Blade Archer ~ Thirteen
Nov. 22nd, 2004 02:58 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annarti.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
yrae
The first heatwave of the season struck about halfway through Spring. The days had been gradually warming up for a while now, but as seemed to so often be the case, Aeia, goddess of the desert, struck with all her ferocity on the one day. The approach of Summer wasn’t marked so much by progressively warmer days, rather the heatwaves that plagued the desert kingdom became progressively more frequent, and longer in duration. This one would probably not last more than two or three days.
Unlike at the beginning of Kael’s army training, the weapons masters were no longer so lenient with unbearable heat. Granted, they didn’t expect that the boys would train as hard during a heatwave as they would otherwise, but they certainly never permitted the boys to just sit and listen to tales of the escapades of the Own when the masters were members of it. They always used the excuse that once they were part of the army, temperature hardly mattered when the fate of the kingdom was at stake.
Kael had to raise an eyebrow at that. During heatwaves, he noticed a distinct lack of the clashes of steel against steel that ordinarily so characterised the barracks. No soldier in his right mind would train on days such as these. People died on days like these.
Niloren frowned momentarily and glanced at the door; the brief lapse in concentration gave Kael the opportunity to thrust the point of his dagger at the older boy’s throat, drawing a gleaming drop of blood to mingle with the sweat that already dripped from hair and clothes. Niloren yielded reluctantly, then jerked his head in the direction of the doorway.
“Where’s Highness?” he asked, a vague attempt at brushing his defeat aside.
Kael shrugged and pushed his dripping fringe from his eyes, attempting to plaster it against the rest of his hair. “What makes you think I’d know? Or care, for that matter.” He blinked and frowned despite himself, though his puzzlement had nothing to do with Niloren’s question. Elara had caught him out a few days ago using the more formal, upper-class form of address. He hated to think these aristocratic snobs were wearing off on him; ‘you’ didn’t sound right coming from his lips.
Niloren didn’t seem to notice. “She hasn’t missed a single dagger session since we began.” He sounded distant somehow, more as though he were putting his thoughts into words than actually addressing anyone.
“Good for her,” Kale muttered, shaking drops of moisture from his fingertips so they spattered to the earthen floor.
The older boy shook his head as if to clear it, wiped his forearm over his brow, then brought his dagger back up.
“Disarm, you two, not kill,” the dagger master told them absently. The command was more out of reflex than anything. He’d as good as given up on trying to get either of them to actually change their style now.
Kael and Niloren both duly ignored him, and as a result, they both ended up once again at the healing house while the rest of the boys made for the palace baths to refresh and cool off.
Only one healer was there, and not even the head healer made an appearance. A dozen palace staff suffering from heatstroke, dehydration and other ailments caused by the intense heat rested on the cooler stone bed blocks, damp cloths on foreheads and chests, and a number taking thankful gulps of water from drinking vessels.
By looking at the poor, flustered healer, Kael could tell there were too many people for her to bear on her own. Her olive skin was flushed red, and her limp ponytail, slick skin and clinging green robe made her look as though she had just emerged from the baths herself. She looked close to fainting.
Kael almost said as much, but kept his mouth shut when he realised it would probably get him in trouble. Such an observation may be misinterpreted as an offer of help, and Kael had grown quite tired of the whole ‘moving’ idea by this point in the day. He just wanted to get to the baths and sink down under the cool, refreshing water.
The next morning during sword practice, a bedraggled messenger hurried in to talk to the weapons master.
Wilari locked his wooden blade with Kael’s, dragging it down so they both pointed at the ground and so he could maybe hear what was going on.
The master’s face visibly blanched at the woman’s hushed message, and he seemed at a loss for words. He finally managed to force out a few quick-fire questions and a few other words Kael read as expletives before finally sending the messenger on her way. He rested his back against the wall and raked his fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to stop them from shaking, but even though Kael stood at the opposite end of the room, the quaking was clearly visible.
