The scene was a familiar one, a fragmented figure of a distant memory. The gardens of the Azelhart mansion in Noblecourt had been the backdrop of Primrose's childhood, the place where she met the first person she would ever claim to be her love, though those fragile words had long since crumbled away like ash on the sky. She fell to the ground with her hair blowing in the wind. Ten years later, she would take the breeze as a sign of a challenge from the gods themselves. As a child, she thought of it as a kiss to soothe her woes as emotions attempted to overtake her.
"Primrose..."
The shadow of her father stood nearby, his face laced with kindness and paternal care in a way that felt magical to the only girl who got the chance to see him this way. He was worried as he watched her, concern unable to escape his gaze. Primrose was pushing herself too far, and as her father, he was the only one with the power to potentially talk her down from her own self-destruction.
"Father, please... Let me try just once more!" Primrose cried out. She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the way that her body attempted to tremble. She had been trying to perform this specific move for her father for what felt like an eternity, but she always just barely seemed to come up short, and her feet were starting to burn with past failures.
Her father could see the way that her body was beginning to turn against her, and he shook his head. "You have tried enough. Now, you must be still and reflect upon why you continue to fail," Geoffrey instructed of her carefully. This was the closest he could get to forcing her to rest before she inevitably went for another round of rehearsals, and it was the best that he could do in terms of helping her to recuperate from the injuries that were simply waiting to happen. "You are my daughter-the lone daughter of House Azelhart. You must be strong. Stronger than you are now."
Primrose nodded as she looked down to the ground. "Yes, Father," she said softly, embarrassed at her continued failed attempts to perform the steps. Geoffrey had been teaching her to dance for as long as she could remember, an art that he first learned from Primrose's mother before she became an angel buried beneath the grasses of Noblecourt. He had decided to pass such skills on when Primrose requested such of him, but her young body was still clumsy and developing, not yet what it was bound to become. She had tripped over herself more times than either one of them had bothered to count, and deliberate care was necessary to ensure she didn't fall victim to any unnecessary injuries.
Geoffrey took a few steps away from his daughter, and Primrose's eyes followed his ever movement. "Answer me this, Primrose-what is required of the head of a great house? The lady of House Azelhart..."
"The lady of House Azelhart..." Primrose echoed before she swallowed back her fears and stepped closer to her father. "...Must safeguard her family's success and glory. She must be strong enough that no other house overshadow our own."
Geoffrey stopped to think for a moment. "A fair answer. But hear me well, Primrose... Worth is not found in the eyes of others. That which truly matters most lies within. What the head of our house must value above all... Is faith."
"Faith..." Primrose repeated under her breath, turning the word over in her head silently.
Geoffrey nodded. "'Faith shall be your shield.' These are our house words. And what they mean... Is that you cannot waver until you have done what you know in your heart of hearts must be done. It is the determination to keep your eyes fixed on the path before you, though a thousand indignities may seek to trip you up along the way. You must find that faith in yourself."
"Yes, Father," Primrose said softly, though if she was being honest, she didn't know what she was meant to have faith in. She was still so young, not even yet a teenager, and yet, the weight of the world had already been placed on her shoulders. Her family's legacy meant everything to her, but what was someone so young to do in the face of so much? The universe was relying on her to carry out her duty, and so were many others along the way. Primrose didn't know what she was meant to have faith in, because as it stood, she didn't think that she would be able to have faith in herself. Someone so small could hardly find the power to stand on her own two feet, much less do something meaningful with her life. And yet, her father told her the house words once more all the same, expecting her to internalize something that she only barely understood in her fragile youthful mind.
Geoffrey reached carefully to his hip, removing a small item in a brown pouch. Upon closer examination, Primrose realized that it was a sheath. "Primrose... I would entrust this dagger to you," Geoffrey told her carefully. "Our words are engraved upon the blade. See that they are engraved upon your heart as well."
Primrose stepped forward and accepted the dagger into her hands, looking down at it carefully. It was heavier than she anticipated, but it was still rather light. How could something to small weigh nothing at all but still carry the weight of everything she was set to inherit? How could a simple set of words do so much to induce contemplation in the mind of a young girl barely fit for comprehension of the universe? How could she find a purpose in her life when she barely understood how to follow in the footsteps of her parents despite everything she had been told? These questions rang endlessly in her mind, and the weight of the dagger suddenly felt stifling.
