Leafblade & Freelight: The Barracks

[mistral4543]

She was familiar with that faint smile, and it weighed on her heart a little to consider what underlay it. He's not really convinced. She trudged on, her eyes darkening a little. Or worse still, he's only humouring me.

It was not too long ago that she herself had given that smile, and thinking of that incidence now, she could assume a detachment that had been near impossible then. Poor Justin...

It was her coming-out ball, and Mama had nearly flipped when she had refused to wear the pink satin dress with a layered skirt that resembled a wedding-cake, and those horrendous laced sleeves. "It's my ball, Mama, and I'll wear what I want, or not turn up at all." Papa had sided her, of course; and besides, his raised eyebrow when he saw her mother's choice had given him away from the start.

So reluctantly, even if she had succeeded in getting her own way for her choice of garment, she had made her way down the grand staircase. Reluctant she was, as she knew that this was a parade to the eligible bachelors around the vicinity and beyond; and for the right price, the victor would take her as his wedded wife and bring further glory to the family.

Despite her misgivings, and a further lament that Altair had completely disappeared from the society circles, the gawking stares and envious glares she received had given her a tremendous boost of confidence. She had known that the empire-cut, long-sleeved beige gown with simple lines had fit her, but this was more than a look of tolerance in her viewers' eyes and she smiled irresistibly. That smile had pierced more than a handful of hearts, sealing her fate as the most-engaged dance partner for the rest of the evening...

"Lady Mehlingard..." Justin Everloft had later summoned his courage to approach her as she escaped from the ballroom to take a breather in the gardens. "I... I would have a word with you, if I may." Nodding her assent, she let him continue. "I don't know how to make eloquent speeches, Lady Mehlingard, but I..."

"Please, just call me 'Robyn'." Altair would have rolled off the balcony laughing, if he had witnessed this scene. He would never have called her that... but was it fair to compare Justin against Altair, though? He had never had a chance of being her playmate, and his honest face and frank demeanour were not altogether repulsive. What was she doing, thinking of Altair anyhow? Almost angrily, she banished these thoughts of him away; that was what one did to traitors.

"Very well, then... Robyn." Justin's face was brightening, with his gathering confidence and gratitude. "I wanted to say that I... I think that you're the loveliest lady I've ever met, and I... I do hope you'll give me a chance, to revisit you again." He swallowed a gulp, before continuing. "Very soon, and not simply as a social visit." Then he fell silent, probably taken aback at his own forwardness.

Robyn watched him closely, her heart alternating between the states of softness and hardness. He was a harmless fellow, and really, it would serve Altair right if she just took this artless young man for her lifelong companion! But the pendant weighed on her conscience and chest, and she could only fix her compassionate gaze on his flushed countenance.

"I'll be pleased to receive you as long as my father is, Justin." She hoped the sincerity of her voice came through. "I'm always happy to make new friends, but I can't be allowing them all to make more than social visits, can I?" This attempt at light-heartedness did not seem to go to well with him, however, and she bit her lips. There was no point encouraging or discouraging him; it was too early to tell if he was the right one, and she did not want commitment at this point. "Come, let us return to the party. They'll be looking for us."

And as they re-entered the ballroom, she caught Papa's speculative frown. Poor Papa; he did not want to lose her so soon. She dimpled and threw him a reassuring nod. But as she turned and saw the exchange of smirks between her mother and Lady Everloft, she suddenly felt like throwing up. Papa caught her look, stepped up and rescued her, whisking her off to another delightful dance.

"What am I to do with you, you little hoyden?" He raised his left hand momentarily to pluck her nose playfully. "This old man is getting too old for you, eh?" He chuckled, his breath warming her cheeks delightfully.

"Then why throw this silly event in the first place?" She retorted, her green eyes flashing as she threw back a wicked grin. "Come, Papa! Let's show these people what real dancing is about!" And they spun around the room, their spirits soaring as they heard the applause and compliments swirling around their ears. Papa, Papa... I don't want to leave you...

The happy moments collapsed as once again, reality sank in as she recalled his piteous state. Inhaling deeply, she plunged ahead, determined to reach Alesbridge by nightfall.

