Bouquet

(C) Intelligent Systems and Nintendo

-0-

Petals in the Summer Breeze: Fern
(fascination)

In years past, Pent knew perfectly well what he would be doing while his classmates were out enjoying their summer break: sitting in the bowels of the academy's library, sifting through records and tomes as he plunged himself wholly into the heart of magical research. It was a home unlike any other to him, and oftentimes he would be visited by one professor or another, enough that he had never thought of himself as lonely. If the other students he was friendly with returned to the academy early, he would let himself be coaxed into enjoying a night out with them. The heat would linger in Aquleia even at night, stifling and humid, but not quite as unbearable as his classmates had liked to complain. Then again, despite his affinity, summer and winter were about the same to him as far as his tolerance was concerned. Being a mage of not-inconsiderable power helped in that regard.

Here in Alloway County the heat was such that the unfiltered magic of the spirits seemed to simmer in the air, tickling his senses with the constant sensation of vibrating power. Magic was not as concentrated here as it was in Aquleia, where the sheer amount of magic users who entered the city contributed in drawing curious spirits to the city; here, it was wild, dancing about wherever it pleased. So far, quite a few stray spirits had circled him, but as much as he wanted to indulge himself by communicating with them, doing so in the midst of the crowds that had come to these wide fields for the tournament could have some rather unpleasant consequences if the spirits ran wild. It was a shame, though--he liked spending time with the spirits, and not only for the sake of furthering his own understanding of magic. Magic was simply so essential to him that, back when he was still a student, his peers would joke that he had to have been a spirit given flesh to help them pass their exams.

He held back the chuckle that rose from the thought. He had been doing that a lot lately, enough to wonder why he was bothering to hold back at all. But, he supposed he had a reputation to maintain, even in front of the clerk his steward had forced him to take, or something like that--he hadn't been paying attention at the time. As of late his interest had been diverted towards researching his new paper, a dissertation examining the evolution of the magical language of anima and comparing it to that of the equivalent languages in use for light and elder magic. It was a bit of a sensitive subject, considering how prickly the Church's higher ranks became whenever light magic was studied in a secular fashion, but as it was his first real research project since he became Count Reglay there was a feeling of exuberance behind his studies that he wanted to enjoy, one that couldn't be found going over the correspondences with the nobility within Reglay County's borders.

"Milord?"

Pent kept his expression carefully blank as he turned to his clerk, whom he vaguely remembered as being helpful in the whole bridal selection rigmarole a couple months ago. "What is it?"

"You seemed unwell just now. Would you like to rest by the shade? I will wait here for Count Alloway, if you like."

"No, I'm fine. I was just thinking."

"Hm." The clerk, with the red blotches on his cheeks shades away from matching his hair, seemed discontent from more than just the heat as he frowned. "But really, for Count Alloway to have us wait in the middle of this crowd without any shade..."

Shrugging, Pent glanced around; while there were many Alloway nobles around them, there were also quite a few people of common birth mingling with the nobles. His observances on how no one seemed to mind this arrangement made him say, "Alloway is a very casual place, moreso for this festival of combat." He didn't add that he liked it, because his offhand comments seemed to earn him lectures about the 'right mind for a noble' from his steward, who was already agitated about the marriage negotiation compromise. Pent didn't understand why--what use was there in arguing about dowry payments and annual sums? His steward had pushed and pushed for him to get married, so why balk at something as minor as money?

"Ah, yes, this 'weaponry festival.'" Fanning himself with one hand, the clerk had a bit of an odd look on his face as he stared up at Pent, not helped by the blotches of heat on his pale face. "And how do you think Lady Louise will place?"

"...I'm sure she'll do well," Pent managed out after a moment of utter blankness. "She wouldn't have said what she had said that day if she hadn't any confidence in her skills."

The clerk gave him another odd look. "If you say so."

