[Lady Sabine & QuirkyAngel] A Land Steeped in Magic & Mystery

[Lady Sabine]

The land of Terra Sylvan is one of great magic and mystery. Its story begins when the region was first being civilized and with the blessings of the Immortal Oethiah, one of the World Mother's natural children. It was his support that brought about the coronation of Ardghal tu Sylvan, whose line has reigned for some six centuries at this point. However, they have fallen far from their previous glory. Once the Kings of tu Sylvan reigned with an axe in one hand and wild magic in the other, carving out a place for mankind to live in harmony with the forests and rivers around them.


But over the centuries, with wars and plagues and the arrival of a new and militant faith, those secrets have been all but forgotten. The King now sits uneasily in his throne, with powerful lords and bishops and hungry foreign emissaries about him at all times. Once a vast and mighty country, Terra Sylvan is now a small fraction of its former self, with the majority of the land an untamed and unwelcoming woods known as the Coracin Forest. The various sects that once served the King have largely fallen into disarray and dishonor: the famed Emerald Knights, once rumored to have ridden unicorns and wielded flaming swords, are now a ceremonial force only, guarding the royal household; the Green Priests that advised their lord in all matters of relations with the World Mother have been persecuted by the Faith of Father Heavens for so long that what few remain stay largely in hiding; the Woods Witches who once communed with the Fae and facilitated exchange have faced a similar fate; even the King's Rangers have declined in number to only a few dozen, too few to patrol the woods as they once did and without the magics that once made them both feared and fearless.


Worse still, an ancient threat is stirring over the Western mountains. The Elves, having exhausted their own homeland's supply of natural magic, are now looking for new sources. New sources that will undoubtedly include the font of power in Terra Sylvan. If the new King Krezbel tu Sylvan is to save his land, he will need to find a way to restore the ancient magics and drive back the Elven invasion. The good news is, he won't need to do it alone.
​

For once, Maeve actually looked like the mature, responsible Commander her forces knew her to be. Leading men came easy to her, from assigning missions to organizing the pay tables to scheduling everyone so that their small numbers could manage the impressive amount of work they were assigned. And with all this she still found time to train nearly every day, archery and swordsmanship and riding and lancing and unarmed combat, not to mention have personal conversations so that she knew every one of her thirty-seven Rangers like family. What she wasn't good at was dressing for the part.


Today, though, she looked sharp. Tawny buckskin pants were tucked into freshly shined brown boots up to her knee that matched the belt and gloves tucked under it. Her sleeveless tunic was emerald green, embroidered with the royal crest and trimmed with bright gold thread, the same thread that made two crossed arrows on the sleeve of her white linen undershirt. At her hip hung a sheath painted with green vines; the sword within had a gilded hilt and an emerald for a pommel-stone. Everything was clean and in order, and even her hair had been bound back tightly without any stray locks escaping. Gazing at herself in the small mirror in the common room of the Ranger Barracks, she stood up a little straighter, holding her chin high.


Her King had summoned her to a special meeting, and for once she would see to it that she represented her men well. They deserved better than a rumpled Commander who fell asleep halfway through another quarterly budget meeting... why the magic of the Rangers had selected her to lead she would never know, but she would try her best to be worthy.


Her best, Maeve reflected glumly, would just have to get better. She needed to focus, to be the diplomat her people needed and learn the manners and etiquette she was so sadly lacking. Some days she still felt more like the little girl who had run around with Krezbel, throwing snowballs at guards and harassing the washerwomen.


Back then becoming the Commander had been a distant and unlikely dream. Back then, she had never imagined the little prince at her side would one day take the throne. Sometimes when she glanced at him she saw the little boy for a split second, and almost acted on it. They had been so close- but now their only interactions were professional. She had meant to come to him after his coronation, to congratulate and offer condolences both, but he was constantly surrounded these days. From generals to debutantes, everyone wanted something from him. How could she fault them? She wanted something as well. She wanted her friend back, and she wanted more. But those were all ridiculous thoughts- he had better friends now, richer and more cultured, who wouldn't embarrass him. And why would he ever spare her a second glance romantically when surrounded by an endless stream of elegant and lovely debutantes? Ridiculous thoughts. She would serve him as a Ranger, and that was it.


Her boots rapped smartly against the elegant marble floors as she made her way through the castle, past the formal meeting rooms were the councils were usually called, to accommodate the dozens of necessary people. This meeting was smaller, and hosted in a smaller chamber of the royal apartments. Uncomfortable around all the finery and expensive art, she rapped on the door using the secret knock they'd had as children without even thinking about it. Tap-tap, tap, tap-tap

 

[QuirkyAngel]

The meeting room, despite its small size, was lavishly decorated with many different colored tapestries, each telling a story of a different tu Sylvan ruler. Every fabric was finely made and woven with such intricate designs, that their beauty could not be denied. People that enter Twilight Castle would often compliment on the room’s historic splendor and artistry. However, to Krezbel the room felt like a prison with all the eyes of his predecessors watching him, their history of heroic feats mocking him.


Krezbel closed his eyes and tried not to think of such things. He didn’t want to be king, but he supposed his days of doing what he wanted were over. The silver, ornate crown on top of his head was proof of his status and there was nothing he could do about it. Dressed handsomely in a black silk doublet with silver trimmings and a large fur-collared cloak, Krezbel certainly looked the part of a king. However, anyone who knew him, knew otherwise. In front of him, the royal council sat around a marble table, all arguing about some “important” matter that Krezbel honestly didn’t give a damn about. The most vocal was the High Priest of Father Heavens, Tristan Farbringer.


“The troubles in this land are causes by a lack of faith!” The fat old man shouted, raising his hands as if praying for salvation. “We must appease the Great Lord and build another temple in his name!”


