Dohalim: Touring Menencia (Part 2)
The next morning the tour continued, but at a much less public pace. Kelzalik took Dohalim through a slower, more thoughtful tour of the palace. Dohalim asked after the library first, if there was a concert hall, where his office would be and what kinds of public appearances he was expected to make.
"My Lord," Kelzalik said, "as lord of the land you are the highest authority in the entire realm, and therefore need to be the most secure. The less you leave the palace in your administration the better."
Dohalim frowned, "But then how am I expected to inspect the land for the reports?"
Kelzalik blinked, seeing Dohalim as if for the first time. "You present yourself so formally, my Lord," he said, "that I have forgotten your age. Lord Dohalim, the ships have departed for Lenegis, there is no aerial means of inspecting the land."
Dohalim was disappointed to have that pointed out to him, but he held in his pout. Fifteen did not mean he knew everything, and he had to bow to the wisdom of others. "I assume, then, that I have representatives who perform such tasks?"
"Yes," Kelzalik replied, bowing. "I can't speak for before my tenure, but the prior lord had such reports given to him."
Dohalim nodded. "I would prefer a similar schedule. I assume the overseers are used to making such reports, and whatever my or your opinion of the prior lord it is only correct that I have a hand in my own administration. Is that acceptable?"
"My Lord," Kelzalik said, "you are the lord of the land. Your word is law here, now."
"Very well. I think it appropriate, then, for me to tour the surrounding farmlands."
"Y-yes, my lord?"
"If I am to be respectful of my fellow compatriots in this realm, it is important that I intimate that to them personally. I understand your concerns about security, and I do not intend to venture much further than, say, one day's procession out of the city. The word of my visit will spread of its own accord."
"Might I suggest a half day, then?" Kelzalik said, his tone very careful. "Securing lodgings for the night on a pitiful farm would be inappropriate for your stature."
"As you wish," Dohalim said, nodding. "I would also like to take the time to commune with the Earth Master Core - sooner rather than later, given the nature of the Crown Contest."
"The mines are being cleared out of workers as we speak, and the mines themselves are being prepared for your visit. They should be ready tomorrow."
"I understand."
As promised, the next day Dohalim was surrounded by soldiers and proceeded through the city, navigating the winding lanes and across a bridge to the mines.
"Is it customary to be surrounded by so many soldiers?" Dohalim asked, feeling claustrophobic with the amount of armor around him but unwilling to be a bother. He was fifteen, Lord or not he did not want to be seen as uneducated or inconsiderate.
"Oh, it's just a precaution," Kelzalik said. "Unlike every other realm the Master Core is not kept in the palace."
Dohalim frowned. "Is that a wise decision?"
"It is a secure decision," Kelzalik said. "Before the realms were separated it was not unheard of for Lords to attack each other or stage coups. The Lord and the Master Core cannot fall simultaneously. The other realms were not so intelligent, and they keep the astral reserves of the Master Core in the palace."
"I remember the stories," Dohalim said, fingering his chin. "Ganath Haros, correct? So much astral energy was released the storm lasted for two weeks, the city was nearly leveled."
"Yes, but also here in Elde Menencia," Kelzalik said. "I'll show you the reports later, but among other things you will find taste testers and identification cards and very strict control of the Embedded. That's the reason for the soldiers here, we don't want the riffraff to have access to you."
Dohalim looked over to his majordomo. "But the Dahnans are under my care as well," he said.
"No more than any other livestock," Kelzalik said with a shrug of the shoulders.
Dohalim frowned, wondering what the man knew that he didn't, but the doors opened and they entered the mine.
Cyslodian batteries lit the space, the rock a warm orange sandstone. The throb of earth astral energy bubbled over Dohalim, even more powerful than when he first touched down in Viscint. His eyes moved everywhere, tracing the patterns, and marveling at the concentration. The outer chamber was of course utilitarian, but beyond was the quarry proper. Again, the structures were squat, inelegant, rough stone with no luster or imagination. He threw a glance at Kelzalik but the man seemed to not notice. "What is the purpose of these structures?" he asked.