Of course, Pent didn't know if he should believe in his own words. He had never seen Louise the archer anymore than she had seen Pent the mage, and it had not been the promise of her archery skills that had charmed him. If she were a subpar archer, it wouldn't matter to him; it was enough that she could promise her life to protect his, and in any case he couldn't imagine living such a life where her protection was needed. When he had been formally invited by Lord Aramis, Count Alloway, to the festival, he hadn't even known that Louise was to even compete until her last letter had confirmed it. He did hope to be impressed by her skills, but other than her few sentences about extending her practice times in preparation for the festival they had never even spoken of archery.

Then again, he hadn't written much about magic. Their correspondence was a new, hesitant thing, and he had a looming feeling that he was probably very boring to talk to beyond the requisite preliminaries.

It made him wonder, far from the first time, what business he had getting married when he was far closer to books than to people.

"Ah, he comes," said the clerk, and when Pent looked over he saw Lord Aramis leading two very familiar people to them. When Lady Catherine noticed him, he felt oddly shy at her wide smile--even though her summer dress was far more proper than the norm, her loosely pinned-back hair and large lavender eyes gave her a youthful, lively appearance that was reminiscent of her daughter. A small woman, she was dwarfed by the figures of her husband, Lord Aramis, and the commander of Alloway's knights, whom Pent had noticed in his stay at Castle Alloway as a silent, austere man who rarely left the side of his lord.

"Lord Pent, it's a pleasure to see you today," she greeted as she approached, fluttering a delicate fan trimmed with white lace. "It's quite hot today, isn't it?"

"I don't mind it," he replied honestly, sparing a glance at his suffering clerk. "It's at least not humid."

She seemed displeased with his answer, an eyebrow arched as she turned to Lord Aramis. "Aramis, I cannot believe you just left him here to roast."

"He just said he was fine," Lord Aramis said, a look of annoyance aimed at the woman, and Pent noticed Lady Catherine sneak a glance at his own face.

"Oh, but he's so light-haired that I have to worry," she said loudly, and in a much lower voice she continued with, "And at any rate, Sylphine used to burn."

My mother? Pent wondered, surprised to hear anyone utter his mother's name. After his mother had died, it seemed as though every scrap of information about her had vanished as well, save for her portrait. That there was someone else who knew her piqued his not-inconsiderable capacity for curiosity, though now wasn't the time to indulge it.

"Who?" Lady Catherine's husband asked. She pointed her fan in Pent's direction.

"His mother, an old acquaintance of mine in my Aquleia days."

Lord Aramis coughed. "Anyway, your husband should take his share of the blame, considering that the only reason we've moved up the tournament to this dreadful time was because someone on the harvest festival committee wanted to expand the number of feasts." He stared at Lady Catherine's husband. "Gérald."

The named man ignored Lord Aramis, his eyes narrowing when he glanced at Pent. "We've better spots in the front, and the archery competition is first. Shall we go?" Without another word, he strode back in the direction they had come from, followed by Lord Aramis and the Alloway knight commander. Lady Catherine walked alongside Pent, listlessly waving her fan in front of her face.

"You'll have to forgive him," she said as they worked their way through the crowd. "My husband is the easily irritable sort, and he's probably even more nervous about the competition than Louise herself."

"How is she doing?" Pent asked, feeling obliged to do so. Looking down at Lady Catherine's profile, he detected a hint of a smirk.

"Very fine, I should say. It's her first real competition, and she's been very diligent in her practice. I even believe that she'll place."

"In her first year?"

Lady Catherine laughed. "I'm a proud mother, what can I say? She's not a genius of archery, but she's combined talent with hard work."

"Milady," his clerk said from his other side, the man having been so quiet that Pent had forgotten he was there, "do many ladies of Alloway practice martial arts?"

"No, only the marital ones," she said, smiling. "But I must admit they have their similarities. Ah, here we are, the perfect spot to watch the arrows fly."