Krezbel couldn’t help, but notice Tristan’s beer belly jiggling under his gold embroidered robes as he moved his arms. Beside Krezbel, his stepmother, the former Queen of Terra Sylvan Aithne tu Sylvan, spoke harshly.


“We don’t have the time or the funds to waste on such extravagances Lord Tristan. If we must do spend money, it should be to increase our military strength.”


Lady Aithne was Nimalle’s birthmother and King Shamat’s second wife. She was very pragmatic and beautiful woman, someone Krezbel could appreciate…if she didn’t hate his guts. Aithne’s strict, no-nonsense personality often clashed with Krezbel’s own frivolous and whimsical nature.


“Blasphemy! Advocating violence is a great sin in the eyes of God!”


“War is coming and the Elves are knocking at our doors! How can you think about god when those barbarians have killed my son!”


“I understand your sadness Lady Aithne, but the Father has embraced Prince Azkar in his arms, leading him to greater happiness than can be found on Terra Sylvan.”


Lady Aithne snarled. “What’s your opinion, my King?”


Krezbel flinched when his stepmother directed her angry eyes on him. He hated getting involved in one of Lady Aithne and Lord Tristan’s arguments. Behind Krezbel’s seat, one member of the Emerald Knights snickered softly as if he thought Krezbel couldn’t hear him. Krezbel scowled. For the royal soldiers whose job was to protect and serve their king, the Emerald Knights weren’t doing a very good job of respecting him. Krezbel was honestly relieved when he heard a series of knocks on the door. The person wouldn’t know it, but he/she just saved him from a very awkward position. The knocks were strangely familiar though Krezbel couldn’t exactly pin-point why. He motioned for one of the Emerald Knights to open the door.


Standing before him, was the Commander of his Rangers, looking as sharp as usual. Maeve was a tall, striking woman, not beautiful in the usual sense and not particularly feminine, but appealing in her own way. They had been friends as children, Maeve being the only one who saw Krezbel as Krezbel and not as Terra Sylvan’s third prince. They’d often go on many secret adventures outside the castle with Maeve leading the way. Krezbel had respected and admired the older girl for her firey and bright personality back then. He had even thought he fancied his friend, but their different obligations caused them to grow apart. As Maeve ascended the ranks of the Rangers, she had less time to spend with Krezbel. Similarly, as Krezbel grew older, he was expected to spend more time studying and attending to his princely duties—which he avoided as much as possible. Though Krezbel still admired Maeve as a respectable ranger in his service, the closeness they shared was no longer present.


Krezbel smiled welcomingly. “Lady Commander Maeve, you are just in time. We were just discussing the kingdom’s distribution of funds.”

 

[Lady Sabine]

She bowed, her right arm crooked just below her chest and her left behind her back. The bow of a commoner, of one without blood or wealth. She was no lady, no matter the courtesy he afforded her. Only the tenuous title of Commander gave her any right to enter the room, and it was clear enough from the expressions of those there that she was less than welcome. "A thrilling topic, my King," Maeve responded deadpan, taking her seat further down the table. Why had all the others arrived earlier?


On a sneaking suspicion the Ranger cast a withering glance at the Chief Steward, who was responsible for sending out the messengers. He met her gaze briefly and smirked, confirming that the instructions to arrive slightly late were his doing. The urge to shove her ceremonial sword somewhere dark and painful briefly came over her, but she shrugged it off and forced herself to pay attention to the Lord Treasurer, who was starting to move down the table as requisitions for funds were made.


But why? There was almost a month still to go before the next quarterly meeting. Then she took a second glance around the table- the Commander of the Emerald Knights was absent, as were most of the castle support staff, and most of the other petty Lords and Leaders, save for those in military capacities. Including, of course, the church. In spite of their professions that violence went against the way of god, they had Paladins of their own and were swift to fight when it came to forcing their religion on others. Protecting those people, though...


"This emergency funding is for the war effort, Lord Tristan," The Treasurer stressed. "If you will not have your Paladins protect the realm, there is nothing here for you."


"Protecting the realm means more than spilling blood," The fat priest insisted, but more weakly.


"Aye, it also means finding ways not to spill blood. Scouting out the enemy's weaknesses, burning their bridges, destroying their roads, poisoning their food..." Maeve pointed out, leaning forwards. "Meeting them in the field alone will not win this war and everyone here knows it. What budget do you propose for my Rangers?"


"Eight hundred, four-and-twenty Sovereigns," The Treasurer returned, clearly bracing for a fight. She gave it to him.


"That's ridiculous! We haven't even any armor," She protested. "Do you mean to send us into combat without even the means to protect ourselves?"


"You have fewer than forty Rangers," He returned. "This gives you nearly fifty Sovereigns per man."


"A pittance," She insisted. "And we'll need horses, besides. At least five. At two hundred and ten Sovereigns each..."


"The light cavalry finds their horses for one hundred, five and eighty," He reminded her sharply. "Why can't you?"


"Because when a cavalry horse drops over dead, ours have another day's ride in them still!" Maeve insisted, slamming her hands down angrily and rising to her feet. "They have to ford rivers and jump logs, to be tireless and fearless, and require two full years of training. We may be paying more, but we're getting twice the horse. Put a Ranger out there on a cavalry pony and he won't be coming back."


"Big loss," The cavalry commander himself muttered. Then everyone was talking, or more accurately yelling, all at once. Maeve briefly felt guilty -this might have been a new record for how quickly things had broken down into shouting- but shrugged it off. She would do whatever it took to see her Rangers properly equipped.

