The Red Glaive

“So this is the King’s castle. . .” Caius said almost immediately after the entered the Ivory Bastion through the main entrance. He had been bathed and groomed, his long hair tied back in a top knot that revealed his features. A fine blue-green trousers and a white silk shirt under a gold vest indicated his servitude in Adelaide’s house. It was a uniform similar to the one Fides’ wore day in and day out only this one had been hastily hemmed to fit Cauis’ physique.

Adelaide had still been ‘occupied’ when Aeria went to dress so she was free to choose her own dress tonight. Aeria had chosen the most comfortable one she had in her closet. A simple long sleeved gold dress. Simple, though the back plunged down to her waist, but comfortable. Green vines interspersed with peacock feathers trailed up her sleeves in embroidered patterns. Her hair, well past her shoulder blades now, she had worn down in a thick black braid. Simple and practical, though Sanya had fussed with it for a couple minutes and added red embellished hair pins here and there.

For once, Aeria felt like she hadn’t made a mistake in what she wore. All the other ladies dressed comfortably as well as they lounged on chairs as they wrote tonight’s challenge.

Poetry. . .

Aeria had never written a poem in her life, but the the head judge had announced they were to write a stirring poem to the man they were hoping to attract to whom they would deliver personally. In her case it would be the prince himself. But they had only given them one scented page to work with.

She had written few verses in the style of the limericks she had read in some of the stories she had read in her book but it didn’t feel right. She couldn’t mimic the pacing and rhythm and it all just felt so impersonal. She had scratched them out. Starting over before deciding it might be easier to write if she first wrote out words that rhymed to help her poem flow more freely. But that also failed ash she couldn’t put lines that fit the rhymed words. She scratched them away leaving her page a mess.

Maybe she needed a break. . .

As Aeria sat there unsure of what to write. A problem none of the other ladies seemed to have. A good majority had already finished and tables were steadily being cleared away to make room for a growing dance floor. Pageant contestant, judge, and the spectators intermingled. A few couples danced for a bit, their steps carefully placed as they had been taught by their Madames, before returning to their tables for a drink and pleasant conversation. It had all turned into a pre-party of sorts for the ball the following night.

Aeria knew how to dance. It had come in the one single moment Walther had ever paid any singular attention to her and not her elder sisters. She remembered practicing hard at dancing because he had said it would help her be a better swordsman. In a strange way he had been right.

Even from her distance she could see a couple of pairs dancing in that familiar square pattern Madame Salver had taught them first. A beginner’s step. There was itch to test how much she actually remembered.

But she couldn't do anything until she finished her poem.

Aeria sighed trying to focus.

A poem for the prince. . .

She felt like she was about to vomit. Not a single thought came to her head as she wasn’t sure what exactly she wanted to tell him. She knew, however, that she’d knew what she wanted to say the second she saw him. The words just weren't coming to her now.

She glanced at Caius standing against the far wall for the decadent room. His hands were clasped behind him in a similar pose as the other escorts and servants standing in a line along the same wall. Most were stoic. Caius wore a confident smile as many of the ladies, both servants and noble, ogled him and whispered to each other. He watched them as he had watched Perii, or any other girl he had decided to bed for the night. If there had been a ‘look’ he had reserved for her it was long gone now as he eyed up one lady after another leaving them in a fit of giggles. The more subtle of the ladies would blush demurely before moving on.

Aeria frowned.

“How’s it coming along?” A serene voice came from behind her making Aeria flinch as she attempted to cover her poor attempt at poetry as if caught doing something wrong.

The Intoner stood by her table her face gentle and beautiful, her creature looming behind her like a black shadow. She smiled kindly. Her white dress was impeccable and made in the strange stiff fabric. It was fitted to her body with expert tailoring as it hugged every curve of her body before flaring out in an angular fashion.

“I, uh,” She wasn’t sure what to say to her. Speaking to her was like speaking to a mythical queen from a foreign land. “Not well.” Aeria said deciding that honesty was the best course of action. Not that she felt she could lie to such a woman. Besides, she swore that lion trailing her could read or thoughts or something.

“Let me see.” The Intoner Kireina said taking the empty chair next to her. An action that did not go unnoticed as a few of the people started to whisper.

But Aeria had seen others working together in groups to write their poems. Some of those groups had included women and men who weren’t in the pageant. More than she had seen attend any of the pageants. Aeria looked at the Intoner’s outstretched hands, her bi colored eyes watching, waiting expectantly for Aeria’s poem.