[ 08-05-2006, 10:32 PM: Message edited by: mistral4543 ]

[Deiter Leafblade]

Alesbridge could be spotted far into the distance, and Altair couldn't help but keep his thoughts occupied on what waited him past the city walls. Markam was somewhere inside and hoped not to run into him. He couldn't think of how to explain to Robyn that the man had hired him to rob her family.

"Ya lost five coins?" Altair nodded his head sullenly. He didn't know there had been a rip in the pouch when he stole it. Berad 's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he gripped Altair's wrist and pried his clenched fist open.

Emptiness greeted him, and a smirk appeared on the older man's face. "An honest thief doesn't pay off boy. Another failed lesson from you." Reaching for a bottle of ale, he took several swigs before sitting it down loudly. "I want ya to tell David that ya're willing to clean his tavern tonight for food." A grimace appeared on Altair's face at the thought. David's tavern was huge, and cleaning it would take all night.

"Don't give me that look boy. Ya botched another lesson and I ain't feeding ya." Berad's mud colored eyes drilled holes into him until he had to look away. Walking outside of the run down house he called home, Altair let the door shut loudly behind which he knew he would pay for later.

The sun was lazily falling down the sky until it would soon be nestled below the horizon. Shouts of children could be heard as he made his way down the old wooden stairs that lead to the street below. Four children were brandished with wooden swords and occupied in a heated battle over who would get the last apple for the night. A young blond girl was triumphing over the others and the sight made him think of Robyn.

Deep regret would always flare up inside him when he thought of her. He had left without a word, not even to her, and wondered what she was like now. She was probably safe inside her father's manor kept away from harm. "Exactly where she should be..." He said quietly as he made his way past the children and towards a tavern with boisterous laughter emanating from it.

Smoke hung heavily in the air causing his eyes to sting on contact. Rubbing at them, he made his way over to the counter where David stood. He was a frail man with pale skin. Altair had stolen several bottles of various alcohols from him before, which he knew the bruises on his back could attest to.

Coughing to get his attention, "I'm in need of food and willing to clean your tavern tonight for it." David peered at him under his sharp gaze. " "Ruse to steal more of my ale? Every bottle is important to me and you've stolen well over twenty! I have every right to kick you out of here on sight."

Altair sighed, he didn't need this. Today was his 16th birthday, and he would be spending it cleaning a tavern for food. His tone became cold as his knuckles bit into the counter. "Look, I know your tavern well and I'm fast. If I clean it you won't have to and can sleep earlier tonight." David's eyes scrunched up as he thought of the proposition. "You can have one mug of ale and the remains of the whatever meat that’s left. I want you out of here before dawn."

He nodded, though knew the tavern would still take hours to clean regardless of how fast he was. Gripping a mop, he got to work on sections of the tavern that patrons had left alone that night. Yes, he was right to leave how he did. If he had left a letter for Robyn she would have only tried to follow, and he wanted her far away from a life such as this.

[ 08-05-2006, 11:54 PM: Message edited by: Deiter Leafblade ]

[mistral4543]

Nightfall. The second in a row, that he had not seen his beloved Robyn. Just where is that minx? Vexation tugged the corners of his lips downwards as he mentally scanned the list of places she could have gone to.

Robyn. Pronouncing her name inevitably induced fond memories of the day of her birth. Like a fighter, she had emerged from her mother's womb bawling her lungs out and shortly after, two huge emerald eyes had stared unblinkingly at him. Yasmine had been completely drained from the delivery, and would not have anything to do with the babe. He, only the other hand, had scooped the bloody source of mischief into his arms and returned her stare solemnly. His heart had been lost the moment the baby opened its mouth and yawned after its wailing session.

If only it had been a boy. For a boy was needed to continue the family line, and ensure that the inheritance was passed on the way it should be. But alas, this was a girl. More was the pity, since she seemed to possess the energy and fervour of a spunky lad. Almost in defiance, he had torn his gaze away from her and announced his decision. "She shall be named Robyn." This was, of course, a play on the more usual 'Robin' that boys adopted.