Primrose looked out the window at the snow that rolled past the carriage. Flakes were still drifting down from the heavens, gentle and perfect in all their resplendent beauty. She remembered the scenes of her father's teachings perfectly well even with a decade spaced between her and the past, and she prayed that she never forgot. Memories of childhood wonder and misunderstanding were all that she had to hold her father to her heart with, and she wasn't about to let her one tether between herself and her family be severed.
Well, if she was being honest, the more outward manifestation of her connection could be found in her hands. Primrose didn't know when she had taken the dagger away from her hip to hold it, but it was grasped firmly in her fingers nonetheless. She stared down at the small words engraved in cursive across the steel. Faith had told her to kill Helgenish and take revenge for Yusufa's death. Faith had told her to stay with the other members of the party around her. Faith was telling her to follow in the paths of those that killed her father and plunge her dagger straight into their chests. Her father had told her of faith countless times, and even after all these years, Primrose had to wonder if she truly understood it the way that Geoffrey once had.
"Lady Primrose... Are you alright?"
The voice of Arianna pulled Primrose from her musings, and she glanced up to see that there were countless eyes on her from within the carriage. Everyone was watching her, able to sense that something was amiss. All of a sudden, Primrose felt as if her heart had launched itself up into her throat, blocking any meaningful words from pushing themselves free of her lips.
"Arianna..." Primrose finally managed to say softly, refusing to meet the gazes of those around her. She had gotten too caught up in her own memories, and she could only hope that it hadn't done too much to disturb those around her.
"You must have been very weary," Arianna commented quietly. The rest of the group continued to watch on in concern, and Primrose felt like she was going to sink down into the ground.
"I... I was just thinking about Father," Primrose admitted. She felt a hand slide on top of her own, and she realized that Ophilia was reaching over to offer her quiet consolation. Primrose smiled gently, but she knew that everybody in the cabin could see just how much she was falsifying her grin. "Even in my memories, he will not stop lecturing me on how to live my life."
"Lord Azelhart was a man of unwavering principles," Arianna confirmed with a small nod of her own.
"That he was," Primrose said softly. Ophilia's hand began to retreat, and Primrose found herself locking eyes with H'aanit when she looked up next. The huntress' gaze was surprisingly affectionate, and Primrose forced herself to look away before she stared for too long, knowing that the look of care from the light-haired woman was only going to make her falter if she thought about it for too long. Then again, it seemed as if everything was trying to trip her up these days, and her own memories of the past were hardly exceptions in the matter.
Primrose took in a careful breath before she pressed herself to continue. "He taught me the sword, he taught me my letters, he taught me what it meant to live with dignity and honor... He taught me all that I know." Even back in Sunshade, she had survived because of everything that Geoffrey passed down to her. She was able to endure despite the indignities that crossed her path because she knew all that she had been taught by her father. It had helped her through her darkest of times, and hopefully, it would continue to do so.
A small voice in the back of Primrose's mind whispered that she was betraying him by turning to the path of murder. Revenge or justice, who was to say? She forced the thought away from her attention as soon as possible, her throat threatening to close up on her along the way.
"He always told me to choose wisely what you believe in and to have faith in your beliefs. For that faith shall be your shield," Primrose continued, looking down at the dagger still resting between her fingers. She clenched the sheath a bit tighter, wondering if Geoffrey would be willing to grace her knuckles with his own grasp even after all that she had done to turn away from the path of what many argued to be morally righteous. Her faith had taken her down a dark, terrifying path, but it was still the faith that he had once spoken of so intently. How could one be loyal and a traitor simultaneously? Primrose didn't know, but she was confident that if anyone could pull off such an impossible feat, it would be her.
Primrose wasn't able to stop the words that fell free of her lips in the moments that followed. "What do I believe in...?" There was no easy answer to that. She believed in justice, but was justice truly shown through a path of bloodshed and murder? She could see the way that Ophilia had looked at her when they first met. The cleric had been terrified of the power that Primrose played with like it was nothing. She had been afraid of Primrose through and through, not wanting to admit it but still seeing the darkness that rested beneath the eerie smile of a Sunshade dancer. Was she doing what was right, or was she indulging herself out of a lack of comprehension of the world? Why didn't she have an easy answer to that question or any other inquiry that was constantly lurking in the back of her mind?
"My lady...?" Arianna questioned. Primrose saw some of the others in the carriage open their mouths to speak, but before any of them could say a word, the footfall of hooves from outside the cabin came to a halt as the journey drew to a close.
"End of the line."