"Oh, these are the Embedded's quarters," Kelzalik said easily. "It's more efficient to keep them close to their work site."
"And why are they not here, now, to witness my arrival like the Renans?"
"My Lord," Kelzalik said, affronted. "You did not inform me that you wished to inspect the stock."
"Kelzalik," Dohalim said more firmly. "They are not livestock, but rather valuable members of my administration. Find the quarry representative, I will talk to them after I commune with the Master Core."
"... Yes, my Lord."
The majordomo disappeared, but the soldiers stayed thick around Dohalim, leading him to the center of the astral energy concentration. The pulses were thick, veiny, rather like a heartbeat, and Dohalim opened himself up to the energy, his crest glowing at his forehead. He elegantly raised a hand, introducing himself to the undulating swirl of the Master Core, and with a gentle pull it left its home and drifted to his hand.
"Hello," he offered softly, letting the energy envelope him. "You and I are to be partners for a time."
Master Core Detected. The Lord's Crest would like to synchronize with the Master Core. Proceed?
"Yes," Dohalim consented.
The foreign thing inside him, the Lord's Crest, opened, and Dohalim held the Master Core as the objects began to commune. He would occasionally hear a request for consent, which he would give, as he listened to the earth astral energy and the crest and the Master Core all pulse back and forth. His eyes slowly closed to the process, feeling more pieces of himself shift and change, the crest digging into parts of him to create access to the earth astral energy. It felt like the crest was a scaffolding, piercing and digging into him so that the astral energy could flow through. The astral energy was not nearly so painful, and as the roads and paths were done and the Master Core took over, Dohalim felt connection to his artes like he'd never known. He breathed, and he felt the earth breath with him.
As the process completed, he opened his eyes and felt dizzy. The world around him was blurry, and he turned slightly, trying to see how much time had passed. Underground, of course, he could not do so, and when he tried to step to a soldier his vision darkened, telescoping. He froze, waiting for the sensation to dissipate. He breathed for several seconds, waiting for the light-headedness to pass, feeling his senses slowly return to him.
He was cloaked in sweat, and as the Earth Master Core drifted over to its designated place, Dohalim wondered again about keeping it here in the mines. Surely it would be better spent closer to him?
When he felt he could move, he turned back to the soldiers, who immediately straightened to attention.
"Might I inquire as to how long it's been?"
"Four hours, my lord," one of them answered, saluting.
Was that normal? Dohalim had to assume it was, and he tried to move forward. His steps were still unsteady, and he was sore in a way he hadn't expected, but he could walk. Two soldiers flanked him as he left the column of light, the Earth Master Core.
In the grand antechamber of the quarry, with the Dahnan dwellings, the rest of the soldiers straightened. His footing was growing more sure as he walked, he was grounded in a way he was not used to. Part of his mind, however, was was floating far away, constructing poetry to describe the experience he had just undergone, bemused with the new sensations of his body and the power of the Master Core - this was at the beginning of a Crown Contest - what would it feel like in the late stages? He hummed with the idea.
There, at the front of the mining site, at the base of the stairs leading up to the quarry proper, was a crowd of soldiers. A curious sound was filling Dohalim's ears, one he could not immediately identify. The way parted, and Kelzalik stood with the most bedraggled woman Dohalim had ever seen.
Her clothes were basic - simple brown linen tied together with a leather belt, clearly rushed in cleaning. Ill-fitting boots were on her feet and at her neck was a bit of leather, notches cut into it. Her hair was a dark mass of curls, a wide nose, and heavily bagged eyes.
"My Lord," Kelzalik said, bowing. The woman awkwardly bowed as well, arching around something that must have indicated pain. "This is Fleur. The Embedded representatives are all Renan, but if you want to talk to an Embedded then she is one of our best behaved."
Dohalim frowned at the wording, but did not want to question it in public. Instead he stepped forward. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said formally, reaching out to offer a hand. The woman stared at him, her eyes flicking down and then up, before she tensed and reached out. Her hands were leathery with callouses, shaking and she flinched with Dohalim gave a respectful squeeze.
