Blade Archer ~ Forty-Four
Jun. 29th, 2013 02:10 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae‘How’s he doing?’ Kael had asked after a week. He had hoped to turn the conversation towards the man’s identity. Did he know Kael, or did Aen just expect them all to be that selfless?
Aen had only shrugged. ‘Not yer business. We stay anonymous, right?’
Kael had reluctantly let him off, but not before he managed to convince Aen not to take on any further expeditions, at least not until the fourth member of their group was healed.
Now, two weeks on from the otherwise successful mission, Kael stood in Banok’s front hall, dressed head to toe in ceremonial robes. They were the robes Banok had worn for his own hrai-dani a good three decades ago, dyed a rich, dappled purple for a blade archer in training. The hem was a little too long for Kael, dragging along the floor behind him and almost tripping him up when he first pulled the robes over his head, but Banok’s wife had easily shortened it for him. The long bell-sleeves dropped neatly to the floor if he kept his arms down, and he had to pull the cuffs back a little to use his hands, but Kael didn’t complain. He had never worn anything so luxurious in his life. He was almost afraid to move for fear of pulling a thread or staining the heavy satin.
‘Relax,’ Banok told him with a slap on the shoulder. He wore his own ceremonial robes, even richer than those he leant to Kael, beaded and embroidered with silver thread to make it more befitting of a former rider for the Queen’s Own. Most Raykinians only ever owned one set for their whole lives. Some families only owned one for the whole family, passed down to whichever child needed them at the time. ‘You don’t have to do anything tonight. It’s up to the rest of us to make the speeches.’
Kael looked up at him. ‘Us?’ he repeated. ‘Ye’re making a speech fer me?’
Banok shrugged. ‘If you don’t mind, of course. Did you have someone else in mind?’
Kael sighed awkwardly and straightened his cuffs. ‘I left a note at Ynuk’s place. Dunno if he even still lives there. Or if he can read it. I dunno.’ He shrugged again. ‘Stupid hope.’
‘He’s still your brother,’ Banok rumbled. ‘If ever there was a time for you both to mend your ties, his little brother’s hrai-dani is it.’
‘Ye doesn’t know me brother,’ Kael muttered. He took a breath, refusing to think on such things tonight. This was his night, when he was officially recognised as a man. ‘Thanks fer this,’ he said to the old weapon master. ‘Fer all of it, I mean, not just tonight.’
Banok grinned. ‘Not bad for a pompous old Own rider?’
‘Ye was never pompous,’ Kael returned.
The old Own rider laughed aloud. ‘Now there’s a change of tune! I thought all of us were.’
‘Don’t push it,’ Kael humoured him.
The door creaked open to admit Banok’s doorman and the first of the evening’s guests.
Ronanen entered with her parents, all dressed in their own colourful robes. Ronanen bobbed in a polite curtsey before hitching up her skirts and running to him. She threw her arms around Kael’s shoulders so hard he was forced to take a step back to keep from falling over, but he laughed as he caught her.
‘Congratulations!’ she offered, then planted a kiss on his lips before finally letting him go.
Ronanen’s parents greeted him next as she moved over to thank the host.
‘Looking after yourself, I see?’ Elak said, his eyes appraising Kael’s ceremonial robes.
‘Best I can,’ Kael agreed with a shrug.
The few guests Kael had invited trickled in and were ushered by Banok’s staff through to the bar room. Banok’s diminutive sister and her brusque Talon wife arrived next, invited as much to make up the numbers as out of a sense of obligation. Kelon and Aen arrived so late Kael was almost ready to accept they weren’t coming. Both looked uncomfortable in their washed but worn trainee’s uniforms amongst all the rich fabrics of the assorted ceremonial robes, but Kael had to wonder just how much of Aen’s discomfort was genuine.
He and Banok waited in the hall for a few minutes longer before Kael shook his head.
‘He’s not coming,’ he decided, and followed where everyone else had led into the bar room.