Oren's voice was blunt and harsh, lacking any sort of grace, not that he particularly needed it in his line of work. He stepped down from his seat outside the carriage and opened the door, offering everyone the chance to file out of the cabin. The outside air was chilly, a stark comparison to the inherent warmth of the carriage that came with having so many people inside. Perhaps it was that warmth, that sense of belonging and family, that had cast Primrose back to Noblecourt in the first place. Maybe this was what she believed in, a set of connections that she cared for more than anything despite not even being sure that she fully deserved it after everything that she had done and inevitably would do.
Oren didn't offer much of a chance for her to consider her philosophies though, instead reaching to close the door to the cabin. He was cut off when Arianna shook her head, and he ultimately stepped away from the door with the same detached bluntness in his eyes as always. "This is where I take my leave," he declared. "And not a word of this to the man in charge. I don't know who you are, but I know that you don't belong here." Primrose simply nodded, and Oren looked away, pretending not to see what was happening, as Arianna began to lead the group towards their destination.
When Primrose looked off in the distance, she could see the outline of a hazy mansion against the falling snow. They had traveled quite far in such a short amount of time, it seemed, and the building was just as impressive as she would have imagined given the money that the man of the crow had been pulling in over the course of his many years of running the brothel.
Soon enough, the mansion was towering over them, casting no shadow thanks to the absence of sunlight but still threatening as could be nonetheless. Arianna stared up at it with concern glimmering in her dark eyes. Everyone else watched the building in surprise as well, wondering what was inside while being afraid of the possibilities at the same time. At long last, Primrose was closer than ever, and she could feel it.
The dancer swallowed dryly as she looked down to the snow, sliding her dagger and sheath where they belonged at her hip. "Once, long ago... House Azelhart was locked in a vicious struggle with several of the other high houses," she said softly. Her sentimentality was a much greater factor than she had anticipated, but she continued her story regardless. "The tales say that my forebears dirtied their hands with many inglorious deeds in those days. One time, the head of House Azelhart invited his liege lord to the castle for a great feast... Only to murder him and every last man in his party to seize power for himself."
Arianna could do nothing but stare upon hearing those words. Primrose continued. "This lord had been a cruel man, and perhaps my forebear did the common folk a great service. But it did not win him any friends. Still, my family never relinquished the power they received. And they never lost faith in their convictions. 'Faith shall be your shield.' Unwavering belief in the righteousness of what they had done protected them from any slings and slights."
Arianna swallowed anxiously. "Did it?"
Primrose shook her head. "The petty squabbles of great houses concern me no longer. But our words still guide me as they have guided my family for so long." Primrose looked up to the mansion with a solemn sheen to her gaze. "As long as I have something to believe in... This is all I need."
Arianna was silent for a long moment before she took a step forward. "Lady Primrose, what is it that you believe in?" she questioned. The words were swallowed both by Arianna herself and the wintry air around them, and the inquiry hung heavily in the air like it was going to try and suffocate all those who dared to hear its words.
Luckily, not many had heard the question in the first place, and Primrose turned slowly to face Arianna once more. "Did you say something, Arianna?" she asked hesitantly, clearly able to tell by the look on Arianna's face that whatever words had been spoken had been far from beautiful in every possible way.
Arianna took a few steps away before she shook her head. "It's nothing, my lady," she murmured under her breath. She turned to face the large mansion standing above them, and she let out a heavy sigh. "This is the Obsidian Parlor. The dark rumors about it never cease, yet it remains cloaked in shadow. They say men of influence from across the realm have their hands in the buying and selling of women here..." Neither Arianna nor Primrose spoke for a long moment before the former turned to face her liege of times long gone. "I have plied my trade here for several years now. In that time, many of the girls who came here disappeared as suddenly as they arrived... Yes, I am a whore. And a cheap one at that-sold to this place for a price that would not buy you a good horse. Who knows when I will be sold again, and to where, for what pittance? When I think of that..." She stared down at the snow, bidding the tears in her eyes to freeze before they fell. "It... It scares me..."
Primrose's stomach churned at those words, and she remembered when that had been her life back in Sunshade. There had always been a degree of security for her there though; after all, she was Helgenish's star performer, and he would never even dream of giving up someone who brought in so many leaves to fill his coffers. The other girls had all been expendable just as Arianna was saying she was now.
Yusufa had been expendable. She had died as something that Helgenish thought that he could replace.
Primrose took a step forward and placed a hand on Arianna's shoulder, wondering vaguely which one of them was more comforted by the gesture. "Forgive me, Lady Primrose. I do not deserve your pity," Arianna muttered, clearly struggling to get the words out around the knot in her throat.
