“R-really?” A hint of excitement was in his voice. “Like what?”
She held a calloused finger up to her chin, her work as a Rune Crafter toughened her hands, deliberately looking like she was deep in thought. And to be fair, she was. She did actually like him, at least in the sense that he would make a suitable lover and future husband, and he did have certain qualities that she approved of.
She would just have to be careful how she worded it, lest he think she was shallow and only after him for his admittedly good physical traits. “Personally, you have a lot of qualities I like, but the biggest one is that you seem to be responsible. You wouldn’t leave someone behind if they needed you.”
She felt a small ping of happiness at the rather joyous look in his eyes. Clearly, he had been expecting her to go on about his looks or his musculature, and while both were good, were clearly petty compliments he got all the time.
But he had seemed to take the compliment well, so at least he didn’t seem to believe she was a woman who only after him for his looks.
“Not only that, but your kind and have a sense of righteousness. You could’ve just left me all to myself here after getting attacked by the werewolf, but you came and made sure I was alright.” To be fair, she did find that extremely attractive, and it did warm her heart slightly that he cared about her, even if she thought he saw her in a platonic way. “It’s your inner qualities that I find the best about you. The fact that your outer qualities are just as good, is a bonus.”
He looked shocked. His blue eyes were wide, a smile spread across his lips. “That’s…the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” His head was cocked slightly to the right as he continued. “I’m glad you think of me that way.”
There was an awkward silence between the two for a few moments, the air chilled as Craeft snored loudly from the couch where he laid, the noise reaching the kitchen and causing a small chuckle to escape Rayan’s lips, easing the awkward tension. “Do you think of me that way too?”
Aethel had hoped to make a connection with him there, possibly even starting a whole new chapter in her life. While Craeft filled the hole that she had in her heart, a piece of her still felt empty, a void that had been left behind from her former lover’s disappearance. She was tired of being alone and unwanted, and if she could get someone like Rayan to love her and fill that piece of her, she would take in all that love whole heartedly.
And if she were honest with herself, she wanted to know if he thought she was wanted by him. Not just a mere one-night stand like she had experienced so many times, but someone who would stick with her through thick and thin.
Unfortunately, it seemed fate was not on her side.
A ringing noise filled the kitchen, Rayan’s blue eyes widened as he quickly fumbled in his picket and produced a small rectangular mirror. Aethel’s green orbs were confused as she gazed at the piece before they widened with recognition as Gawain’s face appeared on the mirror.
A talker.
Aethel’s fists clenched at the interruption. It had been going so well, and they had finally managed to be alone together, even if it was for only a short while. She had felt a connection begin to form with the man, and she knew that if she perhaps pursued that connection, then something would be made from it.
Her lungs ached as she breathed quickly, her fists ached as she clenched them tight. The young man didn’t notice as his back was turned, nor did he notice the frustration on her face. He was too busy already, as his voice grew harsh as he spoke with his father.
Relationships took time. She would have plenty more opportunities to speak with the man and get closer with him, perhaps even learn a little more about him. His favorite foods, his favorite music, maybe even hear more of his stories that she so loved to hear, having never been able to travel to those places due to her insufficient income, or in a plainer way to put it, being poor.
His voice was calm and rational as he spoke through the small object, the portable mirror showing his father’s bearded face through it. The talker was a more recent invention, but an important one nonetheless. It used to be that long distance communication was mostly by letter via the postal system or other more expensive means, but with those small portable mirrors, one could speak with someone else within the empire with a few touches of the runic array on it.
Of course, it was far past her budget to be able to afford that, so she looked on in envy as Rayan finished speaking with his father, a slight ‘ding’ signaling the end of the call.
“I’m sorry, but my father wants me to meet him at the Ranch.” He shoved the Talker back in his pocket. “But hey, maybe you can ride the broom over to my place sometime. It’s near the village of Dublinver, to the north. About ten minutes away by broom ride. But right now, I’m living in a house a couple minutes from my father’s ranch. It’s the one with the Crattlerat sign at the top, you can’t miss it!”
