VIII
o0o
The torches cast several shadows from Kuojin's body as he moved down the hallway to visit the former King of Araithale and his family. Heliert glared at him silently from behind the bars of his cell, offering no greeting. Despite his best effort to keep up appearances, the lack of his usual grooming supplies and menservants had taken its toll on the former ruler's visage. The rest of his family was no better off than he.
"Good morning, Heliert," Kuojin stated politely.
"There was a time when you referred to me by my proper honorific."
"Such days are past," Kuojin countered calmly, cutting Heliert off before he could further any attempt to reassert his forever-lost authority.
"What brings you here?" Heliert asked, capitulating quickly, to Kuojin's mild surprise and relief.
"Can I not have some concern for your welfare?" Kuojin replied in as neutral a tone as possible. "Despite what you may believe – or the stories that your people tell about mine – the people of Onshae Thamo are not monsters."
Heilert's jaw tightened, but he offered no argument. Kuojin allowed himself a faint smile. Despite the older man's stubbornness, several weeks in the dungeons had done well to temper his pride, though there was the inevitable flare-up of the old arrogance at times. He did not doubt that the former king still believed that the Heavenly Father would intercede at some point in the future and unleash his divine justice on behalf of his 'wronged' people.
"Have you ever considered the fact that the lands you call Araithale were not even yours, in the first place?"
The people of the continent of Aetl had a rich mixture of cultures and ethnicities, but one thing that the different native races of the land shared was a propensity to dark hair and eyes, if not skin. The people of Onshae Thamo and the tribes of the Hgngu tended to have paler skin while the people of Viruch, Dakul, and the lands beyond these kingdoms favored darker complexions. It was even said that beyond the Great Desert to the south, there were people with skin as black as night.
The light hair and eyes of the people who called themselves Araithalens were foreign to Aetl, but they had been residents of Aetl for so long that many people, including the Araithalens themselves, had forgotten this fact. However, when one explored historical records with a keen eye, one would notice no mention of Araithalens beyond a certain point in the past, and the first mention of people with light hair and eyes in the written history of Aetlan natives usually came with tales of 'foreign devils' and conquest.
Kuojin half-expected Heliert to deny this question. However, the older man fixed his blue eyes on Kuojin. "What of it? My ancestors proved themselves to be mighty. They brought civilization to a land of savages and heathens. The first Heliert took this palace from its former owners and founded the Oronac dynasty. He was blessed by the Heavenly Father and tasked to help spread his divine influence in this land."
"The Hgngish believed their gods would protect them," Kuojin said, although without judgment. He could not say whether they had been as misguided in their religious beliefs as Heliert had been, and who could say, when these events happened centuries ago?
From what dedicated historians in Onshae Thamo and Viruch were able to piece together, the first Araithalens had sailed to one of the more northernmost parts of what would eventually become Araithale and started their conquest from there.
The conquered people were not offered assimilation. Their only options – if they were not slaughtered – were exile or a social status that was little more than a slave. As most of the people of the now-extinct kingdoms of Hgngu migrated to the east to escape the oppression of their would-be masters while the rest made their way south or west, the Araithalen population prospered, ensuring steady growth and strength for the newly-founded kingdom of what the surrounding lands saw as pale-haired trespassers.
"Just as you have," Kuojin calmly added. "You put your faith in some invisible, imaginary being in the sky..." He drew no small amount of pleasure at Heliert's visible bristling at the Heavenly Father being referred to as 'imaginary', "rather than attending to the welfare of your people and military. Your people are not the first persons to conquer a land, nor will you be the last to fall to a more powerful civilization."
"The Heavenly Father often tests his subjects to make sure they are worthy," Heliert replied. Kuojin saw no need to argue with that. Sometimes it was easier – and often far more effective – to allow people to experience disillusionment on their own instead of trying to beat it into them.
"I have simply come to inform you that we will be departing in a ten-night."
A flicker of fear passed through Heliert's eyes as he was given a date for the end of his time in the land he'd lived in for his entire life, and had expected to rule until the end of his days.
"As you have seen thus far, we can be kind to our prisoners, but you have also seen that we expect a fair exchange in return. Your life in Onshae Thamo can have a modicum of comfort to it, provided that you do not aggrieve your jailers."
This was a lesson that Heliert and his son were long in learning.
"If there is anything you wish to take with you, you may ask it of us, and it will be considered. You have time to think about it."
"There are plenty of things I'd like, but I know you would deny them."
Kuojin regarded him with a small smirk before he left Heliert to consider his offer.
o0o
Though Sialeni was happy – and honored – to have a position of responsibility in Azami's court, she hadn't anticipated how much enjoyment she would derive from sitting in the Mother's Court. For the first time in her life, she had real power, and she could use it to help others, who like her, had been a victim of old laws that held their gender or placement in the birth order against them.
As the days went by, what Kuojin had said about Araithalen law and its effect on men was made clearer to her. She'd had several men come to her, to petition for justice against other men who used their power as obermons to mistreat the younger men of their families.
