Three hours, a bit of blood, and what felt like a third of his weight in sweat all gone, replaced with leaden fatigue and aching muscles. How he hated sword practice.
Raynor Kadrosar, Prince of Cercedeon, collapsed on his side into the shallow sand, panting harder than a dog. He flopped over to his back and covered his face with his right arm to shield from the sun. His left ached almost too much to move. //This is far from the worst thing I’ve experienced, but it ranks high. Damn you father for forcing me to do this.//
A shadow crept over him. His tutor strolled up to where he lay, and hummed an upbeat tune. “This makes a new record for you, my prince. Good to see your stamina improving, if nothing else.” His tutor said, nudging Raynor with the toe of his boot.
Raynor groaned. “Better than nothing, I guess.” They had been at this for hours today, and many many more over the past couple of months, dutifully but futilely working to hone his abysmal swordsmanship. All he had to show for this work was a little more tone on his muscles and a multitude of scrapes and cuts over his upper body. Though they used dulled blades they practiced bare chested while the summer lasted. “That won’t change come winter.” His tutor had said at the beginning. “Pain and discomfort is a lesson.” Today he had graced Raynor with a fine cut just below his collarbone for “wavering in the thick of battle.” //As if anyone wouldn’t waver all hot and sweaty and tired.//
He slid his arm away to look up at the man; as he suspected his tutor was wearing a smug and mirthful grin on his face. The expression was his standard look, though it was particularly intense now.
Duke Baradric Halmind, head of the House of Halmind, one of the five great families of Cercedeon second only to the Kadrosars, and the First Advisor to the Crown, had volunteered to tutor Raynor personally when his father, King Assarian, had requested people skilled in the way of swords to train him. His father accepted instantly, to no one’s surprise. Certainly, there was no one more fit to teach the art of the blade, the Duke was renowned across the kingdom for his swordsmanship, skill that he claimed rivaled that of Cercedeon’s first king; but only rivaled, of course, nobody could ever be superior to the first king.
“You know, I’m starting to think that you’re doing this on purpose.” Baradric said, teasingly and with relaxed familiarity. Not many people spoke so with Raynor. “I’ve never had a student that hasn’t learned something by now.”
The Duke bent down and extended a hand.
[[Take his hand.]]
[[Attack.]] Raynor took it and Baradric lifted him from the ground. Not just a skilled swordsman, Baradric Halmind was built like a sword too, tall and lean but with wide shoulders, and was toned and muscled as though he were a statue of himself. He had amber eyes that shined with youthful vigor even at forty-four years of age and a full head of copper-red hair; he kept it shaved short on the sides with more volume on top, just long enough to show how it curled. Raynor had taken to wearing his hair the same way, though he was loath to admit that it was out of imitation as Baradric had deduced. The Duke aged gracefully and was enviously handsome in a way that tended to captivate both Raynor’s thoughts and attention.
“You’ve taught me plenty of things since I was a boy, Baradric,” Raynor said. “but this isn’t going to be one of them.”
The Duke laughed and patted him on the back. “Don’t be so certain, my prince. I never give up, and neither should you.”
Raynor wiped sweat from his brow. “There is a point, you know, where persistence becomes insanity.”
“Now now, don’t be so hard on yourself. You need to learn somehow. A proper man knows how to wield a sword, and since you’re about to be the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom, you need to be a proper man.”
[["Let's not talk about that."]]
[["I'm man enough."]]
[["What do you think you're insutating?"]] Raynor swatted it away, then suddenly sprang to his feet. Unwilling to admit defeat, he roared and swung his sword at Baradric with all the force and strength he could muster.
Force and strength, however, were in short supply for him. The Duke sidestepped him with ease; with an exxagerated yawn he he swung his own blade hard into Raynor's back. He hit with the blade's side but the strike still stung enough to make Raynor gasp out. He stumbled and fell back down, face first. He tasted sand.
"Tsk tsk, my prince." Baradric said. "Attacking your opponent when he offers you a hand is not only dishonorable, but so very predictable as well. You're supposed to be more clever than that."