Aeria sighed in resignation. She’d be an idiot for refusing help this late into her struggle. The Intoner, she had come to find out, was gifted in nearly all the arts as the closest link to the Goddess. She handed her scratched out page to Lady Kireina.

The smile on her face slowly faded. “Oh,” was all she said as she turned the page on it’s side trying to read a note Aeria had hastily written unsure of where to place it. “Well this one is nice.” the Lady said pointing at two lines hastily scribbled at the bottom.

“They’re not mine.” Aeria admitted. “They’re from Tempests of Sworrow, I wrote them down to try and copy the structure.”

“Oh, I do love that poem!” The intoner said. “But you that’s not how the stanza goes,”

“I couldn’t remember them completely!” Aeria said exasperated. Who could even remember a specific line of the epic poem. It was nearly 300 pages!

“Oshio Kio?” She said and the lion neared. Aeria shrank back in her chair as it’s gaze loomed over her. Lady Kireina was completely unfazed as she reached up and pulled a pen out of the lions mane. The creature thankfully moved back after, though it’s gaze remained unbroken.

The Intoner scratched away at certain lines Aeria had written. Then circled the ones she seemed to like. “It’s all a jumble, almost like you’re confused.” she said not looking up making Aeria frown. “But I think you need to remember who exactly you’re writing this to.”

Aeria’s frown grew deeper. The Prince. . . The Lady Kireina’s betrothed. . .Aeria looked away feeling guilty. She was so kind, beautiful, innocent. Of all the ladies that had been there, she had been the only one to offer her help this night. She didn’t have to, but it seemed like she had offered advice to her each and every one of the ladies there. The Goddess had gifted her with creation.

“Don’t let your head get in your way.” Lady Kireina said with a smile. “Write what you feel, the prose doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to rhyme or follow structure, if what you feel doesn’t match that.” there was something strange in the way she spoke. The tone and the rhythm. Almost like she was singing while she spoke. “Deep feeling comes without structure and true beauty is an expression of the heart. Within beauty lies creation, nothing should get in the way of that.” Aeria opened her mouth to speak but the Intoner replied more firmly. “Nothing.”

Aeria paused, but the Intoner only nodded enthusiastically, it almost seemed like she knew who Aeria was fussing over. Knew and was giving her advice anyway.

But what to write to then? She had to remember who exactly she was writing to? She was writing to the Prince. . .

No.

Aeria hadn’t known him as the crown Prince of Lux Aeterna. That person was a stranger to her. Before she had known him to be the prince Aeria had known him as Valor. Her Valor. She thought back to each and every night she had spent with him. All the conversations, all the laughter and all the warmth he brought her.

With him, her first kiss, her fist tender caress. She remembered being in his arms her heart beating wildly and her begging it to still lest it burst. The emotion of it made her face flush, she looked down abashed. “Write it.” The Intoner said offering her her pen.

The Intoner was right. Aeria needed to get the words out, even if it wasn’t to Valor himself. The words on her page would contain the truth of her emotion. Even if he didn’t read them, it would help consolidate her emotions to know exactly how to express them to Valor at the end of the ball.

“Thank you.” Aeria said. Lady Kireina nodded with a smile and left Aeria to her poem.

She thought back to the first time she had seen him standing there on the edge of the Reflection Pool. He had looked just like anybody else wearing a simple coat made rugged from travel. She had stolen a kiss from him that night, no matter what happened it would forever linger on her lips.

She looked down at her page, the page a chaotic mess of hastily written words and scratched over lines. The Intoner had circles phrases and words she had liked. Aeria flipped the page over where it wasn’t a messy. She had limited herself to scrawling on the margins mostly to keep the center clear.

I’ve never known completeness, like being here. Aeria wrote thinking of Valor as he held her that night after she had been filled with Brevia’s darkness. The full warmth of his body against hers, intoxicating, making it hard to breathe. Wrapped in the warmth of you, loving every breath you. Aeria stopped. It didn’t rhyme and using the same word didn’t count.

Just write it, she told herself. She shut her eyes remembering him and their time together. Still my heart this moment, or it might burst. She wrote as she remembered each and every time she had kissed her, held her so affectionately. The sweet, sweet sound of his beating heart as she lay her head on his chest, beating wildly as her own, the very rhythm of his life. Here is true peace Aeria wrote using one the circled phrases. here my h-

“What is Caius to you?”