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Krezbel only half listened as the room descended into mayhem, each representative trying to obtain more money for their group. He honestly didn’t know why he was even needed at the meeting. The Royal Treasurer was the one actually responsible for distributing the emergency war funds. Though Orisin tu Lamir was a miserly man and a well-known cheapskate, he had kept the country’s economy running whereas Krezbel had a terrible history with financial responsibility. Krezbel didn’t even know how much money was in the kingdom’s vault. Prior to his coronation, Krezbel had simply taken for granted the wealth that his royal status gave him. He was supposed to have left the actual ruling of the kingdom to his eldest brother and live an easy, luxurious lifestyle, free of turmoil. At least, that had been the plan.


Krezbel sighed. He’d have to find time to leaf through the royal ledger when the meeting ends…if it ends. As far as he could tell, the meeting would not be ending any time soon. Krezbel took the chance to glance out the window at the mid-morning sun. He had a date with one of Baron Dylan’s daughters—he forgot which one—in half an hour and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to make it in time. An exaggerated cough from Lady Aithne told Krezbel that he’d been caught with his attention away. Krezbel sent his stepmother a sheepish smile…to which she responded by deepening her frown and narrowing her eyes. Her message was clear: As the king and head of the meeting, he’d better do something to calm the chaos… or else.


Krezbel shoulders slumped resignedly. He supposed he’d have to speak up if he ever wanted to leave before the end of the day. Copying his step-mother’s exaggerated manner, Krezbel cleared his throat loudly. At first it appeared as if no one had heard him. Then slowly, the chaos quieted and everyone in the room turned to him, their faces varying in expression. Some were curious, some were repentant, some were derisive, and some were amused—as if wondering what the idiot king, who had barely spoken except to welcome others to the meeting, had to say. Only a small handful of faces actually showed respect.


Krezbel smiled charmingly. “Now, now everyone…I’m sure we can find a compromise.”


The young king tactfully ignored a disparaging scoff coming from his left and continued. “Contrary to my mother’s words war with the Elves has not yet occurred. If anything, we want to prevent a war.”


His words caused a string of protest to arise and Krezbel resisted the urge to sigh. Askar was a popular man in the kingdom and had a large number of followers in the court—as well as among the commoners; followers who were furious when Askar died at the hand of an Elf. The entire kingdom was crying for Elven blood. Krezbel had to admit, he had been angry about his brother’s death as well. However, Krezbel had always been good at seeing the bigger picture and it didn’t really take a genius to tell that a full blown war with the Elves would spell disaster for their kingdom.


“My brother’s death, though a great tragedy, had been caused by renegade elves who claim no ties to the Elf King.”


The reaction was instantaneous. Krezbel forced his voice through the protests. “I do not claim that the elves are blameless. However, to start a war with the Elves now would make us look like the villains!”


He was relieved when the arguments quieted and expressions became thoughtful. It was best to speak fast and give them less time to think. “Increasing our military strength would just incite further animosity. Therefore, I propose an end to the emergency fund meeting with no changes in our current military budget—the only exception being the Rangers.”


Krezbel briefly flicked a glance at Maeve. “We need to keep a better eye on Elven movements and the rangers are more adept at navigating the forests than any of our other forces. Considering the types of enemies we face, I believe this the best course of action.”

 

[Lady Sabine]

Maeve had hardly noticed Krezbel through the chaos- he was, admittedly, an easy enough figure to miss. By matters of law, the royal vault was property of the King. No one could spend the King's gold without the King's approval, though in truth it was a mere formality for the network of bureaucracy that surrounded the central government. These days, the throne seemed to exist primarily to link the various petty offices and forces. Gods knew they had bickered right over his head enough times.


Still, being called out made her flush slightly, wishing that perhaps she had stayed a bit more civil in her previous "negotiations". This wasn't going to endear her to the others, though she did allow herself a small smile. Victory. At least one person at the table appreciated what her people were capable of.


"A wise choice, sire," The woman agreed, shifting in her seat as she went over a few brief calculations. "I can present an itemized budget tomorrow, for your review and that of the Lord Treasuruer, any time after noon."


"You will present it at eleven hour sharp, Commander," tu Lamir insisted, frowning down his nose at her as he shuffled papers. "We already have a budget consultation scheduled for that time."


Slightly inconvenient, the Ranger reflected, but not impossible. She would put Laurelyn on the task; the girl had a head for numbers and a clean hand for the list itself. They could use another ten men like her... or another ten men in general. Hopefully recruitment would count as a necessary expense, for she feared her few dozen would hardly be able to manage their old duties, much the less these new ones. "As it please you," She agreed with a curt nod.


"Then, with your majesty's permission, I move to adjourn this meeting?" The Treasurer asked before anyone else could cut in. Clearly he was as tired of the conversation as anyone else, a fact Maeve appreciated. While she wasn't exactly fond of him, there was no denying that the man was efficient and excellent at his job, traits she found easy to admire. If only some of the other council members were the same!


Her eyes wandered to her King, wondering what he was thinking. When he looked out the window she could still see the little boy she had played with, full of dreams and stories and laughter. Court gossip said that he was immature still, a boy-king perhaps not entirely ready to fill his father's shoes. She disagreed, for she had known him as a boy and could see the changes. Who had the right of it? The young woman resolved to stay behind, to finally have a conversation, if only a short one. Thank him for the boon, apologize for her tone, discuss what he planned to have her Rangers do... try to catch a glimpse of his heart, even if she had no idea what to hope to see therein.

 

[QuirkyAngel]

“Permission granted,” Krezbel said happily.