Though she'd been fairly young when her grandfather passed away, she remembered an incident where the second-to-last King had yelled at her father for some minor infraction. King Solan was suffering from the mental decline that was known to befall some old people, making interactions with him an ordeal as his mental illness manifested itself not in forgetfulness and doting, but in aggressiveness and stubbornness. As the head of the royal family, it was Solan who decided what his grandchildren would be named, hence her brother being named after their grandsire. Solan's death had come as an immense relief to Heliert and his surviving siblings, and Heliert had wasted no time in having his father interred in the family mausoleum, observing the bare minimum of a mourning period.
In the Way of the Light, sons were expected to do as their father or grandfather told them, regardless of their feelings for their superior. And woe betide younger sons, for should a father pass away, the eldest son took on the mantle of obermon, and the same was expected of the unfortunate men who saw one tyrant die only to be replaced by another. Sialeni had listened to several cases between males within the same family. She arbitrated these cases the best she could, handing down the solution she felt most fair to everyone involved, which generally entailed some kind of allotment to all parties concerned.
The scribe took out a fresh sheet of paper, ready to inscribe. The Thamonese guards stood at strategic points about the room, offering as silent sentinels and if needed, enforcers.
The next case was interesting, and she listened to the woman as she petitioned for an end to her marriage. Under Araithalen law, only a man had the power to end his marriage. Naturally, Sialeni could only cheerfully inform the woman that if she wished to divorce her husband, she had complete leave to do so, and to take back her dowry.
The woman fell to her knees and thanked her judge profusely before rising to her feet and resuming her seat. Sialeni saw that the old man who had been sitting near the back all day frowned at her judgment, but he said nothing. She listened to two more cases before she completed her last case. The man did not come forward, and she glanced at him with curiosity, beckoning him forward. He looked familiar to her, and she narrowed her eyes slightly.
"Do you have a reason for being here, meser?" she asked politely. The remaining petitioners in the room turned to glance at the old man for a moment before they started to leave the room. He slowly shook his head and rose from his seat to follow the last petitioners out of the room.
"If you have come here to witness the new order of things, I hope you will make a favorable report to those who listen," she said sweetly. She saw a scowl set upon the clean-shaven face, and her eyebrows furrowed.
Most men had beards, though as part of the New Years' celebration on the summer solstice, many men shaved their beards, and sometimes their heads. For many, it was a matter of practicality in the warmer months of the year and some men looked forward to the ceremony that came with this.
However, a man was just as free to eschew this tradition and many old men did, having lived long enough to have sons and grandsons do the hard work so they could enjoy their golden years. She held back a soft gasp, fighting back the urge to rise from her seat. With a quick hand gesture, she summoned the nearest guard.
"Have that man followed. Take great care," she whispered. The young man bowed his head.
She smiled at the rest of the people in the room. "That concludes things for today. Please avail yourself of our hospitality before making your way home." As part of establishing goodwill, Sialeni had arranged for a simple nuncheon of coffee, bread, and stew to be provided to those who came to her court, which she did not doubt was a welcome respite to many if not all. And after sitting here all afternoon listening to these cases, Sialeni looked forward to a slice of bread with some of the thick bean stew on top of it, flavored by Viruchid spices.
o0o
Lieserl bore a placid expression on her face as she stepped aside for Matthew, bolting the door shut behind him, quieting the din of traffic from outside as she did so.
"I hope your day has gone well," she said placidly as he made his way past her.
"This is a time of trials and tribulations. But we have persevered, and overcome in the past. We shall do so again."
Though her reading abilities were limited, Lieserl was well-versed in the stories from the Holy Book. She'd heard them recited often enough since she was old enough to hear them. The forces of darkness kept trying to usurp the light and destroy it. It certainly seemed that way right now, with Araithale now under the control of the Thamonese.
If nothing else, she was confident that she had acted properly during this long, wicked summer. She was not perfect, for the Dark Sister never relented in her attempts to touch the souls of all humans, but she had done her best, even if it was not always what she had wanted to do. And she had sorely been tested at different times throughout her life, including the past season.
"The Heavenly Father sees all," she assured him as she turned away from the door. He would have heard every word of prayer she uttered, whether by herself or with the other residents of this house. And he would have seen the great risk she had taken upon herself by hiding the Earthfather within these very walls, knowing that she and the rest of the women here could lose their heads if that were to become known by the new rulers of this land. "He knows what is in our hearts, and though times might be difficult, the heart that is filled with light will be rewarded."
Matthew looked over his shoulder at her, his expression pinched as he regarded her. They were not far apart in age, with her being only a handful of years younger, but there were times when he reminded her of a recalcitrant child. More than once, she'd been tempted to tell him and his mentor to seek refuge elsewhere, but such words would be unseemly coming from a woman's mouth, especially to the most highly-ranked man in the Way of the Light.
"Yes," he finally said shortly, after a terse moment of silence. "Bring up food."
"As you wish, meser," Lieserl said, seeing him climb up the narrow wooden staircase. Since there were two people to feed, she made sure to fill the one bowl with plenty of vegetable stew, adding half a loaf of brown bread and a pitcher of water to the basket. The girls had learned to not ask questions after the first few rebukes, although she did not doubt that at least a few of them had questions. She'd done her best to be discreet, of course, and Matthew was far from the first male guest to this place, but he'd been the longest-staying guest that any of them could remember.