“Inviting me over to your home already? You scoundrel.” Her tone was playful, which caused a small chuckle to leave his lips. “I’ll think about it. But I’ve got a meeting with Ms. Alcott coming up, so don’t be expecting me over soon.”
“We’ll have to set up a date.” He said.
“A date eh?” She replied. “Can you cook? I’d prefer the date to be just us.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it ma’am. I'll make you the best meal I can. I can whip us up some nice crattlerat steaks." He walked towards the door, his boots clicking and clacking against the hardwood floor. “Have a good one ma’am.”
He left, the solid oak door shutting behind him. The only sound that filled the small home was Craeft steady breathing and the radio as it continued to play classical music, her favorite. It helped her concentrate as she moved forward with her ambitions, the chords helping keep her mind steady amidst all the misfortune that seemed to beset her.
Her long hair swayed behind her as she locked the door behind the man and activated her new wards, having taken great care to improve her home’s defenses after her attack. The oily hug across her pale skin signified that the magical field surrounding her home was active once again, leaving her in its slimy embrace.
An embrace she welcomed.
She grimaced as she her right leg lagged slightly behind her left, the painful reminder of the incident evident with several star-like scars. They had not fully healed, and she honestly doubted they ever would, and she hated them so.
If there was one thing Aethel loved about herself, it was her appearance. Her long blonde hair was luscious, as if filled with the energy of the sun. Her emerald eyes were bright with intelligence and craftiness, that which had allowed her to survive and prosper in the slums of Rubrary. To top it off, her skin was smooth and creamy, hardly a blemish on it, with a hint of being kissed by the sun.
Or at least, it used to be that way.
Now her leg was a constant reminder of how unfair her life was. Just like how the poverty reminded her that she no longer had access to the funds of the Proudhill family, a massive fortune built from generations of investments, and promptly denied to her upon getting kicked out of the family. Just like how people regarded her as nothing more than a commoner due to the same thing.
It irked her, sure, but she would not lose sight of the better future that laid just beyond her grasp, if only she used her ambition and smarts to reach out and take it.
But first, she had to make plans to meet with Mrs. Alcott at her home…she would have to wear her finest dress for that, and work on her limp. She would have to be nothing less than perfect for her meeting with the noble.
She couldn’t afford not to.
Money talked after all, and so Aethel would have to be silent.
Chapter Six
Aethel’s hands ran down her crimson dress as she straightened the thick material, the long-sleeved outfit she wore wavering in the breeze. The front of her dress was buttoned up, hiding her bosom and making her look more professional, since she didn’t want to seem like a loose woman in fr
ont of the noble and insult her. This was not to say she was completely covered, as her dress ended just above the knees, allowing a tantalizing amount of skin to show off her legs, giving only a taste of what lay underneath. Her round scars on her right leg had been reduced to small white dimples as her body slowly healed.
A shiver ran through her, as even on the nice and sunny day, the wind still tickled her skin, caressing her like a long-lost lover. It ran its hands through her long blonde hair, causing it to waver in the wind and shine like molten gold as it flowed down her back. Clouds ran overhead as mother nature continued to play with her and attempt to crinkle her dress, one she had spent a not-so insubstantial amount of money on for her meeting with the noble.
If she had known that the earrings the noble wore cost more than her outfit, she may have not even bothered with it. Either way, as she walked with Mrs. Alcott, she felt so old fashioned as the woman wore the newest clothes. Her dress revealed far more skin than the taller woman’s did, her flesh nice and scar-less, and purple frills ran along the side of her exquisite clothes, as if showing off how much better it was then her own simple dress. It revealed a tantalizing amount of leg, comparable to the amount Aethel shown through the woman’s sheer height, and her shoulders peeked through the long sleeves as if revealing themselves to the world.