Head pounding, Raynor rose to his knees and spat out sand. "If I'm clever, you'd never expect me to act otherwise now would you? I'm not as predictable as you might think."
Baradric let out a hearty laugh. "Yes, but I predicted you would try something along those lines." He offered his hand again.
[[Take his hand.]]
[[Get up on your own.]] Raynor huffed and brushed him away. Slowly he pulled himself up; he strained to move, his body howled in protest with how much it ached, and he could barely stand straight, but he was not going to rely on the Duke for help. He was never going to rely on anyone for anything.
Baradric shrugged, seeming not to mind. "You're nothing if not determined, my prince." He said, then laughed casually.
Raynor glared at him. Not just a skilled swordsman, Baradric Halmind was built like a sword too, tall and lean but with wide shoulders, and was toned and muscled as though he were a statue of himself. He had amber eyes that shined with youthful vigor even at forty-four years of age and a full head and beard of copper-red hair; he kept it shaved short on the sides with more volume on top, just long enough to show how it curled. Raynor had taken to wearing his hair the same way, though he was loath to admit that it was out of imitation as Baradric had deduced. The Duke aged gracefully and was enviously handsome in a way that tended to captivate both Raynor’s thoughts and attention.
“I've had enough of this." He said, kicking his discarded sword. "I know how to use plenty of weapons, I don't need to know how to fight with a sword."
The Duke patted him on the back. "Now now, don't give up so easily. I don't. You do need to learn. A proper man knows how to wield a sword, and since you’re about to be the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom, you need to be a proper man.”
[["I'm man enough."]]
[["What do you think you're insutating?"]]
Raynor grimaced. “Let’s not talk about that.”
“Fine, as you wish.” Baradric sighed. “Would you prefer I mercilessly taunt you over your ineptitude with a sword then?”
The two men laughed. Duke Baradric’s friendly demeanor tended to irritate others more often than not, especially when at court, but Raynor did not mind him at all. He had been fond of the man since he was a boy, and considered him one of his closest, and few, friends.
Baradric took Raynor’s sword and returned with his own to the weapon rack nearby. Save for two royal guardsmen they were alone in the walled sparring grounds of the palace, Edomira, a centuries old thing of long halls and wide rooms and reaching towers that sprawled upwards as much as outwards. Time had gotten away from them, already the slowly setting sun had half disappeared behind the palace, and it shadowed them in all its ancient imposing majesty.
“I suppose we ought to call it a day. It won’t be long before the supper banquet, you should shower yourself before.” Baradric said. “Frankly, my prince, you smell terrible all sweaty like this.”
“The same goes for you.” Raynor retorted.
“True. Though I’m in the mood for a nice relaxing bubble bath now. Something to properly unwinder me, Halicia knows I’ll need all my good spirits for tonight. I suspect the feast will be a very dour affair, more so than the past few. What with our esteemed guests arriving as early as tomorrow possibly.”
Esteemed guests was the polite way of referring to them, though not the first Raynor might have chosen. The thought of their imminent arrival made him scowl. “Perhaps I could use the same.” He said, looking back to the horizon.
Baradric chuckled. “Everybody could use the same, frankly.” He held out an arm. “I’ll see you at supper then. I promise not to tell anyone how scanty your swordsmanship still is.”
“See you then.” Raynor smiled and grabbed his arm. They clasped each other at the elbows and shook. When they separated his gaze turned once again to Edomira. That was when he spotted her.
She was on the balcony overlooking the grounds, watching them like an owl. She had probably been there for some time. A young woman with a soft, heart shaped face and hair a dark brown like his, long and thick and flowing with a few waves in it. Some strands billowed in the gentle wind. She wore a cloak of black bear fur that covered her from her neck down. In her arms was a gray and white tabby cat; Raynor’s cat.
Vyana, his twin sister. Her gray eyes met his and she smiled.
[[Don't smile back.]]
[[Smile back.]] Raynor grimaced. "I'm man enough, I assure you."
