Drachenara

by T. G. Neal

  “I have not, milord. I’ve learned my lesson.” The man said with his head bowed.

  Saden nodded, “And why did you steal the bread.”

  “I was hungry…”

  Vaelen whispered in his ear.

  “…milord.” The man finished.

  “Yes, of course.” Saden leaned back against the goldstone chair he sat in. “What did you do in Lucandis, sir?”

  “I was a carpenter, milord.” The man said, head still hung low.

  Saden nodded again. “I believe in many chances, sir, especially for those who are only trying to survive. If you agree to stay on in Drachenara, at least for a spell, I believe we could arrange to have you freed. It would do well for the market of Drachenara to have many a new stall. I will pay you a fair wage for your time. With your earnings, if you stay, we will find a fine place for a tradesman such as yourself.” He gestured toward Vaelen.

  Vaelen reached and unlocked the chains on the man, freeing him. “If you would, step to the hall to the left, and see Seneg, our Steward. He is the chief financier, planner, and chamberlain of the Keep. He will have you seen to.”

  The man rushed forward and knelt before the Bren. “Milord, I will serve you well. Thank you. Thank you…” he rose and turned to meet with Seneg in the side hall.

  Vaelen stepped forward and bowed his head. “That is all, Milord. Not to call upon a bad omen, but all seems quiet in the Brendom. Any more news of Lord Jorvig on his return?”

  Bren Drache stood up from his chair and walked down to meet Vaelen below the platform in which his seat rested. He reached out in a traditional shake, grabbing Vaelen’s forearm. “Nothing more, unfortunately. He’s on a long trip, and I feel as though he has no rush to return with his current company.”

  Vaelen nodded. “As long as he is safe. Rumors abound that he defeated a giant in the last round of the tournament. And in single combat.”

  Saden laughed. “Aye. You sparred with him enough, I’d say you’d probably defeat a giant. Maker knows your father would do it with his bare hands.”

  Vaelen laughed too. The Bren held a comfortable but official relationship with Vaelen. There was never a question of station, but Vaelen never felt like the Bren felt he was anything less than equal. Wraith had always raised Vaelen to be respectful, kind, and know where he came from. Vaelen would one day marry a young woman from the brendom, and with the Drache’s blessing, she would be a highborn girl.

  Seera and Aurelia came in from the side hall. Aurelia was already in her training gear, and held a sword in her hand, blunted on the edges for proper training. She brightened when she saw Vaelen and smiled. “I was just coming to find you, Vaelen. Are you ready?”

  Vaelen nodded, looking back to the Bren. “If I am dismissed, Milord?”

  The Bren nodded. “Yes, of course. What will you be working on today?” He asked, looking to his armored daughter.

  Aurelia answered, “I seem to need work with a shortsword, so that’s where we’ll start.” She shook the blade in front of her, almost with disdain.

  “And so, you do.” He nodded to them both and sent them on their way. Once Vaelen and Aurelia were out of sight, the Saden turned to Seera and smiled. “Did you ever think we would raise two warrior children?” He asked with a grin on his face.

  “I did not,” Seera answered, her hands folded together before her. “Yet here I stand, the only lady in the castle.”

  “That’s not true, nor is it very fair, Seera.” Saden answered with a frown. “You instilled in her the love for fanciful stories, I didn’t dissuade it. And she’s been raised up around Wraith and Vaelen. What did you expect? We’ve raised a strong woman, like the women of our family before her. My great aunt fought in the last great war.” He gestured to the tapestry that hung from the side wall.

  Seera nodded with a smirk. “I know the story, love. They say she fought with dragon’s fire. She also died unmarried.”

  “That’s true.” Saden laughed. He reached out to hook his elbow with Seera’s and the two of them walked together through the long hallways of the Drachen Keep.

  By the time that sunset came to Drachenara, Aurelia was in her room removing the armor she was wearing. Piece by piece she lay it to the side of the room and sighed. Her arms ached from swinging the sword so much. It was never her forte, but she wanted to learn it nonetheless. In her favorite stories, whether true, embellished, or dreamed up, the greatest knights used swords. They used short swords, great swords, and daggers. Occasionally, stories were told of great bowmen, and of course, instead of swords, the bow was where she excelled.

