Third Attempt!
Chapter 1:
Oria Crimson was in a rotten mood. Her body ached from training and her head hurt from an injury. She staggered into her large, ornate room and collapsed onto her silk covered bed. She threw her golden hilted sword onto the ground, and thick, luxurious rugs muffled the clang. She laid her head back onto the cool silk of her extremely soft pillow and closed her eyes.
She loved her room; she loved coming back from training to a well-kept room with a fresh tub of hot water and a sweet fragrance that filled the air. She sighed with content and stared at the velvet drapes that covered the top of her bed.
After she decided that she had lain there long enough, she dragged herself out of bed and pulled off her clothes. Then, she sank into the warm, clear bath water.
She moaned as she felt her fatigued muscles loosen and relax. This, she decided, was what she would fight for. This wonderful feeling of bliss. When the day came when she would be sent to the battle field, she wouldn't be fighting for her father, her friends, her teachers, her servants, or their cause. She would be fighting for herself.
That wasn't selfish was it? Why did she need to dedicate her life to someone else? It wasn't like she cared about anyone. Ever since she could remember, she'd been treated like royalty. Everyone adored her father, that is, besides the sanctuaries. But the sanctuaries didn't know what they were doing. They didn't know that her father, Mevolent, was right about the Faceless Ones, that they were real.
She stepped out of the bathtub and drew a soft robe around herself, engulfing her body with warmth and comfort. She sighed happily, shoving all of the things her mentor in martial arts had told her to work on to the back of her mind.
There was no one, no one that could defeat her in sword fighting, and her bone breaking skills were very powerful. Sure she wasn't very good at martial arts, but this was a time to relax, to forget about the annoying war, and just think about herself.
She looked at the huge, ornate mirror that hung on the wall, it's golden frame carefully polished by the servants. Her bright, natural copper colored hair was darkened by the water, but still glistened in the candlelight. Her face was smooth, and very beautiful; or so she'd been told.
Her eyes were the color of a dark sea, but the huge vortex of mystery that were her pupils covered most of her iris's stormy tint.
Everyone said she was stunningly beautiful. Oria scowled, If I am pretty, then why does no one love me?
Isn't that what boys liked? A girl who was pretty? Most of the poor excuses of men she had met thought so. She looked at the angelic face that she called her own for 24 more seconds before turning away and crossing the dense rugs to the large mahogany wardrobe that contained all of her clothes.
She closed her eyes and concentrated all of her thoughts through a funnel that connected to her maid's mind. Instantly, the young woman burst through the door, fear in her eyes. She was a sensitive, and Oria had already told her what she needed to do.
It was easier this way. No mistakes, no annoying social moments, and she didn't have to hear the stupid girl go on about how the dress looked on her. Everything could be communicated mentally.
It was very fun. Much better than her previous maid, who was in all fairness, a slave. She was a mortal. She was always crying and dropping things, stuttering, and poking Oria with needles. At first, Oria felt sorry for the pathetic girl. But as time went on, Oria became more and more irritable, until she complained. Then she had the girl arrested and Oria never had to think about her again.
The new maid kept her head down and started laying out a deep maroon, silk dress, with copper trimming. Then, she started to dress Oria, her nimble fingers expertly knotting the elaborate dress. This was how Oria knew that mages were better than mortals. The mortal maid could have never done as well as this new, magic maid.
The mortals deserved to be destroyed. They were dull. They were less evolved. Oria opened her eyes as she felt the maid draw away, and scuttle from the room. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked radiant, her copper hair matching the color of the trim of her dress. Her eyes shone and sparkled with beauty.
She took a deep breath. She would see her father tonight. She'd seen him before, but it was always formal. This was a private banquet. Only her father, his three great generals, and herself were invited.
She felt her insides churn and roll around. If she played her cards right tonight, she might become one of the general's apprentices. She put on a dazzling smile and walked lightly to the dining room.
As she stepped in, three formally dressed men stood, two smiled politely at her. These were the generals. Serpine had his hair brushed back from his pale face, his intense green eyes piercing hers. A slight, sarcastic smile was dressed upon his pale lips.
She turned to Vengeous, his broad shoulders were straightened back like the soldier he was. And the last figure, she shivered. He was her least favorite. He never said anything, and was always wearing that horrible armor.