By now, all but the most focussed and dedicated of the red-shirted swordsmen had paused in their training, and they murmured to one another about what could possibly have such an effect on the sword master, normally so passive, even stoic in his demeanour.
“Master?” one boy finally ventured. Even the remaining swordsmen-in-training seemed to notice something wasn’t quite right with their master now.
The sword master didn’t appear to have heard. He only began shaking his head, but it seemed to be more in denial rather than in answer to the boy’s question.
“Sir, is anything wrong?”
Finally the master’s eyes acknowledged the boy’s concern, and he murmured a few words that Kael couldn’t hear. He seemed to blanch even further as he uttered the words, as though they confirmed the messenger’s information to himself.
“Did you hear what he said?” Wilari asked, along with every other boy in the back of the room.
Kael shook his head and motioned for the other boy to be silent, but he could catch nothing of the sword master’s repeated ramblings for the rising murmurs of the boys—half in confusion, half in disbelief. He took a few steps forward to try and decipher some of the words, and only catching the odd curse or expletive. He muttered one of his own in frustration, his mind conjuring up all the possibilities of what news the messenger had brought.
Maybe Kazin was attacking. Perhaps the royals had been killed. Possibly the First General had declared war on Tsayth. There was a chance that a plague had descended on the city. Maybe the Own had failed to return from their latest campaign. Kael couldn’t prevent a wry grin twitching the corners of his mouth at that one.
Qinen suddenly appeared in front of him. The blade archer’s eyes were wide with fear, but he hadn’t reacted half as badly as the sword master had done.
“Have you heard yet?” he asked.
Kael shook his head in exasperation, wishing the boy would just tell him.
“Her Majesty the Queen has died!”
Kael blinked. The news that caused such distraught looks to grip the features of the army trainees, and half-cripple the sword master, barely had Kael raising an eyebrow.
The way of life south of the Main Road hadn’t changed when the king had died two years ago. Unless there were absolutely drastic changes, Raykin’s monarchs had little effect on the southern districts, so they barely noticed when one passed on and another took his or her place. One pompous, stuck-up aristocrat died, only to be replaced by another pompous, stuck-up aristocrat moulded in the image of the previous one. The uproar that such an event caused north of the Main Road had always puzzled and amused Kael.
He shrugged, not really listening to the boy’s recital of the queen’s death. Given that the master seemed barely capable of stringing a coherent curse together, let alone relaying the full extent of the messenger’s news, it was bound to all be rumour anyway, not that Kael had any particular interest in knowing the full details of the queen’s death.
All it meant to him was that he had a ten day break from training. The city would mourn for the next five days, or at least, they would pretend to mourn. Kael was dubious as to how much mourning could be done for a woman known by nobody outside her elite circle of ministers. Nevertheless, as Kael was leaving the palace, he heard the shrill, repetitive voice of one of the palace heralds atop the palace gates.
“People of Ni-Yana! The queen is dead!”
Kael cringed at the piercing voice and pitied anyone living in close proximity to the palace gates. Loud though his voice was, not everyone in the city could hear the news. It would be an hour or two yet before the call spread to the markets to the north of the city, and even though the herald’s four-word message was very clear, it would no doubt be mangled into hundreds of variations, ranging from ‘the queen has an illness which may kill her at a later date’ to ‘Kazinian assassins have killed the royal family.’
Kael’s theory was that she had died of heatstroke or dehydration.
Once the five-day mourning period was over, the queen’s body would be thrown to the Ra-Lin, resulting in the peak of grief and sorrow, only to reach the peak of joy and exultation the next day, when Princess Alurié and her husband Prince Mithé would be crowned, and the city would turn to celebrate their new queen and, to a lesser extent, their new king.
Kael shook his head as he wound his way through the familiar streets. Nobles were a strange, strange breed.
