Setting
Default Location for The Requiem Rebellion
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Flos Luna is a part of 
The Requiem Rebellion.
6 Characters Here
Fiammetta Thorne [4] "I was lost for a time, but I've found my way."
Shashikiran [1] "You look, and you see pain and death. But open your eyes a little wider. Is the world not beautiful?"
Faustus Xavier [0] "Things that end in violence only bring regret."
Zelimir [0] "A flame needs only air, and mine breathes revenge."
Altair [0] "I really have no reason to be here. So why am I so compelled to stay?"
Ailith [0] "No matter how thick the darkness is, the light of day will always shine through it to help illuminate the way. Can I be your light?"
Start Character Here »
Morning had come gently. The air was still tinged with the chill of night, as rays of ruby pierced through the dark midnight haze of the heavens, and a luminous orange sphere began to glimpse upon the world over the horizon. The skies were in-between the periods, a sort of daybreak twilight settling in upon the city as its residents remained within their dreams for a brief time more. As with all days, the sun awoke to the world no differently than before, the happenings of Mortalkind of no concern to it. Her eyes could only bring herself to observe, in silence, as faint arms began to reach out over the city, washing the grey stone homes and buildings with its light, bringing to sight and mind the recent events which had transpired so briefly ago. Though the sight of the sun rising over the skyline of Odessa wouldâve once been something to utterly cherish, it now only served to dredge up thoughts most unwanted, and memories better left forgotten to most.
As with Aegis, Auallonia had done something no country dared. In the face of overwhelming odds, theyâd stood their ground against the Largitio Empire, refusing to meet their demands. They declined to relinquish their ways, and submit to the will of an outside ruler. And as theyâd done with Aegis, the Empire took up arms and began their onslaught. It had been all out war within the country, enemy forces managed to make it deep into Auallonian territory, and battle had been waged in the capital city itself. By the time sheâd arrived, the damage had been done, the skirmish was otherwise over, and for a time temporary, a sort of tentative peace had been recovered within the country.
The initial wave of Largiti soldiers had not been enough. But, it had been enough to have its effects upon Aualloniaâs forces. They were nearly decimated, so few able-bodied soldiers remained in health that another attack by the Empire would bring the country to its knees, as it happened with Aegis. War had been upon the land for over a decade now, and all of it waged under the banner of uniting all peoples with one, true religion. The Largiti had begun claiming to have been given contact with a god in the flesh, a deity real and knowable. Blood of millions had been shed in the name of this claim.
Auallonia just happened to be the most recent victim in this war. . . . Aegis had been the first.
She could not help but keep her eyes cast out toward the city below, the sun slowly creeping upward into the skies, abolishing the dark of night and bringing with it, brightness and a call to all to awaken, and begin their day. Though littered with remnants of the battles, Odessa remained eerily beautiful to her in a way she could not entirely understand, the town still lived, and breathed despite what it had endured so recently. Its citizens mourned, and buried their dead, but managed to continue onward in living. Subsisting through the sadness war had brought upon them. Scars remained, but they were overlooked, and ignored. People went on. They would rebuild, the roads and buildings would be repaired in the coming days and weeks. . . . And though the Largitio Empire remained an ever-looming threat for the time being, the people of Odessa would keep moving ahead. The people of Aegis had done the same, in many regards. Theyâd mourned, and buried their departed loved ones, but those left in the aftermath of it muddled on, and rebuilt their lives.
In the near-future, she could only recite a prayer, and hope for the best for Auallonia. She could only hope that its people could maintain their strength, and live on for those whoâd been lost so pointlessly.
Morning came the same as ever, gently overhead, the sun rising into the lightening sky, driving away the darkness. The sun persisted in its never-ending dance with the moon and land, never paying heed to the happenings of Mortalkind. . . . And, today, though the celestial bodies were no different, the daybreak heralded a new beginning for Mortalkind. The start of a new chapter. Today was the day that the people of Flos Luna at last took a stand for themselves, against the Empire. That was why she was even here.