Another set of steps just beyond the kitchen led up to the back of the house, and a turn revealed another flight of steps, slightly narrower than the last. It took some maneuvering to keep the basket from tilting to the side, but soon enough she was past Mama's door after knocking. Granted, Mama had not used this room for herself in years, but Lieserl still thought of it as her room, despite its current occupants.
She'd heard hurried, angry conversation before she knocked on the door, but Matthew regarded her silently as she entered the room, placing the basket on the table and removing its contents. The other man sat at the other side of the table, the Holy Book in front of him. Despite his advanced age, there was strength in his stance, his thin shoulders squared as he scrutinized her. She hoped he would not ask for a girl tonight. The girl would not know it was the Earthfather of course, as she would only see Matthew.
"If you're not needing anything else, your Holiness, I will take my leave," she said as she turned around, hugging the empty basket to her side.
"I have need of company tonight. And Greta needs more guidance," he said as she was about to lift the bar on the door. All her training and education told her that the Earthfather was to be obeyed without question. He was the Heavenly Father's representative on earth. Despite his holy power, he was still a being of flesh and blood, with needs that had to be attended to.
That was the purpose of this establishment. If a man did not have a wife to satisfy that need for him, there was another venue, sanctioned by the Holy Book.
"Yes, your Holiness," Lieserl replied with a neutral tone. Greta would not be happy about this, but the Earthfather called her to her duty. She heard the bar of the door slide down with a soft thunk before she retreated downstairs.
Unlike the Earthfather, age had drained Mama's strength, so there had come a point where she was no longer able to handle the traverse between floors. She now had a room with a window that looked out onto the small courtyard, and it was this view she was enjoying from her chair as Lieserl entered the room. A quilt was wrapped around her spindly legs, her knobby hands folded neatly in her lap. Arthritis had robbed her of the ability to knit or sew, and holding a writing utensil was a mighty effort in itself.
"How are they?" Mama asked as she turned her face from the window. Her limbs and strength might be failing, but her sight and hearing remained sharp, as sharp as they had been the first day Lieserl had come to live here.
"Matthew is upset. And his Holiness has asked for Greta's services tonight."
"Service in the name of the Holy Father is a blessing," Mama said. Her expression and tone carried their usual stern reserve.
"Yes, Mama. Would you like some food or coffee?" Lieserl asked. The old woman shook her head, and Lieserl retreated from the room. She went out into the courtyard, where several plots of carefully-maintained gardens sat. During the long days of summer, the crops had been picked clean after there was nothing to be found in the market. Instead of the monetary donation generally asked for services, Mama asked the establishment's patrons to pay with food, which she and Lieserl carefully guarded and rationed out to the rest of the women here.
When the plague made its way through the city, Mama ordered the doors to remain barred. Lieserl could not remember a time when Mama had ever barred the establishment to patrons, but hearing the stories, and seeing the corpses, caused her to see the wisdom in Mama's decision.
Multiple times through the day, Lieserl prayed, sometimes with Mama or other sisters in service. As Mama's second-in-command, she'd had to deal a firm hand sometimes. As 'Big Sister', she took her role and its responsibilities seriously, and Lieserl pondered that as she stared at the small green shoots of the autumn crop that the younger women had planted. The dirt was held by protective walls of brick that went just past her ankles.
The summer had been an ordeal, but it was now over, and much of life's normalcy had been restored. She knelt, feeling the dirt with her fingertips, making a mental note to water the plots. She'd been born and raised in the city, so had never known farm life, but imagined it might be pleasant. After all, the Holy Book praised those who tilled the land, for without their work, how could humans benefit from the Mother's bounty? She'd been brought to this establishment to perform a different sort of service, but she found more solace working the garden, for she was helping to provide food for her sisters, and certainly the Father and Mother would be pleased with that.
"Mother, bless my hands and feet so that they have the strength to do your work, and bless my heart so that I may continue to feel joy in my work," Lieserl whispered before she took a bucket of water, tipping it carefully as she walked along a row, hearing the soft splashing as the life-giving fluid slipped through the V-shaped notch on the side of the bucket's opening, checking to make sure the plants were climbing up the poles as they should.
Much like the plants in these plots, Lieserl hadn't had any real choice in how her life was shaped. She was the granddaughter of a blacksmith. Her father had died before she was old enough to remember him, leaving behind a wife and five daughters. Mother had come from a poor family and married the blacksmith's third son. To the craftsman, Lieserl was simply another mouth to be fed, and she was fed, for the Heavenly Father bade the obermon of each family to fulfill this duty.
With so many mouths – and squabbling voices – at home, Lieserl found herself easily charmed by the first lad willing to smile at her. She was no beauty, as her grandfather was wont to tell her, and tall, taller than many boys and men. Her sisters and cousins were more likely to receive flowers or flattery, so when a young man came to her grandfather's smithy who actually seemed to like her…
It wasn't as if a girl wasn't warned to guard her virtue. She'd heard plenty enough about it in church, but as Mama's establishment showed, she was not the first girl, nor would she be the last, to give in to the urging of her adolescent passions. Not every woman ended up in such a place for that particular reason, but it certainly was a convenient excuse to put them in service of masculine needs.