"Are you in pain?" he asked, tilting his head.
"I'm fine, my Lord," she said in low tones. "Just been a hard day's work."
"I was under the impression that the Dahnans working here had the day off while I communed with the Master Core."
She blinked, then stiffened. "Y-yes, my Lord. I misspoke. Please forgive me."
Dohalim closed his eyes. "Benediction light," he invoked, "heal my weary companion."
The soft glow of his artes responded quicker than he had ever experienced, the energy he tapped into flowing from his head where the crest was and out like a system of roots, to the exhausted Fleur. He watched with his senses as she relaxed with the removal of pain, and when he opened his eyes she was standing much straighter.
"My Lord is very kind," she said.
"You are my subjects just as the Renans," he said. "My hope is that my administration will be efficient and beneficial for all involved."
Another pause drew out, and Fleur jolted again, bowing awkwardly. "My Lord is very kind," she repeated.
"I understand my predecessor was often disrespectful to his patronage. Rest assured that I have no intention of repeating his mistakes. I will be spending the coming weeks taking suggestions from all parties on what can be done to improve the administration of this realm. If you can create a report from your compatriots and have it on my desk by, say, two weeks from now, I will read them with great interest. I cannot guarantee to meet all requests, but I'll do everything in my power to make your life easier."
"My Lord," Kelzalik said. "We're past time."
"Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you… forgive me, what is your title in this organization?"
Fleur frowned, jumping again, and then again, before bowing once more. "The only title I know of is slave," she said.
"That's enough," Kelzalik said firmly. "My lord, it's time to go."
The entourage pulled Fleur away and eased Dohalim back up the steps. He turned, trying to find her again, but wherever she was being led two soldiers had grips on either arm. He turned to his majordomo as soon as they exited the quarry. "What was that about?" he asked.
"My Lord," Kelzalik said, "We had already cleared out the Embedded to prepare for your communing with the Master Core, there was only a skeleton staff left of the stock. As I said, The Embedded don't have representatives, only their Overseers. We had to move through the skeletal crew and find one who was well spoken enough to have a hope of not insulting you."
"And the report I asked for?" Dohalim asked. "Is her standing in the mines high enough that she can create a report?"
"... no, my Lord, but I'll forward the message to her Overseer and make sure the report is on your desk immediately."
… "And it will be properly surveyed amongst the Dahnans?" Dohalim asked, sensing something. "It will be their voices that compose the report?"
"Of course, my Lord."
Dohalim did not sleep well that night. His blood was humming with the new astral energy in his system and it would not quiet as it adjusted to the new levels. Moreover, the entire exchange with Fleur did not sit well with him. Kelzalik's now repeated dismissals of the Dahnans did not seem appropriate given that the Dahnans were the majority population he was now ruling over. He had to meet everyone's needs, and that included the largest producers of astral energy he had outside of the earth itself. There was something there his fifteen year old mind didn't know how to touch. Something was… off.
The next morning was the tour of the surrounding farmlands. Kelzalik outlined his itinerary and what farms he would be visiting. He studied the list scrupulously, trying to relate it to his briefing information during his arrival to Menencia. They were all Renan owned farms, all staunch supporters and enormous contributors to astral energy. And all, paradoxically, with the lowest artes levels Dohalim had ever seen. The first two farms he visited all had the Dahnans in clothing similar to Fleur: brown linen with leather belts - but this time they were in varying states of cleanliness. Only the best looking were at the front, neat rows that got shabbier and shabbier at the back. Dohalim did not comment, but he saw the leather slowly replaced with rope and twine, the ill-fitting boots disappearing one or two rows in. All of their faces - even the cleanest - were worn, hollow, coupled with dark, baggy eyes and unhealthy hair or blemishes. There was no happiness, only forced smiles and clearly uncomfortable bows.
"Kelzalik," he said after the second farm. "Take me to a farm not on the list."
"Wh-what? My Lord!"