It had been perhaps an hour before the sun had risen that sheâd arrived to her destination after days of travel. Under the guise and name of Briar Rose, sheâd made her way through Auallonia, seeing with her own eyes the destruction left in the way of the first wave of the war between the Largiti and Auallonia. Her arrival into the bounds of Odessa had been guarded, given what she was supposed to do; it had to be that way. It had been requested that she make her way to Castle Auallonia before anything else upon arriving in the city. The situation was dire, there was no time to lollygag, things needed to get underway. Haste needed to be made. So, sheâd done what had been requested, though the hours were ungodly, she had trekked through the quiet, and dark city toward the Castle, and asked to be grant an audience with the King and Queen. Sheâd been asked to wait, as the King and Queen were not yet awake. Waiting was something sheâd grown used to over the years, patience a necessity.
So, she resigned herself to enjoying the temporary noiselessness and still of the night, before watching the sun rise. She knew not when the King and Queen would awaken, but sheâd come as asked. The mission she was to be tasked with already known. It was something she was ready for, had steeled herself to do over the course of her journey through the country. What lay ahead, she didnât know, but she wouldnât fail.
Her eyes remain cast toward the horizon, as she was placid . . . the quiet undisturbed until it was that a somewhat raspy voice called out to her, âMiss Fiammetta? Our majesties are able to now grant you an audience.â
In hearing her name spoken, Fia slowly turned around and gave to the elderly man, a silent nod of confirmation. Without hesitating, she took to following after him, as he led her along to where she would speak with the King and Queen of Auallonia, and soon after meet the countryâs prince, whom she would be protecting. . . . Today marked the day that Flos Luna would begin trying to fight back, and regain its freedom. For more than the country, the daybreak marked a new beginning, a new beginning in the lives of several individuals whose paths remain yet uncrossed, and fates yet unwoven.
Auallonia was a beautiful land, occupied by fertile fields, rolling hills, mountains and forests in equal measure. Every square mile of it seemed to be infused with some holy radiance, some magic that kept the plants growing and the animals healthy. Her people, too, were the picture of vivacity and life, from the scholarly towers of the great University to the smooth-faced monks of her grand monastery to the farmers tanned beneath the sun in their fields. There was a sense of timelessness to the place, tradition and modernity melded seamlessly in the modest but solid stone and wood construction of her cities. The roads were paved with stone and well-tended always, so that traffic to and from the city in horse-drawn cart could proceed as smoothly and safely as possible.
At the center always of this peaceful accord between nature and civilization was the Blessed, a singular figure equal parts power and humility, holiness and reverence. Marked always by hair the color of the moon and eyes like no thing in the world, such a one was born only very infrequently, and lived years without end, should they desire. The current Blessed was still in training, and often referred to in the tongues of other peoples as a Prince, almost ready for his succession. His predecessor, a woman unrelated to him save by a distant blood tie, was nevertheless likewise colored and radiant, and she was Blessed also, or to foreigners, the Queen. Her husband, Auallune but not Blessed, was Consort.
Recently, however, the peace of the place had been disturbed, by a war that had left the people bereft of most of their army. Not that theyâd ever had much of one to begin with. They did not, as a rule, employ a standing army. The only defense they had ever required were the efforts of their few, but mighty, warrior monks, and the brave hearts of villagers with farming tools. Drastically outnumbered by the might of the Largitio Empire, then, they had been wholly unprepared for the slaughter. Superior tactics and magic had saved them from utter annihilation, but they needed support if they were to continue to hold out.
In such dire circumstances, Auallonia had turned to a measure that they usually did notâpolitical marriage. At first, the Princess of Ulixes was to be married to one of Aualloniaâs prominent human citizens, but the King of that nation had been unsatisfied with a weaker tie, wanting royal blood to be bonded to his daughter. Because of the cultural difference, the only acceptable candidate was the Blessed himself. Though it was in some ways a shame to the country to bargain with their national symbol and sovereign in such a way, it was the young Auallune himself who had calmed the tempers this had managed to ignite. For his people, he would make any sacrifice, and this was a rather small one, all things considered.