She had been caught with her paramour by a cousin, who ran off to tell Grandfather. Predictably, Grandfather had raged at her, although Ned didn't get off scot-free. He'd been caught in the act, and because he'd not wanted to marry her, he'd had to pay the virtue tax.
Lieserl never saw a single bit of that money, for a third had gone to her grandfather, the next third to church, and the final part to Mama's establishment. Nearly forty years had passed since that fateful day, and it'd been some years since she'd serviced a man. Not that she minded the lack of attention now. If Ned were to show up today and smile at her as he had done all these years ago, she'd have sneered at him.
If I knew back then what I did now… Lieserl thought, not for the first time. She was nearly done with the watering by the time commotion met her ears. Gasps and murmurs filtered from within the building, and she set the bucket down, hastening to the doorway in time to see Thamonese soldiers frog-march Matthew down the hall, and not far behind him, several soldiers pulling the Earthfather forward. The old man fought them with the ferocity of a cat who faced being dumped into the water. Several women had emerged from various rooms to stare at the grim procession, not sure which was more surprising, that there were Thamonese soldiers here, or that a second man had been living here.
Mama stood to one side, holding onto Greta's arm. Lieserl stared at Matthew with wide eyes and instinctively started to move forward.
"Stay where you are," Mama barked.
"But-" The rest of her words died in her throat as she met Mama's steely gaze.
"Unhand me! You would harass an innocent citizen!" the Earthfather bellowed as he tried to twist free from his captors.
"We are only two men making lawful use of this establishment," Matthew argued. The two men did look like ordinary citizens, clad in simple knee-length tunics, and the rough-woven robe the Earthfather wore was a far cry from the white, blue, and gold robes he had worn when King Heliert was still ruler of Araithale.
Near Mama stood what Lieserl deduced was the leader of the Thamonese soldiers. He was a man of average height and looked to be around Lieserl's age if not a few years younger. His graying hair was up in a topknot like she'd seen on many other Thamonese soldiers when she'd ventured to the market. At the protests from the two men, he glanced at Mama, raising an eyebrow. Mama responded to the unspoken question with a slow nod. The soldier turned his attention back to the two men, who were now held firmly in front of him, the other soldiers partially obscuring Lieserl's view of them.
"The Governor-General will be most pleased to finally have you in custody!" the man said in heavily-accented Araithalen. His gaze roamed around the space, seeing the women huddled against the walls, several of them holding onto one another fearfully.
"It is as I have told you. None of them were aware of the Earthfather being here. The responsibility for hiding him was shared by Matthew and myself alone," Mama proclaimed.
Truth was one of the tenets of the Way of the Light. Lieserl's conscience struggled against her voice, and Mama lifted her chin, letting her gaze drift amongst her charges until they settled upon Lieserl for a moment before she returned her attention to the soldier. Lieserl swallowed thickly and pressed her lips together.
Matthew, who was not as constrained as his superior, twisted his neck around in one direction and then the other before catching sight of her. She'd always been respectful and obedient towards Matthew and the Earthfather, but she was also aware of their disdain towards her and Mama. When Matthew had come here that fateful night several sennights ago, there was no mistaking the fact that despite his diminished circumstances, he still saw himself as superior to those who were feeding and sheltering him. And the Earthfather, who had a far greater need to be hidden, was worse.
Matthew narrowed his eyes at her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. She started to shake her head, no, she had nothing to do with the Thamonese soldiers, she'd been as virtuous as the Heavenly Father – or Earthfather – could have expected, but then Greta spoke.
"Please, kind sir, Mama is so old and frail. She only did what she had been taught to do, and when the Earthfather commanded her aid, she provided it, not out of rebellion against you, but obedience to the ways she had known all her life." The young redheaded woman carefully disengaged from Mama and fell to her knees in front of the commander.
All the girls had been brought here for a singular purpose, but they were as varied as the plants that grew from the earth. Greta had a flair for the dramatic which served her well in entertaining her sisters when they were not tasked with a different sort of performance.
"One can hope for mercy, but one must also accept responsibility and its consequences," Mama said, leaning on her cane. "Come, child. I have lived a long life and lived the best I could. And in this place, that includes keeping you safe." She turned to the commander. "I submit myself to your authority."
Lieserl and the other women stared at the scene with bated breath. The commander stared at the old woman for several long moments.
"If I leave you here, do you promise to remain within the bounds of this place?" he asked.
"You have my word. Besides, even if I wanted to run, I could not get very far, could I?" she asked, tapping her cane against the stone floor. At that, the commander smiled wryly.
"As long as you do not hide anyone else here, and the residents of this place follow the laws, then there shall be a peaceful accord, hmm?"
"Fuck your accord!" Matthew spat out. "You traitorous whore-" A swift slap from a leather-gloved hand silenced him. Mama was silent as Greta rose to her feet and the two men were dragged out. Lieserl came forward, barring the door before she turned to face Mama and the other women, her hands shaking as she thought about how very differently things could have turned out.