Twelve people, including himself and the rest of Banok’s family. A hrai-dani was supposed to be a raucous event, a celebration for everyone from the street the celebrant lived on, along with all their families and possibly half the district by the end of the night. Everyone should have brought their own dish to celebrate, the local pub would provide a keg or two and everyone would lose track of time before finally deciding it was probably about midnight and they should start the real celebrations now.
Instead, Kael had twelve people, a bizarre mix of the Talon and criminal, of whom he could imagine maybe four or five as loud and drunk as a hrai-dani dictated. Banok’s staff mingled among them with trays of finger food and glasses of beer. Was this how the upper class normally did a hrai-dani?
He grabbed one of the glasses from a passing tray and moved over to where his two friends stood awkwardly at the edge of the small group.
‘Not how I imagined me hrai-dani,’ he admitted.
Aen shrugged one shoulder. ‘Beer’s good,’ he excused. ‘How’d ye get so mixed up with so many people from the wrong side of the Main Road?’
‘Accident,’ Kael answered. ‘Two of ‘em I’d keep.’ And more than that, he admitted only to himself.
‘Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?’
Kael turned his gaze to the raised pitch of the new speaker. Banok’s daughter was four years older than Kael, but acted four years younger. She still happily lived under her father’s roof despite showing something of a rebellious streak towards him. She was one of the handful Kael could count on to liven the party up a little.
‘If ye wants,’ he agreed with a grin. ‘These are me mates from training, two years below me and archers both, but ye takes what ye gets, Aen and Kelon. Nomai is Banok’s daughter. Still dunno what she actually does.’ He raised his eyebrows at her to prompt an answer, but Nomai only giggled as she eyed Aen with a flirtatious smile.
‘Neither does Papa,’ she said without taking her eyes from Aen, ‘so let’s keep it that way, shall we?’
‘Works fer me,’ Aen agreed.
The evening dragged, and Kael found himself looking out at the rising moon every few minutes, waiting for it to be midnight. The room quickly divided itself into the two distinct groups of over-fifties and under-thirties, with only Banok able to easily float between the two.
Gradually, though, as faces turned rosy with heat and alcohol, and the conversation drew towards a crescendo, Kael realised that yes, he was having fun. It still wasn’t the type of rollicking party he imagined, where he would have been shouting to make himself heard, but it was a party filled with people who, at one time or another and in their own subtle ways, had saved his life. He smiled as he looked around the room, swaying a little on his feet but sober enough to make this realisation. Or perhaps drunk enough to come to that realisation. Did one have to be drunk or sober to realise how special the people around him were?
‘Kael!’ Banok whistled across the room as Kael slowly turned toward his name. The blade archery master was beckoning him from across the room where he stood on a foot stool. ‘Speech time, hurry up before we hit midnight!’
A smile crept across Kael’s face, and he pushed himself from the wall to saunter over to the makeshift stage. Banok held a hand out to pull him onto a second foot stool beside him, then hooked his arm around Kael’s shoulders. Kael grinned out over the dozen faces attending his hrai-dani. It was a small group, but they were all there for him. He had never felt so special in his life, and his smile only broadened when his gaze fell on Ronanen. At the next full moon, less than a week away, he would be her husband.
‘Tonight,’ Banok began, ‘we gather to celebrate the hrai-dani of a young man who has shown far more maturity than his years would suggest. In just the three years I’ve known him, Kael has grown. He’s always been independent, often to the point of being rude—’
‘I make a point of it,’ Kael interrupted with a lopsided grin.
Banok laughed. ‘Wasn’t going to mention it, but yes, you rude bastard. Anyway. What was I… independent, that’s right. He’s independent, knows just what he wants his life to be, and I’ve never seen a man more determined to make it happen.’ He slung an arm around Kael’s shoulders again. ‘Keep your focus, remember that all these people here are here to help, and it’ll happen.’
Kael beamed. He glanced briefly towards the door, but more out of habit than hope. He couldn’t feel more excited even if Ynuk were to walk into the room.