His predecessor and her husband currently occupied the modest throne room, little more than a long hall at the end of which stood a low table, behind which both were seated. It was raised no higher than the rest of the room, and indeed, their guest was invited to sit and have tea with them. The current Blessed smiled gently at the young woman known mostly as Briar Rose, beckoning her forward. âPlease sit, child,â she said quietly, her voice low and musical. For two beings of more than a thousand years each, she and her Consort were both remarkably youthful, ageless in such a way as to leave them beautiful whilst imparting a certain sense of wisdom about them. Though he was dark-haired and eyed, their facial structures were both characteristically Aualluneâhigh cheekbones, proud brows, delicately-angled jawlines and surprisingly strong chins. They looked like pieces of artwork that moved, in truth.
âWe are grateful that you have accepted our request, Lady Rose,â she said simply, inclining her head slightly and causing a liquid ripple in the sheet of her silver hair. âShashikiran may not be my son by blood, but I have raised him so, and his safety is of the greatest importance, not only to us, but to this nation. He is a symbol of our continued livelihood, but also the source of it. We Blessed are deeply connected to this land and any that reaches out for us, and it is not an easy thing for us to leave it. I say this so that you might understand the importance of what you undertake. If he dies, so does Auallonia, in more than one way.â
She paused for a moment, and her husband spoke into the silence that followed. âWe understand that this puts you and any who may help you at great risk. As such, you may name your price for this task. If it is within the resources of our country and our people, then it shall be yours when he and his bride are safely returned to us.â
At the center always of this peaceful accord between nature and civilization was the Blessed, a singular figure equal parts power and humility, holiness and reverence. Marked always by hair the color of the moon and eyes like no thing in the world, such a one was born only very infrequently, and lived years without end, should they desire. The current Blessed was still in training, and often referred to in the tongues of other peoples as a Prince, almost ready for his succession. His predecessor, a woman unrelated to him save by a distant blood tie, was nevertheless likewise colored and radiant, and she was Blessed also, or to foreigners, the Queen. Her husband, Auallune but not Blessed, was Consort.
Recently, however, the peace of the place had been disturbed, by a war that had left the people bereft of most of their army. Not that theyâd ever had much of one to begin with. They did not, as a rule, employ a standing army. The only defense they had ever required were the efforts of their few, but mighty, warrior monks, and the brave hearts of villagers with farming tools. Drastically outnumbered by the might of the Largitio Empire, then, they had been wholly unprepared for the slaughter. Superior tactics and magic had saved them from utter annihilation, but they needed support if they were to continue to hold out.
In such dire circumstances, Auallonia had turned to a measure that they usually did notâpolitical marriage. At first, the Princess of Ulixes was to be married to one of Aualloniaâs prominent human citizens, but the King of that nation had been unsatisfied with a weaker tie, wanting royal blood to be bonded to his daughter. Because of the cultural difference, the only acceptable candidate was the Blessed himself. Though it was in some ways a shame to the country to bargain with their national symbol and sovereign in such a way, it was the young Auallune himself who had calmed the tempers this had managed to ignite. For his people, he would make any sacrifice, and this was a rather small one, all things considered.
His predecessor and her husband currently occupied the modest throne room, little more than a long hall at the end of which stood a low table, behind which both were seated. It was raised no higher than the rest of the room, and indeed, their guest was invited to sit and have tea with them. The current Blessed smiled gently at the young woman known mostly as Briar Rose, beckoning her forward. âPlease sit, child,â she said quietly, her voice low and musical. For two beings of more than a thousand years each, she and her Consort were both remarkably youthful, ageless in such a way as to leave them beautiful whilst imparting a certain sense of wisdom about them. Though he was dark-haired and eyed, their facial structures were both characteristically Aualluneâhigh cheekbones, proud brows, delicately-angled jawlines and surprisingly strong chins. They looked like pieces of artwork that moved, in truth.
