to the great hall ahead of me."
Eleanor said nothing in return, so Merida quickened her pace until darkness lit by glowing orange torches engulfed her. The stage heading the great hall was already set with knives for supper, and the smell from the kitchen overwhelmed. But Merida worried. She pressed the sides of her nails again as she paced the back of the empty hall. At its center lay the fire pit. But at its head, upon the stage where her family sat for meals, there was a great shield representing their emblem. Upon its silver back three bears roamed an infinite plain. Eluding them forever lay the triskelions, sustaining and developing. Then there was the half triquetrum, ending three times, protected by a thick band of black. The long legs of the triskelions softly touched it, but the three bears hounded their backs, forever.