Aeria nearly jumped out of her seat, but her hand instinctively crumpled her page under a balled hand as if caught reading someone else’s diary. Gasping, she unfurled it as neatly as she could. Most of the ink had been dried so her words, though somewhat smeared, were still mostly legible.

“I said how do you know Caius.” The girl demanded. She stood by Aeria, her arms crossed over her chest. Her long dark brown locks had been woven with colorful feathers. Aeria didn’t know her but she wore a lilac dress embroidered with golden griffins. She assumed they designated her house, though the colors were unfamiliar to her.

“He's my friend.” Aeria said, the word slipping out of her lips like ash.

“Foolishness, no woman can simply be friends, with a man like that.” She said her eyes falling on Caius standing along the wall. Idly chatting with some of the serving girls. Her deep brown eyes were full of lust. “I’ll have you know that I took his first night.” She said proudly, nearly gloating.

“Congratulations.” Aeria said flatly, unsure of how to treat the revelation.

“Does it hurt you to know that?” she seemed so angry at Aeria but she couldn’t quite understand why.

“Not really.” There had many, many women that had been with Caius, did the first have any kind of distinction? “I don’t even know you.”

She could see the woman’s jaw tense. “I am Hilde Stout, future lady of the City of Dimrest. You’d best not forget that.” she said walking away in a huff.

Aeria watched her go, more than a little bewildered. What was that all about?

Looking at her page, she had a lot written, disjointed lines mostly that expressed her emotions. She had to bring them together, but her focus in that deep emotion was broken. Lost in your eyes, drowning in blue she wrote but it just seemed superficial.

Lady Armthal entered the hall, followed closely by Reading Whittal. She smiled and walked over to Aeria, while Reading went to the table where his brothers hovered over their sister and step mother. “You’re still writing?” Nalia said eying her page.

“You haven’t even started.” Aeria replied but Nalia waved a hand dismissively.

“I had one of aids deliver mine at the beginning of the night.”

“You can do that?!” Aeria exclaimed making sense of how quick everyone had finished.

“Yes, it’s in the book?”

“There’s a book?!”

Nalia stared at Aeria with a raised eyebrow. Aeria wasn’t sure what to make of her. Sometimes, she seemed to be passive aggressive, making snide comments. Other times, like tonight, she seemed friendly. Out of all the girls in the pageant she had been the only one to casually converse with her.

“Anyway,” Nalia took two drinks from a passing serving girl and handing one to Aeria who immediately chugged down the sweet bubbly drink to calm her nerves. Maybe then she’d be able to finish her blasted poem. Nalia watched Aeria aghast after she had demurely taken a little sip of her bubbly drink. "I know who will choose who tomorrow.” she said taking a seat. “So you don't have to finish that, no one is going to read it. You should come dance wit- why is this peasant looking at me like that.”

Aeria peered over Nalia to find Hilde glaring at her. “It’s not you.” Aeria said, a serving girl refilled Aeria’s glass cup and she downed it as quickly as the first. “It’s me she didn’t like.” A hiccup escaped after she was done speaking. “Her name is Hilde Stout,” Aeria said at Nalia’s questioning glance, “and that’s all I know of her. Well, I only know that because she just told me. I don't know her, I think she knows Caius.”

“Caius?”

“My, uh, escort for tonight.”

“Cai-, oh.” she said spotting him in Adelaide’s colors by the wall. “Oh,” she repeated with understanding. “Hmm.”

He elicited the same response in women that Adelaide got whenever a man laid eyes on her. Aeria groaned. She was just about done with this night. “To who am I supposed to submit this to?”

Nalia had to tear her eyes away from Caius. Nalia sighed and said, “I’ll take it for you.” Aeria chugged down one last cup, her mind feeling comfortably fuzzy, just enough to stop caring. She watched as Nalia pulled one of the dancing couples aside, one of the pair was a judge. They spoke briefly and the judge pointed something out on her page and Nalia wrote something down before handing it back and returning to Aeria. “You forgot your name.” she said, “I wrote it for you, now come, Reading has invited you to his table.”

“Alright.” Aeria said following Nalia across the table to most all of the Whittal children sat. Well most of them, Owe was off dancing with Canis, another pageant girl.

“Oi, there's my babe.” Reading said loudly, already drunk.

“This babe has a chaperone tonight.” Aeria said motioning to Caius by the wall. A pretty serving girl stood next to him blushing as he leaned against the wall facing her. Not paying any attention whatsoever.

“Your brother?”

“Sort of.”