âWe are grateful that you have accepted our request, Lady Rose,â she said simply, inclining her head slightly and causing a liquid ripple in the sheet of her silver hair. âShashikiran may not be my son by blood, but I have raised him so, and his safety is of the greatest importance, not only to us, but to this nation. He is a symbol of our continued livelihood, but also the source of it. We Blessed are deeply connected to this land and any that reaches out for us, and it is not an easy thing for us to leave it. I say this so that you might understand the importance of what you undertake. If he dies, so does Auallonia, in more than one way.â
She paused for a moment, and her husband spoke into the silence that followed. âWe understand that this puts you and any who may help you at great risk. As such, you may name your price for this task. If it is within the resources of our country and our people, then it shall be yours when he and his bride are safely returned to us.â
There was not a need for words between herself and the servant she followed after. So it was that silence remained within the airâbroken only by the sounds of footsteps that fell against cold stone at the point of daybreak. The layout of the castle was something she was entirely unfamiliar with, and as such, she made sure to keep her sage-color eyes glued onto the back of elderly man who hobbled his way forward in front of her. Fia could not help but noticing that he seemed to . . . have some trouble getting around as it were. The strides he took in walking were slapdash, uneven, and sluggish. Slow enough that Fia purposefully slackened her own pace, not wanting to make the man feel rushed or as if he needed to move faster than he was likely comfortable with. The fact that the man was still up and about, moving and serving his country despite the fact that his bones were likely aching was something she could not help but find admirableâand she did not wish to push him when he was still trying his best.
Auallonia had been wrongfully assaulted so shortly ago; Fia was familiar enough with the circumstances. And moving through the country, she saw all of what the Largiti had done under the banner of their god, Orpheus. Many innocent people had been lost, many brave lives extinguished due to the words of a supposed speaker for the divine.
The walk toward the throne room gave the mercenary a short time to think before she would meet with those who ruled over the country. Seeing another country torn by a pointless conflict reminded her only of Aegis again, the first target of the Largitio Empire in their efforts to eradicate belief in the Moon Mother, Ayla. Aegis was a small, landlocked country, an easy enough target for invasion. . . . Peace had been something known to the continent of Flos Luna for a time longer than most could remember though, and because of the established calm that laid over the landâAegis had never been in danger before. No other country had seen fit to invade and disturb it. Aegis had always been a safe haven, small and fragile, but it was safe because of the will for serenity to continue its reign over the land. No one had wanted a war, no one had wanted conflict.
But, that all changed and the world known by the inhabitants of Flos Luna warped and shifted into something terrible. Fear plagued most, and mistrust sprouted like weeds among nearly all. The calm that once fell over the land was gone, and the neutrality thatâd lain between the lands of Flos Luna was no more. Armies grew in size; territories became wary of those who transgressed their borders. . . . Given the life sheâd come to lead in the last several years, sheâd seen it all. The end result of a pointless, meaningless conflict. Aegis had lost its spirit when the Largiti had all but crushed it under its heel. . . . And the same fate loomed overhead of Auallonia now. Its effects already had begun creeping over the landâand sheâd seen it firsthand in the eyes of the citizens who lived closer to the border of their country. Those whoâd survived that is. . . .
The memories of listless eyes filled Fiaâs mind, and it caused her to close her own for a moment as her form tensed, and a shaky exhale slipped between her pink lips. Those were the same eyes she saw all over Aegis before sheâd left it behind her. Those were the eyes she wanted to see filled with fire againâwith the spirit theyâd once held. It was a part of why sheâd taken to life as a mercenary after being denied knighthood. Her father had broken her motherâs spirit; her own spirit had nearly been broken then too, with the loss of her sister and that same event. . . . But sheâd regained it, she found it againâit had dimmed down to a tiny little ember. But, it was still there. Despite everything, it had not died out. It took coaxing and effort, but, with care, that ember had begun to burn brightly again, till it once more blazed. Fia managed to rekindle her will to live. And, in part, she wanted to do the same for the many whoâd lost their volition in the battles with the Empire. She wanted to undo what her father had done to her mother, and do what he was supposed to have.
