Seamus's Story

The night had well and truly fallen by the time the Queen rode through the main gates of the City, returned from a rather amusing ‘adventure’ with Patch. That he’d been silly enough to lose one of his cards in his own cloak and believe that someone had stolen the enchanted card made her smile, even as she pushed still damp hair off her forehead. The storm had been quite the deluge, and far off in the horizon, distant flickers of lightning and gentle rumbles of thunder still broke the night as the storm went on its way.

Redfire’s hooves clipped neatly over the stone street as they made their way up the gentle incline of the Queen’s Way toward the castle, the horse’s ears forward and flicking from time to time. Most had gone to their beds by this time, but up ahead, there were signs of life in the main city courtyard that served as the main market square for the city. It was where most of the caravans gathered to hawk their wares; from strings of pearls from the Ardaithan Isles, to the finest silks from Aedillon, shipped across the sea from Serenia’s ally. The brief thought of Aedillon brought a frown to her face as she wondered what her guardian was up to just now. Probably drunk.

A soft snort left the Queen, causing one of Redfire’s ears to flick back curiously. “Nothing, my friend. Just wondering where Titan’s off to. I don’t feel him in the Hall, or in the Dusty Traveler.” Which meant he was probably off sulking. Her mount snorted in distaste at the mention of the Aedillonian; the horses weren’t best fond of the man after he’d struck Assassin’s Flight on the head with the pommel of his sword. He’d never done it again, after the Queen had gone into that terrifying, chilling fury and sent him off, but they sensed that he didn’t view them as anything more than mundane beasts of burden, and they didn’t appreciate the slight.

In any case, the unfamiliar voice singing up ahead brought her thoughts to the here and now, and she shifted in the saddle as Redfire brought them into the square. She gave an almost imperceptible twitch of the reins, seat shifting back slightly, and Redfire slowed to a stop just beyond the small crowd of listeners.

Horse and woman listened quietly from over the citizens’ heads, but those fathomless sapphire eyes took in the details of this unfamiliar bard and his companion. The amber eyes, while not the most complete give-away of this male’s lineage, were a good hint of the Lycan that wore his skin so easily. Pointed ears could have hinted at him being elven, but the glimpses of sharp canines flashed in a smile from time to time told otherwise. For her, she needn’t have seen him to know what he was; his scent was unmistakable, even in this form, as she shifted her senses to the much stronger ones of a wolf and breathed in delicately.

Wildness lurked under the masculinity of the human form. Tame compared to Kanixillo, who took his true form regularly. The wolf, meanwhile, was of the mundane species, none of her scent or feel hinting at any elemental power. Even a Dire Peasant or Dire Rogue carried some kind of elemental scent. Intelligent, certainly, as all wolves were. But not magical.

Her head cocked slightly as she listened, the streetlamp flames glistening off rich red hair long since unbound by her cloak hood, the need for the hood long gone with the storm. Redfire shifted beneath her, a hoof scraping on the cobbles, and she slid from the saddle, vanishing the saddle and bridle and sending the stallion on his way with a nod and stroke of the neck. Redfire tossed his exotic head and turned, trotting up the street to the castle, and to his night time feed and hay. He’d get the care he needed from the Hands at the stable, before he was turned out to graze under the stars.

The Queen, meanwhile, leaned against a streetlamp pole, watching the bard make conversation, considering whether she wanted to approach or merely head up to the castle herself to find a meal and her bed. However, those that had turned their attention away from the stranger spotted their Queen, and instead of dropping to their knees in bowing and scraping, smiled excitedly and ushered the royal toward the crowd, laughter and excitement lending brightness to the night air. “Come, Lady, please! Sing for us?” Ah how perplexing her people were likely to appear to outsiders who knew little of Serenian culture, or at least what it had become over the time of her living here in the city.

Briena chuckled ruefully, knowing that her bed would have to wait a while, and stepped away from her prop, striding gracefully through the gathered people and regarding the taller man with a cocked head. He wasn’t much taller than herself in his skin, she judged, which likely meant he’d gain a foot of height when he shifted; it was usually that way for a Lycan.