It wasn't until after Arianna had managed to regain her composure that she took a step away from Primrose and sighed, causing the dancer's hand to fall limply to her side. Arianna gestured off to the side, showing the entrance to a tunnel along the way. "Make your way through this cave," she instructed. It was at this point that Primrose noticed the rest of the group had already started to enter the cave, seemingly having figured out what the next step of accomplishing their objective was bound to be. Primrose wondered if perhaps this had also been motivated by an attempt to give her and Arianna a bit of much-needed privacy.
Primrose looked into the cave, seeing that it was much more well-lit than she would have initially expected. Her stomach churned when she realized that this back path was likely used as a way of transporting women who would fight back too much to go through the front door. After all, the man in charge had a reputation to attend to, and screaming whores would only put his patrons off using his services more.
"It will take you to the master's chambers," Arianna said a moment later, confirming all of Primrose's suspicions in the blink of an eye. "If you go quietly, no one will be the wiser of your coming." She paused briefly before looking up to her former liege with something pleading in her gaze. "But Lady Primrose... Do be careful." Primrose nodded, and Arianna's eyes fell shut with a twinge of regret. "I must be getting to work, so this is where I must leave you."
Primrose nodded, remorse starting to cloud her insides at the thought of Arianna being pushed into yet another day of service in the name of something so sickening and twisted. "Of course, Arianna. Thank you for all you have done," she said softly, her voice so overwhelmed with gratitude that it was difficult for her to even listen to, and she was the one speaking the words to begin with. "Take care of yourself... And have faith."
With that, Arianna nodded and began to walk in the direction of the main entrance. Primrose pulled her dagger from its sheath and stared at it for a long moment, the words upon it echoing in her mind endlessly. Perhaps the Azelhart legacy had always been meant to be something of bloodshed and conflict. Her ancestors had certainly made it seem that way, doing anything they could to stay afloat in the gruesome game of politics no matter who it meant stepping on. Primrose was already a murderer much the same way that her forebears had been, and she was only going to raise her body count until it had reached the number four. That was what she had set out to do, and even if her ideals were twisted-even if this was not truly justice-she was following what her faith and convictions had told her to do. She would be loyal to the Azelhart name even if her existence was a contradiction to such. If she had faith, she would be loyal no matter the amount of blood on her hands.
"'Faith shall be your shield.' A fine motto."
Primrose perked up at the sound of Olberic's voice, and she glanced up to see that he was at the back end of the group that had been gathered at the entrance of the cave. The look on his face was impossible to read, and Primrose knew better than to say that he had been eavesdropping. Even if that was the case, it didn't particularly matter. She didn't mind. She couldn't bring herself to mind no matter how hard she may have wanted to try. "You think so?"
Olberic nodded. "'Tis honest and forthright. Virtues I strive to uphold," he told her, and something in Primrose's stomach lurched. He was a knight and had been for years before Hornburg fell. He had firm values, and for some reason, those were not disputed by Primrose chasing murderers with revenge on her mind. Then again, were they not the same at heart? Olberic sought justice of his own breed, and it could hardly be claimed that they were polar opposites in that regard.
Much to Primrose's surprise, Olberic continued. "If you are in need of a swordsman to defend that motto, you only need ask. We are fellow travelers now, and so I am in your service."
Primrose's insides churned, and she wished that life was that simple. Instead, she simply smiled to herself, and she found herself speaking the most honestly she had regarding her emotions in what felt like a lifetime. "I'm very grateful for it too. Having you and everyone else nearby already gives me courage enough. But when you pledge your sword, why... I believe nothing will stop me." She couldn't say what made her think this was a good idea to say, but the words came tumbling out regardless, and they even earned a flutter of joy in her chest at the idea that she was no longer as alone as she once might have feared.
Olberic simply smiled in return, no doubt aware of Primrose's internal struggle but not probing the matter in the slightest. "I hope that I might also call on your help, should the need arise."
Primrose nodded, and her smile only grew wider. "Of course. Whenever you need me."
Primrose forced herself to stop talking before she started to think about something that she shouldn't have, and instead, she concentrated on the path ahead. Ophilia had raised the Ember once again, and she was using its gentle white glow to light the path until the first torch appeared. The ground was icy in there, and Primrose was glad that most of them had shoes with enough traction to survive the potential slickness of the path to their target.
Primrose looked down at the path before she let out a sigh and took the first step. She had no idea what was coming next, but she was going to do what she could to follow the path that faith presented to her.
His name was Rufus.