  One of the castle handmaidens entered the room and bowed her head. “Milady, I have drawn your bath. Come when you are ready.”

  Aurelia looked up from her chair, where she sat in only the undergarments of her leather armor. She was sweaty. Her hair stuck to the side of her face and her cheeks were still rosy. She exhaled sharply and leaned back, nodding as a response. Before she stood up, she picked up a canvas-bound book that sat in a stack of books on her table and took it with her to the bath. After she was undressed and up to her neck in water, she bathed herself off with goats-milk soap and dried her hands. Then she sat back to read.

  More often the not, she would sit in the bath and read until the fire-warmed water had gone cold, and she lost herself in some adventure in a far-off realm. Her mind flitted here and there and imagined each nuance that the story provided her. The clang of swords reverberated inside her mind, just as it had earlier in the day. As she closed the book and leaned her head back, she imagined herself adventuring through some distant land. She rode on horseback through open plains and camped by creeks deep in the forests.

  “Milady, you’ll catch cold in that water.”

  The voice broke Aurelia from her trance, but it was a sentence she’d heard at least ten thousand times since she was a child. She sighed. “Yes, of course.” She stood from the water, dried and dressed herself, and returned to her room. When she returned there, her armor and weapon was in the armory and her room was clean and had a fresh bouquet of jasmine that made it smell delectably sweet. She placed the book she had taken with her to the bath on top of the quilt of her bed and walked to the balcony that overlooked the courtyard where she and Vaelen ordinarily trained. Aurelia smiled and wrapped her arms around herself as she felt the cool breeze that always settled in the valley that was Drachenara.

  As night fell, Vaelen and Wraith were seldom off the job at the same time, it just so happened that this night was the first in a month. Two night-sergeants acted in their stead and officiated any security related needs as passed down by the other two throughout the day. Nights were always quiet in Drachenara.

  Wraith’s home was just beyond the Keep; close enough to hear the bells if there was ever an emergency, and close enough to respond on foot in minutes. It was a comfortable home in Uptown, with the highborn of Drachenara. Unlike most of the Drachenaran elite, the Wraith home was not opulent, it was a brick-and-mortar home with all the essentials and a single housemaid to assist with household duties – generally attended to by Cordis, Wraith’s wife.

  When Vaelen came home, he bathed in a lukewarm tub, lathering soap over his torso before changing into a comfortable tunic and linen pants. This was his normal routine. He cleaned and oiled the joints of his armor, and sharpened his sword, and placed it on the armor stand in his bedroom.

  Like Vaelen, Wraith came home and bathed. In his younger years, he had never had the ability to bathe every night. Now it was an activity he happily engaged in. The older man stripped his armor off and put it away properly and lowered himself into a lukewarm bath just down the hall from where his son bathed. There, he lathered himself with soap to wash the days grime away. The older man had seen a lot of turmoil in life, and his chest, back and shoulders reflected that. Each surface of his body had scars, and each scar told a story. When he finished, he met his wife and son downstairs for a dinner they shared together when they could.

  A ne
at table was set in the kitchen, next to the larder, where the family sat. There in the center of the table was a steaming pot roast that had been simmering over a slow-stoked fire all day long. Set along with the pile of roast were carrots, potatoes, and leeks. The distinct smell of rosemary and bay leaf seemed to resonate above the rest, but there was salt and peppercorn mixed with the savory smells.

  Cordis looked to her husband and son and bowed her head. “Maker, we thank thee for the food you have given us, for family, and for wealth. May we always be blessed. May we always be safe.”

  “Aye.” Vaelen and Wraith said in unison.

  Cordis smiled, “How was the day?”

  Wraith took a large serving of the roast and shrugged. “It was a good day. Quiet. The way I like it,” he smiled.

  Vaelen nodded. “I trained Aurelia more with the sword, but she’s grown quite amazing with a bow.”

  Cordis nodded. “Quiet here, as always. I sold tinctures and soaps to the market vendors today.” She had been a trained apothecary but had turned to motherhood when Vaelen was conceived. For many years after, she practiced her apothecary work little, but as of late had returned to such with little else to do around the home.