"Oh of course my prince!" Baradric said with a sly smile. "I'd never question that. But alas, most people are foppish and dull, they've a difficult time seeing what is plain, so we have to preen about for their benefit."
"A hawk shouldn't have to concern itself with what the peacocks think."
"No." Baradric gave him a nudge with his elbow. "So be sure to pluck their feathers once the time comes, eh? I'm tired of all the strutting myself."
The two men laughed. Duke Baradric’s friendly demeanor tended to irritate others more often than not, especially when at court, but Raynor did not mind him at all. He had been fond of the man since he was a boy, and considered him one of his closest, and few, friends.
Baradric took Raynor’s sword and returned with his own to the weapon rack nearby. Save for two royal guardsmen they were alone in the walled sparring grounds of the palace, Edomira, a centuries old thing of long halls and wide rooms and reaching towers that sprawled upwards as much as outwards. Time had gotten away from them, already the slowly setting sun had half disappeared behind the palace, and it shadowed them in all its ancient imposing majesty.
“I suppose we ought to call it a day. It won’t be long before the supper banquet, you should shower yourself before.” Baradric said. “Frankly, my prince, you smell terrible all sweaty like this.”
“The same goes for you.” Raynor retorted.
“True. Though I’m in the mood for a nice relaxing bubble bath now. Something to properly unwinder me, Halicia knows I’ll need all my good spirits for tonight. I suspect the feast will be a very dour affair, more so than the past few. What with our esteemed guests arriving as early as tomorrow possibly.”
Esteemed guests was the polite way of referring to them, though not the first Raynor might have chosen. The thought of their imminent arrival made him scowl. “Perhaps I could use the same.” He said, looking back to the horizon.
Baradric chuckled. “Everybody could use the same, frankly.” He held out an arm. “I’ll see you at supper then. I promise not to tell anyone how scanty your swordsmanship still is.”
“See you then.” Raynor smiled and grabbed his arm. They clasped each other at the elbows and shook. When they separated his gaze turned once again to Edomira. That was when he spotted her.
She was on the balcony overlooking the grounds, watching them like an owl. She had probably been there for some time. A young woman with a soft, heart shaped face and hair a dark brown like his, long and thick and flowing with a few waves in it. Some strands billowed in the gentle wind. She wore a cloak of black bear fur that covered her from her neck down. In her arms was a gray and white tabby cat; Raynor’s cat.
Vyana, his twin sister. Her gray eyes met his and she smiled.
[[Smile back.]]
[[Don't smile back.]] Raynor scowled. "What do you think you're insinuating? Am I not a proper man?"
"Of course not, my prince. I'm only saying that-"
"What? That I have to prove it?" He jabbed a finger at the Duke. "Well I don't. I'm not going to waste my time trying to make a show for anyone. A hawk doesn't concern itself with what the peacocks think."
"No, but you must for now. At least until your time comes." Baradric said, laying a hand on his shoulder.
Raynor huffed and brushed him off.
"My prince, once you become king, you can put an end to this if you wish, if it's really that frivolous to you."
"Do not lecture me." Raynor was fond of Baradric, had been since he was a boy; he considered him one of his closest, and few, friends. But he would not tolerate anyone trying to patronize him.
"Very well, my prince. I suppose it's time we called it a day then. It won’t be long before the supper banquet, you should shower yourself before.” Baradric took Raynor’s sword and returned with his own to the weapon rack nearby. Save for two royal guardsmen they were alone in the walled sparring grounds of the palace, Edomira, a centuries old thing of long halls and wide rooms and reaching towers that sprawled upwards as much as outwards. Time had gotten away from them, already the slowly setting sun had half disappeared behind the palace, and it shadowed them in all its ancient imposing majesty.
“The same goes for you.” Raynor retorted.
“True. Though I’m in the mood for a nice relaxing bubble bath now. Something to properly unwinder me, Halicia knows I’ll need all my good spirits for tonight. I suspect the feast will be a very dour affair, more so than the past few. What with our esteemed guests arriving as early as tomorrow possibly.”