The place Lady Catherine indicated was a grassy knoll behind the wide roped-off area being used for the archery competition. There were other people besides their group there, but none of the archers had arrived so far; Pent could see the targets standing in the middle of the range, which was a distance he assumed would be adjusted during the course of the competition. If he had brought a fire tome, he imagined he could have hit the red circle in the center with very little effort, even from behind the fence--there had been labs in his old academy specifically for judging accuracy, labs in which he had performed fairly well even though he had little interest in the practical application of magic.

"Pent," Lord Aramis started after Pent reached the knoll, "do you know anything of archery contests?"

"No, not at all."

Lord Aramis smiled in a condescending manner as he stroked the thin lines of his goatee, exuding an attitude Pent was used to but had never grown comfortable with. It was best to let the older man speak without incident because too many things were at stake, but it was just another mark Pent noted against his noble duties, which had collected a fair few already in the half-year of his being Count Reglay. "It's really very simple. We've set it up so that there are as many rounds as there are still competitors, though normally it only goes up to six. Anyone with a bow can compete. For the first round, the targets are placed at twenty feet. The second, thirty. The third, fifty, and the fourth, eighty. Then we have the fifth round, where we've developed a very interesting moving target. It moves forward, but the archers can't dally for there are five targets to hit altogether. It's usually after that when we're able to start ranking, and the sixth round onwards are based on trick shooting. Did you understand all that?"

Pent nodded. "It sounds very interesting. I would like to see it in action."

"As would I, but they'll be along shortly." Lord Aramis looked to Louise's father, who was standing next to him. "So, my dear friend, what do you think of sweet Louise's chances?"

Louise's father smiled. "My daughter's worked very hard. I have full confidence that she'll rank in the top three."

"Well, as you say. She wouldn't be the first woman to do so in our tournament's history, but it has been a while since the last one."

Lady Catherine waved with her fan for Pent to bend his head down to her, which he did. "He's referring to my husband's sister. She married a Lycian hunter and has been traveling with him, but one year they came here and she earned the second rank."

For want of something to say, Pent asked, "Who received first?"

"A man by the name of Lionel. He's Louise's archer instructor, actually, and he'll be competing this year. He's the favorite to win first, as he has been every other year."

"Louise is competing against her own teacher?"

"Of course she is," said Lady Catherine's husband, who was standing on the other side of his wife. "Why wouldn't she?"

Pent did not know, as he was only repeating the information given to him. But judging by the slight tinge of hostility in the other man's voice, he thought it best to incline his head in that international gesture of agreement and leave well enough alone. It was a relief to him when scattered cheers began on their left, just before he turned his head and watched the competing archers enter the range. Out of them, it was harder to find Louise than he expected until the other archers broke away from her to stand in their places. Then, as she followed behind an older man apparently determined to head to the other end of the line, Pent wondered how he could ever miss her. She was dressed in an overlarge peach tunic and dark purple leggings tucked into the shin-length deerskin boots that were an adventurer's staple, a large glove of the same material covering her right hand. Her blond hair was tied in a loose bun on top of her head and her quiver slung along her hips, her bow in her left hand. Among the dark-clothed men who towered above her, she was dawn seen through a forest.

Owing to the distance between them and the archers penned inside the range, it seemed to him no one in their group thought it appropriate to call out to her as she walked past them, still following the older man in front of her. When that man stopped further down the line, so did she, looking at the ground before backing up and looking at the target. Pent watched as the man called her name, then gestured behind her. It was when she turned, her eyes on the section of the crowd behind her, that her father and Lord Aramis came to life, calling to her in the strange words of the old Etruscan language until she looked at them with wide eyes and a wider smile. She waved when her father waved, then again when her mother did the same, and then her eyes met Pent's own and he felt frozen by his own sudden nervousness--acutely aware that he was standing with her family and their engagement still too young to pretend at intimacy. He tried to smile at her, his lips feeling as though they belonged to someone else's face; she ducked her head, wisps of hair fluttering about her face at the sudden movement, before she waved at him and turned around.