The man of the left crow sat atop a chair of velvet in a purple room that might as well have been the space that held a throne. Two windows sat on either side of his chair, each one allowing gentle silver light to stream in and illuminate the space. The curtains were the same purple color as the walls and carpets, making the room seem even more eerie than it was by nature. There were statues pressed against the wall, both portraying nude women in glorious positions. They had been expensive to purchase, but as far as Rufus was concerned, they had been more than worth it. Ornate paintings that had been just as pricy and exclusive hung on the walls, each one detailing yet another naked woman for the sake of the viewer.
Three women surrounded him, all part of his regular entourage. Their names were things he knew like the back of his hand. Rufus knew who every girl under his employ was, and he had more than come to understand how all of them behaved both in and out of the bedroom. He was never seen alone by anyone even if the rotation of girls that accompanied him changed with the passage of time. Why would he want to be alone? After all, he had the entire town of Stillsnow bending to his every whim, and every woman within the territory's boundaries would never dare to define him.
A knock came at the door, and Rufus perked up. "Enter."
The man who appeared was one drowning in white robes, his expression glossed over with concern and shame. He was a bishop of some repute from a small chapel of the Sacred Flame, someone who had been to the brothel more than a few times. "Master Rufus... Please have mercy and hear my plea..." Rufus watched him passively, his eyes unmoving. "She was my only daughter. I spared no effort in raising her to be a fine lady. Each day, I brushed her beautiful hair and dressed her in the finest silks... She... She was everything to me." His head dropped, and sorrow overcame his expression. "But then... Then she was sullied by the son of a country lordling. She could not bear being dishonored so, and on the eve of the day she was to be wed to him... She took her own life."
The man was shuddering with grief in his eyes as he took a step closer to Rufus. The man of the crow still did not offer him even the slightest ounce of sympathy through his gaze or body language. "Never again will I stroke my daughter's long, beautiful hair... And when I think of that lordling living his days in luxury, with no punishments for his heinous deeds... It keeps me awake, night after sleepless night. Master Rufus... Please, lend me your strength." He took another step closer. "Lend me your power, that I might have my vengeance against that sinful house..."
It was only then that Rufus rose to his feet, and the women around him adjusted accordingly. None of them met the man's eyes. Rufus finally seemed to remember his name, as if the detail had been unimportant to him until that very moment. "Father Eschard... We are friends, are we not?"
The bishop began to hesitate. "B-But of course," he said, his voice tripping up at the suddenness of Rufus' inquiry.
"And friends are always there with a helping hand in times of need," Rufus drawled, each word an unspoken threat and promise. "I trust you will lend me your strength when I am in need. You are a Bishop in the Order of the Sacred Flame. You have much to offer me."
Father Eschard took another step forward. "Anything you wish, Master Rufus. Anything at all!"
Rufus nodded, a small smile beginning to spread across his face. His eyes remained dead and detached as could be. "Then it would be my pleasure to help you. You must be lonely after the loss of your precious daughter, Father Eschard. I will give you one of my own girls." He paused in contemplation. "Hm... How about Arianna? She is close to your daughter's age and has a sweet enough disposition. Use her as you like, and I trust you will enjoy her."
The bishop's eyes went wide. "Oh, thank you, Master Rufus! Truly, your generosity knows no bounds!" he declared, gratitude flooding through his body. He turned on his heel and dashed out of the room, almost giddy with his excitement over something so twisted. There was something terrifying in his eyes, driven to the edge by a thousand different ideas of what he was going to do when he received the replacement for his daughter. A moment later, he was gone, no doubt off to imagine whatever was bound to come next.
Rufus sighed and shook his head once he was alone. "Debts are such tricky business..." He sat back down atop his throne of velvet, and the girls around him curled in closer to tend to the one they knew as their master. "But one must make hay while the sun shines."
This chapter is going up later than I would have liked, but here we are! Woohoo!
This chapter was a fun one to write just like most others from Primrose's story. It's always nice to go through the darker matters like this, I must confess, because of how much insight it gives us into Primrose's character. After this, I promise that we're going to start hearing from the other characters more, including how they feel about Primrose to begin with. I'm going to do my best to establish bonds between as many pairings of the cast as possible since I feel like that's a crucial part to the group dynamic, so you can look forward to seeing some unexpected pairs come together in the future.
For the time being though, this was the last chapter before what I'm hoping will be the fight against Rufus. Next time we come together, I'll be kicking off the chapter with Therion's party banter before moving into the cutscene just before the fight, and hopefully, Rufus' battle will take place in the latter half of the next chapter. In other words, we're getting closer to the end of Primrose's emotionally tense chapter two at long last.
Until then though, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Feedback is appreciated as always. Have a nice day, everyone!
-Digital