Esteemed guests was the polite way of referring to them, though not the first Raynor might have chosen. The thought of their imminent arrival turned his mood even fouler. “Perhaps I could use the same.” He said, looking back to the horizon.
“Everybody could use the same, frankly.” He held out an arm. “I’ll see you at supper then."
“See you then.” Raynor grabbed his arm. They clasped each other at the elbows and shook. When they separated his gaze turned once again to Edomira. That was when he spotted her.
She was on the balcony overlooking the grounds, watching them like an owl. She had probably been there for some time. A young woman with a soft, heart shaped face and hair a dark brown like his, long and thick and flowing with a few waves in it. Some strands billowed in the gentle wind. She wore a cloak of black bear fur that covered her from her neck down. In her arms was a gray and white tabby cat; Raynor’s cat.
Vyana, his twin sister. Her gray eyes met his and she smiled.
[[Scowl.]] Her gray eyes met his and she smiled. He did not smile back.
A true vision of Cercedinian beauty, pride of the kingdom, every part of her sculpted by Halicia Herself, and many other epithets had been made about her over the years, all greatly annoying to Raynor. She may have been beautiful, but she looked like every other Kadrosar woman before her as he did every Kadrosar man. People did not seem to realize that, even before they had become adults, suitors were making themselves known, vying to have that pretty face for themselves, as well as the prestige of marrying the presumed heir. Dressed down as she was now that vaunted beauty was evident as ever. She tended to be the center of attention wherever she went.
“Hm, I wonder how long she’s been there.” Baradric said. “The princess does have the talent for stealth when she wants.”
Raynor clenched his teeth and did not respond.
Baradric continued. “You know, I believe that’s the first time I’ve seen her smile in over a month. She’s gotten more and more glum these past weeks. That will have to change soon, what with her being on the cusp of meeting her fiance. I’d hate to be in that lad’s position only to see her giving all black looks.”
He was right, that would have to change; a lady was expected to be over the moon with happiness when she met her betrothed, no matter what. //If only that betrothal wasn’t why she’s so morose.// Raynor thought. He laughed quietly to himself. //Pity you don’t know just how much it’s truly eating at her.// He did not envy her, the notion of arranged marriages always had sat foul with him, in a way he pitied her. And this was no ordinary arranged marriage between Houses, this was history in the making.
He went to retrieve his shirt and coat, then strode from the sparring grounds into the palace, followed at a respectful distance by the two guardsmen. As he made his way to his private quarters he thought back to four months prior, to the celebration of his and Vyana’s twenty-second birthday. It improved his mood. Of all the gifts he had received none were as marvelous as his parents’ surprise announcement of the engagement. The looks of astonishment on peoples’ faces then brought a grin to his now.
His sister had been engaged, without her knowledge, to Darion Oushendrallon, Grand Prince of the Tristomeryan Empire, son of the late Anastazja and Morvellian. The very people who had brought Cercedeon into subjugation a quarter century ago. In exchange, the remaining war debt the kingdom owed, of which there was plenty, would be cleared.
Ever since, the announcement had caused a great deal of stir in Cercedeon. This would be the first time a Kadrosar would marry from beyond the kingdom, and to its overlords no less. The marriage was in violation of the law, which stated that the family must marry into the kingdom’s own nobility, but that was where Raynor would come into play.
//Most eligible bachelor indeed.// The two guards took post near his door as he entered his quarters. Raynor tossed his clothes aside, stripped off his pants and boots, and went straight to his bath. He sat on the tub’s marble edge as the faucet ran and the water warmed, his mind on the future near at hand.
He and Vyana were twins, but she had come out of their mother’s womb first, and that made her “older” somehow, in a way that he had never seen as anything other than complete nonsense. Thus, she was the heir presumptive, or she was before this. Everybody was certain that the Grand Prince would take her back to his own realm in the mainland, and naturally meant that Raynor was the heir now.