The years that passed had been such enjoyable ones, he almost regretted that his daughter was growing up so fast. Her every movement spoke volumes about her upbringing, but what was equally evident was her untamed 'wildness', or "naturalness" as he liked to term it privately. Robyn had always based her decisions on her own set of principles, and these had mostly been good ones; or at least, she had borne good intentions when she took a course of action. The last episode had shaken him terribly, even threatened to cause a rift between him and his daughter; but for now, all he wanted was for her to be safe home...

Snapping into attention as he heard the approaching footsteps, he tilted his head to see the new steward Benedict.

"Lady Mehlingard returns, my Lord." It could not be! He jumped up, his eyes shining brightly. His darling daughter was back! He prayed that she was safe... "... my Lord, she returns with another." The steward coughed discreetly. "Another young man, my Lord."

Another young man?! Gerald tried to stifle a frown as he took in this announcement. Had she gone off on a romantic stroll amidst the deadliest battle that Alesbridge had been engaged in?! A countering inner voice soothed him, asking him to suspend his judgement.

"Show them in right now, Benedict." Grimly, Gerald leaned against the back of his chair, awaiting the two arrivals.

[ 08-06-2006, 12:28 AM: Message edited by: mistral4543 ]

[Deiter Leafblade]

It was an odd feeling to be inside the manor again, and to know only a few days before ill intentions directed his actions inside of it. Memories of his home once again filled his mind as he took in the areas they were being lead through. He noted items of interest and valuables that would be worth taking subconsciously. Realization hit him and he felt disgusted with himself.

Hello, Lord Gerald. You probably don't remember me. I ran away from home years ago and just recently attempted to rob your manor and kidnapped your daughter. Altair sighed at the thought. Once Gerald found out about him he was afraid prison would ensue shortly after.

The steward had taken in their appearance with suspicion. Hair and clothing remained damp still, and he could only imagine what thoughts would churn though Gerald's mind at the sight of it. Do I lie to him about me? Robyn would know though, and that would backfire... Telling the truth could also earn me a trip to prison or the gallows...

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this nervous. His countenance showed nothing much to his relief, but could he make it through this? Berad would laugh and hit him across the head at how foolish he was acting. Walking right into the enemy's hands." That was all wrong though. Robyn's father can't be the enemy... right? His thoughts left the question hang in the air deciding it best to torture him with uncertainty.

His time ran out as the steward pushed open the doors leading to where Lord Gerald was waiting.

[mistral4543]

"Papa!"

Robyn's eyes widened in disbelief as the visual impact of her completely recovered father sent her staggering backward.

"Papa! You're alright!" Before she knew what she was doing, she had rushed up to him, flinging her arms around him, not caring if she were crushing his ribs. "This is too wonderful, Papa! A miracle, indeed!" She felt his warm embrace turn stiff gradually, however, and guessed at his reproof.

"Papa..." Disengaging herself, she knelt before him and lowered her head. "I am so sorry to have endangered your life like that. It was so thoughtless of me." She almost could not breathe from the sense of relief and ecstacy that the gods had been thus merciful and answered her prayers. "It won't happen again, Papa."

When still he spoke not, her eyes flitted to his face and she read helpless acceptance in them. Yet there was unmistakable mistrust, not to mention suppressed restlessness. Yes, it must be Altair he wonders about.

Taking a deep breath, she continued, speaking slowly and hoping that the words would sink in. "This is Altair, Papa. Do you remember?" Another glance confirmed that she need not repeat herself. "We have just returned from the forest, Papa... or rather, around it." Her cheeks flushed as she felt her father's burning gaze turn back towards herself.

"That will do, Robyn." Gerald's tone was assertive but not unkind, leastways not to his daughter. But the sight of the unkempt figure before him was a distressing one, especially when he associated this with the Swizec family.

"Robyn, I'm going to have to ask you to leave us alone for the moment." His gaze turned stern as she showed the first signs of protest. "Be assured that Altair will stay the night here, minimally. And I will neither throw him out nor into the dungeon, which is what you seem to fear." The very apprehension in those beloved green eyes showed that some unpleasantness had been involved, and he had no intention of anyone varnishing the truth.

"We will talk over this tomorrow morning, the three of us. But for now, you and Benedict will leave." It was an order she could not disobey.