Dohalim held his breath and played the game. "If the other lords are inspecting their holdings, they have not produced an itinerary that I was able to find. I am uncomfortable with such a public schedule. It would do to keep them guessing."
"Y-yes, my Lord. It is a good idea." Kelzalik bowed.
"By my understanding there is a smaller farm an hour's distance from here," Dohalim said. "We will make that our next destination."
"Yes, my Lord. I'll send a courier."
"Don't," Dohalim said. "The less notice the better."
"... yes, my Lord."
The procession of soldiers was of course a dead giveaway, but Dohalim knew he could not account for everything. What he wanted most was to catch the owner off-guard, scrambling and not able to cover up whatever affable affectation that was expected when interacting with a lord. Moreover, Dohalim was not interested in talking to the owner, he wanted to talk to the Dahnans.
They crested a hill and Dohalim at last saw the Dahnans applying their trade. Overseers in armor were standing on watchtowers, or walking through the fields shouting at the farmers. Everyone was covered in filth, the clean brown linens now little more than barely held together rags. Dahnans carried harvest bails twice their weight on their backs, bent over with the load, ragged straw hats their only protection from the sun.
A high pitched whistle echoed across the farm, and Dohalim looked up to see an overseer on a watch tower lift their rifle and fire three times in quick succession. Down the road Dohalim saw a body fall, staggering out of the field and scrambling to their feet. A fourth shot rang true, and the body crumpled.
"Hold your fire!" he shouted, unable to stop himself.
Kelzalik echoed the order, and Dohalim moved forward with more speed, soldiers quickly fanning out and summoning their own rifles. He paid them no mind, single-mindedly moving to the body on the road. It was a teen, just like him, smeared in dirt and blood, ragged air moving through holes in the chest.
"Heal," Dohalim said, his eyes glowing blue as he invoked his artes.
"Nno…" was the weak voice.
"Be still, child," Dohalim said. "Let me aid you in your pain."
"D-don't…"
"Get away from that runaway!"
"Stop where you are!"
"That's property of this farm!"
"And that's the lord of the land!"
"What?"
Dohalim's artes were not enough, the teen expired, and all at once he was looking at a body, just like Tarnigan, about the same height, and there was a scream somewhere in his heart, arditamente assai, so suddenly and so loudly he had to close his eyes, force himself to shut everything out, to reach for the poetry from the other day: the place I escape. The place I escape. The place I escape.
He sucked in a shuddering breath and stood, turned to see the overseer with the rifle, surrounded by his own men.
Vines erupted from the earth, ensnaring the overseer, tightening and tightening, Dohalim squeezing as his hand was outstretched. There were several uncontrolled gasps from the soldiers to see a violent act from the well-mannered lord, Kelzalik was wide eyed and sweating, but Dohalim was only vaguely aware of that, moving forward as his eyes glowed blue.
"What did the Dahnan do?" he demanded. "What did they do to warrant cold blooded murder?"
"M-my Lord!" the overseer said. "He was a runaway! Too lazy to work and tried to sneak off. Been dealing with runaways since the Sovereign took over, they all think with the Contest lulled they can get away with doing nothing."
"Nothing?" Dohalim asked. "Look at the bedraggled state of your patron and explain how they do nothing."
"My Lord! It's the most efficient way to harvest their astral energy!"
"Through base cruelty?" He squeezed his vines tighter, the creak of the armor audible.
"My Lord," Kelzalik said, at his shoulder and bowing. "We have not yet gone over the production numbers, but he is legally in his rights to handle runaways and dissidents in whatever way he sees fit. The Embedded are his property."
"They are his people," Dohalim said.
"Be that as it may," Kelzalik said. "Even a lord cannot interfere with how a landowner handles their property." His face softened. "You're young, my Lord. These ways are new to you. You'll grow into it in time."
But Dohalim's mind was already on Fleur in the quarry, under the pulse of the Master Core. They had cleaned her up well enough, but she had been injured - what did that imply of the others working in the mines? Dohalim could hear Fahria's screams again, the first time in days, and he felt tension in his body as he released the overseer. The armored man collapsed to the ground, panting, struggling to pull at his armor that had crushed into him. He looked at the murderer coldly. "You can expect reassignment in the coming days," he said coldly.