He longed to become the king, he could see himself as such and savored it. It was his destiny, of this he was sure. Every day the wait grew harder but he needed to be patient, as one one of his mentors said often. But patience was in short supply for him when he knew how the near future would unfold, down to the smallest detail. He had seen it in a dream just days after his sister’s engagement had been announced, only it was not a dream but a vision of prophecy, it had to have been for how vivid it was. Halicia Herself had given to him, of this he was more sure than anything else. I must be patient, I must. I will not do anything to alter Her plan, for ours works in tandem with Hers. Raynor repeated this to himself again and again, though it was difficult to listen. Everything they had planned would be all the easier if he was king already, he was eager to see those plans realized.
He dwelled on this until the tub was full and the water nice and hot, then he sank in, letting the feeling of weightlessness carry him away from his earthly troubles for a while. Just a little while longer, and they would be gone forever.
[[Get out after a few minutes.]]
[[Stay in the bath and relax, you deserve it.]] He was far from any mood to deal with her, but Raynor smiled back. Even at his best he had little tolerance for his sister, but there was no way she could make him feel any worse now, provided she did not think to come down to them.
“Hm, I wonder how long she’s been there.” Baradric said. “The princess does have the talent for stealth when she wants.”
"That she does. One of her many talents."
“You know, I believe that’s the first time I’ve seen her smile in over a month. She’s gotten more and more glum these past weeks. That will have to change soon, what with her being on the cusp of meeting her fiance. I’d hate to be in that lad’s position only to see her giving all black looks.”
He was right, that would have to change; a lady was expected to be over the moon with happiness when she met her betrothed, no matter what. //If only that betrothal wasn’t why she’s so morose.// Raynor thought. He laughed quietly to himself. //Pity you don’t know just how much it’s truly eating at her.// He did not envy her, the notion of arranged marriages always had sat foul with him, in a way he pitied her. And this was no ordinary arranged marriage between Houses, this was history in the making.
He went to retrieve his shirt and coat, then strode from the sparring grounds into the palace, followed at a respectful distance by the two guardsmen. As he made his way to his private quarters he thought back to four months prior, to the celebration of his and Vyana’s twenty-second birthday. It improved his mood. Of all the gifts he had received none were as marvelous as his parents’ surprise announcement of the engagement. The looks of astonishment on peoples’ faces then brought a grin to his now.
Raynor rounded another corner. Absorbed in his thoughts, he did not realize that Vyana was there until he strode into her. The two of them crashed to the floor tangled together. His cat, Mieşkas, hissed as he darted out from between them.
"Gods!" Raynor said, starlted. He banged his knee when he fell.
"Good afternoon to you too, Rain. Vyana said from under him. She was grabbing onto him as though her life depended on it. "Sorry to scare you."
[[Help her up.]]
[[Shove her off.]] //But for now I must play along.// He thought. With a heavy sigh Raynor rose out from the tub, thne hurriedly grabbed a towel as the cold air assaulted his bare body. Edosina had as many drafts as it did rooms.
Once he had dried off, and calmed down, he set to dressing himself for the supper feast. This would be the last night before the imperials arrived, and he wanted to make a clear show of his national pride to everyone in attendance before they did. Best for as many people as possible to know who to stand with in the future. It took little thought to decide on his shirt; made from imported silk but colored purple with orange filigree. Cercedeon’s national colors.
He put on a frock coat, and was ready to leave for the dining hall when he felt claws trying to dig into his leg. Mieşkas had somehow found his way back and away from Vyana, though Raynor still took a quick glance around the room to see if she had snuck in. It would not be the first time. Thankfully he was alone, save for the cat loudly and insistently meowing at him.
“I’ve not forgotten about you or your dinner.” Raynor said, scooping him into his arms. “I’ll take you to the kitchens first like I always do, you self-centered beast.”
Mieşkas meowed again, and batted a paw at Raynor’s chin.
[[Go to the banquet (Advance to Part 2).]] At some point, Raynor drifted into sleep, but he was roused by something tickling his face, and another something damp and coarse running across his cheek. He opened his eyes a tad and saw his cat, Mieşkas, crouching on the tub’s edge, licking his face and purring softly.
His eyes widened when he saw Vyana sitting just a couple feet away.
“Gods!” He exclaimed. He bumped his elbow on the wall as he reared up.