Her bright blue eyes were accentuated by the black eyeliner, causing them to go from their normal blue to beautiful sapphires, while large golden earrings hung from her ears.
A brief touch of envy filled Aethel’s heart as she gazed longingly at the noble, her mind remembering a time when she too would wear such delightful clothing. That wasn’t even touching the large mansion that the woman resided in, the large beautiful pillars supporting it clearly having cost a fortune.
But those days were long past, and she could count her blessings that she could afford the dress she wore and lived in the house she did.
At the very least, Aethel couldn’t complain about much else. Mrs. Alcott was a delightful host. Dark robed guards watched their children play, alert to any threats, and it had been so long since she had seen Craeft as delighted as he was when he found another child his age to play with. Mrs. Alcott’s daughter Mona, a strange pink-haired girl at eleven years of age, seemed to enjoy the company of her son, and the two were playing as they strolled along the pathway through the property.
Seeing her son smile like that when he found a new friend, made Aethel’s heart warm at the sight.
Still, it didn’t overcome the nervousness she felt as she walked with the woman, leaving the massive mansion behind them as they simply walked along the stone path, the clicking of their shoes echoing around them. Mrs. Alcott sent a look her way, having noticed the slight limp Aethel had sported, and slowed herself accordingly.
“Are your wounds bothering you? We can reconvene at another time if you so wish?” She asked, her voice like silk and, with a hint of a patronizing tone running through it. Aethel knew that she hadn’t meant that tone to slip through in her voice, it was simply the way nobles talked.
The way she had talked before getting kicked out of her family.
“No, I am fine.” Aethel tried not to let a grimace slide across her face as the phantom pains from the wounds flared up. A small hiss of air left her lips as she tried to stand straighter. “I-it’s just a bit of the pains from the attack. You do not need to worry about me.”
A dainty black eyebrow was raised in concern. “Are you sure? It would take no time at all for me to concoct a pain relief potion. Surely, you do not mean to limp around like some wounded animal for our entire meeting?”
“It’s getting better.” Aethel put on a false smile as she hid the limp a bit better, the phantom pains leaving her. “It just aches from time to time. Nothing anyone can do about it.”
“And I’m not just anyone Aethel, I’m the best alchemist on Fleabar Island.” The blonde knew this, but she didn’t want to intervene on the woman’s charity. Having her leg fixed up, after already having her home fixed and medical bills payed, would be far too much. “We can even get you a new leg, maybe even make some improvements. You don’t have to be stuck with that failing limb when I could make you a new one in a manner of days.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your hospitality Mrs. Alcott.”
The noblewoman smiled, showing her perfect white teeth. “Oh, it would be no intrusion at all. It’ll take a bit of time out of your work, but surely it would be worth it for a perfectly new leg?”
“I’ll be fine.” Aethel replied. “But thank you for the offer.” Mrs. Alcott’s offer seemed genuine, but she was already needing to start cutting off a few things to keep her budget going. Taking time off to get used to a new leg would break the bank, and put her in further debt to the noble, something she had no plan on doing.
While the noblewoman seemed nice, the blonde knew had been scorned and beaten down enough to know that everyone always wanted something, even someone who appeared friendly to her like Mrs. Alcott. Her voice may have been like honey, rich with sweetness and tempting to the average person, but Aethel knew that such sweet words could hide the deadliest of poisons.
“Fine. But the offer will still stand, should you find the need for it.” The clouds parted for a moment, allowing the sun to shine down on them once more. “But let us not speak of such injuries anymore. With your wounds all healed, I’m afraid I might bring up some of the phantom pains and cause you further harm.”
“I’m fine.” Aethel stressed. The noblewoman rolled her eyes.