‘And so!’ Banok announced. He raised his glass, signalling to the rest of the room to do the same. ‘Tonight we say, happy hrai-dani, Kael!’
Aen had only shrugged. ‘Not yer business. We stay anonymous, right?’
Kael had reluctantly let him off, but not before he managed to convince Aen not to take on any further expeditions, at least not until the fourth member of their group was healed.
Now, two weeks on from the otherwise successful mission, Kael stood in Banok’s front hall, dressed head to toe in ceremonial robes. They were the robes Banok had worn for his own hrai-dani a good three decades ago, dyed a rich, dappled purple for a blade archer in training. The hem was a little too long for Kael, dragging along the floor behind him and almost tripping him up when he first pulled the robes over his head, but Banok’s wife had easily shortened it for him. The long bell-sleeves dropped neatly to the floor if he kept his arms down, and he had to pull the cuffs back a little to use his hands, but Kael didn’t complain. He had never worn anything so luxurious in his life. He was almost afraid to move for fear of pulling a thread or staining the heavy satin.
‘Relax,’ Banok told him with a slap on the shoulder. He wore his own ceremonial robes, even richer than those he leant to Kael, beaded and embroidered with silver thread to make it more befitting of a former rider for the Queen’s Own. Most Raykinians only ever owned one set for their whole lives. Some families only owned one for the whole family, passed down to whichever child needed them at the time. ‘You don’t have to do anything tonight. It’s up to the rest of us to make the speeches.’
Kael looked up at him. ‘Us?’ he repeated. ‘Ye’re making a speech fer me?’
Banok shrugged. ‘If you don’t mind, of course. Did you have someone else in mind?’
Kael sighed awkwardly and straightened his cuffs. ‘I left a note at Ynuk’s place. Dunno if he even still lives there. Or if he can read it. I dunno.’ He shrugged again. ‘Stupid hope.’
‘He’s still your brother,’ Banok rumbled. ‘If ever there was a time for you both to mend your ties, his little brother’s hrai-dani is it.’
‘Ye doesn’t know me brother,’ Kael muttered. He took a breath, refusing to think on such things tonight. This was his night, when he was officially recognised as a man. ‘Thanks fer this,’ he said to the old weapon master. ‘Fer all of it, I mean, not just tonight.’
Banok grinned. ‘Not bad for a pompous old Own rider?’
‘Ye was never pompous,’ Kael returned.
The old Own rider laughed aloud. ‘Now there’s a change of tune! I thought all of us were.’
‘Don’t push it,’ Kael humoured him.
The door creaked open to admit Banok’s doorman and the first of the evening’s guests.
Ronanen entered with her parents, all dressed in their own colourful robes. Ronanen bobbed in a polite curtsey before hitching up her skirts and running to him. She threw her arms around Kael’s shoulders so hard he was forced to take a step back to keep from falling over, but he laughed as he caught her.
‘Congratulations!’ she offered, then planted a kiss on his lips before finally letting him go.
Ronanen’s parents greeted him next as she moved over to thank the host.
‘Looking after yourself, I see?’ Elak said, his eyes appraising Kael’s ceremonial robes.
‘Best I can,’ Kael agreed with a shrug.
The few guests Kael had invited trickled in and were ushered by Banok’s staff through to the bar room. Banok’s diminutive sister and her brusque Talon wife arrived next, invited as much to make up the numbers as out of a sense of obligation. Kelon and Aen arrived so late Kael was almost ready to accept they weren’t coming. Both looked uncomfortable in their washed but worn trainee’s uniforms amongst all the rich fabrics of the assorted ceremonial robes, but Kael had to wonder just how much of Aen’s discomfort was genuine.
He and Banok waited in the hall for a few minutes longer before Kael shook his head.
‘He’s not coming,’ he decided, and followed where everyone else had led into the bar room.