“Good evening to you too, Rain.” Vyana said.
Raynor leapt out of the bath and threw a towel around himself. “What the fuck are you doing in here? What have you been doing to me?”
“I was only returning Pounce.” She said, sounding hurt and looking to the floor.
“And watching me sleep!”
“You looked so at peace. I haven’t seen you like that since before you left.”
“Get out!” He whipped a hand towards the door.
She gathered up her cloak around herself and walked out of the bath room, avoiding looking at him. “I’ll see you at supper then.” She called meekly as she exited his quarters.
Raynor ran a hand through his hair and sighed, exasperated. There went one of his troubles. At peace, by Halicia! He thought.
Once he had dried off, and calmed down, he set to dressing himself for the supper feast. This would be the last night before the imperials arrived, and he wanted to make a clear show of his national pride to everyone in attendance before they did. Best for as many people as possible to know who to stand with in the future. It took little thought to decide on his shirt; made from imported silk but colored purple with orange filigree. Cercedeon’s national colors.
He put on a frock coat, and was ready to leave for the dining hall when he felt Mieşkas clawed at his pants. The cat meowed loudly at him.
“I’ve not forgotten about you or your dinner.” Raynor said, scooping him into his arms. “I’ll take you to the kitchens first like I always do, you self-centered beast.”
Mieşkas meowed again, and batted a paw at Raynor’s chin.
[[Go to the banquet (Advance to Part 2).]] Raynor cast his gaze around the dining hall, taking in the mood. Baradric’s assumption had been right, the feast was a dour affair.
Raynor groaned. "Let go of me please."
"Sorry." She did as he asked. He rolled off her and rose up slowly. Somehow he ached twice as much now. //Godsdamnit Vyana...// He thought. Anger simmering, he had the urge to to shout at her for being so inattentive, but he knew better of it. "No need to apologize, it's my fault. Sorry for running into you." He said, then bent down to offer his hand.
"Thanks." She said. She brushed off her cloak thne fixed her hair, before looking back to him. She smiled and fluttered her lashes. Raynor glanced back quickly to make the sure the guardsmen were still following him. They were. //Good.//
"Are you alright? You're not hurt are you?" She asked. Before he could answer she touched his chest. He froze.
Vyana frowned, and traced her thumb slowly over the cut mark below his collar bone. "This looks new. Why do you let him do this to you, Rain? I can't stand seeing you get hurt."
"Don't!" Raynor said, louder than he intended. The guardsmen stepped closer. He moved back from her, and despite still sweating threw on his shirt.
"Sorry." She said, sounding hurt and looking to the floor.
[["Did you need something?"]]
[[Walk away.]] "Godsdamnit Vyana, let go of me!" He barked. He grabbed her by the wrists and wrenched her off him. As he rolled off from on top of her, Raynor pushed her away with a kick. She cried out in shock. The guardsmen stepped closer but still kept their distance.
"Don't you know better than to be so inattentive?" He spat, angering rising inside him. "Look where you're going!"
"Sorry." She said, sound hurt. She kept her gaze fixed to the floor as she sat up. "Rain, I... I was hoping I could speak with you before supper, in private."
He scoffed. "No. Not after //this//."
"But-"
"I can't."
"Please, I-"
"I said no, Vyana! I'm busy." He did not wait for her to respond before he walked past her. If she wanted something of him, he did not want to hear it. //The last thing I need right now is to listen to her moan and lament her fate.//
His sister had been engaged, without her knowledge, to Darion Oushendrallon, Grand Prince of the Tristomeryan Empire, son of the late Anastazja and Morvellian. The very people who had brought Cercedeon into subjugation a quarter century ago. In exchange, the remaining war debt the kingdom owed, of which there was plenty, would be cleared.
Ever since, the announcement had caused a great deal of stir in Cercedeon. This would be the first time a Kadrosar would marry from beyond the kingdom, and to its overlords no less. The marriage was in violation of the law, which stated that the family must marry into the kingdom’s own nobility, but that was where Raynor would come into play.