“Of course, you are.” After a few minutes, they came upon a small table with two chairs set up, two cups of piping hot tea in porcelain glasses laying on top of the black table. Two golem automatons worked, their small child sized bodies made out of pitch-black stone with runes decorating them, the magical energy allowing them to work and complete the basic tasks before they walked back towards the mansion. Aethel marveled at the little machines, the alive-yet-dead things a beauty of runic integration and materials. She felt herself wishing that she would have the opportunity and materials to create some of her own.
“Fascinating, aren’t they? I find myself staring at them from time to time, wondering how they work. I’m sure someone like you would have a better understanding of that than I would though, since my craft involves the flesh while yours involves stone.” Mrs. Alcott said as she sat in her chair, the large cushions comforting her as she sunk down into it. A pleased groan escaped her lips, and Aethel let out one of her own as she sat down as well.
They truly were nice chairs.
“If only I had the time and money, I’m sure I could make something up like them.” Aethel took a sip of the tea, the hot beverage sliding down her throat. She felt herself relax, as the more casual setting gave her a bit more ease. “Perhaps once I pay off my debts, I’ll be able to do so. Maybe even start my own company.”
A small smile crossed Mrs. Alcott’s face. “And I’ll be one of your first customers. I’ve seen your craftsmanship on those Runic Stones of yours. They are quite advanced, and for a decent price too. I’m quite pleased with the amount of money that I’ve made off you.”
“Thank you for the compliment.” Aethel said. It still irked her slightly that she had to give the woman a cut of her profits in exchange for her home, but she would bear with it and pay it off.
“Your welcome.” She took another sip of her tea, the black-haired woman relaxing slightly as she watched the kids play. “Call me Ailbe, by the way. I figure that we are close enough to be on a first name basis, and I so hate it when you call me Mrs. Alcott. It makes me feel old.”
Aethel raised an eyebrow at that. Someone like her, practically a commoner since she was kicked out of the nobility, allowed to call a noble by her first name without punishment? Perhaps Mrs. Alcott, or rather Ailbe now, believed that they were closer than Aethel felt they were. “I’m sorry, but it would be impolite of me to-“
“Oh, spare me the dribble.” Ailbe spoke, d
isdain evident in her tone. “I get enough of that from my servants, and Leas is such an impolite cretin that I scarcely think that I may be related to him.” She huffs before taking another sip of her tea, a hint of anger written across her features. “Besides, you’re the only one I can speak to and feel…natural, in a sense. What with you being a former aristocrat and all.”
Aethel could understand. While she had learned to blend in with the commoners, and essentially become one due to her status, when she had first been kicked out of her family, it had been like entering another world. “I understand completely.”
Ailbe was hesitant for a moment, before she spoke. “…Thank you.” Her posture, which had grown tense under the minor rant became softer as she once again sunk back into her chair. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
“I know more about that than you think.” Aethel whispered out, her comment unheard by the brunette as they sat in silence for a few moments. The sun peaked from behind the clouds, bathing them in its radiant light. Its tender rays caressed the blonde’s sun-kissed skin, and she leaned back, intent on letting herself relax completely.
The cries of joy from the two children playing could be heard in the background, Craeft enjoying his time with the Mona girl.
A smile crept onto Aethel’s face as she watched the two children ran around. “They seem to be getting along quite well, Ailbe. But I do have a question?” She was a bit hesitant to ask, due to the fact that it would bring her genetic lineage into question and possibly insult the noble, but it had nagged at her and her curiosity got the better of her. “Why does the girl have pink hair?”
Ailbe was silent for a few moments as she watched the two play, a small silver ball flying around the two. Quik-Catch, the game was called, and Aethel could see why as the two ran around, trying to catch the ball that zoomed around them. Her voice was quiet as she replied. “I had tried for so long to have a child, an heir to carry on the Alcott legacy. It was difficult for my parents to even conceive me due to the curse that a jealous lover had introduced to our line, using a potion made from alchemy to ensure it stayed in our bloodline. I thought I’d be different, that I wouldn’t have the curse, but I was foolish.”
A New Life Page 6