He was relieved to that the meeting ended without a fuss. In fact, he was shocked that no objected to his proposal. He had expected at least one person would oppose him—most likely his stepmother as she had been the most vocal for war. However, she had remained docile the entire time he spoke. Could it be that his subjects were finally taking him seriously as a king? Krezbel smiled sardonically. As much as Krezbel would like to attribute that to the cause of the meeting’s adjournment, he highly doubted it. It was more likely that everyone was tired and eager to leave. Krezbel himself felt worn out by the meeting and he had only been listening for the most of it.


Krezbel stood up, watching as people slowly trickled out of the room. He could tell some people were unsatisfied with the results. Rumors might even spread of King Krezbel tu Sylvan playing favorites with his rangers. Unfortunately for them, he could care less. There were still ten minutes until his date with Baron Dylan’s daughter. He could still make it if he hurried. Krezbel sighed. Who was he kidding? By the time he made it to the Baron’s estate it would be well pass their planned meeting tine. She wouldn’t complain, of course. No one ever openly complained about the king’s doings...least of all to the king’s face. But she’d probably never agree to go out with him again. Rich girls were all like that.


Well…too late to do anything about it now. Krezbel straightened his black cloak, preparing to leave, when he noticed the Commander of his Rangers still seated. He frowned. Were there more official matters to discuss? Krezbel quickly rearranged his expression into a friendly smile. The one he always wore when speaking to members of the royal court.


“Is there something else you wish to speak about, Lady Maeve?”

 

[Lady Sabine]

Maeve dipped her head politely, though her next words probably made it a moot point. "You know that I am no Lady, my King," The Commander pointed out, shooting him a slightly bemused glance. "I believe I can serve you better in leather than lace. I am your Ranger, as much as I appreciate the courtesy you afford me."


Why did words come so easily to her mouth in matters of sass and argument, but so slow and heavy fall from her lips in kindness and help? No idea half so eloquently made itself known to her when he had ascended the throne, or in any of their brief meetings as teenagers. Now he gave her that same smile he gave to everyone, the smile that served as a mask, the mask of a friendly and caring but distant King. Why did the truth sting so much? He was nothing more to her, nor she to him, but the distance gnawed at her.


"It is the matter of being a Ranger, in truth, that I wish to speak of," She added after a moment, catching her thoughts wandering again. "If you have the time for me, your grace, I would discuss what changes to our duties and schedules you would have, so that I can specialize my budgets for the specific tasks at hand."

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Krezbel only took a split second to decide. After all, he was already late to his date with the Baron's daughter. What could a few more minutes hurt? "Certainly, Commander Maeve."


It was an unconcious habit of Krezbel's to address all women as ladies. From his experience with women, they all responded better when he treated them as if important. And no matter how he looked at it, Maeve was still a woman in his eyes. However, he hadn't meant to demean her status. If the leader of his Rangers didn't like being called a 'lady', Krezbel didn't really care to object.


Krezbel studied Maeve, noting the differences from his childhood memory. She appeared tougher, more formal than the girl of his past. Maeve carried with her an air of confidence she probably earned through various experiences in the battlefield. She was no longer the young orphan Krezbel knew, but a battle-hardened ranger. Krezbel no longer knew how to treat her. However, there were still traces of the girl in his past. Her fiery spirit was still present from what he could tell from her fierce battle in the meeting room. That, at least, had remained unchanged.


"Would you care to walk with me to the courtyard? We shall discuss my plans for the for the rangers as we walk."

 

[Lady Sabine]

"Gladly," The Commander responded instantly and rose from her seat, realizing a split second later that it was probably impolite to see so eager to leave. It was the truth, though- she felt terribly out of place with the marble and velvet of the royal wing. It was a newer addition to the castle, with generous windows and architecture designed for comfort and beauty rather than defensibility and practicality. Compared to her own spartan chambers, the place was... well, it was fit for a King. She wasn't.


"Scouting has always been one of the primary tasks of the Rangers," Maeve mentioned as they began their walk. "Though we aren't as familiar with the mountain roads as we once were. I fear our small numbers will make balancing our duties..." Impossible was the right word, but one didn't simply tell a King what could not be done. "...quite difficult." There, now she was being a good Commander, wasn't she?


Krezbel was right to note that her spirit hadn't faded- her temper was known throughout the castle, but so was her fierce dedication to her unit. She made a point of greeting everyone who returned from a mission, if her schedule would permit, and always ate dinner in the barracks rather than retreating to a more formal dining hall, which her position would have allowed. She also wasn't above taking part in pranks and jokes- not two months ago she had purchased a trick candle with a blue flame and replaced her old trainee's candle with it, then told a story in the common room of a troop of demons who made fire burn blue in their presence. She smiled faintly, remembering the way he had shrieked and cursed. Perhaps she wasn't such a good Commander after all, but if the magic thought it could do any better surely it would have?

 

[QuirkyAngel]

"I see," Krezbel murmured as he and Maeve walked down the hall and into the open air of the courtyard. He hadn't been aware that the rangers had declined to such state. Then again, Krezbel was ashamed to admit that his knowledge of the kingdom's affairs was very limited. "Then much of the additional funds should be spent on recruiting and training able-bodied men. I leave most of the specifics of the budget up to you, Commander. You know the state of the rangers better than I. Spend the money as you will. However..."


Krezbel paused mid-conversation to step onto the grass and take a deep breath of fresh air. After, being the castle for so long, it felt good to be outdoors. The magic within him was practically thrumming beneath his skin, begging to be released. Ever since he was a child, Krezbel hated being trapped indoors. He would often escape his tutors to relax in an area where nature was abundant. Even now, as a 25 year old king, Krezbel still needed the smell of trees and warmth of the sun to calm his body.