They weren't that close. They had only met twice in their entire lives and wrote four letters between them. So then, why did he feel so unsettled?

From where he stood, he could see her profile as she closed her eyes, her legs apart and the hand holding her bow outstretched. He couldn't help but wonder if it was the same bow she had displayed to him on that day, his heart beating strangely fast to think of it though he couldn't imagine why. She seemed as if she were anticipating something, and when a trumpet blared one bright, brassy note into the summer sky he watched her profile as her eyes opened and her body as she tensed, her empty hand reaching for an arrow in her quiver--no.

He watched her transform.

That was the only way he could describe it. He could catalogue her every movement but it wouldn't be an accurate record of what he was seeing as he watched her. It was as if there were two girls, two distinct souls inhabiting the body of the young woman named Louise, one hesitating and cheerful, the other bold and earnest. Perhaps one day soon they would completely merge into a whole woman, which made him question himself. Was he changing as he moved from student to count? Would he like who he was becoming?

The way he clung to being a student, writing papers no one asked of him anymore, made him think not.

It made him a little resentful towards Louise that simply watching her could make him question himself, even though he had already been doing so without the urging of her presence, but it also fascinated him to be so affected. He learned, he had mentors and advisors and assistants, but there was always a large part of him holding back from everyone. It had nothing to do with other people but...he had always been that way, as far as he knew. He always stood apart.

Pent heard the trumpet blare once again, but it sounded distant as he kept his eyes on her. Louise's stance, straight-backed and unforgiving, made him wonder what was going through her mind as she nocked an arrow, then let it fly. He couldn't even be bothered to watch where the arrow landed; all he knew was that every time she shot off an arrow she still remained afterward, the cast of her profile evocative of a woman many years older than herself, a woman who was not simply satisfied with the act of firing an arrow and having it land where she aimed it. That single-minded determination reminded him of the very best of his professors submerging themselves into research just to understand the smallest link in anima magic. More than that, it reminded him of himself.

Could we be similar? he asked himself, unable to look away from her. Is it possible?

Then, she flinched.

Belatedly, Pent realized that it was already the fifth round, and beyond Louise was a wagon moving towards her, five targets extended with planks of wood. Many other contestants had already been disqualified, and she was left with four other archers. She had already hit three of the targets on her wagon, but it was coming unnervingly close to her and the arm that held her bow was wavering. He watched her nock another arrow, a tightness to her face that wasn't the determination of earlier but rather something like frustration. The arrow flew towards one of the lower targets, but skipped off the side and dove into the ground. Before she could pull another arrow, the trumpet blared and the wagons stopped. Two names were called, those who would stay for the next round--none of them hers. With her head bowed, she left the range.

"That's not so bad," Pent heard her father muse. "She's reached fifth to third rank."

"Probably fourth, since she at least hit three of the targets. Too bad, though, since she was doing so well until she faltered," Lord Aramis responded. Slowly, Pent frowned.

"Fourth place isn't bad for a woman at all," his clerk muttered beside him, and Pent honestly did not know what to think of that. He didn't have long to wonder; after the sixth round the ranked winners were called, and as projected by Lord Aramis Louise ranked fourth. It was Pent's personal belief that ranking at all in her first year was extraordinary, but the mood within the group was strangely muted until Louise appeared. Lady Catherine moved past Pent to go to her daughter, and he felt a little calmer--surely she would be happy at her daughter's victory?

Lady Catherine stopped before her daughter, her arms crossed in front of her. "Oh Louise, didn't I ever tell you that noblewomen don't flinch?"

Louise's eyes widened, but instead of every rational response Pent could've expected from her she instead smiled. "Yes. I'm sorry, Mother."