  The rest of their dinner consisted of sharing stories and bright conversations about the day and what it entailed. Vaelen found himself out back, behind their home in the small, walled garden, hidden away from the neighbors. He often came to the small back yard for peace, quiet, and relaxation. Wraith and Cordis stayed in the kitchen long enough to clean up after themselves and to send the housemaid away for the night.

  Cordis settled in to work on some of her soaps and tinctures, while Wraith joined his son behind the house with two ales. As he passed one over to Vaelen, he smiled. “Thinking, son?”

  “As always, father.” He smiled in return. “Good to see you off duty. Seems those days are few and far between.”

  “Aye.” Wraith said, sipping his ale. “We’ll be busy with guests soon. Glad to know we could come together.”

  Vaelen nodded while he sipped his ale, leaving a frothy trail behind on his upper lip. “Mm,” he made a satisfied sound, “this is the new ale you brewed, isn’t it? I didn’t know it was done yet. Wheat and…” he pursed his lips, smacking them together. “…is that dewberry?”

  “Well done, Vaelen.” He laughed. “They’re perfect this time of the year in the valley. I’m going to brew some persimmon ale when the frosts start to fall later in the year.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” Vaelen shook his head. “As a child, I never imagined you becoming a brewer. Or much of a reader. Now here you are.”

  “They’re all simple things now, and we appreciate them. But it’s in times of strain we wish we had the comfort of those things.” He sighed. “Have I told you how proud I am of you, son?”

  Vaelen paused and looked to his father.

  “I mean it. You really make me proud. Your relationship with the Bren and Brenness, and your prowess with a blade. With everything, really.” He smiled.

  “By yours and mother’s raising, father.” Vaelen said.

  “Ah, you’ve done much of it on your own.” He said, nursing the ale.

  “Thank you.” Vaelen took a swig of the ale himself.

  “Your mother wants to know when you will get married.” Wraith blurted out.

  Vaelen half-spit the ale back into the mug. “That’s why you said you were proud of me!” He said, laughing.

  “No, I meant all that. She’s just worried about you. You can’t work forever and not take a family.” Wraith said, swirling his ale around.

  “I mean to take a wife one day, when I find a suitable match.” Vaelen said, defensively.

  “What about Jenissa?”

  “Jenissa is great, father. And I know she dotes on me, I’m just not interested. Not now, anyway.” Vaelen answered. “Give me time, father. I want to be as prepared as I can be.”

  “You’ll never be prepared. Not really. Not for marriage and never for a child.” Wraith laughed and finished his beer. “I meant what I said, Vaelen. I’m proud of you, I only asked the other because of your mother.” Wraith turned and went back inside with Cordis, leaving Vaelen outside.

  Vaelen nodded and grinned. He didn’t know what the future held for him, and he fully intended to one day marry and have a family, just as any good man should. It so happened that he didn’t have eyes for Jenissa, but perhaps he could grow to have them. Only time would tell. For now, though, he swallowed his ale and returned to his bedroom to read a little before he went to sleep.

 

  On the fourteenth day, Bren Drache had asked Aurelia not to train. Instead of armor, she dressed more appropriate for sovereignty. The dress she wore was long and the faintest blue, like the sky on an early winter day. At the bottom, it had intricate golden stitching that seemed to dance magically across the hem. Aurelia herself was ghostly pale, a product of being brought up inside, but her hair was raven black. Some had wondered if she belonged to the Bren, because his hair was a chocolate brown, but she carried his fervent anger well. She stood with her father and mother and they all awaited her brother’s arrival in the main hall. Her grey-blue eyes scanned the room, and then looked back. Directly behind Aurelia, stood Vaelen, a watchful protector.

  Wraith stood at the end of the hall and nodded a salute from another Guard who made his way back out the main door. “My Lord and My Ladies, Jorvig has entered the city walls. Brenness Miliria Pardis of Stormvale rides with him. She brings a modest company of soldiers, and her Captain of Guard, Saitig, my dear friend.”