“Good enough.” Reading stood clumsily and took Aeria’s hand, brought it to his lips and sloppily kissed her wrist. It was a game, but Aeria didn’t want to play. Not with him. She curtsied and, unsure of what to do next, sat down next to Nalia. Reading pouted but took a seat on her other side. “Didn’t think you could bring her over Nalia.” he said with slurred words. “Now make me laugh again.”

“Uh-”

Reading burst out laughing. “Wait.” he said suddenly serious. “That wasn’t funny.”

Nalia smiled but her eyes burned holes through the man’s head. “So Novak Tablain will likely choose Lady Sibi as his partner for tomorrow.” Nalia said to the lady at the table. Lady Christel Barner, Lord Roch Whittal’s must current wife was just a bit older than Aeria herself. “Her father has a fresh herd destriers that the Tablains want. Novak will try to win favor with the Lord through his daughter.”

“We must keep those horses from the Talbains it’ll hinder their ability to wage war in the future, if only by a little. Owe must claim the girl at the start of the night." Christel said. Aeria’s mouth went dry, she wasn't sure if she was supposed to be hearing this, she sure didn’t want to. Is that what being a part of the high nobility about? Looking to hinder other lords to your own benefit?

“I thought the judges made the matches.” Aeria said, though in the pit of her stomach she already knew the answer. She realized how much she hated it then. Hated their world, hated their scheming. She found comfort in the fresh glass one of the servants had placed beside her. It was a different cider, one she hadn’t tried yet, bubbly and sweet, but with a slight sourness to it. Reading watched amazed as she downed it in one gulp.

“My dear, slow down,” Lady Christel said, “You drink like a man.” Reading laughed but Aeria stifled a belch. How many was it now?

“Please,” Sidwell said cutting into Reading’s laughter. “the judges are a farce,” Sidwell said, the middle Whital boy. He looked vaguely like his brother, with dark, almost black, brown hair and hazel eyes. Lanky where his brother was thick. A result of having different mothers. “they act like the crowned girl is a winner. ‘Fairest of them all’ the king then pays her family a handsome dowry without the wedding, then he fucks her until he gets bored and moves on to the next one.” Sidwell said and Reading burst into more ruckus laughter.

“Sidwell!” Lady Christel said in a scolding voice despite Sidwell being just about the same age. Sidwell glared at the woman.

“It’s true.” Reading said stifling his laughter. “The matches were decided way before the silly pageant began.”

“Nothing is set in stone Reading.” Nalia said and gave Sidwell a slight glare. But he shrugged and looked away.

“Bah, enough of all this gossip, I want to dance!” Reading demanded practically dragging Aeria to her feet. She allowed it only because she wanted to be gone from that table. Maybe she could make up an excuse to leave this night. Her poem was already submitted.

Reading composed himself as much as possible for someone as inebriated as him. Still, Aeria grew excited. It had been years since she last had donated with anyone. Poor Videl had never been more miserable, but at least they had learned together. Now, if he found someone, he’d able to dance at the ball tomorrow.

Even though he wasn’t Videl, Reading at least had some poise. “Nalia doesn’t like it when I drink.” he said slurring and pulling Aeria close to him. Aeria shivered, even though she wasn’t that close to his face she could still smell the alcohol. “She doesn’t re, really, re, know that I’m much more coordinanaydted with a little liquor.”

A little?

But they started on the next rhythm his steps were fluid, he led, with Aeria matching her steps to his just as she had been taught. Simple steps, the basics, good enough to lead her through unfamiliar music with different partners.

Despite herself, and because of her lowered inhibition, Aeria found herself laughing. Even though he his steps were coordinated, the face he made as he focused was a mixture of befuddlement and constipation. She had to look away to keep from laughing at him. That only got harder when he started making strange noises each time they spun too quickly.

“Woah,” he said with a hiccup and his face went pale. Aeria stopped. “Why’s the room spinnin’?” Aeria back stepped then spun just as Reading vomited all over the floor.

Seemingly expecting it, a herd of Whittal servants rushed over, ushered Reading away, and cleaned up in a matter of moments. Aeria was left there standing there stunned at how quick they had been. No one really laughed. They wouldn’t dare laugh at a lord’s heir. Perhaps Aeria should feel embarrassed, but she really didn’t. She felt absolutely nothing for Reading, but she couldn’t deny that she had only just started to have fun.

She scanned the crowd of strangers. Aeria still wanted to dance, Reading had been the only one who had offered. She didn’t know anyone else. . .

No, that was a lie. Aeria grinned. She knew someone standing idly by along the walls with the rest of the servants.