"The Mother is merciful," Lieserl intoned as she looked at the younger women. "She has touched the hearts of the soldiers who came here. I suggest that you go and pray, and be thankful."
"You would do well to heed your Big Sister," Mama said as she looked at the women that had been placed under her charge. "You can be sure I will be on my knees thanking the Mother tonight, however much my knees might hurt afterward."
No argument met this, and soon enough, Lieserl was alone with Mama and Greta.
"You knew, didn't you?" Greta whispered. Lieserl stared back at her, regarding the delicate features of the young woman that stood before her. Before she'd come here, Lieserl acknowledged to herself that she would have been jealous of Greta's looks. A button of a nose sat in the middle of a heart-shaped face with fair skin that complemented rosy cheeks whenever Greta blushed.
But then, faces like Greta's inspired more desire than Lieserl's own, and that included men like the Earthfather. The Holy Book said to be grateful for what the Father deemed fit to give, and in Lieserl's case, she'd been given a good constitution and a body that despite its thickening with age, continued to work well, all things considered. And she had gained the wisdom to be more appreciative of that – and other things – now than she had been at Greta's age.
"I certainly wasn't going to go up and down all these stairs," Mama replied dryly before Lieserl could say anything.
"It is good to know I was not imagining things," Greta said. "Matthew was the only one who ever spoke to me, but I was certain I heard another man. And when I had my eyes covered…" She looked down. "But I should have been pleased to be called upon him?" she added with an uncertain tone as if she were afraid the Earthfather would hear her and rebuke her for it.
"One does not always have to enjoy their duty," Mama replied.
o0o
"I will admit, I almost did not recognize him without his beard," Sialeni commented placidly as she stood next to Kuojin.
"It is not the worst ruse ever devised. Often, the best ruses are the simplest ones." Kuojin crossed his arms as he looked down at the two men that stood before the Governor-General. She knew it had to rankle the Earthfather to know that a woman had replaced King Heliert while he hid like a common criminal, and now he had to witness Azami Tekura on the throne.
The Earthfather was seen as the Heavenly Father's earthly representative in religious matters and was second only to the King in terms of power. Like so many former kings and Earthfathers, their relationship had been symbiotic, and with the disposal of one, the other was soon to follow.
"Meser Fiori," Sialeni stated, using the casual title for a man of lower rank. His eyebrows furrowed as he glared at her, and she smiled down at him faintly. Unlike Matthew, the Earthfather's beard remained, though it'd thinned somewhat in later years as advanced age crept upon him. It hung against his chest, reaching down to his stomach in thin white wisps that reminded her of dandelion fluff.
"I am not a meser, you impudent child!" The younger cousin of Bachis Fiori had committed himself to the Way of the Light in his teens, and his faith was rewarded in due time with the position of the supreme religious authority in all of Araithale. She'd listened to him often enough at church services and ceremonies.
"Humility may beget mercy, as the Holy Book says. And as I have heard you say more than once in your long-winded sermons," Sialeni replied before she heard Azami clear her throat. She bowed her head and took a step back as Azami spoke.
"So this is the Earthfather that has managed to elude custody until now. I will admit that was clever of you," Azami said as she rested her chin on her hand, staring at him through half-lidded eyes. "Though it would have been better if you had surrendered when the former king did."
"I will not be lectured to by someone like you! You think I should have surrendered to thieves and mongrels!?"
"Do you think insults will make things any better for you?"
"You expect me to just stand here and be thankful for your presence?" The Earthfather shot back.
"… No. I am not so naive as to expect thankfulness," Azami replied, and several chuckles rippled through the chamber. "But at the very least, I expect of you what I would expect of anyone else here."
"And if I do not do that?" the Earthfather asked querulously.
"Then you will be confined just as your former king is."
"The Heavenly Father will punish you for your transgressions. You may sit there on the throne, smirking down at me, but your time will come."
"I tire of your prattling, old man. Guards, take them down to join Heliert and Bachis. I think my brother would find the Earthfather an interesting prisoner," Azami declared.
o0o
Morning dawned with vivid colors in the crisp air, and Sialeni stood before the doors to a modest apartment in the east wing of the palace. A pair of guards stood at the door and gave her easy admittance.
Though considerably less roomy than the royal quarters, the former queen and her younger daughter could hardly complain after their time in the subterranean depths of the palace.
Mother was sitting by the window, working on some embroidery, while Estelleta prayed quietly in front of the small shrine in the corner.
"Greetings, Mother. Good morning, Estelleta. How are you?" Sialeni asked, keeping her chatter polite and friendly as she moved further into the room, taking a seat near her mother.
"As well as we can be under these circumstances," Selestia replied stiffly.
"Well, one thing I can say for certain is that you are better off than the Earthfather," Sialeni replied calmly. Mother's hand paused for a moment in mid-air before coming to rest in her lap, and her expression was unreadable, her thin lips set in a neutral line.
"I take it the Dark Hand finally has him in its grasp," Mother finally commented. Estelleta turned towards the pair, her eyes wide with dismay. Mother glanced at her younger daughter for a moment before turning her attention back to her older daughter.
"How?" the former queen asked.