Lord Vile was standing, his head tilted, as if to say, Who do you think you are?
She kept her gracious smile on her lips as she slipped into her chair next to Serpine. Her father's seat was still empty, and the long dining room remained silent. She kept her gaze on the huge doors made of pure African Blackwood. She heard thundering steps and the doors flew open and Mevolent's long, solemn figure entered.
They all rose to their feet as he swooped in like a dark cloud. His dark clothes made his pale, waxy skin stand out, his face looked starved and full of rage. He was extremely tall, and Oria still couldn't figure out how they could possibly be related.
He sat stiffly at the head of the table and Oria followed the other's example and sat down. A small group of singers started singing softly in the corner, playing a huge, golden harp. Servants flocked towards the table with gleaming bowls of beef stew and flavored water.
"So," Serpine said to her, still smiling, "Have you considered what you'll do when you are ready to join the cause Miss Crimson?"
She smiled confidently and said silkily, "I was hoping to do some undercover work, or, preferably, help with planning our attacks."
Serpine chuckled politely and turned to Mevolent, his eyes gleaming, "Sir, your daughter is very, very wise."
Mevolent shot Oria a quick glance before nodding curtly and turning back to talk to Vengeous.
Serpine turned back to Oria and smiled, "To be a strategist is the best position in a war. You most certainty have the brains, and that way, you get to stay out of the gore, and most importantly, you get to continue living in comfort." He said, raising his wine glass and gesturing around the room with it.
Oria smiled, "Yes, that would be rather pleasant," She said, delicately sipping her glass of wine, "But I think I'd prefer to use my skills in hand to hand combat once in a while."
Serpine, who understood what she was hinting at, looked at her with those glittering, green eyes, "Ah." He said, smiling deviously, "Am I to assume that you would like to take a position as one of your father's great generals?" He cocked an eyebrow and tapped his wineglass with a long slender finger.
Oria narrowed her eyes a little and made her smile more serious and mature, "That does sound like my type of job."
Serpine looked at Lord Vile, who hadn't touched a thing, "And whom would you train under Miss Crimson?"
Oria was about to answer when Mevolent said in a booming voice, "Whoever I choose is who."
Oria looked at Mevolent and caught her breath. Serpine looked at Mevolent with barely concealed excitement and interest, "Sir, are you suggesting that your daughter will be training to be a general?"
Mevolent looked at Oria sternly, "That would be appropriate." He said, "She is, after all, my daughter."
Oria smiled nervously, "Thank you sir!" She said crisply, hoping that Mevolent would choose Serpine as her mentor. Serpine seemed polite and dignified. He seemed to care about her and was sensitive to her needs.
Mevolent eyed her for a moment and then started sipping his wine. After several minutes of them watching Mevolent drinking the dark red wine, Vengeous voiced all of their questions, his thick eyebrows kneaded together with a slight scowl, "Sir, who will teach her?"
Vile tilted his head at Mevolent, which gave the indication that he was looking at the tall man.
Mevolent turned and scowled and Vengeous, "I came here to relax and all you do is nag me." He said angrily, and then returned to his wine. Vengeous, who feared Mevolent's wrath, started giving extravagant excuses for his insolence and apologizing.
Oria felt like throwing her wine glass at Mevolent's face and demanding that he answer, but instead she put a small, forced smile on her face and took small, choppy sips of wine.
The rest of the night went by like a blur. Vile continued to sit there, not touching a morsel of food on his plate.
"Good gods man!" Serpine said loudly, a little red from too much wine, " You must be mere bones! Why not eat?"
Vile looked at Serpine for a second before gracefully standing and walking from the room after bowing to Mevolent.
"Spoil sport." Serpine whispered to Oria, his mouth close to her ear, his breath smelled strongly of wine, "Never takes off his helmet." Oria twisted her head to look at him, and smiled,
"How mysterious."
He pulled back and looked at her with those glittering eyes, "Indeed. Oria, I must ask, what is your opinion on the war?"
Oria looked up at his eyes when he called her by her first name instead of Miss Crimson. Was he trying to be familiar? Or was it just the wine? She laughed soothingly and said gracefully,
"Whatever my dear father supports is what I will."
Serpine grinned at Mevolent, who was watching them, a bored expression on his face, "As do I, Oria, as do I..." He said smoothly, obviously sucking up to her father. But she didn't judge him for that; she was doing the exact same thing.