He turned and moved the way he had come, the soldiers falling in line and flanking him. "We're going back," he said, to whom he did not know. "I am going to see the Razum Quarry and its mines as it functions, not as it appears before a lord."
"But my Lord!"
"No, Kelzalik," Dohalim said. "If I am to be lord of the land then I must know the truth of my realm."
His majordomo sighed, adjusting his glasses as his face turned grim. "You are a gentle spirit, my Lord," he said. "You will not like what you find."
Oh, luscious valley
The endless call of rebirth
The place I escape
…
The place I escape.
The difference was immediate: the lights were dimmer, darker, and the silence of an empty space was replaced with unpleasant noise. Stone on stone, picking and pecking on unyielding rock, but also grunts and groans, moans of lamentation that made Dohalim's skin crawl. The Dahnans moved about in exhausted shuffles, several were collapsed on the ground by the dwellings, the air was bathed in the scent of blood. He could hear a snapping sound, cracking through the air… whips? No rifle shots, but shouts of verbal abuse and screa-
There were screams.
Dohalim's anxiety grew, as he marched deeper into the quarry, eyes roving over the mines and realizing why Kelzalik always said Embedded or livestock: that was all the Dahnans were: oxen to pull and push and whip if they did not perform correctly.
A second scream ran out, and it was reading a horrific chord in the echoes of his mind. He stopped in front of the main Overseer, his entourage fanning out and he disappearing into memory. His ears picked up one scream after the next: after the cracking of a whip, after the ugly crunch of something falling, after stumbling and being threatened more blood.
"Lord Dohalim?"
He could hear Fahria, her screams were gross gregorian chant, keeping time with the screams of the mines, an idee fixe that increased in tempo and speed, dulling his senses. He was in the practice room again, pulling out his violin, sensing Tarnigan approach him, the whisper, the fight. Then, watching his best friend fall, watching Fahria collapse in grief and scream.
"Lord Dohalim?"
He forced his eyes closed, shaking bodily as he shook his head. The Master Core was throbbing again, a deliberate larghetto that added to the noise in his ears. He held his head, trying to tune it all out.
"Make it stop," he said, voice unrefined and inelegant. "Make the screaming stop."
"You heard his Lordship! Pause production!"
"Production? We're in the middle of a stone shift - you can't just pause it!"
"Make the screaming stop," Dohalim repeated, his pitch rising, trying to stay present, trying to avoid the music room. "Please, make the screaming stop!"
There was a discordant clatter around him as people moved, the disharmony pulling his attention but they were not as loud as the sounds in his head, ever louder, ever growing. Someone grabbed his arm and the stimulus made him turn to see Kelzalik, saying something but he couldn't understand it, because all he could hear was Fahria. He tried, he tried to focus on the moving lips and the sounds his majordomo was producing. He struggled, fought with himself to finally make out a concerned,
"Are you all right, my Lord?"
Then,
"Runaway! North wall!"
"Open fire!"
And someone screamed, the death knell reverberating off the walls of the mind and piercing Dohalim's struggled composure.
The Lord's Crest would like to activate the Earth Master Core. Proceed?
Yes.
Everything in him shifted, and his eyes flashed blue, the Crest glowing on his forehead as a pained oratorio was ripped from his lips. His last clear memory was the shocked face of Kelzalik. Then…
… so much…
…emotion…
…pain…
…tremollo…
…allegro assai…
… and then…
The adagietto slowed to an adagio, and Dohalim was on his knees, panting. Sobbing. He could feel the earth beneath him settling, the artes in his blood ebbing away. The Earth Master Core was deactivating, and that confused him, because he did not remember reaching out to it. The world around him came back in pieces, dust obscured his vision. His world refused to expand, and at last he collapsed.
When next he came to he was in his chambers, his spacious bed, the work desk to the side he had not yet even set up, the litany of luggage and boxes he had yet to unpack. He had been stripped to his nightclothes, and he could hear… silence.