"He was hiding in the Mother's Garden." Sialeni studied her mother's face, looking for some emotion. She'd honestly expected dismay, anger, or disappointment. Mother had certainly expressed enough of all three in the past at times, especially when Sialeni was concerned. If not for the morning light filtering in, she might have missed the tightening of the muscles around her mother's mouth.
"At least there are some women in this city who still follow the way of the Light," Estelleta said, lifting her chin. "Regardless of their circumstances," she added piously.
"Estelleta," Mother said sharply. Sialeni was not sure who was more surprised at that, her sister or herself. "I hope these women are not going to be punished severely for this, at least," she added in a somewhat gentler tone.
"My understanding is that most of them were not even aware of his existence. He was very well-hidden," Sialeni explained. "As such, mercy has been deemed the best response."
"That is good to know," Mother commented.
"I will pray for the Earthfather," Estelleta replied.
"I certainly won't," Sialeni replied, unable to bite back a glib tone.
"It is not proper for us to gloat over the misfortune of others. Remember that pride is a sin," Selestia said, and with that, she closed herself off, as she did all too often, her innermost feelings and thoughts ever a mystery to her elder daughter.
o0o
The next morning, Sialeni stood in the shadows of the walkway that bordered the courtyard where Kuojin and his soldiers often sparred. Already a good amount of men were assembled there, several pairs testing their skills against one another. When Kuojin emerged into the light, Sialeni was shocked to see her brother following the Prince. The former Prince was clad in a simple short-sleeved tunic and leggings.
As Solan looked around the space, Sialeni kept herself in the shadows. Her brother walked with his shoulders squared, but she was certain that inside, he was nervous. Why wouldn't he be, when he no longer had all the privileges he'd once enjoyed? He looked a touch pale from his time in the near-underground chambers, but none the worse for wear.
Kuojin waved for the men in the open to continue their sparring, while he sat down and a servant brought tea for him and Solan. Solan left his cup untouched and stared at the combatants, who were at the time engaged in martial arts, several younger men taking instruction from older ones while many of the onlookers listened and observed. Kuojin glanced at Solan and gestured to the men, saying something. She could not make out the conversation from up here, but it appeared that Kuojin was explaining something about Thamonese fighting techniques.
In time, the men stopped sparring, and Kuojin rose to his feet, beckoning Solan as he moved to the center of the sparring space. Solan remained where he was for a moment, but rose to his feet.
Both men were given blunt wooden swords, and Sialeni noticed that they were in the longer, thinner style of the common Thamonese sword. Kuojin said something and bowed before he repeated whatever it was he said in a firmer tone. Solan stared at him for a couple of moments, and she took a deep breath, wondering if her brother was going to squander this opportunity. But he bowed. Kuojin raised his sword, nodding to his former superior.
Solan lunged forward, and Kuojin was quick to parry his thrust. The blonde spun around, to face him again, and the dark-haired prince blocked and parried his successive swings and thrusts. The harsh clack of the wooden weapons rang through the air as Solan made his best effort to take down his former servant.
Kuojin did little to actively provoke his counterpart. He would respond to Solan's attacks, and on occasion, take a swing to deliver quick blows. Solan had every chance to gracefully admit defeat, but his fury at having a foe who seemed to find him little effort ensured that his ego would not be swayed.
However, after Kuojin gave Solan's sword hand a sharp rap, Solan had to drop his weapon, waving his injured hand and glaring at his adversary. Kuojin waved his hand and spoke, and a soldier took hold of Solan's arm and led him back to his seat while an older soldier faced the Prince.
This new opponent was considerably worthier of Kuojin's skills, swiftly dancing and thrusting around one another. However, the Prince was eventually bested by his subject. The two bowed to one another before retreating from the space. After about ten minutes, Kuojin and Solan retired from the courtyard, but Sialeni remained to watch other soldiers spar.
A heated breath at the back of her ear made her flinch a bit, and she turned to see Kuojin, smiling at her faintly.
"Did you enjoy watching us, my princess?" he whispered.
"Your men are skilled," Sialeni replied, fighting back a smile.
"Though a person should hone a skill for their personal betterment, it never hurts to have admiration now and then."
"There is that." She glanced around for a bit, but before she could ask, Kuojin answered her unspoken question.
"Your brother is back in his cell. I figured that some quiet would be a better atmosphere for… personal reflection."
"Mmm." She nodded briefly. "There is something I need to discuss. I am considering what to do with my lordship over House Fiori, and have yet to declare an heir. I am considering my cousin Jacinthe. I have not seen her for several years, but I am certain she could maintain the estate with some qualified help. Lord Starsmore has also offered a marriage alliance between one of his sons or grandsons and an eligible woman of House Fiori." While possessing several skills that were considered proper for a noblewoman, Jacinthe Fiori had shown an insightful mind, and Sialeni had gotten along with her cousin better than with many other women. If her ladies-in-waiting had been more like Jacinthe, Sialeni would have been a lot happier in her old life. At the moment, Jacinthe was engaged, but given the Thamonese law, she was free to refuse the man her grandfather had chosen for her, and if so inclined, find a worthier mate among Lord Starsmore's relatives.