When he swiveled around to face Maeve, his expression was serious. "I would like you to create specialized squad of rangers to spy on the Elves. Ever since my brother's death, it has become clear to me that there is something going on in the Elven kingdom. Elves are not known for their aggressive behavior or violence, despite what my mother says. There must be something they are dissatisfied about. I want to find out what. Choose the your most talented rangers for the task, the ones most adept at navigating the forest. Any information obtained is to be reported directly to me."

 

[Lady Sabine]

She noticed the way he changed as they entered the courtyard, the way his chest swelled and the muscles on his face relaxed. It almost seemed to her like he glowed vaguely in the sunlight, as though the land were welcoming him home. There were hundreds of fond memories of running around with him through courtyards and gardens, and even outside the castle compound into the forests and fields in the area. She remembered him well perched high in a tree they had just finished climbing, the wind in his hair and a grin on his face. Did he still smile like that? If he did, she was no longer close enough to see them.


"The Elves are not known for being peaceful and tolerant either, your grace," She counseled him softly, but dipped her head in agreement anyway. "We will keep a weather eye on them. There are no passes directly across the mountains that we have yet found, and roaming around the foothills doesn't strike me as productive, but old stories tell of tunnels through the mountains, back in the days when Elves and men still talked and traded freely. With your grace's permission, I would have some scholars find records... if we know where to watch, it will be far more productive. Perhaps they may even find more information on the Rangers and our... abilities."


Magic was almost a dirty word in polite company; as Commander she knew that the royal family had great powers, but among the religious aristocracy such things were best left quiet. The faith might now profess peace and love, but it had not been too many generations ago they were burning the green priests at stakes and tearing out the tongues of woods witches- a history ancient to some, but well-remembered to forces like hers, which had forsaken their heritage for safety.

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Krezbel raised his eyebrows, having no idea what Maeve meant when she mentioned the ‘ranger’s abilities’, but he consented nonetheless, “Certainly. I’ll have the scholars look for those records.”


He remained silent as he thought over Maeve’s counsel. Krezbel’s advisors had warned him over and over again about the intolerable and barbaric Elves, but this was the first time that Krezble had ever taken such words seriously. Probably because it was the unbias advice from a soldier who had experience with elves rather than pampered, old men who wouldn’t even get within 2 meters of an elf if they could help it. Then again, who was Krezbel to criticize them? He had been quite pampered as a kid.


As he thought this, Krezbel heard his stomach rumble loudly. Krezbel’s face reddened. He hoped Maeve hadn’t heard that. It was nearly time for his midday meal and the Emergency Fund Meeting had taken a lot longer than he expected. In fact, he had been planning to have lunch with Baron Dylan’s daughter after the meeting. Now though…he didn’t think showing up to Dylan’s manor half-an-hour late was a good idea. There were such things as fashionably late and such things as bad-mannered late. Unfortunately for Krezbel, his situation was the later.


Krezbel tried to hide his embarrassment behind a cough. However, the rust-colored blush stood out against his pale skin. “I’ll be counting on you to do as I’ve asked Ranger Maeve,”


“Now, if you’ll excuse—,” Krezbel was about to find an excuse to leave when he paused and considered. Eating by himself didn’t really sound appealing. And since his date with Baron Dylan’s daughter hadn’t worked out, why not dine with another woman? Maeve may be the Commander of his Rangers, but she was still a woman. Granted there would be none of the flirting that would have occurred between him and Baron Dylan’s daughter as Krezbel didn’t find the idea of flirting with someone who could chop his arm off very practical. However, a simple chat with an old friend might be nice. Who knows? Maybe he could rekindle the friendship they once had shared as children…the one that had been lost in the passage of time.


"--Actually, if you're free, would you care to have lunch with me?"

 

[Lady Sabine]

The raised brows surprised her. Surely someone had bothered to tell him of the Rangers' special powers, of their trace magics? His father had known, back when she served on his council, so she had not even considered that informing the next monarch would be her responsibility. That was going to be an awkward conversation, she sensed.


Yet his next proposal sounded even more awkward, potentially. What would they talk about? She was hardly polite company, hardly the sort of lovely and charming young woman he surrounded himself with most days. He must be hungry indeed, she figured, to invite her to lunch. For half a moment she considered turning him down, but it wasn't a serious thought. First things first one of her station did not refuse the King any request, especially one so reasonable, and secondly she had never refused him anything before. From sweets to mischief to distracting his tutors, she had always been there to support his mischief. Why start now?


"I would be honored, my King," She replied as humbly as she could manage, giving him a serious nod that went against the way her heart lifted at the thought. "I am at your service." Was that too much? Too little? How in the world did one thank royalty for an invite to their table? Mysteries above her head, she reflected wryly, though not entirely above her paygrade. Mysteries she ought to solve as part of being a responsible Commander. Bah.


"I half feel I ought to swipe a cherry tart from the kitchen, for old time's sake," She murmured, hardly loud enough to hear. Soft enough for him to ignore, if he chose, but not so soft that it would truly pass by unnoticed. A foolish thing to say, in truth, but she had to know if he wanted to admit to their history at all.

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Krezbel hid his disappointment at Maeve’s initial response behind an amicable smile. He wasn’t so much disappointed at her, but at himself. I’m at your service? He hadn’t meant to force her to have lunch with him. But that, inevitably, was what he did. No one ever denied a request from a king—even if it had been on a frivolous whim. Half of the time, when he went out with girls, he had no idea if they did it because they genuinely liked him or if it was because he was the king and they didn’t dare say no. Krezbel knew that such a response was unpreventable consequence of someone in power, but he couldn’t deny that it made him feel a little bit lonely.