He breathed a sigh or relief and sank into his bed, closing his eyes. Eventually, he sat up and pulled a thin dressing gown over his nightclothes, putting bare feet on the lush carpet. He was thirsty, numb, and empty. An excellent combination, to his mind, though the thought was blurry for reason.
A glance through his report panel showed that it was somehow… two days later than his memory, and he frowned, punching in a request for Kelzalik. The man arrived ten minutes later in a fluster, hair askew as he burst into the room, short of breath.
"My Lord!"
"Kelzalik," he said, rubbing his eyes. "What's happened?"
"What's happ…?"
Dohalim missed the litany of quick thoughts and expressions on his majordomo's face, and missed the shrewd look that was settled on. Instead, the fifteen year old looked up to see a gently worried face as the man gestured that they sit.
"There was an attack," Kelzalik said. "Dissidents had infiltrated the quarry to take the Master Core and set off explosives. You activated the core to evacuate the facility, but there wasn't yet enough astral energy to make that large an expenditure. You collapsed shortly thereafter."
Dohalim frowned, trying to reach back. He remembered communing with the Earth Master Core… and he remembered visiting farmlands… and the screams…
"... there were screams…"
"Yes, my Lord."
Something of what Kelzalik said sank in, and a question made Dohalim look up. "Was anyone lost?"
"A dozen Renans," the majordomo said gently. The number reverberated over Dohalim, and his eyes widened.
"And then Dahnans?"
"... they're still digging out the dead," Kelzalik said.
… oh…
Dohalim drew his feet up from the floor and onto the couch, knees to his chest as he realized just how dangerous the Crown Contest was. He had not even been in his realm for a week and already…? And so much death…? Over astral energy?
"The quarry is in shambles," Kelzalik continued. "Rebuilding it will take at least a year, working around the slaves; we've already tripled security to the entrance to prevent any further incursions. We don't know which lord it was yet, but the Embedded that were sent in for the strike have all been found and slain, so for now we are safe."
"Kelzalik," Dohalim whispered, all his courtly training gone and a frightened teenager sitting before the majordomo. "... I don't want to hear screams anymore…"
Kelzalik smiled, warmly. Falsely.
"Then we'll build a realm where that happens," he promised.
Rinwell: Family Gathering
Rinwell loved her clan. They were all spread out across the northern mountains of Cyslodia - a clan meeting would take at least a week to gather everyone together. She had three cousins, two uncles and an aunt and a mountain of first- and second-cousins, a grandmother who was absolutely ancient. Over half of them were mages, the rest marrying into the family. Meetings meant several cookfires and delicious foods - as many sweets as Rinwell could eat, making snowmen with her zillion cousins, sledding down the mountain as far as they could dare and still be safe.
Her aunt was the coolest: unmarried and brave enough to wander the world. A meeting always happened when she came back, full of stories of the outside world.
"Oh it's not that outside, sweetie," she said, reaching out and patting Rinwell's head. "You forget that traveling between the realms is restricted to the Bright Eyes only. Dahnans like us have to pay a toll with money we don't have since we're not paid, and we have to pass inspection. You have to look like a Renan to make the journey and that's hard - their clothes are too finely made to imitate with what we find on the mountain. But I was in Calaglia once - so hot you'd lose pounds in sweat, fire everywhere, sand and dirt and rocks to sleep on. I'll tell you, the sky there was so blue you thought you were looking at a Bright Eyes arte."
"Stop filling her head with ideas, sis," her father said, all of them sitting around the cookfire waiting for food to cook. He took a deep draw of his mug - grown up juice, her mother called it. Her aunt saluted with her mug and took a similar draw.
"Not trying to," her aunt said, "But she can't stay on the mountain forever."
"Not until she's ready," Mom said. "Not until she can handle herself."
Auntie snorted. "Putting all those spells in her head when she can't use them isn't exactly getting her ready to handle herself."