House Fiori would be further protected by its liege lord, and House Starsmore would have Fiori's pedigree attached to their lineage. With the shift in fortunes between the two houses, it benefited all.
"Well, you are Lord of House Fiori. It is your decision."
She smiled and did a slight curtsy. "Thank you, Lord Tekura."
"It is nearly time for nuncheon, Lady Starsmore. Would you do the honor of accompanying me?"
"I would be delighted."
o0o
Before going to the midday meal, Kuojin excused himself to wash up and change into something more formal. He retreated to his apartment, reminded of the fact that this had once been Solan's residence as he recalled his match with the former Prince.
There was a time where, had he laid his hand on the Prince, he would have almost certainly faced execution, or at the least, removal of his hand – something that the Heavenly Father would have said was merciful. If anything positive could have been gleaned from his life in Araithale, it was that his difficult early years taught him humility and better respect for social inferiors in his elevated position.
He slid off his shirt, glancing in the mirror as he quickly toweled his brow. Dark green eyes stared from a face that had marked him as a stranger in this fair land since he was born.
o0o
Seven Years Ago
Lukas's lips were set in a firm line as he brushed the gold-dappled white horse, making sure the creature's coat was smooth and shiny. Nearly two years in Whitecastle had developed a variety of skills for him, and he hoped that one day, he would be able to find an occupation when he left the Palace. He'd been thinking about going east to Onshae Thamo. Would he be welcomed there, or did the Thamonese share the Araithalens' disdain for half-breeds? At this time, his main occupation was working in the stable, looking after the horses, and sometimes being one of Solan's attendants for when the Prince was riding, hunting, or sparring with other noble sons.
Though Lukas had done his best to fit in and not cause any trouble, he still faced provocation and discrimination. He could only bear this in silence, for to raise a hand to a servant, much less a highborn, would have caused trouble for a lowly groomsman, much less one that was a descendant of one of the races that Araithale disdained.
Satisfied with the horse's appearance, Lucas saddled the horse with Solan's equipment. The polished gold links and fine leather were well-maintained, as the Prince demanded. Ensuring that the straps were secure, he led the horse outside, where Solan would come to claim it. It could be five minutes or an hour, but either way, Lukas had to wait.
"Slanty-eyes, where do you think you're going with the Prince's horse?" he heard a rough yet nasally voice from behind him, and he stiffened, squaring his shoulders. He looked around to see several teenage sons of various lords facing him, each wearing something that identified their family, whether it be a tunic, cape, or jacket. A couple of other servants were in the yard, ostensibly doing various chores, but Lucas did not doubt they were listening for the confrontation that the young lords so obviously sought.
"I am simply waiting for him, as he commands," Lukas replied, giving the briefest answer he could muster.
"Well, that's where the Hgngish dog belongs, anyway. Under his master's heel," the leader of the noble youths retorted. Lucas took a slow, deep breath as he clenched his jaw. He kept his eyes averted to the ground, keeping the others within his peripheral view. The ringleader's hair was wavy light brown, just barely touching broad shoulders that sat above a belly that was already taking on a paunch. Lukas could not recall his first name, but from the axe-shaped design of the pin that held his cloak, he surmised his tormentor was one of the many sons of the prolific Lord Dixran.
Heavenly Father, he prayed. I am humble. I go to church services. I listen to the readings. I observe the rites with Mother. I obey my King and Prince. I keep my hands occupied. I seek no trouble. Please allow them to choose kindness.
As usual, his prayers in such situations were unanswered.
"A dog, taking care of the Prince's horse? Has the world gone mad?"
"Well, you can teach a dog tricks. My mum's little doggie sits and begs on command," another of the young men commented.
"Why, that's a good idea," the brown-haired boy said with a malicious grin. "Hey, doggie. Kneel."
Lukas's cheeks burned with embarrassment. None of them were Solan, but his position was precarious. A complaint from a noble might blossom into repercussions for him or his mother. Yet, his dignity refused to allow him to fall to his knees. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground, his hands on the horse's reins, praying that Solan would not find them like this and join in on the fun.
"What, doggie? Are you deaf? I said kneel!"
Lukas chewed the inside of his cheek as he became still, almost as if by rendering himself motionless, they would lose interest. How he longed to punch the other boy n the face…
Feet strode towards him, and he felt a jab to his shoulder. Instinctively, his free hand balled into a fist.
"Hey!" he heard someone yell. The other boy spun around. Descending the rough-hewn stone ramp that led down to the stable yard was Lord Harlan Starsmore. His jacket held the color and motif of his family crest – an embroidered silver star formed by the lapels of his jacket, amidst a field of indigo.
Lukas pulled back a grimace, wondering if the Heavenly Father was in an especially shitty mood today. Only the year before, Lord Starsmore's eldest daughter had been kidnapped and murdered on her way to the famed Greenmother Convent in the eastern stretches of the Green. The men behind such a foul deed were Thamonese, so it was said. Lord Starsmore certainly had no reason to look at a youth who resembled the Thamonese with any favor.
"You should know better than to harass a servant who is simply going about his duties," Lord Starsmore reprimanded as he fixed his eyes upon Lukas's tormentor.