Maeve’s next comment though, provoked an honest chuckle from Krezbel. If he hadn’t been next to her, he might not have heard her at all. It amused him how easily Maeve had switched from accepting his request with the utmost formality to such a light-hearted comment. Had the Commander of his rangers always been so spontaneous? Admittedly, Krezbel couldn’t remember much about Maeve’s personality. She had always just been a shadowed figure in Krezbel’s mind…an older girl whom he had shared a past with…who offered the youngest prince of Terra Sylvan, the one often ignored, a hand of friendship. It had been one of Krezbel’s fondest childhood memories, but that was all it had been. A memory. Until now.


Krezbel grinned, his eyes alight with humor as he recalled their childhood activities. “We were rather mischievous as children, weren’t we?”


He lead Maeve back to Twilight castle, into an expansive royal dining hall where he often had his meals with his family. Of course, that had been before his father and brothers died. The meals of the royal family these days were often a solemn affair, with his stepmother constantly harping to him about his inaptitude as a king. Krezbel smirked wryly. And to think, Lady Aithne wondered why Krezbel didn’t like having meals with his family. If it weren’t for his sister, Krezbel didn’t think he’d even bother eating in the castle at all.


The royal dining hall was empty of people save for a scullery maid, who was wiping the long mahogany table at the center of the room. She appeared startled when she saw him. “Y-your Excellency! I wasn’t aware you were coming. I’d been told you’d be sharing your midday meal with Lady Krista.”


Lady Krista? Oh right…Baron Dylan’s daughter. “Well there’s been a change of plans. Please prepare a quick meal for myself and Commander Maeve.”


“I shall inform the head chef at once, your Grace.”


Krezbel barely paid attention to the freckled maid as she hastily excused herself. Instead he addressed Maeve. “Have seat anywhere you’d like Commander. As you can see, my mother isn’t present today so there’s really no need for formality.”


Krezbel took the seat at the head of the table…more out habit than anything else.

 

[Lady Sabine]

She could have cheered when he cast her that grin. It felt like victory, like she had reached out and for the briefest moment touched the friend she used to have, still hiding within that royal facade. Was it so wrong for her to value it so highly? She'd had few friends as a child, between her low birth and wild nature, which she knew was not true for him- he'd had other friends, she supposed, closer and better than she, but at least he remembered the cherry tarts enough for his eyes to light at the thought. That was something.


Trying to pick a seat was also... something. Obviously sitting at the far end would do no one any good, yet it would be presumptuous to sit right at his side, as though she had earned the spot. He had told her to sit anywhere, though she sensed that her choice would still matter. After a moment's hesitation she left one empty seat between herself and his left, wondering if it was too close still. An aristocrat would have known exactly where courtesy demanded they sit, but Maeve was still more familiar with rabbits roasted over fires and eaten with nothing but one's fingers and knife than she was with formal luncheons and dinners.


"Thank you for inviting me, your grace," The battle-scarred woman said after a moment, unable to help but glance around at the room and feel utterly out of place. Not like a true Lady. Speaking of which...


"I hope I'm not usurping this Lady Krista's spot," She mentioned after a moment, cautious but smirking slightly. "My Rangers would never let me hear the end of it. That poor King," She mocked in a nasal approximation of one of her Captains, "Asked for lunch with a Lady and got stuck with the Commander. She mistook her leather for lace, you see, and swordbelt for a corset, then she used the salad fork for the main course..."

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Krezbel shook his head and laughed, entertained by Maeve’s bold humor and wit. It was rare for Krezbel to find someone in court who would talk to him in such a friendly, unrestrained manner. He wondered briefly if all commoners were like that…or if it was just Maeve.


“I’d very much like to meet these rangers of yours, Commander” Krezbel complimented, his blue eyes dancing with mirth. “They seem to be of good humor. Though," Krezebel's lips quirked upward in amusement. "I assure you, I shan’t care which fork you use.”


Krezbel leaned back, his shoulders relaxing as he pretended to sigh mournfully. “As for Lady Kristia, you needn’t worry about her. I’m certain I’ve already burned any possible bridges with her because of the Emergency War Fund meeting. All that yelling had been surprisingly long-drawn.”


Mere moments after Krezbel spoke, the kitchen servants arrived carrying trays laden with delicacies. Krezbel had to admit, he was impressed by the head chef’s expediency. The aroma of roasted pheasant, seasoned with just the right balance of herbs and spices, had Krezbel salivating. He supposed it only made sense that the chef who had served him since childhood knew what he liked.

 

[Lady Sabine]

Maeve grinned back shamelessly, glad that she could still make him laugh, truly laugh, and not just give her that polite smile he gave everyone. Was it wrong of her to want more than just a formal relationship? Perhaps, she reflected, but if she had always done the right thing, she would probably be barefoot and pregnant in some farmer's one-room shack, a babe on her hip and pregnant with another, stirring cabbage soup. That wasn't her, no, and nor was sitting there pretending like Krezbel was just her King and nothing more. He was her King, aye, but he was more.


She had the good grace to dip her head in mock contrition when he mentioned the yelling, well aware that she was no small part of the cause and one of the louder contributors, but that didn't stop her grin. The food did draw her attention though, and she sniffed appreciatively as she pondered his words about her Rangers. Did he mean it?


"This smells excellent," She complimented, waiting for him to be served first as her mouth watered at the sight. "My Rangers don't eat half so well, but most nights there are a few of us supping together in the common room of the barracks. You're always welcome to come slumming with us, though I must admit our humor isn't always necessarily good. We've thrown our shoes at Fletcher for making bad puns at the table." She realized a second too late that throwing shoes probably wasn't the kind of picture the King ought to have of his Rangers, but it was too late now. "It lets off the stress of a long day," She justified weakly, knowing that it wasn't much of an excuse.

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Krezbel nodded sagely, his expression the epitome of seriousness. “Yes, it’s not good let all that stress bottle up. That’s what I tell Lady Aithne all the time.”