The notion of being able to revitalize the inner fire of those whoâd lost it was something that caused her youthful heart to lurch upward in her chest, skipping a beat, and it made her let out a shaky little breath as she opened her eyes again to the orange-bathed hallway. Her eyes fell again to the elderly man before herâhis age, story, and place in life. . . . She knew nothing of it, or of him, not even his name, but sheâd been able to see clearly enough in his eyes before he turned for her to follow him that heâd not lost his spirit. Despite what Auallonia had undergone, he had not lost his fire or will to live and win against it. If even she might be able to play a small part in restoring that sort of fire to the hearts of those whoâd lost it . . . that was enough for her.
âMiss Fiammetta,â the man before her spoke again, his voice as raspy as the first time. âPlease, mind yourself before our Blessed.â
Her mouth opened just a bit in regard to the quiet request made of her by the man, as her eyebrows rose just a bit. âThat neednât be a concern, sir; I recognize well my place before a ruler.â Fia replied to him, her own voice unobtrusive and composed.
Nothing more was said. There was no need for it. Fiaâs response and tone revealed enough to the man that she did indeed understand to whom she would be speaking, and that the matter at hand was beyond the scope of individual gain and want. It mattered more than her whims or desires. . . . After all, her own country had faced the Largiti years before. She knew how much this mattered.
At last, they stopped before a rather modest looking door that remained shutâand Fiaâs eyes went from it to the servant, a hint of questioning within them. Was this the destination? There was but a simple nod from the man, as it was he opened the door and shuffled to the side, giving her room to move through and into the room, to where she would meet with the Blessed of Auallonia. âThank you,â she spoke to him softly as she stepped past, and into the throne room. Her eyes took it inâthe simplistic nature of it. It was not a grand spectacle, as one would expect, but rather, it reflected the nature of Auallonia itself, those who ruled over it. It was more like a dining hall, in Fiaâs mind, humble and whatnot. Collecting herself again, remembering her place, Fia moved forward before providing a bow to the man and woman seated at the other end of the table. Those who ruled the nation she was within.
Sheâd not looked them over before showing her respect to themâand only did she really look when the voice of the female, the current Blessed, sounded out. âPlease sit, child,â her voice was quiet, dignified but one that was songful. At hearing the request made of her, Fia raised her head upright, opening her eyes as she gave a sincere nod. The mercenary took her seat in quiet, not a sound or word escaping her throat. Her green eyes hit the surface of the table before her, seeing tea had been set out for her alongside small cookies. She blinked a couple of times, not having expected that. However, it was simply tea, and it was placed at her seat as a sign of courtesy.
Slowly, she looked up to those who sat across the table from herâthe King and Queen of Auallonia, and she could not help the fact that her eyes widened upon taking in their appearance. She knew of the things said about those who presided over the country, that they were beings of ageless beauty, wonder and mystical in appearance. . . . Some claimed them to be paintings thatâd been given life by Ayla herselfâAuallune. Her thoughts were stunned in place at seeing them in person, the things sheâd heard were not wrong. . . . They were beings of otherworldly beauty. Quickly enough though, Fia gathered her thoughts again, knowing it rude to stare as sheâd been. With a slight tick her in expression, the White Reaper hastily adjusted herself and forced her features back into a calm and respective expression.
Her armored hands were placed delicately into her lap as the Blessed again spoke with that entrancing voice of hers, âWe are grateful that you have accepted our request, Lady Rose,â Use of her alias by the woman did not catch Fia off-guard, but rather reminded her that she needed to make evident and known her true name. She leaned her head just a bit to the sideâthe movement slight but elegant in a way that Fia could compare her to water. âShashikiran may not be my son by blood, but I have raised him so, and his safety is of the greatest importance, not only to us, but to this nation. He is a symbol of our continued livelihood, but also the source of it. We Blessed are deeply connected to this land and any that reaches out for us, and it is not an easy thing for us to leave it. I say this so that you might understand the importance of what you undertake. If he dies, so does Auallonia, in more than one way.â
So it came out, all at once from her in that melodic, divine voice. Shashikiranâthat was the name of Aualloniaâs âprinceâ, whom she was asked to protect. Fia knew that the lineage of rulers within Auallonia was not one that followed the same everlasting bloodline, but that it was something decided by manners she did not understand fully. What was being asked of her . . . Fia heard it within the womanâs voice, it was a request not just made for the sake of the country, but one of personal meaning. That was something she understood well enough, more often than not, when requests were made of her, jobs given to her to protect someone . . . those who asked something of her oft had desperation hidden deep within their voices. They asked her to protect people not only for their own personal wellbeing, but because they cared for the protectee. This was something no differentâthough Shashikiranâs wellbeing mattered to Auallonia as a whole, it was something different for those whoâd raised him, thought of him as family.