"You don't need to apologize to me. You did well enough this year." After a quick hug between mother and daughter, Louise was released and she stepped up to Pent, an odd expression on her face that he couldn't decipher--surely she didn't think he would have anything but good things to say, did she? But before he could say anything, he noticed her father and Lord Aramis approaching and discreetly moved out of the way for them.

Louise's father spoke first. "Louise, what happened? That wasn't like you."

"I know, Father," Louise said in a matter-of-fact tone. Pent's confusion only deepened; why would her parents make such comments when she had done as well as she had? "I may have practiced overmuch and it wore me down. Master Lionel said the same thing just now, so I'm not allowed to practice with him for the next two weeks."

"Ah, but you still did well."

Louise smiled. "Thank you."

"It wasn't a bad job at all," said Lord Aramis. "If you weren't leaving us in a couple years, I would have a mind to ask you to stay on as part of my guard."

Inexplicably, Pent felt his face grow warm as Louise giggled--it was such a strange thing to hear other people reference the engagement, even obliquely, although he figured he should get used to it. "Thank you, Uncle."

"Well, well, now that you're done, why don't you and Lord Pent go take a look around?" Lady Catherine suggested, a little smile on her face when Pent glanced at her. "Think of it as a gift for a job done well enough, hm?"

Now he wasn't the only one feeling out of his depth, as he noticed Louise's face turn pink. "Um...if it's all right with you, my lord," Louise murmured as she looked up at him. Pent tried to smile, and even though he was a little embarrassed it felt as if it turned out a bit better this time.

"Certainly it is." He extended his arm to her--he was never going to forget that again, not after Lady Catherine's light jibes about it in the Reglay gardens during their last meeting--and he felt a little better when she placed her hand lightly on his arm. Maybe they would get used to this yet. As they walked off, he heard Louise's father mutter in a low voice, and her mother responding sharply, but after that they moved through a crowd of people and suddenly it was as if they were in a separate world.

And he had no idea as to what he could, or should say.

"Lord Pent," Louise said after a long moment of awkward silence hovered between them as they walked towards less populated grounds of the tournament. "I'm sorry. It must have been disappointing to watch me."

He looked at her, surprised. "No, I don't think that at all. I was impressed."

"Were you really?" she asked, stopping as she looked up at him. Her eyes were large and her expression tinged with doubt, obviously because her own parents had planted the seeds of it in their initial remarks.

I think I would know my own feelings. Pursing his lips, he wondered what he had to say to make her believe his words, but he paused when he felt a slight pressure on his arm. "What is it?" he asked, concerned not only for her but for the way his own heart seemed to skip at the more noticeable touch.

"I'm disappointed in myself," she told him, a self-conscious blush spreading across her cheeks as her eyes darted to the side. "I really hoped to show you that there was...that you could believe in my vow."

"That you were going to protect me 'until life's end'?" he recited, as much amused as he was bemused. "I don't intend on living a life fraught with dangers. And, well, I am a mage."

Louise tilted her head, loose strands of her golden hair falling from her bun and into her face, but she made no move to brush them away and he certainly wasn't going to do it when they were nowhere near that close for what he thought was fairly intimate touching. "I've heard," she said with a smile, "but I had to display something and I'm afraid I'm...not very good at playing an instrument or graceful dancing."

He smiled at this, more out of the absurdity of the whole bride gathering than anything she had said. "It's fine. I can't sing or dance either. Shouldn't we leave that for the bards and dancers anyway?"

She laughed. She had a pleasant laugh, though it didn't remind him of anything in particular. "Then, other than magic, what can you do?"

"I can sign papers really well," he said with a proud huff. "Though my steward tells me that I still need work on sounding as insincerely sincere as possible in my letters to the county nobility."

As Louise was immensely easy to read, he was a little disappointed that his joke--half-joke, really--only made her look concerned. "Do you dislike your work, Lord Pent?"

"I...am still unused to it." He shrugged. "Writing a thesis is one thing, but the sheer amount of paperwork I end up with is ridiculous."