"I know sis," dad said, "you made that point very clear when we learned she had the gift. Until you have a kid of your own, let us raise ours as we see fit."
"I know, I know," Auntie said with a casual shrug of her shoulders, finishing her grown up juice. "Is Brim still about?"
Mom smirked. "Yes," she said, a tone in her voice that Rinwell assigned to adults when they were being weird.
As the night wore on, the family slowly went to bed in their tents, the insides covered with wool blankets and treated animal furs and layers of warmth. Rinwell wanted to sleep, but her parents brought in a lantern, and the schooling started. She could remember when she first learned to read, the wonder of books that her father read and the discovery of new words from her mother. She still loved to read, to be clear, but instead of fairy tales and histories now she had boring old spell books. The language was so old, the spelling was weird and made her head hurt when she knew how it was supposed to be spelled. She memorized long strings on sentences and phrases, reciting them ver-ba-tim (why did such a cool sounding word be so boring?)
"I know it's hard," her dad said as she sat in mom's lap to read the words. "Both of us went through it when we were your age. Trying to cram all this here," he tapped her forehead, making her smile, "it's hard work. The brain has to let itself bend and be reshaped to fit around all the astral energy we're invoking."
"Yes," her mom said. "It's doubly hard because we can't actually practice the artes. We have stories so far back we don't know how old they are in the clan, that the best way to learn was by doing. You had to connect to the astral energy that surrounds us, and then it helped guide you in how to do the spell."
"But if that's so much easier," Rinwell whined, "Why don't we do it that way?"
"Because it's not safe, baby," dad said, his face dark in the lantern light. "The Renans treat Dahnans like us bad enough, but people like us were hunted long before they even got here. Not all Dahnans can hear and touch astral energy, and if you don't understand how someone is casting a light spell, it looks awful scary."
"You haven't been to Cyslodan, baby," mom said, rocking back and forth. "When you're old enough to go there, you'll see. The Renans treat us terrible, and if they ever knew we were mages, it would be even worse. We can't use magic, because we have to stay safe."
Rinwell wanted to believe them - she did. It wasn't that she didn't understand how her aunt looked when she first came back for a visit, or how some of the family talked about something called the floodlights with shudders. But the sound of the astral energy around her was compelling. It was music without being music, and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to ignore the feeling. Wind, water, they were constantly around her, and she'd recently started to hear the soft whispers of the candles and lanterns - light astral energy. It was everything she could do to reach out and touch it. Her parents kept her very busy helping around the house - curing and salting meat, cleaning pots and pans, cutting up firewood, shoveling snow, anything to keep her body too busy to listen to the astral energy. Mom and dad both talked about how they had the same struggles, how hard it was to learn to ignore the feeling at first but that over time they could do it.
She just… didn't understand the point of it all. Why learn all these artes if she wasn't going to use them? Why have a connection to astral energy if it was nothing but a bother? As fun as it was to learn new words, as interesting as the tidbits of what life was like three hundred years ago was, Rinwell didn't understand why she had to learn it all if she wasn't going to use it. What was the practical purpose? Horticulture and gardening, those made sense. Fairy tales and histories, they were adventures that took her to another world. Even some of the technical manuals that her mom had about making soap from lye or recipe books, those made sense. What did she get for knowing artes?
Sometimes she wondered what it would be like, to cast an arte.
Author's Notes: Dohalim's pregame arc, descending as a high noble and becoming a token abolitionist, is one of the most interesting to us. He has literally all the privilege in Elde Menencia and has no idea what life is like for everyone around him as they cater to him. He also has Kelzalik in his ear - the proveribial mouth of society - to cloud his thoughts and redirect them to less revolutionary ideas. Dohalim is quirky, however, and he makes is hard enough that Kelzalik goes behind his back by the time of the game. This is the start of that dynamic.
Rinwell's bit is more transitional, we establish that there are clan meetings but that she mostly lives alone, that learning is interesting but also boring, and set up the conflict of wondering what it would be like cast a spell. More on that later.
Next chapter: Hm. We broke Kisara. We broke Dohalim. Let's break Law.