Finally, she spoke, her lilted, smooth Serenian accent carrying far less burr than the faint northern Argohahnian roll he carried… Argohahnian? Hm. Her voice was rich, warm, with the lightest huskiness carrying a hint of amusement at her impromptu stage arrival. “Might I join you for a song or two, wanderer?” Polite, open to his refusal or welcome. For all that she was the Queen of the wealthiest faction on the continent, she treated him as though he were her equal.

Her clothing didn’t exactly scream ‘I am a Queen’ either. Dressed for the road in clothing similar to his own, though it was of exquisite quality upon close inspection, she wore earthen tones, muted. Her scent carried the smells of settled travel dust, the horse she’d been riding, saddle leather, rain, and her own natural scent; warm, feminine, and reminiscent of lavender fields, wild jasmine, and sweet summer hay drying in the sun. It was altogether an inviting first impression of the Queen, and gave little hint to her more refined life in the castle.

As the bard swept a bow, fingers snapping at the wolf, the Queen dipped her head, both to the Lycan, and to his wolf, giving each equal respect, straightening as he did, head cocking to the side in an almost bird-like fashion as she noted the more pronounced accent showing through. Rather peculiar that a Lycan would carry such a clear Argohahnian accent; Lycaernus and Argohahn had never been the most… peacefully related factions. Curiosity warred with a natural respect for his boundaries; after all, a smart male of any race who traveled as much as his clothes hinted he might would likely keep his cards close to his breast and reveal little of himself.

A rueful smile answered his own as his remark brought several raised brows among the gathered, but flew right over the Queen’s head when it came to possible innuendo. Perceptive as the Queen was, there were still points of her life where she was, quite simply put, oblivious as a stone wall. She understood courting, yes, but the courtship she had undergone was of dual nature. Her hand, and the throne of King of the wealthiest faction on the continent. Thus, it was political. Something she understood clearly. She had never had the chance to have her parents sit her down and explain what actual love was, and despite her grandfather’s experience, he had fallen woefully short in his own awkward explanation to a twenty-year-old woman who had far more interesting thoughts on her mind; such as learning more about strategy.

“My people demand it.” The smile broke into a grin as he strummed a few experimental notes on the lute. He showed skill, and had been showing it when she’d arrived. She had no doubt of his ability, but that slight tilt of her head returned as he withdrew the flute, mouth quirking in amusement at the notes he produced. Her eyes lifted briefly to the sky in thought, before she stepped away, calling in a stringed instrument and drawing the bow across the strings, bringing a hush to the listening city folk as the sound of the strings sang out.

“Perhaps you know this one? You seem well traveled.” She played a short stanza of the song she had in mind on the strings, brows lifting as she looked to him for answer.

She smiled briefly as he confirmed that he knew the song, head dipping and she graced the strings of the instrument she held, ensuring that it was indeed tuned as she had vanished it before, then waited patiently as he fiddled with his lute, head cocking as he nodded then began playing. Her own part began with the first strums of his lute strings, feet taking up the rhythm and the steps, soon dancing with sinuous grace, her own instrument coming into play after the opening with his lute.

She kept time and step with the music, turning on each flourish of the notes, well aware of the rapture of those watching. The crowd that was already rapt with attention, the men sat forward and watching both performers with fascination, both for the delicate notes of the lute, the singing of the violin, and the fluid movements of their queen. Her own voice melded smoothly with the music, another layer of the musical spell.

A voice that held a rich huskiness in normal speaking tones, gained a sensuous allure when raised in song, and never faltered with the movement of her steps, the warm soprano soothing over the ears of all present. There were no words to the song, merely a simple application of voice, rising and falling with the notes, until the end of the song, where the tempo calmed, and her voice became a soft hum, fathomless sapphires meeting the eyes of each individual as the steps ended in a graceful spin, the slow rotation bringing her to face her fellow performer in a slight bow, a few pesky tendrils of that red hair falling into her face.

She straightened, giving her head a light flick to clear her vision, fathomless sapphires meeting amber briefly before she inquired, conversationally, ”I don’t believe I caught your name, wanderer. I am Briena.” She didn’t state her title, nor her surname; if he’d traveled far, and been in the lands long enough, she had no doubt that the name of the Queen had been mentioned quite a few times, especially if he’d had enough conversation with those gathered. Nor was the inquiry as to his name a command to give it; she left the choice of openness or reservation up to him.