Bouquet
(C) Intelligent Systems and Nintendo
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A Blinding Whirlwind of Petals (part one): Chrysanthemum, Acanthus
(hearts left to desolation must create artifices in order to survive)
How many times had she, once a simple young girl who knew naught of cruelty or deception, been forced to hide her tears as everything she had believed to be true and good had been torn down before her? Lord Pent's departure a month ago was one, and here was another as she stood in front of House Reglay's steward.
"I'm...I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to cause so much trouble for you..."
Once again, Louise was made to understand that she had no power in this world.
The steward, Master Raike, shook his head, though she had noticed, with a looming sense of dismay as all-consuming as an encroaching twilight, that he had not looked at her since he had been forced to come to her rescue. "You needn't worry, Lady Louise. It was my fault for believing that would be a suitable place to send you."
His gracious words failed in their intent to make her feel better, for Louise could sense the insincerity within them. "I...perhaps, but all the same..."
"While you were away, a letter arrived from Lord Pent," the steward said. The name was enough to capture her attention; she stared at him, desperately awaiting his next word. "He had the forethought to enclose a note to you."
"Lord Pent is doing well?" She smiled, though inside she knew she ill-deserved the relief of such an act. "I'm so glad..."
The steward nodded, eyes slanted away from her. "I've left it in your room. If you don't mind, I have something to discuss with my wife, so..."
Louise smiled, the last vestiges of happiness fading away, only to be replaced by the lingering sense of dread that had become a familiar companion to her during her first journey within Reglay County. "Of course. Please excuse me." Turning to leave, she could not help but briefly glance at Madame Amy, her lovely, indomitable defender. Were it not for her, the conclusion would have been far more detrimental to herself, and yet--Louise knew she would have deserved it. Madame Amy accepted her gaze but for one moment, before lowering her dark gray eyes, olive-green hair falling unbound over her face like the curtain after the final act.
Something had ended here, Louise knew. That was why she left the office without a word, closing the door behind her. Yet, despite that knowledge, she lingered at the threshold, hateful curiosity awaiting the fatal blow.
"You knew this would happen, so don't make that face." Madame Amy's voice was no longer dulcet, compassionate, as when she spoke with Louise. It was the voice of a pegasus knight, Louise imagined, hard and strong and unyielding, unfaltering in the midst of battle. It reminded her of her mother, and the thought that she was surrounded by so many strong women while she herself was but a new flower who could do little more than waver in the winds that threatened to uproot her completely made her understand completely how arrogant she had been to assume she could do anything at all.
"I did, but the reality of it took me completely by surprise." It surprised Louise that Master Raike's tone did not appreciably change--perhaps he was beyond that now. "I knew our position was weak, but to do something like that...it's over. It's really over."
Heat, searing and blinding, began to stoke itself behind her eyes as she brought her hands to her mouth.
"I thought you would be angrier."
"At who? That girl? There's no point. There's no...don't. I don't need your pity. Lord Pent knew there was nothing that could be done from the very beginning. I thought he was giving up too soon, but he probably could read the situation better than anyone else. No wonder he was so irritated when I told him I had asked for her help. He already knew she wouldn't be able to do anything..."
It was a blur after that, until the time Louise looked up with raw eyes and saw the early summer skies above her. Having always loved the outdoors, she could hardly be surprised to find herself there now, safely ensconced within a segment of Castle Reglay's dream-like gardens. But for all the colors that surrounded her now, she could only keep her eyes on the wispy tails of clouds pulled apart to the point of disintegration, like foam in bathwater.
She watched the thin strings of cotton-like clouds disappear, and remembered a time just days before when it seemed her dream was not nearly as immaterial.
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The nobility of Reglay has historically consisted of a small cadre of barons and viscounts, usually less than ten in number. In the present day three viscounties and five baronies exist in the central Etrurian region, of which House Reglay has ruled under the favor of the Etrurian crown for nearly a thousand years. The county of Reglay, north of Aquleia and the seat of the national government, holds one of the most important areas in the entire kingdom, protecting the capital from the northern barbarians who would dare strike 'The Pearl of the West.' Throughout the centuries it has gained and kept a glowing reputation for its Reglay wines, as dark and entrancing as the deep red roses that represent the county, and its temperate climate allows near-constant manufacture of the high-quality silks that clothe noblewomen from the queen of Etruria's ladies-in-waiting to the marchionesses of Lycia to the highland ladies of Bern. With the importance of the textile and wine industries in Reglay, its military has suffered somewhat within the last century, but the gold it earns could easily buy hosts of the best mercenaries to police every village within its borders; even the embezzlement of thirty thousand gold had done little to dent the wealth of the county.