"Do you do anything else besides..." she paused, frowning cutely, "sign papers?"

Pent nodded, his mood uplifted. "Actually, I'm currently researching a paper to publish in one of the magic-study journals. It's fairly complex, but I find those are the best research projects. I work in my free time of course, but it's quite invigorating."

"My," she said, her face lit up in a look of wonder so vivid that his ego couldn't help but swell in response. "My mother told me that you studied at a magic academy in Aquleia."

"Yes, I did, but I graduated ahead of my year. By the time my father passed away, I was already working in the capacity of a graduate student," he said very modestly.

Louise's eyes, already so wide, seemed comically large now. "Lord Pent, you must be a genius!"

Pent shrugged again, feeling a little less modest but somewhat more weary. He was not unfamiliar with such claims, from both his peers as well as his mentors, and it could be exhausting to behold. "Life is all about learning. I intend to do all I can to extend my knowledge."

"How amazing. I've always been tutored at home, and really only by my own mother." She looked away, a fond expression making the corners of her eyes crinkle just so. "Well, my father has taught me quite a lot about his business affairs, but I'm afraid I don't compare to you."

I should be the one saying that, he almost said, but decided not to--he didn't want to come off as insincere or smarmy, even though he would be saying it in complete honesty. Instead he shook his head. "You shouldn't compare at all. 'Genius' is the word people use to excuse themselves from higher work, or to make a claim that the work is just too easy for another. I personally find it promotes laziness in both the so-called genius as well as his peers. While I do have some talent, that doesn't mean that I haven't worked hard to reach the point I have, and so I think if you work hard at what you're given you'll find a measure of success."

She stared at him for a long moment in silence, so long that he realized the folly of his words--who did he think he was to lecture so freely?--and was about to apologize for them when she suddenly smiled. "I think I understand. Thank you, Lord Pent." She giggled. "Listening to you, I see the difference in our ages."

"I, I'm only sixteen," he protested, and when she laughed he realized that she had made a joke. Feeling slightly off-balance now, he struggled to return to more solid footing. "Ah, anyway we were talking about schooling, weren't we? Going to an academy to study is quite nice, though I'm sure being tutored has its merits. But I enjoyed my time as a student." He paused when a great idea came upon him. "Louise, would you like me to show you my old academy?"

She stared at him, no particular expression on her lovely features. "Truly?"

"Yes. I have to go over there once I finish my first draft of my paper to have it looked over, anyway. Visitors are allowed on a limited basis, but if I'm with you I'm sure I can give you a full tour of the facilities." Smiling, he said, "I trust you've been to Aquleia before?"

Louise nodded. "With my mother. We usually stay at my grandfather's townhouse in the city." She paused, hope alight on her face. "If it isn't a bother to you, I'd love to see your old academy."

Pent nodded, struggling with the grin that threatened to spread on his face. "I'd really like that. Magic is very important to me."

"Oh...I'm glad to share that with you, then," she said, her cheeks coloring as she smiled widely.

They stood together for what felt like hours, though intellectually he knew that they had returned to their group after mere moments. He couldn't imagine how Louise felt, but Pent had to admit that he was very pleased. He never would've imagined that any woman from that bridal competition would've ever cared for his deep fascination with magic, never mind taking an interest in it.

But then, he was growing fascinated with Louise too, so perhaps it was no wonder after all.

-end-

This story and the next were originally supposed to be formatted together like the very first story in this series, but once they became too long I decided to split them up instead. This bond is shown in the flower used; the asparagus fern, which has the same meaning, feels like it would fit Pent more, but I wanted some semblance of connection. So now you know the next story uses a rose as well, but which one? (Uh, certainly not the red one, not quite yet.) Thank you for reading!

ETA 6/21: Found a better Victorian flower language site with sources from the Victorian era, so I'll be changing this and the next story's flowers accordingly. So, please disregard the rose discussion above.