  Bren Drache stood up from his seat, a wide grin on his face. “Come, my dear wife and daughter. Let us meet Jorvig at the door and congratulate him for the victory he earned!” The Bren made his way toward the door, holding his wife’s hand in his own as he did.

  Vaelen bowed his head and stepped back for Aurelia to pass. He stayed a distance behind but kept his hand on his sword and maintained vigilance.

  The group stood at the massive doors to the Main Hall and waited. A few short minutes later, a herald opened the doors for Jorvig and the Brenness, who held tight to his arm. Saitig stepped off to the side to shake hands with Wraith, and the small company of guards moved in to mingle. One separate guard walked toward Vaelen with his hand outstretched, “Greetings, Sir. I am Knight Lieutenant Denevim. I am told you are Vaelen Wraithson, also a Lieutenant of the Guard here. Your reputation precedes you. Skilled combatant. Honored guard of the family here. Tis a real pleasure.”

  Vaelen felt a cold chill run up his spine. Such a briefing for a meeting. Had the Brenness and Jorvig already decided they would wed? He thought. Then he answered, “It is indeed a pleasure, Sir Denevim. You'll forgive me if I don't know quite so much about you.”

  Denevim smiled, “Of course. Captain Saitig is friends with your father and knows a great deal about you thanks to letter they exchanged. I hope to have such a dear friend one day, eh?” Denevim looked around. “If you'll excuse me. Twas night to meet you.”

  Vaelen nodded as the man walked away. Something didn't feel just right.

  As Vaelen had his exchange with Denevim, so did the sovereign families. Bren Drache bowed his head politely to Brenness Pardis, who returned the courtesy motion. Jorvig never so much as let go of the Brenness' arm and stood his ground beside her. Jorvig bellowed and held his free hand out, “Ah, it is so good to be home, eh father? Mother? Sister?”

  Aurelia smiled. She was happy to see her brother again, but no so much the woman he brought with him. As her station, she bowed her head and acknowledged both her brother and Breness Pardis' position of sovereignty above her own. In her heart, something seemed off. “Brother, you look tired. Did the tournament take its toll on you?” Only a few years older than she, her brother looked worn and beaten. His eyes and cheeks were sunken and dark, but he seemed joyful. Perhaps she was just afraid to lose her brother to this woman. But it would, indeed, be good for both Brendoms. An alliance – a joining – of B
rendoms would bring a great sign of peace to this side of the nine Brendoms, something that hasn't happened in many, many years.

  Jorvig smiled and stepped away from Brennis Pardis and embraced his little sister. “Oh, how glad I am to see you, Aurelia. I brought you something. Hold on.” He turned away for a moment and waved Denevim over to him, “Did you bring it?” He whispered to the guardsman. He took something from him, and then handed the wrapped object over to Aurelia and waited for her to open it.

  While Aurelia held the object, she watched her father, mother and Breness Pardis make their way to the table to sit and talk about things that sovereign rulers discuss; things that Aurelia had no interest in. Denevim followed them to the table. “What is it?” She asked as she began opening the lose fabric wrapping. Inside the wrapping was a finely carved oak box. She turned it in her hand, finding the latch, and opened the box. Inside was an ivory-handled carved half-dagger that was carved like dragon’s scales. She beamed with excitement. “Oh, Jorvig, it's wonderful!” She wrapped her arms around her brother’s neck and smiled.

  Jorvig smiled in return and placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “I'm glad you like it. Listen, Miliria and I will be married. And I have a favor for you to consider. Did you see the young man who brought the dagger to me? His name in Denevim. He's a fantastic warrior. Proven in combat. I know how you like it so much. Well, here's the favor: He's actually Denevim Sisop, little brother to Brenness Pardis, and it would be an ideal marriage for a young woman such as yourself.” Before he even gave Aurelia a chance to react, he placed a finger over his mouth, indicating that she need not speak. “Just think about how much good it would do.” And he turned and walked away to talk to his parents and the Brenness.

  Back at the door, Saitig and Wraith exchanged conversation over old times and how great things once were. How different fighting was, but that it always ended up in blood and broken bones. They laughed over the memories they shared.