Aquleia is the most culturally-advanced city in Elibe--perhaps the world. Reglay County has provided the means to that culture.
This is why the seat of Count Reglay is, in many ways, just as important as the Etrurian throne. To control the richest region in Elibe was but a dream for any outsider of House Reglay...until now. With the unmistakable evidence of foul play in regards to those riches now known to all the lords of Reglay, coalitions are being formed to topple the dying House Reglay, a family of one person, and place one of their own upon the throne within Castle Reglay's grand hall. Now that Lord Pent is away to serve a punishment for the crimes of others, no one can stop this from happening.
"That isn't quite right," Louise had said at the end of Master Raike's lecture. "Even if Lord Pent is not here, we're still able to do what we can. That is what I believe."
Master Raike, who had quite the kind smile when sufficiently motivated, grinned boyishly. "I thank you for your optimism, Lady Louise. We'll see tomorrow if it's justified. I'll be sending you to visit Baron Tilley. His manse is the closest to us, so if anything should go wrong I'll be able to come and help."
"Let's pray it won't be needed. I'd hate to have come here only to make things harder on you and Lord Pent," Louise had responded. At her words his smile waned, but there seemed to be no loss in his enthusiasm.
"I'll have a letter of introduction prepared for you before you leave. The baron enjoys a close relationship with House Reglay, so if he approves of you we will have staved off any threat to Lord Pent without much effort." Master Raike's smile had returned in full force by the end of his statement--perhaps even more than that, she could not help but marvel, and she had returned his efforts in full. "Godspeed to you, Lady Louise."
It was the last full interview she had been allowed with the busy steward of Reglay; with Lord Pent away he was now interim master of the realm, and Louise could not help but notice the considerable efforts he put into his duty. When she had left with Celia and Madame Amy, it was the latter who carried the fateful letter of introduction, no doubt charged to bear it by her husband. Louise had allowed her to keep it, for she did remember enough of her lessons to know what a lady should or should not be forced to carry for her own sake, though privately she thought it rather ridiculous. If she could wield a bow, could she not a one-page letter? But bowing her head to proper etiquette did not cost her anything, whereas being too prideful could rebound and harm her efforts, leaving her to surrender her arguments of willful independence with only a feather's caress of deeper implications.
The barony of House Tilley has always lay within the Tilley Forest to the east of Reglay Castle, the family of the noble house having always managed the forest at House Reglay's request. It was once a royal enclosure fit for the king's hunts, but the piety rising within the royal lineage within the last few centuries culminated with the decline of killing animals merely for sport--after all, Saint Elimine, blessed be her name, spoke with the beasts of the land just as kindly as she had human beings, as the Journey of Saint Elimine recorded, and her example is always worthy of being followed. After that royal edict, House Reglay claimed the forest for its own use, creating what was the first paper mill in all of the continent, and for the loyalty and hard work the Tilley family had shown they had been elevated to a noble house of high standing, the land they had historically been linked to now placed under their direct control. Their efforts have, in part, made Reglay what it is today, and as well Etruria.
Because of that, Master Raike had warned her, they have a very high opinion of their worth. Not just to themselves, but to Reglay. One of their daughters had married the younger brother of the former Count Reglay, and had she lived through the influenza epidemic with her husband she would be Countess Reglay today, and Lord Pent would not be here at all. House Tilley has never forgotten that.
Louise would not let herself forget it, either. It made her nights sleepless, because she could not imagine a world without Lord Pent in it.
The road into the forest was well-maintained, a history of wagon wheels imprinted into the dirt leading ever eastward; an enjoyable ride, Louise had thought. Her riding clothes had made it easy for her to ride properly, though Celia rode, as she always did, side-saddle, clutching her simple heal staff in one hand as the other held fast to Louise's shoulder. When the sky could still be seen without hindrance from the dark green canopy of the forest, Madame Amy had taken to the air on the back of her pegasus, a graceful filly called Hester in the most adoring tones by her mistress. Once inside the forest proper, though, pegasus and pegasus knight rode as any other horse did, Hester's wings tucked against her pure white flank as she trotted along with a certain grace that Louise had never before seen in a steed willing to be touched by human hands. Even her own horse, a chestnut and white Rafflesian gelding from Reglay Castle's stables, seemed but a common horse when riding astride one of Ilia's natural beauties.