Left now man to man, Gerald returned his attention to the criminal-like Altair before him. Suspend your judgement, Gerald. It was difficult indeed, considering the circumstances, but he would try.

"Suppose you tell me your entire tale, Altair." Quiet was his tone, as he motioned for the lad to take a seat beside him.

[mistral4543]

The second half of daylight spent, she led her horse to the stables of the inn they would be stopping over for the night. "You'll be safe here, Canna." The mare rubbed its snout against her hand affectionately, drawing a smile out of her mistress' weary lips. What a flirt. Acacia caressed the mane in return, instructing the stable lad to take good care of her companion.

Stepping inside the inn, she sat herself down at the table where the innkeeper's wife had prepared a bowl of hot soup and bread. Ravenously, she downed a spoonful of the soup, only to half-yelp as it scalded her throat. The sight of her spluttering and almost choking on her bread thereafter, brought much amusement to the other patrons. What do they know? She winced to herself. They'd do the same if they were as hungry and tired as I am.

When she had finally made it into her room, she took care to lock the door securely before sitting herself and removing her boots and socks. The bath would have to wait till the next day, for her eyelids were fast closing and yet the most important task of the day had yet to be completed...

It was the diary, of course, that she needed to read. My last link with my mother. My mother. How awfully distant it sounded. Her forehead creased with irritation. It's not as if I had a choice. To bar these useless laments from re-emerging, she extracted the bundle again. Then, flinging herself onto the bed, she leaned against the bedpost and read the next few entries:

February the 14th, 931

My two months are almost up, Tatyana. Anya sleeps peacefully beside me, unaware of the changes that are to come.

I am to leave the Freelight manor on March the 1st, heading for my final destination: The Temple of the Heironeous. There, I am to stay for the rest of my life in penitence. I do not know how I can live without Anya, who heads for a separate venue with Mother. But as I have sworn that I will do anything to let her live, so must I keep my word.

Anya lives if I abide my vow to Aragorn, Tatyana. If you have only that much to give, please pray for my daughter first. She is innocent.
-------------------

March the 20th, 931

It is worse than I had thought possible.

Every care is given for my physical well-being, but the walls that surround me blot out any rays of hope. My only consolation is that Anya is not here to suffer with me.
----------------------

August the 20th, 931

It is exactly five months since my last entry. Imagine my astonishment to receive Mother's letter today! It must be the miracle of Anya softening her heart; once she had wanted to disown me, but now she offers me only words of comfort.

Be patient and hopeful, her letter says. But I do not count on Aragorn's forgiveness. I know that temper and pride of his too well; he will never cave in. It is so difficult, Tatyana, to cling on to our happy childhood when I see this unyielding side of him. All his mind is filled with right now are family honour, that silly Shattered Reality of his, and that young Eilonwy he had met during the battle. The battle that killed my beloved Shane.

I tell myself I must not despair too much, but I wonder who, apart from Mother, would really care what became of me.
-------------------

December the 25th, 931

It is Christmas, and what would have been the second year of our wedding anniversary. What a novelty it is, to spend this day in this prison; for "temple" can only be an euphemism for what this place truly is.

Hush, Anneliese! I hear you cry; for you worry that the priests might chance upon this treacherous piece of writing I am scribbling down. Cease your crying, love. I hear you urge; but how can I stop, how long do you expect me to put on a placid face for these decrepit fools to see and believe? It is hard work pretending to be a full convert, but I seem to have persuaded them with a talent I never knew I possessed.

Nay, I must say my piece or go mad... or is insanity my escape valve? Fear not; I shall not go amok yet, not without receiving Mother's updates of Anya.
--------------

December the 26th, 946

Anya turns 16 today, Tatyana. I wonder what she looks like.
--------------

October the 29th, 949

I don't feel too well, Tatyana, and my body tells me to let go. Why shouldn't I? What have I to look forward to, really? A lifetime imprisonment here in the temple? Knowing that the rest of the world out there is experiencing something, rather than nothing?

Please forgive me for ranting, Tatyana. Indulge me as you would, a dying person. For I am dying emotionally, if not physically. I don't even know how I could have lived the past 18 years here... and the frightening thing is, I don't remember. Each day passes as blankly as the next; I eat, I pray, I sleep. And contact with fellow human beings is kept to a minimum, because of my so-called sins.

