#eatheltwein
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Tales of Ealden Cynedom: 37. The Second Chance (2/5)
37. The Second Chance (chapter 2 - I’ve Seen This Before 2/5 ) part 8. Stories of Dreams.none
In the mourning, Merriam awoke to music. Tinny, irregular reception, coming from the radio next to her. The room was painted brown, with many black art posters, and magazines of immodest woman on the dresser. More pressingly, there was music. Merriam shook that radio, banged it, and hurled it across the room. But the beast still screamed canary.
“Are you ok Merriam?” Jupiter said from the door.
“This petulant metal animal, will not stop wailing like a bard in a brothel with an untuned lute.” Merriam snapped. Jupiter walked over, and flicked the switch off.
“It’s a radio. You must still be out of it,” She sighed. “We keep Reggie’s alarm going. It makes it feel like she’s still here, and not in a literal volcano. I know she’s a mage, but I’m still worried as her mother.” Jupiter said, placing the radio back by the bed.
“I see. My daughter ran off at the age of twelve, to marry the Raven King. I’ve accepted it, and rejoiced in her immortality; But I still worry.” Merriam yawned. Jupiter, not having a single clue who Merriam actually was, shrugged in comradery.
“Daughters am I right?” Jupiter said, before seeing Merriam’s face go red.
“Odette is in so much trouble! She flew off for her father before we could talk! Wait. Oh no. She went back for Fredrick… My girl’s might rip apart time; Or herself!” Meriam catastrophized. Jupiter, having aided a Raven Prince Griminthrope, also knew Odette. She suspected it was her, when Merriam mentioned ‘lost princess.’ It gave Jupiter shivers. She saw the resemblance in Merriam’s face, and concluded her guest was being honest. Jupiter handed Meriam a white sweater dress, the knit socks, and modern underwear. Merriam put them on, and grumbled her way to the kitchen table.
Jupiter pulled the phone from the hall to the table, to call her nephew. As a Seer of history, Morgan might be able to confirm Merriam’s identity. If he did that, Merriam could get paperwork, to live anew, from the magic incidents department. Jupiter listend, while Morgan said there were few records of anyone named Merriam Craweleoth: Some in mage journals. As for the Queen during the warring period, Morgan read some on the royal ranch he was born and raised on, and the palace; That had been turned into a museum. He seemed unsure if the mage Merriam Crweleoth, and Odette’s mother, were the same person. Mundane records talked of her formally, while mage records used her full name; But some events lined up. Jupiter listened to Morgan talk in depth about it for twenty-minutes. Then he asked why she was asking. Jupiter looked Merriam up and down.
“We have a guest who says she is both those people. If I hadn’t adopted you, I’d say she was off-kilter.” Jupiter said. She then hung up.
“Master Craweleoth, I believe you may want to go to royal ranch, Saxon & Kendal, on the mainland. If not for proof of your claims, then to rest and access your situation. If Morgan is right, it might be your best bet. I don’t think he has all the records needed to vouch for you at the Magic Administration.” Jupiter recommended.
“Wait, Saxon & Kendal is still standing? There are heirs of my nephew still around? And a Seer of History happens to be one? By all odds, Merry!” Nihten chirped, nuzzling into Merriam’s sweater.
“Oh just wait. Next, I’ll find out he’s the one who reminded my daughter to resurrect me, with his familiar adorable smile? The same one Eathel and Fredrick would use on me.” Merriam mumbled, petting Nihten.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Morgan. It’s a headache having to foster him; That boy is involved in half the drama in Pepperidge. I just want a mundane life, but fell in love with an oaf in a magic forest.” Jupiter sighed, pouring Merriam coffee. “Also, regarding your girl; It sounds to me like you need an apology, not justice. Is making up for the time you lost together, best spent keeping grudges?” She continued. Nihten nodded from Merriam’s shoulder.
“Both are fair. I spent my whole life radically accepting what happened to me. I rested in piece. Now I have to do it all over again!”
“Precisely. Personally, I wish I had more second shots.”
A few days later, and Merriam was wearing her Fairy-Robes. She was once again clad in black crushed velvet and feathers. The Black ruff of plumage, about the neck, made her look like a Raven. She was wearing rouge and kohl again, and feeling more like herself. Merriam jiggled her leg, as she sat on the fiery across the isle; Deeply missing her knights. She hadn’t realized how her companions helped her mind, as much as they filled her heart. They hated boats, and it was kind of funny each time they crossed the isle. Merriam fell deeper into insecurity. On the ride, everyone around her assumed she was a regular Seer; But Merriam still feared they knew she was a mage. Feared history repeating itself, in spite of control over the clock.