Along the forest path there was a village, fully immersed within the trees. The road cut through its center as cleanly as a knife would a ready cake or loaf of bread, and those who were out-of-doors and milling about gave them a few curious looks but said nothing at all. Having never seen a pegasus before this journey, the mild reaction from the villagers had prompted Louise to say, "They don't seem too pleased with us..."
"It's because I'm here," Madame Amy had stated, her tone not betraying her feelings any more than her blank expression. "There are many who think a pegasus knight is an omen of ill portent."
"Truly?" Louise could not help but ask. "But pegasi are so lovely to behold. Don't you think so, Celia?"
Squeezing Louise's shoulder gently as she tried to shift on the saddle, Celia had said, "That's right. I don't know what it's like to live in Ilia, but the people must be blessed in some form to be partnered to such elegant creatures."
"Hmm." Madame Amy then patted Hester's head, smiling as the pegasus nickered pleasantly when she scratched behind one pale ear. "Hester, do you hear that? These cute girls are praising you. Isn't that nice?"
Louise had smiled; Madame Amy was really quite kind. She was about to say more in hopes of learning more about her guardian when a cry further down the road caught her attention. "What was that?" she had cried out in surprise, turning to Madame Amy. The older woman stared ahead with narrowed eyes, a sharpness to her profile that had not even been hinted moments before.
"A raid on a village that enjoys a baron's protection?" Madame Amy seemed to mutter to herself. "Lady Louise, it would be best to ride into the forest and avoid this. The baron's knights will come here soon and take care of them."
"I..." She could see the bandits now; they outnumbered their little group by two or three, but she could not easily abandon the villagers in hopes of others to assist them, not when she was here and capable of doing the same. "I cannot do that. The village needs protection now!"
Madame Amy had said nothing as she dislodged her lance from the side of the complicated saddle her pegasus wore. Finally, she had shaken her head. "I suppose I can't convince you to hide in the village either, milady?" Louise had nodded at this.
"I can fight."
Great wings had unfurled from Hester's sides, loose feathers twirling in the early summer breeze. "Then, I suggest you do as an archer should and stay back. If you must insist on this, please do me the favor of common sense." With a powerful gallop, Hester took flight, Madame Amy leaning forward with a tautness that had Louise wondering briefly if it was the lance or the rider herself that was the weapon. But, she had no time for such idle thoughts; she dismounted, causing Celia to cry out and grab the reins. The sight of her dearest friend in such distress had momentarily stunned Louise before Celia regained her balance on the large saddle and sat upright; then, and only then, had Louise found her voice.
"Celia, please stay back. Whatever you do, don't allow any harm to befall you! Run away if you must!"
"I should say the same to you, Lady Louise!" Celia had yelled back, her posture unsteady as she tried to get her leg over the other side of the saddle in her long skirts. "I am no nobleman's daughter, raised to heal from a horse! If you're injured, I can't do anything from this position!"
Louise had known it, she had always known it, and the smile on her face was marred with sadness that she would put her dear friend in such trouble. As quickly as she could, she had strung her bow, tightened the belt of her quiver, and hurried forward to assist. Yet, in the short interval between Madame Amy's departure and readying her bow, the battle had already been determined.
This...this is a pegasus knight's strength, isn't it?
Every time Madame Amy dove, one of the brigands would fall. With a single swing of her lance, she had brought such ruin upon them that all Louise could do in the end was watch. There were only bodies littering the road when she had finished, with nary but a scratch on her guardian's arm--that was all. And in return, all Louise could do was say, after Madame Amy had landed near her, "Y-you were magnificent."
The older woman had looked down from where she sat, so high upon her pure white steed, her expression unreadable. "I was asked to do it."
"Oh," Louise had breathed. Then, she realized the condemnation behind the words. "Madame Amy, you must forgive me, I--"
If I had the strength to protect by myself, I would do it, she had almost said, but the pause she took made it so that her words were forever lost to foul coincidence--a horn blared within that space between thought and speech, and that was it.