Twelve people, including himself and the rest of Banok’s family. A hrai-dani was supposed to be a raucous event, a celebration for everyone from the street the celebrant lived on, along with all their families and possibly half the district by the end of the night. Everyone should have brought their own dish to celebrate, the local pub would provide a keg or two and everyone would lose track of time before finally deciding it was probably about midnight and they should start the real celebrations now.
Instead, Kael had twelve people, a bizarre mix of the Talon and criminal, of whom he could imagine maybe four or five as loud and drunk as a hrai-dani dictated. Banok’s staff mingled among them with trays of finger food and glasses of beer. Was this how the upper class normally did a hrai-dani?
He grabbed one of the glasses from a passing tray and moved over to where his two friends stood awkwardly at the edge of the small group.
‘Not how I imagined me hrai-dani,’ he admitted.
Aen shrugged one shoulder. ‘Beer’s good,’ he excused. ‘How’d ye get so mixed up with so many people from the wrong side of the Main Road?’
‘Accident,’ Kael answered. ‘Two of ‘em I’d keep.’ And more than that, he admitted only to himself.
‘Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?’
Kael turned his gaze to the raised pitch of the new speaker. Banok’s daughter was four years older than Kael, but acted four years younger. She still happily lived under her father’s roof despite showing something of a rebellious streak towards him. She was one of the handful Kael could count on to liven the party up a little.
‘If ye wants,’ he agreed with a grin. ‘These are me mates from training, two years below me and archers both, but ye takes what ye gets, Aen and Kelon. Nomai is Banok’s daughter. Still dunno what she actually does.’ He raised his eyebrows at her to prompt an answer, but Nomai only giggled as she eyed Aen with a flirtatious smile.
‘Neither does Papa,’ she said without taking her eyes from Aen, ‘so let’s keep it that way, shall we?’
‘Works fer me,’ Aen agreed.
The evening dragged, and Kael found himself looking out at the rising moon every few minutes, waiting for it to be midnight. The room quickly divided itself into the two distinct groups of over-fifties and under-thirties, with only Banok able to easily float between the two.
Gradually, though, as faces turned rosy with heat and alcohol, and the conversation drew towards a crescendo, Kael realised that yes, he was having fun. It still wasn’t the type of rollicking party he imagined, where he would have been shouting to make himself heard, but it was a party filled with people who, at one time or another and in their own subtle ways, had saved his life. He smiled as he looked around the room, swaying a little on his feet but sober enough to make this realisation. Or perhaps drunk enough to come to that realisation. Did one have to be drunk or sober to realise how special the people around him were?
‘Kael!’ Banok whistled across the room as Kael slowly turned toward his name. The blade archery master was beckoning him from across the room where he stood on a foot stool. ‘Speech time, hurry up before we hit midnight!’
A smile crept across Kael’s face, and he pushed himself from the wall to saunter over to the makeshift stage. Banok held a hand out to pull him onto a second foot stool beside him, then hooked his arm around Kael’s shoulders. Kael grinned out over the dozen faces attending his hrai-dani. It was a small group, but they were all there for him. He had never felt so special in his life, and his smile only broadened when his gaze fell on Ronanen. At the next full moon, less than a week away, he would be her husband.
‘Tonight,’ Banok began, ‘we gather to celebrate the hrai-dani of a young man who has shown far more maturity than his years would suggest. In just the three years I’ve known him, Kael has grown. He’s always been independent, often to the point of being rude—’
‘I make a point of it,’ Kael interrupted with a lopsided grin.
Banok laughed. ‘Wasn’t going to mention it, but yes, you rude bastard. Anyway. What was I… independent, that’s right. He’s independent, knows just what he wants his life to be, and I’ve never seen a man more determined to make it happen.’ He slung an arm around Kael’s shoulders again. ‘Keep your focus, remember that all these people here are here to help, and it’ll happen.’
Kael beamed. He glanced briefly towards the door, but more out of habit than hope. He couldn’t feel more excited even if Ynuk were to walk into the room.
‘And so!’ Banok announced. He raised his glass, signalling to the rest of the room to do the same. ‘Tonight we say, happy hrai-dani, Kael!’