The young king smirked as he recalled a conversation he had with his stepmother when he’d first been made king. He had snuck out of one of his ‘official obligations’ to attend a festival held in honor of the Lord God whom High Priest Tristan was always going on about. The sermon was a dreadful bore, but he had met some nice ladies who made his time worthwhile. Lady Aithne had been utterly furious when Krezbel explained that he needed the stress relief and implied that she could use some as well.


Krezbel shrugged, continuing unabashedly. “A little shoe toss here and there might be worth it if it relieves a little tension from the battle-worn shoulders of my rangers. Though, I must say…I prefer my method of relaxation—a nice cup of wine and the presence of good compay.”


Krezbel nodded toward the serving maid who poured wine into his goblet and did the same for Commander Maeve. Smiling at Maeve, Krezbel lifted his cup. “To the relatively peaceful end of yet another stress-inducing meeting where the kingdom’s treasury is involved. May our worries trouble us another day.”

 

[Lady Sabine]

The relief was clear on her face when he agreed about de-stressing, glad that she had not given him a poor opinion of her men with the comment. They were a rowdy bunch, with manners much better suited to the road than the castle, but all loyal and brave, and all eccentric. There was never a boring day in the life of a Ranger, they were fond of saying, a sentiment Maeve agreed with. Their company was always a welcome relief from the stress of management and politics... though Krezbel's, perhaps, could also prove a nice respite.


She raised her own goblet, smiling back with a slight blush on her cheeks. Good company, was she? Who would have thought. "Another day," She echoed him, tapping their goblets before taking a deep, appreciative sip. The wine was of a fine vintage, not at all similar to the cheap brandy and cider that the kitchens rationed to her own men. By a technicality she was of rank with the Generals, but with such a small force and no appetite for ordering about servants, she preferred to dine with her troops.


"So what does the King's good company talk about?" She asked after a moment, raising a brow. "I take it that budgets and next quarter's fiscal accounts are out of the question."

 

[QuirkyAngel]

"Naturally," Krezbel replied, cutting into his pheasant. "I can't imagine what bore could find monetary talk exciting."


Krezbel brought the meat to his lips and chewed as he pondered Maeve's question. "I suppose it depends. Good company for me are people I'd feel comfortable being around or speaking frankly with. We don't necessarily have to talk...though a nice conversation is always welcome. My more entertaining conversations are often about the illicit affairs of my fellow nobles. " Krezbel grinned conspiratorialy. "And trust me, there are many of them."


Krezbel wet his throat with a couple sips of wine. His sister had been the first that came to mind when he spoke of good company. Even though they were half siblings, he had found it easier to talk to her than his blood brothers, whom he had a large age gap with. He and Nimalle often shared interesting stories about certain nobles that came to visit the castle. Ironically, Lady Aithne also came to mind when he thought of good company...simply for the fact that Krezbel never had a problem speaking frankly with her. Of course, when he did speak frankly with his stepmother, there was usually yelling involved.


And then there was Maeve. Krezbel watched the Commander of his Rangers eat, feeling relaxed by her mere presence. Funny how he could relax in her company when Maeve was his exact opposite. She was strong whereas he was weak, honest whereas he was a liar. He supposed it was their upbringing that made them so different. While she grew up fending against bears and bandits, he grew up fending against court politicians. Krezbel knew he ought not feel jealous. Why should he? He was a king. He could have anything he wanted; Krezbel shook his head.


"What about you, Commander Maeve?" Krezbel asked, his eyes alight with curiosity. "What conversations do you enjoy in the company of your Rangers?"

 

[Lady Sabine]

Maeve cocked her left brow at the notion of the noble scandals, the discussion not an entirely unfamiliar concept to her. Castle gossip had a way of carrying, and Rangers were often nosy by nature, a problem only compounded by the messages they sometimes carried or subterfuge they performed. There had been one or two discussions of noble bastards and affairs, of scandals and chance encounters. She grinned at the thought as she speared a piece of pheasant with the tip of her knife, lifting it a fingersbreadth off her plate before she remembered her manners and set it down again to carve into reasonable bites.


"Just telling you the topics would be a conversation in itself, your Grace," She replied with the smile still on her lips, shaking her head briefly at a few memories of the less appropriate conversation that had been brought up. Illicit affairs were one thing, but she had learned details of other affairs that she had never wanted. Her Rangers were an eclectic group, but few of good breeding and manners. "The goings-on in the land, more often than not. The state of the roads, the bridges, the inns... what we have seen and done and hoped for. Songs and stories, when we learn them."


For a moment she hesitated, wondering if she ought to even mention it. "And, of course, the... more than natural occurrences we see," The Commander added, watching him carefully. "There isn't a man among us who hasn't seen things he can't explain."

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Krezbel’s hand clenched against his goblet. He knew what Commander Maeve spoke of. He also knew that it wasn’t something to be spoken of lightly. He couldn’t fathom why Maeve was bringing it up now.


Magic.


How many times had his father warned him against mentioning such a concept in polite society? As a child, he had read many history books…fairy tales…of the wonders and magicks of Terra Sylvan. His seemingly natural ability to make plants grow and flowers blossom had enthralled him when he’d been a kid, enchanted him even. He wanted to know more about his powers…about himself. However, with age, so too came wisdom and disillusionment. Magic no longer existed in Terra Sylvan. As fewer and fewer people were born able to use magic, religious groups like the Faith of Father Heavens began to emerge and take root, calling magic a sin and ‘works of the devil’.