Baron Tilley's knights had come forth, seen the destruction, and the glares they had aimed at herself and her companions were filled with hard, terrible thoughts. Louise's confidence had quelled once she had been made a target to them, and when Madame Amy had reached for the letter she had carried in her belt she had been shouted down, ordered not to move or suffer the consequences. From here on, Louise could not remember much, sunk down into the midst of the chaos as she was; she remembered Madame Amy yelling for them to unhand the fiancée of Count Reglay, she remembered gloved hands grabbing her arms with a hateful strength she had never had cause to suffer before while harsh voices screamed in her ears to lay her weapon down, she remembered Celia screaming. "Why are you doing this?" Louise had asked, trying vainly to keep her bow, just her bow, was that too much to ask for? And the answer she had received, oh, that answer...
"No trueborn lady would debase herself by carrying a weapon. Our master won't accept such a disgrace as Reglay's own. Now come, girl!"
She remembered hearing the splintered crack of her bow, the bow she had made as a child, the bow she had presented to Lord Pent, the bow made of holy wood--her bow broke in her hands, and then it was pulled away as she was dragged forward. It was probably still there on the forest road, shattered, a mockery of what it once was.
Within the Tilley mansion she had shared one cell with Celia, while Madame Amy had been chained within another. A woman had come down, then another, a younger one, one who seemed vaguely familiar. They spoke insults aimed at her among themselves, they had seemed to have recognized her from somewhere before--
Oh, the party, our birthday...
--and for the insults they had borne on that day they were seeking to revenge themselves, to make her feel all the humiliation they had borne the same night Lord Pent had snubbed the younger woman. And so they were kept there until Master Raike came to free them, bearing insults with a bowed head all the while, and the carriage ride home had been so still, so uncomfortably quiet that Louise realized that she never should have come to Reglay at all.
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Celia was not in their rooms when Louise returned there later that day, her eyes still smarting, her heart and confidence suffering worse blows. There was the promised letter from Lord Pent on the tea table, and Louise could only look at her name written on the envelope in Lord Pent's elegant penmanship. She took it in hands still sore from having her bow wrenched away from them, her fingers trembling as she opened the envelope as gently as she could bear along its closed seams. Then, pages fluttered open and Louise could see
Hello Louise I hope you are doing well in Reglay please do not hesitate to ask for anything you might need or want my home is yours for as long as you desire it I am doing well here in the Western Isles it would not be a lie to say that I have been immersed in quite fascinating details as of late
And that was it, that was all she could read before her vision blurred with countless tears and she drowned in the shame that she had failed him, she had failed this wonderful man and there was not a thing she could do to ever pay him back for his ever-present kindness towards someone like herself, someone who could not protect a single thing. What could she tell him now? What could she possibly tell him now? That she could not command respect from anyone? That she had been ill-treated by both knights and their masters?
That, although she had pledged to help him, her actions, much like her words, had all the force of a child's fist upon unyielding stone?
That would not do. Although Lord Pent was evidently doing well, he was not in the army to vacation, he was not in the Western Isles simply to enjoy the sea breezes. He did not need to suffer more, to suffer her losses as keenly as she felt them.
On the table was a quill, which she took in hand with a firm grip that allowed her to feel her fingernails as they dug into the flesh of the bottom swell of her palm. There was no paper on the table, but there was no worry--she kept the stationery Lord Pent had gifted her with in one of her trunks, long since empty of undergarments and dresses due to Celia's diligence. On the way to them, she espied herself in one of the mirrors hung along the walls of the room, mirrors far more useful for their decorative gold and silver frames in filigree rather than their reflective nature. She could see herself, her red eyes, her red cheeks, the quill clenched in her hand like the knife she carried on her hunting trips to cut the throats of pheasants and rabbits and dissect them into so much meat.
But she had no intention to cut, no, not in the least. Though she may be hurt, though she may be in agony, Lord Pent would not suffer one scratch from her mistakes. No matter how foolish she felt, no matter how sad, more than anything she wanted Lord Pent to see her name and read her words and smile.
Lord Pent should smile.
-to be continued...-
Are you all really enjoying this story? Was that last chapter and the different POVs it employed too odd or uninteresting to you? Should I post on another day, like Fridays? It would be very helpful to me, as well as this story, if more people speak up about what they like or dislike about this fic.
I don't mean to complain. I go to school full time as well as work part time; I spent this last weekend writing four papers in what few snatches of time I had before work, while proofreading this story and a chapter from the other story I'm working on. I have no intention of forcing this serial on hiatus or anything like that, I just want to feel like my efforts mean something. Thank you to those people who have commented in the past, and I certainly hope you'll continue to help me improve in the future.
The second half of this story comes out on 2/15--hope you enjoyed this half and look forward to the next!