Merriam then took a shuttle to the ranch. Once there, everyone assumed she was a tourist, and laughed when she asked to speak with the current King. As she walked along, Merriam saw five knights, dressed in traditional uniforms; The five of them colour coded as her knights once were.
“Hello, how can I help you? We don’t have programs today.” A tall blond man with sage eyes asked. He looked nearly like her husband. Meriam froze.
“Wait, we didn’t call for a wizard…” He continued, examining Meriam. “You know, this might sound odd, but I feel like I’ve seen you before.”
“I’m Merriam Craweleoth; I’ve come seeking... Anything regarding the Queen of Anglia during the warring period?” Merriam responded slowly, scanning her surroundings. The ranch looked as she left it before her death; From the black well, people’s attire, and the paint on the cabins. The man patted her shoulder.
“Odysseus Cynedom. I’ve never actually been addressed as King before. Bloodline titles are a little pretentious in the modern day. As for records on queens, maybe our study cabin has something of interest? Though they’re mostly replicas of the museum’s collection.” Odysseus continued. But the peach haired maiden before him, continued to look around listlessly.
“What interests you? There’s a lot of traditional stuff going on, so I always ask guests.”
“Those five colourful knights; They look my travel companions when I was Queen.”
“There’s a traditional knight’s school up at North Pointe; Top graduates are sent here as a: royal guards.” Odysseus giggled. “We hold re-enactments of me titling the top five. They’re named after plants, and I have to dress up like King Eatheltwein. Wait, Queen?”
Merriam burst forward: “My nephew! Wait, would you have documents if I said I was Aunt Merry? That’s what he called me.” Merriam chimed. Not only did she find some fine knights, but got to hear about Eatheltwein. Jupiter had the right idea. But Odysseus’s face went grey, as if he was about to feint.
“Ah. That Queen… Let me guess? Magery was a factor? What is it with wielders of time magic? Odette restored the entire ranch when I had a breakdown. For practice. Now she’s using her Beast Queen enchantments to resurrect her lost loved ones? This is why I give people hoarse therapy, and toss goats; Magery isn’t dangerous, it’s absurd. But to double check it’s really you, follow me; I think I know where I saw you.” Odysseus smiled.
Merriam followed him to the teal ‘prince’s’ cabin. He had prepared it in case Morgan, or guests, needed it. In the kitchen, upon the far wall, was a gauzy painting of Merriam and her husband dancing. She wore no makeup, and Nihten was on her head. She was wearing her favourite blue dress, and Francian pearls. Her husband’s sage tunic, was embroidered with roses and strawberries. The background was dim, and they were lit ethereally. At the bottom, it was signed by Merriam’s niece-in-law; She loved to paint. Meriam felt a little cold and empty. Now such whimsy, as that portrayed before her, felt unattainable.
“That’s it. The only thing that has your picture on it.” Odysseus gestured. Merriam stared at the perfect image of her One True Love. Captivating by the feeling of a waking dream.
“Just kidding, I have a few diaries from King Fredrick, Eatheltwein, and some other letters mentioning you by title such as: My love, The Queen, and Aunty. No hint of magery, nor a ‘Merriam Craweleoth’, however. Honestly, I wouldn’t have believe you if Odette hadn’t fixed this place.” He chuckled leaving Merriam in the room. She silently sat, enchanted by the painting. Merriam had no words; Just a subtle sadness and longing. She remembered that night well. It was before they went to Doi Veng in the Eastlands, and she accepted her trauma and gratitude. Fredrick crossed the Shadow Veil, going dark while in old age, just to go with her on a quest. He knew how much she loved adventure. That memory gave Merriam so much comfort in her later years. Now she was unsure if it filled her with joy, longing, or furry.
Meriam, got up and took warmth in seeing what had, and hadn’t, changed here. The sinks ran clean water, Eatheltwein’s ancestors adored magic, and there were still goats, ducks, pears, and knights. She felt like she was on a quest again; albeit a lonelier one. The sort where she didn’t know what the destination was. Merriam loved those ones; They contained novel experiences. Then Merriam felt sad, knowing that Eatheltwein and her knights were long gone. That her husband, who died before her, left her unable to ever love again. Merriam was trapped in a younger body, with nothing to her name. lost, she looked down at the worn floors. Only alerted by a tap on the window.
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Raven Queen Odette, drawn as her parents; I gave her a wardrobe update.