//Most eligible bachelor indeed.// The two guards took post near his door as he entered his quarters. Raynor tossed his clothes aside, stripped off his pants and boots, and went straight to his bath. He sat on the tub’s marble edge as the faucet ran and the water warmed, his mind on the future near at hand.
He and Vyana were twins, but she had come out of their mother’s womb first, and that made her “older” somehow, in a way that he had never seen as anything other than complete nonsense. Thus, she was the heir presumptive, or she was before this. Everybody was certain that the Grand Prince would take her back to his own realm in the mainland, and naturally meant that Raynor was the heir now.
He longed to become the king, he could see himself as such and savored it. It was his destiny, of this he was sure. Every day the wait grew harder but he needed to be patient, as one one of his mentors said often. But patience was in short supply for him when he knew how the near future would unfold, down to the smallest detail. He had seen it in a dream just days after his sister’s engagement had been announced, only it was not a dream but a vision of prophecy, it had to have been for how vivid it was. Halicia Herself had given to him, of this he was more sure than anything else. I must be patient, I must. I will not do anything to alter Her plan, for ours works in tandem with Hers. Raynor repeated this to himself again and again, though it was difficult to listen. Everything they had planned would be all the easier if he was king already, he was eager to see those plans realized.
[[Get out after a few minutes.]] "I..." She looked past him to the guardsmen, then turned her eyes back down. "I was hoping I could speak with you before supper, in private."
Raynor chewed his lip for a moment, out of irritation rather than indecision. "No."
"But-"
"I can't."
"Please, I-"
"I said no, Vyana. I'm busy." He did not wait for her to respond before he walked past her. If she wanted something of him, he did not want to hear it. //The last thing I need right now is to listen to her moan and lament her fate.//
His sister had been engaged, without her knowledge, to Darion Oushendrallon, Grand Prince of the Tristomeryan Empire, son of the late Anastazja and Morvellian. The very people who had brought Cercedeon into subjugation a quarter century ago. In exchange, the remaining war debt the kingdom owed, of which there was plenty, would be cleared.
Ever since, the announcement had caused a great deal of stir in Cercedeon. This would be the first time a Kadrosar would marry from beyond the kingdom, and to its overlords no less. The marriage was in violation of the law, which stated that the family must marry into the kingdom’s own nobility, but that was where Raynor would come into play.
//Most eligible bachelor indeed.// The two guards took post near his door as he entered his quarters. Raynor tossed his clothes aside, stripped off his pants and boots, and went straight to his bath. He sat on the tub’s marble edge as the faucet ran and the water warmed, his mind on the future near at hand.
He and Vyana were twins, but she had come out of their mother’s womb first, and that made her “older” somehow, in a way that he had never seen as anything other than complete nonsense. Thus, she was the heir presumptive, or she was before this. Everybody was certain that the Grand Prince would take her back to his own realm in the mainland, and naturally meant that Raynor was the heir now.
He longed to become the king, he could see himself as such and savored it. It was his destiny, of this he was sure. Every day the wait grew harder but he needed to be patient, as one one of his mentors said often. But patience was in short supply for him when he knew how the near future would unfold, down to the smallest detail. He had seen it in a dream just days after his sister’s engagement had been announced, only it was not a dream but a vision of prophecy, it had to have been for how vivid it was. Halicia Herself had given to him, of this he was more sure than anything else. I must be patient, I must. I will not do anything to alter Her plan, for ours works in tandem with Hers. Raynor repeated this to himself again and again, though it was difficult to listen. Everything they had planned would be all the easier if he was king already, he was eager to see those plans realized.
[[Stay in the bath and relax, you deserve it.]]
[[Get out after a few minutes.]] He scoffed. "Whatever. I'll see you at supper." Raynor did not wait for her to respond before he walked past her. If she wanted something of him, he did not want to hear it. //The last thing I need right now is to listen to her moan and lament her fate.//
His sister had been engaged, without her knowledge, to Darion Oushendrallon, Grand Prince of the Tristomeryan Empire, son of the late Anastazja and Morvellian. The very people who had brought Cercedeon into subjugation a quarter century ago. In exchange, the remaining war debt the kingdom owed, of which there was plenty, would be cleared.