What sins have I committed, Tatyana? Of marrying a man I loved, who had no title? Of getting wedded without my parents' permission first? If Mother could forgive me, why can't he?! Who is he to judge me so severely, as if he had no sins of his own?!

There, I have long wanted to vent this out, and I have. How ironic it would be, if this were my last chat with you. For remember how I had gushed about my love for him on the day I penned my first entry?

I was never more blind.
------------

The diary's remaining pages were empty.

Finding herself nodding away, Acacia rubbed her eyes and hastily kept her bundle, her mind too fatigued to think.

Yawning, she stretched out her arms, lowered herself under the blankets and promptly fell asleep.

[Deiter Leafblade]

Pull yourself together! Altair took a deep breath and met Gerald's eyes. He felt trapped. People lied all the time, and even more so if it fit their need. How did he know Gerald wasn't simply saying he wouldn't toss him into the dungeon so Robyn would leave? The paranoia of a thief ate at him until he banished the thoughts away, deciding he was being stupid and that Gerald had always been a man of his word.

"My tale is full of twists and turns on a path that I am now uncertain of." He couldn't help but be reminded of his stories to Robyn. Clasping his hands behind his back, Altair stood before Gerald and started at the beginning.

"I ran away from home nine years ago. Forced marriage and the confinement of nobility was a life I wished no part of. I deserted that life and left without a word." How cowardly and selfish I must sound. Turning my back on my family, leaving Robyn behind, and shirking my responsibilities as being a member of the Swizec family...

Meeting Gerald's gaze, he continued on about his life in the streets of various towns and how he resorted to stealing as a means of staying alive. His tale was of a difficult life with no mercy or compassion. "Freedom is a very important thing to me. Father..." He paused, for he had not spoken of his father in years. "My father was only concerned with our family image and rank. What you have heard of so far is true, and the trials and tribulations I went through could have easily been remedied if I returned home. I would be offered food whenever I was hungry, have a roof over my head, and rest assured that I was safe within my family's manor. I didn't go that route, and I hope you realize how much my decision meant to me with the consequences I faced because of it."

Altair felt odd that he was being so open with this man. He knew Gerald needed the truth if he would ever progress with Robyn, but he had usually kept to himself during the years. Being a thief with a familiar face was not something any criminal wanted.

"I met a man by the name of Berad. He taught me the art of living amongst the cities as a poor man, and was a father and teacher to me. Berad died several years ago though, and I suppose that was a relief to those who were victim to him..." Memories of the old man faded in and out of his vision, causing Altair to shake his head as if to clear his thoughts.

Curling his fingers into his fist, Altair left out the more gruesome details, along with the kidnapping and being hired to rob his manor. He didn't lie, but also didn't tell the whole truth. He knew Robyn would be disappointed if she found out, but he didn't want to give Gerald anymore reasons to toss him into the dungeon.

[mistral4543]

"You're going to be fine, Alfred." His dark green eyes were awash with tears of panic as they scanned the ashen face of his mentor. Yet hollow did these words ring as he saw the colour fading from the elder's face with each minute that passed.

"Ughh..." Alfred cleared his throat, trying to speak but lapsed into silence as the effort proved too much. A few seconds later, he gurgled, sending a stream of bright red blood running out of his mouth; the colour contrasted starkly against the pallor of his skin. Tightly, he gripped Gerald's hand, their hands shaking from the intensity of the clasp.

"Don't speak." Gerald now begged, his hand still pressing fervently against the wound so that the bleeding could stop. But try as he might, it was impossible to do so, not with the slippery surface that the blood created. Knowing that the end was close at hand, he began to babble whatever came into his mind. Anything, regardless of its level of significance... he had to release the torrent of words he had always held back, before it was too late...

"I've always treated you like a father, Alfred." He was rattling in a trance. "No matter what the others have said or continue to say, you are my equal. Nay, more than an equal!" His heart burnt with feverishness as he read acknowledgement in those wondering eyes. "Your teachings, your companionship, your understanding... everything! I'm grateful for all of them, Alfred!" As the life continued to drain out of that dearest face, so did he persist in his confessions. "I'll never forget you, Alfred, and what you've always stood for!" It was dreadful, saying the words which accepted his impending death. But what else could he do? What else except lay bare his emotions and give comfort? "You're the best friend and master I ever had and will ever have."