~ ~ ~
Chapter~ 1629
Total~ 22 073
Time~ 1hr, 43mins (woo~ fastest chapter yet =D and done entirely after 1am, shock! =0 *hugs her muses* welcome back, lazy little bastids.)
Total~ 30hrs, 10mins
Notes~
Kael: *home* Queen's dead.
Elara: ...and?
Unlike at the beginning of Kael’s army training, the weapons masters were no longer so lenient with unbearable heat. Granted, they didn’t expect that the boys would train as hard during a heatwave as they would otherwise, but they certainly never permitted the boys to just sit and listen to tales of the escapades of the Own when the masters were members of it. They always used the excuse that once they were part of the army, temperature hardly mattered when the fate of the kingdom was at stake.
Kael had to raise an eyebrow at that. During heatwaves, he noticed a distinct lack of the clashes of steel against steel that ordinarily so characterised the barracks. No soldier in his right mind would train on days such as these. People died on days like these.
Niloren frowned momentarily and glanced at the door; the brief lapse in concentration gave Kael the opportunity to thrust the point of his dagger at the older boy’s throat, drawing a gleaming drop of blood to mingle with the sweat that already dripped from hair and clothes. Niloren yielded reluctantly, then jerked his head in the direction of the doorway.
“Where’s Highness?” he asked, a vague attempt at brushing his defeat aside.
Kael shrugged and pushed his dripping fringe from his eyes, attempting to plaster it against the rest of his hair. “What makes you think I’d know? Or care, for that matter.” He blinked and frowned despite himself, though his puzzlement had nothing to do with Niloren’s question. Elara had caught him out a few days ago using the more formal, upper-class form of address. He hated to think these aristocratic snobs were wearing off on him; ‘you’ didn’t sound right coming from his lips.
Niloren didn’t seem to notice. “She hasn’t missed a single dagger session since we began.” He sounded distant somehow, more as though he were putting his thoughts into words than actually addressing anyone.
“Good for her,” Kale muttered, shaking drops of moisture from his fingertips so they spattered to the earthen floor.
The older boy shook his head as if to clear it, wiped his forearm over his brow, then brought his dagger back up.
“Disarm, you two, not kill,” the dagger master told them absently. The command was more out of reflex than anything. He’d as good as given up on trying to get either of them to actually change their style now.
Kael and Niloren both duly ignored him, and as a result, they both ended up once again at the healing house while the rest of the boys made for the palace baths to refresh and cool off.
Only one healer was there, and not even the head healer made an appearance. A dozen palace staff suffering from heatstroke, dehydration and other ailments caused by the intense heat rested on the cooler stone bed blocks, damp cloths on foreheads and chests, and a number taking thankful gulps of water from drinking vessels.
By looking at the poor, flustered healer, Kael could tell there were too many people for her to bear on her own. Her olive skin was flushed red, and her limp ponytail, slick skin and clinging green robe made her look as though she had just emerged from the baths herself. She looked close to fainting.
Kael almost said as much, but kept his mouth shut when he realised it would probably get him in trouble. Such an observation may be misinterpreted as an offer of help, and Kael had grown quite tired of the whole ‘moving’ idea by this point in the day. He just wanted to get to the baths and sink down under the cool, refreshing water.
The next morning during sword practice, a bedraggled messenger hurried in to talk to the weapons master.
Wilari locked his wooden blade with Kael’s, dragging it down so they both pointed at the ground and so he could maybe hear what was going on.
The master’s face visibly blanched at the woman’s hushed message, and he seemed at a loss for words. He finally managed to force out a few quick-fire questions and a few other words Kael read as expletives before finally sending the messenger on her way. He rested his back against the wall and raked his fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to stop them from shaking, but even though Kael stood at the opposite end of the room, the quaking was clearly visible.
By now, all but the most focussed and dedicated of the red-shirted swordsmen had paused in their training, and they murmured to one another about what could possibly have such an effect on the sword master, normally so passive, even stoic in his demeanour.