The musicians played softly, focusing on their music. Oria recognized the composition. It was 'Sleepers Wake'. She allowed the sleepy melody to wash over her.
Mevolent suddenly stood and looked at all of them, "I grow weary of this. Carry on if you must, but I have had enough." With that, he stormed out of the room and slammed the double doors behind him.
As soon as he had left the room, Oria turned to Serpine, a hint of panic in her voice, "Did we do something wrong?" She asked, fearing the worst.
Serpine laughed loudly, no longer bothering to stay polite, "No my dear, he always does that, every banquet, no matter how important or how large. He can get away with it. Us on the other hand…" Serpine hiccupped and put his napkin over his mouth politely.
Oria frowned with confusion, "Then why did Vile go?"
Vengeous and Serpine exchanged knowing looks before turning back to Oria. Vengeous sighed, "Well, Vile is an exception. He's the most powerful necromancer in the world and you father needs him."
Serpine nodded thoughtfully and poured himself another glass of the rich red wine, spilling most of it onto the white tablecloth.
Vengeous jumped to his feet and grabbed the wine bottle from Serpine and said in a scornful voice, "Serpine! How clumsy of you! What if you'd spilled it on the beautiful lady?" He asked, and Oria giggled.
Serpine hiccupped and looked at Oria deviously, "It wouldn't matter, her dress matches the wine."
Oria blushed as Vengeous hoisted Serpine up onto his feet, "You, my dear friend, have had too much to drink." He admonished. Serpine shrugged defensively and bid Oria good night before staggering out of the dining hall and (presumably) to his room. Vengeous turned to Oria and smiled, bowing stiffly before saying,
"Goodnight Miss Crimson, I hope to see you again in the near future."
Oria curtsied and said smoothly, "As do I sir."
He gave her a wink before curtly walking from the room, after Serpine.
Oria glanced over at the musicians, who were warily eyeing her, probably hoping that she'd leave so they could stop playing. She sighed and glided out of the dining hall, and walked back to her room.
As she opened the door, she saw a figure sitting on her bed. She jumped with surprise before realizing it was her father. He was holding a framed painting in his hands.
"Sir?" She asked stiffly, not sure why he was in her room.
He looked up at her and stood to his full, impressive height, "Hello Oria."
She nodded, and looked at him expectantly, "Hello sir."
He looked at her, and something flashes across his face. Sadness? Pity? She couldn't tell.
"You may call me father Oria."
"Yes… father." She said, the word tasting foreign on her tongue.
He held up the framed painting he was holding, and she realized it was a portrait of her late mother. She looked so much like Oria it was uncanny.
"I didn't know you had this." He said, his voice unreadable.
She bit her lip, "Yes, you gave it to me for my fifth birthday." She said quietly, hoping he wouldn't decide to take it away. That was the last time she'd seen Mevolent as a father figure. After that, the war started and he had the maids look after her, and the noble children be her friends. After that, she didn't have a father.
He nodded and looked at Oria's mother's beautiful face before saying quietly, "She was a wonderful person Oria. She didn't deserve the death she got."
She looked at him; excitement coursing through her veins, now might be her chance to figure out what happened to her mother, "How did she die?" She asked, curious, but sympathetic.
He sighed and said slowly in a sorrowful voice, "She was killed by mortals." He looked at Oria, rage in his face, "The mortals are evil Oria. Your mother was innocent and young. She did nothing, but the mortals killed her for fun. Let that motivate you to win this battle, let it motivate us all." He said, his voice getting louder and louder.
No wonder he was such a good leader, Mevolent strikes hope into you, no matter what he's talking about. If one person could be a Faceless One, it would be him; he deserved to rule the heavens.
Mevolent brushed past her and walked out the door. She turned and watch him leave, and then closed the door gently behind him. She turned back to her bed, and saw her mother's portrait, still lying there. She walked over and picked it up slowly.
Oria wondered what she was like. How did she become Mevolent's wife? Did she love Oria? Did she love him? She sighed and gazed into her painted eyes. She sank to the cold stone floor, on of the only parts of her room that wasn't covered with soft rugs.
Thoughts? Suggestions? Random criticism? How does this one compare to the other drafts (If you've read them)?