A single tear rolled out the closed eyes as Alfred succumbed to exhaustion and the welcoming embrace of the next world. Their hand clasp lingered for a couple of seconds before Alfred's hand grew limp and fell away harmlessly...

Why had this farewell sprung to his mind? It must be the work of Altair, who relighted this image of mentor and disciple before him. Altair, who had snubbed his own family, and the privileges as well as obligations that came from it. Could he, Gerald Mehlingard, understand this perspective?

It was not difficult, now that his memories of Alfred were back. He was a nobody to the rest of the world, and yet he meant the world to me. The ancient pain was returning at the thought, and he had to inhale deeply to regain his composure. Titles and riches he lacked, but in freedom and wisdom he was clearly the wealthiest.

There was something despite his willingness to overlook Altair's act of betrayal to his family - and besides, who was he to judge, not being Altair's kinsmen? - however, that continued to nag at him. He played Altair's account over his mind again and again in the awkward silence that followed, and then he finally realised the crux of the situation.

"All that you say, Altair, is well and good for now. But that doesn't explain how you ended up meeting Robyn, who had been in this manor since yesterday morning." His eyes narrowed as he scrutinised the youth's reaction.

"And what of the forest? Why did the both of you head there, and what has made you come back?" A bully he could never be accused of being, but the gravity of his voice warned Altair that he would not take kindly to any attempts at deceit.

[dplax]

"Sean! Sean! Are you okay?" It was Frederic, his sparring partner, pulling the bloody carcass of a puma off of Sean. He had been searching for Sean for the best part of the day. A deep gash, with dried blood around it on his left side was the source for Sean's unconsciousness, and by the time Frederic managed to take him to the infirmary he had lost a lot of blood, but was still fully at his senses, contemplating what he had done wrong in the battle.

He had thought valiantly until old Pete, who had first trained him, was mauled down by a powerful strike from a jaguar's claw. Sean didn't really remember what had happened after that, but he remembered bits and pieces of throwing himself recklessly at the beasts, ready for almost anything to avenge the death of his friend.

He had almost paid for it dearly. He had noticed the approaching feline, almost too late, and could only half bring up his sword to defend himself. The creature, although impaling itself on his sword, managed to claw a deep gash in his side. Sean had spent ten hours trapped under the weight of the puma, inhaling the scent of its wet fur until he had become sick from it and threw up next to himself. Had Frederic not found him, he might even have died there.

The infirmary was a welcome sight after all the suffering and after collapsing down onto a bed, and flashing a charming smile at the female healer taking care of him, Sean was finally able to offer himself the luxury of passing out.

[dplax]

Once the food had arrived, Esaha almost threw herself at it, but managed to restrain the urge, while Lord Gerald was still there. However, once he was gone, she put aside all her usual dignity and gulped down the food as fast as she could, not even caring much for burning her tongue with the hot stew.

To her surprise, for normally she had but a small appetite, Esaha managed to eat even all the bread and meat. She almost considered asking for some more, but deemed it to be too unpolite to profit off the Mehlingard hospitality. She considered taking a short walk in the gardens after eating, but fatigue overcame her once more, and sitting there in the chair she fell once again asleep.

She awoke late in the afternoon, with the sun already well on its long descent towards the horizon. She needed to think. Just about a day ago, she had unleashed powers she had never even suspected she possessed. Whether it was the circumstances which had brought them forth, or whether she had always had these abilities, she did not, and could not know. She had to find someone to answer these questions.

She walked out into the corridor, and hailed down a servant. As he approached she hoped that he wouldn't notice the sweaty smell from her clothes, for indeed she had not changed her clothes for almost seventy-two hours, and with everything that had happened since then, the smell was not pleasant.

"Excuse me, but is there anyone well-versed in the magical arts in this town?" she asked, then added as an afterthought, "and if you could point me to where I can have a bath in this manor, I'd also greatly appreciate that."