It was one thing when someone mattered on a level of a country, but another when it was on the level of familial. It was slight, but, Fiaâs lips rose into a ghostly, melancholic smile as she understood where it was this request was coming from.
In the moment of silence which followed the words of the Blessed, the man beside her spoke, her husband, so it was at hearing the first note of his voice that Fiaâs eyes flittered to him. âWe understand that this puts you and any who may help you at great risk. As such, you may name your price for this task. If it is within the resources of our country and our people, then it shall be yours when he and his bride are safely returned to us.â
For a second, Fiaâs thoughts just . . . stopped. It was true that she already had known well in advance of this that the mission in protecting Shashikiran was one of great peril and danger, that was something obvious. Danger and things of the like were something she was accustom to, given her lifestyle. It wasnât uncommon in the least for her to wind up in predicaments otherwise unheard of whilst not even contracted by a client or being paid for it. Fia often just took what was offered to her in the way of payment if contracted, whether it was a few coins, food, a place to lodge for the nightâmore or less anything that allowed her another day of living. Normally, she was never asked what her personal price was, and was told that if were within certain realms, it was promised. Sheâd spent more than a week travelling through Auallonia, never once thinking about her payment or anything of the sort, rather, her thoughts had been occupied on helping to keep someone safe, and hopefully helping to restore a nationâs spirit.
Not a word left Fiaâs mouth for a good solid minute, as she sat there, a rather stunned look on her young face. It took more than a second for her to realize sheâd gone stark quiet, and for her to shake it off. What a wonderful impression to make upon the people who were contracting her with something of such great importance. There were stares on her from those who remained in the room with their Blessed. . . . Realizing sheâd just made herself look daft, one of her hands quickly wound up at the back of her head as her cheeks flushed a touch red, and she opened her lips to at last speak.
âI . . . must apologize for failing to respond to you, your majesties.â Fiaâs voice slipped out of her throat louder than sheâd meant for it to, causing it to sort of falter when she attempted to adjust its volume. She rubbed the back of her neck as a regretful expression formed over her still flushed face, âIn honesty, the notion of payment was something Iâd not considered, what to ask for or what to want in exchange for ensuring the safety of Shashikiran. . . . I did not give it any thought.â
Her hand found its way back to her other in her lap. âMore than a week of travel, and not once did I think upon such a subject,â Fia sighed before continuing, âHowever, all I would request in the way of payment, would be enough money to sustain myself for a short while.â A hand was placed upon her breastplate, âFor someone as myself, there is no reward in extravagance or anything of the like. I turned to an existence as a mercenary not because I sought riches, but because I desired a life of abiding by my morality and coming to the aid of those who needed it above all else.â She smiled just a bit then, âI know that the safety of Shashikiran a matter more vital than earthly words are capable of articulating to your realm, and to you, personally.â
âTo ask the metaphorical world for ensuring such a thing would be erroneous.â Fia rose to her feet and bowed to the two of them, âIâll ask of you nothing more than stated beforeâjust enough for the means of living for a period.â She raised and her eyes fell to them once more, âFiammetta Thorne, the White Reaper, is at your disposal of Auallonia and wholly dedicated to what has been inquired of her.â
The morning had displayed the typical mildness of temperate Aullonian springtime, bringing many of the monks out of their cloister and into the gardens. The future Blessed was no exception, though he had special cause to be here, today. It was the last time he would be able to enjoy the peace of mind the place brought him for some time, and he desired to savor it. At this time of year, the skilled gardeners had coaxed the garden into full bloom, a veritable explosion of soft colors and a bouquet of fragrance. At no point was it overwhelming, however, and that was truly the skill behind it.