Krezbel didn’t know how to respond to Maeve. Should he reprimand her for bringing up such a topic in the presence of the king? Should he ignore the comment, as if it had never been spoken? Or should he take the safe route and play ignorant of Maeve’s vaguely-worded words? Was it ok to talk to the commander of his rangers about magic…like he wanted to?


Fortunately, Krezbel was saved from having to make a decision by the entrance of the young scullery maid from earlier.


“Pardon me, your Majesty. Someone requests an audience with you,”


Krezbel stood up quickly. “Please excuse me Commander Maeve, I’ve got pressing matters to attend to. It was pleasant sharing lunch with you.”


Krezbel realized that he was taking the coward’s way out, but at the moment he didn’t care. He turned to the maid. “Who is it?”


“Lady Kristia,”


Krezbel repressed the urge sigh.


Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

 

[Lady Sabine]

Well, now she had done it. A smarter, more worldly, wiser woman would have known better than to bring up a subject like magic in front of the King; why couldn't she be that woman? The Ranger magic truly could have not picked a more incompetent Commander, she mused bitterly as she poked unenthusiastically at the food that had just looked so good, glancing over every few moments to gauge the expression on Krezbel's face. From the way his fingers were tightening the thought was not one he welcomed, though his eyes were harder to read.


Eventually, she knew, she would have to talk to him about it. Why had his father not told him? Explaining that she and her kind possessed, and had always possessed, intrinsic magic did not sound much like a fun conversation. If he responded as badly as some of the church-addled nitwits in the aristocracy had in past years, she wondered if stakes and bonfires would come back into fashion. Some lords, she knew, had strict laws against magic in their own fiefs.


The maid's interruption was both welcome and irritating, but she was in no position to argue the point and stood to leave without protest. "I live to serve," She replied simply, bowed, then turned on her heel and left before she could say anything more and dig her hole even deeper, cheeks starting to redden.


The walk back to the Ranger barracks gave her time to collect her wits, and as she drew up the budget needed for the coming months she steeled her nerve and made her decision. Late that evening she sent a steward with a request to the King to meet again to discuss the budget, as well as other Ranger matters, at his convenience. There was no point in putting it off, really- he should have known since his coronation, at the latest, and she had no business keeping secrets from him. In ages past the King had commanded his Rangers much more closely and they had served him directly, not simply doing the normal duties required for upkeep of the realm.

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Slapped.


That’s what happened when he met up with Lady Kristia.


King Krezbel tu Sylvan was slapped in the face.


Krezbel rubbed the area where it Baron Dylan’s daughter had palmed his face. He no longer felt anything, as the entire event had happened hours ago, but the lingering shock was still there. He honestly didn’t know if he was impressed or insulted. He would have probably been more angry…if he hadn’t known he deserved it. No matter how he had excused himself, Krezbel had still broken a promise to her.


Taking a sip of his wineglass, Krezbel sighed as he leaned against the balcony connected to his royal bedchamber and stared up at the evening sky. Speaking of women he had wronged, Krezbel realized that he’d been terribly rude to the Commander of his Rangers as well. No matter how awkward he had felt, running away like that –leaving her stranded—after he’d been the one to invite her to lunch wasn’t the gentlemanly thing to do at all.


Krezbel frowned. So much for re-kindling a lost friendship. He wouldn’t blame Maeve if she never spoke with him again. Such a wonderful king he was turning out to be—constantly making a mess of his relationships. It would have been so much better if Azkar was still alive. Even Viskros, the second eldest, would have been a better king than Krezbel, whose idea of ruling was just to let the kingdom run itself.


Krezbel downed the rest of his alcohol and prepared to go to bed. He would give a royal order to the scholars to research hidden passages through the mountain tomorrow. Krezbel liked to think he kept some of his promises at least. However, before he unclasped his cloak, a steward arrived with a request from Maeve—to discuss the budget, as well as other Ranger matters at his convenience. Krezbel fingered his golden hair as he considered the request. It wasn’t urgent and he did not want to talk about the kingdom’s budget at the moment…especially when he knew he wasn’t perfectly sober.


Therefore, he told the steward to inform Commander Maeve that he would meet her at the tomorrow morning at the throne room, two hours after the sun rose.

 

[Lady Sabine]

The throne room was marble and stained glass, the tapestries rich and carpets richer, suits of armor and sculptures and chandeliers of beauty and value without measure. The lords and ladies milling around were all perfumed and garbed in silks and samites, smiles teasing at their lips and thoughts rarely wandering farther than intrigue and how best to preserve their fortunes.


Maeve was a dark shadow amongst them, wrapped in a hooded cloak of greens and greys and browns that provided excellent camouflage in the forest, albeit less good within the castle walls. Beneath it, leather. Leather riding boots up to her thighs, leather bracers, a reinforced leather vest for armor, even soft doeskin trousers. No shirt, beneath the vest- a risque choice, even if it did lace up to her neck, but necessary. Necessary for what she needed to show him, what he needed to know. Just not here. Not among all the people.


But a mere commoner did not question the king's choice of meeting locales. If he wanted the throne room, then the throne room it would be, she gliding in like a specter, cloak billowing around her, war paint obscuring her bare skin and breaking up her outline until only the whites of her eyes were convincingly human. Her hair, braided unevenly and streaked with more paint, made her look half feral. Out of place, yes, but also what Krezbel needed to see of his Rangers. Dressed in court garb, bowing and speaking politely and riding their horses in gallant parade in the bright sunlight- he would never understand what role magic played. He needed to see her as they truly were, as they were when he needed them.


Or else she was a complete fool. One or the other.


Stepping before the throne with an empty quiver but her bow slung over her shoulder, Maeve bowed deeply but briefly, raising her eyes to his. "My liege," She spoke softly. "I apologize for my dress. I wished to show you a side of your Rangers you may never have seen before."