“Master?” one boy finally ventured. Even the remaining swordsmen-in-training seemed to notice something wasn’t quite right with their master now.
The sword master didn’t appear to have heard. He only began shaking his head, but it seemed to be more in denial rather than in answer to the boy’s question.
“Sir, is anything wrong?”
Finally the master’s eyes acknowledged the boy’s concern, and he murmured a few words that Kael couldn’t hear. He seemed to blanch even further as he uttered the words, as though they confirmed the messenger’s information to himself.
“Did you hear what he said?” Wilari asked, along with every other boy in the back of the room.
Kael shook his head and motioned for the other boy to be silent, but he could catch nothing of the sword master’s repeated ramblings for the rising murmurs of the boys—half in confusion, half in disbelief. He took a few steps forward to try and decipher some of the words, and only catching the odd curse or expletive. He muttered one of his own in frustration, his mind conjuring up all the possibilities of what news the messenger had brought.
Maybe Kazin was attacking. Perhaps the royals had been killed. Possibly the First General had declared war on Tsayth. There was a chance that a plague had descended on the city. Maybe the Own had failed to return from their latest campaign. Kael couldn’t prevent a wry grin twitching the corners of his mouth at that one.
Qinen suddenly appeared in front of him. The blade archer’s eyes were wide with fear, but he hadn’t reacted half as badly as the sword master had done.
“Have you heard yet?” he asked.
Kael shook his head in exasperation, wishing the boy would just tell him.
“Her Majesty the Queen has died!”
Kael blinked. The news that caused such distraught looks to grip the features of the army trainees, and half-cripple the sword master, barely had Kael raising an eyebrow.
The way of life south of the Main Road hadn’t changed when the king had died two years ago. Unless there were absolutely drastic changes, Raykin’s monarchs had little effect on the southern districts, so they barely noticed when one passed on and another took his or her place. One pompous, stuck-up aristocrat died, only to be replaced by another pompous, stuck-up aristocrat moulded in the image of the previous one. The uproar that such an event caused north of the Main Road had always puzzled and amused Kael.
He shrugged, not really listening to the boy’s recital of the queen’s death. Given that the master seemed barely capable of stringing a coherent curse together, let alone relaying the full extent of the messenger’s news, it was bound to all be rumour anyway, not that Kael had any particular interest in knowing the full details of the queen’s death.
All it meant to him was that he had a ten day break from training. The city would mourn for the next five days, or at least, they would pretend to mourn. Kael was dubious as to how much mourning could be done for a woman known by nobody outside her elite circle of ministers. Nevertheless, as Kael was leaving the palace, he heard the shrill, repetitive voice of one of the palace heralds atop the palace gates.
“People of Ni-Yana! The queen is dead!”
Kael cringed at the piercing voice and pitied anyone living in close proximity to the palace gates. Loud though his voice was, not everyone in the city could hear the news. It would be an hour or two yet before the call spread to the markets to the north of the city, and even though the herald’s four-word message was very clear, it would no doubt be mangled into hundreds of variations, ranging from ‘the queen has an illness which may kill her at a later date’ to ‘Kazinian assassins have killed the royal family.’
Kael’s theory was that she had died of heatstroke or dehydration.
Once the five-day mourning period was over, the queen’s body would be thrown to the Ra-Lin, resulting in the peak of grief and sorrow, only to reach the peak of joy and exultation the next day, when Princess Alurié and her husband Prince Mithé would be crowned, and the city would turn to celebrate their new queen and, to a lesser extent, their new king.
Kael shook his head as he wound his way through the familiar streets. Nobles were a strange, strange breed.
Chapter~ 1629
Total~ 22 073
Time~ 1hr, 43mins (woo~ fastest chapter yet =D and done entirely after 1am, shock! =0 *hugs her muses* welcome back, lazy little bastids.)
Total~ 30hrs, 10mins
Notes~
Kael: *home* Queen's dead.
Elara: ...and?