It was an even more glorious place at night; many of the native species of his country did not show their faces to the sun, but only to Mother Moon, and were currently closed up tightly. The stream that wound its way through the garden burbled presently somewhere to his left, but for once, Shiki was finding it difficult to meditate. His connection to the lives around him had not waned, but it was being overwhelmed by the other thoughts swimming around in his mind. He had not undergone this much difficulty to still them since he was but a child, and he raised the heel of his hand to his brow, applying gentle pressure to first one eye and then the other, sighting lightly, like a whisper of wind.
It would seem, he thought with some small degree of wry amusement, that even men centuries old could be children with regards to some things. He had told himself repeatedly that this was what was best for his nation, but⊠he was finding it difficult to quell his internal resistance to the idea of being married, not for the love his predecessor and her husband shared, but for political and military convenience. His lips compressed faintly, the pale color fading into white, and he draped his hand again over his knee. He should not be thinking of such things, not because they were unworthy to think aboutâeveryone had a right to seek companionship of that truest kindâbut because dwelling overlong on what could not be changed helped nobody. He had made this choice, when the options were placed before him, and he would carry it through to the end, with as much grace as possible.
His motion was fluid as the stream when he stood, the split tail of his black coat stirring behind him, though even swathed in dark cloth boots, his feet made no sound against the grass, nor the carved pathway of stone slabs he found thereafter. A faint breeze stirred the length of his hair, casting a few long, moonsilver strands in front of his eyes and he brushed them aside, grateful for the reminder. With a deft, practiced motion, he tied the lot of them up in a high warriorâs tail, which trailed even so to the backs of his knees, a pennant that rippled slightly with his motion. The hood, he would leave for now.
His predecessor had asked him to attend her at the Hall in five minutes, and this he would do. He was apparently to meet his protector there, though he knew not whom they had hired for the task. He supposed that precious few would be willing to take such a risk as his escort would require, and monks were too obvious a retinue, recognizable as his countrymen even from great distance. Even he would be going disguised, in a senseâthe white of his office had been replaced with ordinary travel garments in black, plain so as to draw as little attention as possible. He would be masquerading as a mercenary, himself, though he knew very little about how to be one. Perhaps the presence of weaponry and the absence of finery would speak enough that he did not have to. Not that he was accustomed to much finery anyway; a monk was at his best when humble.
The door into the hall was opened for him, and he entered just in time to hear the Blessed speaking once more. âThen you shall have what you ask for, Miss Thorne, and a bit more besides.â His predecessorâs smile was caught between amused and indulgentâapparently, whatever the woman had said previously, she approved of it. Shiki flowed a little further down the long hallway, and she caught sight of him easily. âAnd here he is now. Shashikiranâit is good to see you. Please introduce yourself to Miss Thorne, your escort.â
His first thought was that she was rather smaller than he had expected, and her demeanor less⊠boisterous? Mercenaries were few and far between in his country, so heâd tried not to have any expectations at all, but there it was. He didnât let it bother himâshe was welcome to be however she liked, as far as he was concerned. She was, after all, doing him a great service, paid or no. There was a sort of reedlike thinness to her, one that he suspected gave the lie to a considerable fortitude. One did not get by in a profession like hers without being good at itâbad mercenaries tended to perish, he understood. Her hair reminded him a bit of sunlight, something he found just the slightest bit ironic, but her eyes were very much the color of the season.
He bowed at the waist, smiling gently. âIt is truly my pleasure, Miss Thorne,â he said, the genuineness in his tones warm and obvious. âMy name is Shashikiran Aethelbaeorn Auallonia, but I would consider it a personal favor if you simply referred to me as Shiki.â He rose from the bow, tilting his head faintly to the side in a birdlike motion, innocent curiosity evident in the expectant look in his eyes. It was hard to imagine, perhaps, that this was the future leader of an entire nation.