"Oh, we were just funnin' around, sir," the lordling Dixran responded cheerily, giving Lucas a pat on the back that was firmer than necessary.
"The Heavenly Father reminds us that while strength is a valuable asset, so is forbearance. Especially when people have done nothing to provoke you," Lord Starsmore lectured as he stepped across the straw and well-packed dirt n the yard.
Thank you, Heavenly Father, Lucas breathed. Still, he said nothing, waiting to see what the other boy would say.
"I… I was just making sure that he stays on the straight and narrow!"
Lord Starsmore gave the boy an even stare. "I believe he is already doing well enough without any help from you or your friends."
At this, Lukas finally ventured to speak. "Thank you, Lord Starsmore."
The older man regarded him with a brief nod before he turned to the others. "I believe your horses are ready. There is no more reason to linger."
The brown-haired boy backed away, meeting Lukas's eyes for a moment with a hateful glare before he turned away. Lord Starsmore remained where he was until the youths and their respective squires had left the yard.
"Thank you again, sir," Lukas said, bowing his head.
"Look at me."
Lukas's eyes widened a bit at that command, but who was he to question a man who had shown him unexpected kindness? He looked back up, taking note of the placid face with its thick eyebrows and faint lines at the eyes. It seemed like the lord was also studying him. Did he see the men who were responsible for his daughter's death in the youth's features?
"What do you know of your father?" he asked in a quiet, conversational tone.
"...pardon, sir?" Lucas breathed. What little he did know of his father included the fact that he had been a kind man. However, this knowledge was only imparted with the promise that he not discuss this with anyone else. It was enough that people believed his father had been Hgngish. For it to be known that an Araithalen woman had willingly laid with a Thamonese man…
"I believe you understood my question."
Lucas quickly looked down.
"I was only curious. I have no malicious intent," he heard Lord Starsmore say. He looked back up, furrowing his brows in doubt. Lying was considered a sin, but then, servants were often unwitting – and sometimes unwilling – confidants to their master's misdeeds, and Lucas had seen and heard often enough of the misdeeds of his superiors. Today certainly had proven to be no exception, had it?
"The truth is that I know next to nothing about him, sir."
"Hmm." Lord Starsmore stared at him for several moments before giving a brief nod. "Work hard, and do your best in all aspects of life. You may have a more difficult lot in life than others, but Heaven rewards the faithful… even if the rewards may sometimes be long in coming."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, then. Have a good day." It sounded like Lord Starsmore meant that.
"You too."
Lucas feared the boys might come back to bully him some more after Lord Starsmore left, but Solan arrived several minutes later. As he assisted Solan and followed him into the open, he saw the Queen and her two daughters, standing with several other noblewomen to see their husbands or sons off.
Sialeni looked in his direction, and Lucas had to hold back a wave. Nonetheless, her presence caused a warm flutter within his chest. He imagined being a full-fledged knight and winning a tourney so that he could ride up to her and offer her a flower, as was the custom for the victor. There were other things he imagined as well… things that the Heavenly Father was certain to frown upon. After all, he was a peasant and a half-breed, and she was a princess, and the Court would howl in laughter at the notion of a union between the two.
Yet he could not help but hope. She'd shown, in her way, that she respected him. She sent him books via his mother, who worked as the Queen's needlewoman, enabling him to gain an education often deprived to members of his station. His mother was the one who'd taught him how to read. For a woman who had supposedly come from such poor origins, she had been surprisingly literate, something he'd not understood until he'd learned the truth.
He planned to leave Araithale within a few years and find a way to support himself in Onshae Thamo, or possibly Viruch, and he would take his mother with him. Would Sialeni leave her life behind to go with him, if she had the chance? Despite the seeming impossibility of such an event, Lukas could not help but dream.
He turned away from her to do a last-minute check of Solan's gear, watching the Prince ride off with his companions. Ostensibly to get the sun out of his eyes, he casually turned back to her. Sialeni was looking off in the distance with her mother and sister, but within a moment, her eyes had darted back to him.
They stared at one another for a moment that gave them a flash of eternity before she looked away from him out of the decorum demanded of Araithalen women and girls.
o0o
Kuojin straightened his collar, giving himself a quick once-over in the mirror before he left his chambers. Those who had mocked him when he was younger would have never imagined finding him ever becoming their superior. One of the tenets of the Empire of Onshae Thamo was to be humble in victory, but Kuojin would be lying if he said he didn't take pleasure in the way Solan had made himself so easy to defeat, or the shock in the eyes of the young nobleman who had once tried to make him into a dog.
That had been indeed a memorable day, and truth be told, Kuojin had been tempted to tell Lord Dixran to sit and beg like a dog. Fortunately for Dixran, Kuojin had decided that such behavior, while guaranteeing temporary satisfaction, was ultimately not worth his time. The fact that Lord Dixran also had just enough intelligence to quickly bend his knee and swear fealty, also factored in that decision, to be sure.
And now, after all these years, Kuojin also had his princess. Lord Starsmore had been right all these years ago. His hard work and patience had indeed been rewarded.
He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Sialeni, with dark blue ribbons in her hair.
"Shall we?" she asked.
"We shall." He offered his arm, and she took it.