Ever since, the announcement had caused a great deal of stir in Cercedeon. This would be the first time a Kadrosar would marry from beyond the kingdom, and to its overlords no less. The marriage was in violation of the law, which stated that the family must marry into the kingdom’s own nobility, but that was where Raynor would come into play.
//Most eligible bachelor indeed.// The two guards took post near his door as he entered his quarters. Raynor tossed his clothes aside, stripped off his pants and boots, and went straight to his bath. He sat on the tub’s marble edge as the faucet ran and the water warmed, his mind on the future near at hand.
He and Vyana were twins, but she had come out of their mother’s womb first, and that made her “older” somehow, in a way that he had never seen as anything other than complete nonsense. Thus, she was the heir presumptive, or she was before this. Everybody was certain that the Grand Prince would take her back to his own realm in the mainland, and naturally meant that Raynor was the heir now.
He longed to become the king, he could see himself as such and savored it. It was his destiny, of this he was sure. Every day the wait grew harder but he needed to be patient, as one one of his mentors said often. But patience was in short supply for him when he knew how the near future would unfold, down to the smallest detail. He had seen it in a dream just days after his sister’s engagement had been announced, only it was not a dream but a vision of prophecy, it had to have been for how vivid it was. Halicia Herself had given to him, of this he was more sure than anything else. I must be patient, I must. I will not do anything to alter Her plan, for ours works in tandem with Hers. Raynor repeated this to himself again and again, though it was difficult to listen. Everything they had planned would be all the easier if he was king already, he was eager to see those plans realized.
[[Stay in the bath and relax, you deserve it.]]
[[Get out after a few minutes.]] Her gray eyes met his and she smiled. He scowled back.
A true vision of Cercedinian beauty, pride of the kingdom, every part of her sculpted by Halicia Herself, and many other epithets had been made about her over the years, all greatly annoying to Raynor. She may have been beautiful, but she looked like every other Kadrosar woman before her as he did every Kadrosar man. People did not seem to realize that, even before they had become adults, suitors were making themselves known, vying to have that pretty face for themselves, as well as the prestige of marrying the presumed heir. Dressed down as she was now that vaunted beauty was evident as ever. She tended to be the center of attention wherever she went.
“Hm, I wonder how long she’s been there.” Baradric said. “The princess does have the talent for stealth when she wants.”
Raynor clenched his teeth and did not respond.
Baradric continued. “You know, I believe that’s the first time I’ve seen her smile in over a month. She’s gotten more and more glum these past weeks. That will have to change soon, what with her being on the cusp of meeting her fiance. I’d hate to be in that lad’s position only to see her giving all black looks.”
He was right, that would have to change; a lady was expected to be over the moon with happiness when she met her betrothed, no matter what. //If only that betrothal wasn’t why she’s so morose.// Raynor thought. He laughed quietly to himself. //Pity you don’t know just how much it’s truly eating at her.// He did not envy her, the notion of arranged marriages always had sat foul with him, in a way he pitied her. And this was no ordinary arranged marriage between Houses, this was history in the making.
He went to retrieve his shirt and coat, then strode from the sparring grounds into the palace, followed at a respectful distance by the two guardsmen. As he made his way to his private quarters he thought back to four months prior, to the celebration of his and Vyana’s twenty-second birthday. It improved his mood. Of all the gifts he had received none were as marvelous as his parents’ surprise announcement of the engagement. The looks of astonishment on peoples’ faces then brought a grin to his now.
Raynor rounded another corner. Absorbed in his thoughts, he did not realize that Vyana was there until he strode into her. The two of them crashed to the floor tangled together. His cat, Mieşkas, hissed as he darted out from between them.
"Gods!" Raynor said, starlted. He banged his knee when he fell.
"Good afternoon to you too, Rain. Vyana said from under him. She was grabbing onto him as though her life depended on it. "Sorry to scare you."
[[Shove her off.]]