It was an even more glorious place at night; many of the native species of his country did not show their faces to the sun, but only to Mother Moon, and were currently closed up tightly. The stream that wound its way through the garden burbled presently somewhere to his left, but for once, Shiki was finding it difficult to meditate. His connection to the lives around him had not waned, but it was being overwhelmed by the other thoughts swimming around in his mind. He had not undergone this much difficulty to still them since he was but a child, and he raised the heel of his hand to his brow, applying gentle pressure to first one eye and then the other, sighting lightly, like a whisper of wind.
It would seem, he thought with some small degree of wry amusement, that even men centuries old could be children with regards to some things. He had told himself repeatedly that this was what was best for his nation, but⊠he was finding it difficult to quell his internal resistance to the idea of being married, not for the love his predecessor and her husband shared, but for political and military convenience. His lips compressed faintly, the pale color fading into white, and he draped his hand again over his knee. He should not be thinking of such things, not because they were unworthy to think aboutâeveryone had a right to seek companionship of that truest kindâbut because dwelling overlong on what could not be changed helped nobody. He had made this choice, when the options were placed before him, and he would carry it through to the end, with as much grace as possible.
His motion was fluid as the stream when he stood, the split tail of his black coat stirring behind him, though even swathed in dark cloth boots, his feet made no sound against the grass, nor the carved pathway of stone slabs he found thereafter. A faint breeze stirred the length of his hair, casting a few long, moonsilver strands in front of his eyes and he brushed them aside, grateful for the reminder. With a deft, practiced motion, he tied the lot of them up in a high warriorâs tail, which trailed even so to the backs of his knees, a pennant that rippled slightly with his motion. The hood, he would leave for now.
His predecessor had asked him to attend her at the Hall in five minutes, and this he would do. He was apparently to meet his protector there, though he knew not whom they had hired for the task. He supposed that precious few would be willing to take such a risk as his escort would require, and monks were too obvious a retinue, recognizable as his countrymen even from great distance. Even he would be going disguised, in a senseâthe white of his office had been replaced with ordinary travel garments in black, plain so as to draw as little attention as possible. He would be masquerading as a mercenary, himself, though he knew very little about how to be one. Perhaps the presence of weaponry and the absence of finery would speak enough that he did not have to. Not that he was accustomed to much finery anyway; a monk was at his best when humble.
The door into the hall was opened for him, and he entered just in time to hear the Blessed speaking once more. âThen you shall have what you ask for, Miss Thorne, and a bit more besides.â His predecessorâs smile was caught between amused and indulgentâapparently, whatever the woman had said previously, she approved of it. Shiki flowed a little further down the long hallway, and she caught sight of him easily. âAnd here he is now. Shashikiranâit is good to see you. Please introduce yourself to Miss Thorne, your escort.â
His first thought was that she was rather smaller than he had expected, and her demeanor less⊠boisterous? Mercenaries were few and far between in his country, so heâd tried not to have any expectations at all, but there it was. He didnât let it bother himâshe was welcome to be however she liked, as far as he was concerned. She was, after all, doing him a great service, paid or no. There was a sort of reedlike thinness to her, one that he suspected gave the lie to a considerable fortitude. One did not get by in a profession like hers without being good at itâbad mercenaries tended to perish, he understood. Her hair reminded him a bit of sunlight, something he found just the slightest bit ironic, but her eyes were very much the color of the season.
He bowed at the waist, smiling gently. âIt is truly my pleasure, Miss Thorne,â he said, the genuineness in his tones warm and obvious. âMy name is Shashikiran Aethelbaeorn Auallonia, but I would consider it a personal favor if you simply referred to me as Shiki.â He rose from the bow, tilting his head faintly to the side in a birdlike motion, innocent curiosity evident in the expectant look in his eyes. It was hard to imagine, perhaps, that this was the future leader of an entire nation.
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