37. The Second Chance (chapter 4 - Palace of Memories 4/4 ) part 8. Stories of Dreams.
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Fredrick and Merriam couldn’t stay on the ranch she once called home. Time had passed, and they were no longer a part of this place. They were brought back with few clothes, and forgotten names. Accumulating cats, while doing house chores. Odette had yet to visit Merriam and Fredrick; For someone who dearly missed her parents, to the point she’d move time to be have them, she sure wasn’t with them. They knew their time to move on had come, when Odysseus walked into their cabin.
“I want you to go to the Raven Gate in the Capitol. That palace is a museum of restored things; Odette might be there if she’s feeling sentimental. Additionally, we need this place for my son’s stupid performative wedding.” He explained. Merriam and Fredrick cringed, remembering the dryness of their purely ceremonial union. They hadn’t realized they were True Loves then. It was a terrible day; Fredrick having buried his parents, and Merriam torn from her dreams. Odysseus saw them wilt at the mere mention of nuptials. Fredrick changed the subject, by requesting the money to oblige him. Odysseus slapped tickets to the Capitol, and museum, into their hands.
“The old and new, awaits you.” He chuckled.
Merriam was appalled that her Raven Gate was in a state of upheaval. It was requested by the state, and stood in the city square; Now forming an unattended magic ‘forest’, full of frustrated fey and Common Folk. What crimes against magic occurred after her murder? The people acted like they forgot the city was enchanted; Like they forgot about her.
Merriam and Fredrick looked around their old home, which now hosted their old things on display. It was surreal to see people fawning over their used personals. There was also art, linages, clothing, and more; Each with accurate, but easily misinterpreted, plackets about the nation’s history. Merriam and Fredrick found it mildly amusing, to see modern families coo at emphatically worded descriptions of their daily lives. The galleries had just opened on a work day, and the visitors were people taking children for an outing. Beneath the educational front, the castle was still itself; Local grey granite, with only the tiles made from The Grand West’s famous black marble. A sanitized version, of what felt like home.
Fredrick was bewildered to see his favourite tunic untouched by time. To see the crown shimmering on display dumbfounded him. His neck hurt remembering it’s heft. The golden circle of gryphons with peridot pears, was strictly ceremonial.
“Look Merry!” Fredrick pointed to their shoes. She was looking at a painting of him. Fredrick approached curiously.
“I don’t remember getting this one done.” He tilted his head.
“I commissioned it shortly after your passing. It was hung with your forefathers in this very ballroom. It’s always been here, unlike these glass cases. Did you know our daughter kept me in one in? In the Shadow Veil? Where is she even? I swore Icthya and Odysseus were onto something...” Merriam jittered. She was furiously petting Nihten. Fredrick leaned in.
“Thank you. It dapicts everything I love. My colours from going dark, strawberries, roses, and my most comfortable clothes. Oh, and look; The painter didn’t even know how to do cats right.” he smiled.
“Yes. All sweet things. Just like you.” Merriam flirted.
As they moved down the room, they examined the linage on the wall. Fredrick pointed to himself, Eatheltwein, and followed it down the wall to Odysseus and Morgan at the end. It named every prince, princess, and Queen; Except Merriam. Beyond its comprehension, they moved into what was once the study wing.
Upon the best lit hall, where the windows overlooking the castle’s layers; Each hosting a courtyard, that trailed to the main steps. Merriam and Fredrick could see the now sprawling city. Even The Raven Gate sitting in the main square, as it always had. Merriam looked behind her, as a family walked buy; Also admiring the view. She went still. There were five perfectly lit tapestries. One for each of her knights. The eldest, white knight Sir. Holly, had his flag poised to indicate he was following, not leading, into a battle. Their eyes and hair were their given colour: White, red, green, yellow, and blue. Thus, indicating they’d already gone dark, after returning from a quest with Merriam. The quest she returned from, only to find Odette gone.
“Oh. Our knights. The men I lent to you. We were all good friends…” Fredrick sighed. “You must miss them more then I.”
“I do. But I can’t help but to remember their Happily Ever Afters. Do you change your mind about staying ignorant, Fredrick? Do want to know what happened to them? Take solace in knowing they passed after a beautiful life?” Merriam whispered. She had a tinge of jealousy. Fredrick took a breath and nodded. The smooth threads of the restored textiles glowed. Glittering knots, depicting vines, horses, and vibrant colours. There was a sign telling people not the touch the ethereal weaving.
“Sir. Holly, the white knight, died shortly after you. He had retired far to late; At the age of ninety!” Merriam smiled; Her posture perfectly poised. Still a queen in nature, as she methodically examined the fine work. Fredrick warmed to se her smile.
“The red Knight, Sir. Apple, actually retired after the formation of parliament. He Start a knight’s school in North Point. Do you recall that he always had a squire?” She chimed. Merriam drew their attention to the youngest knight, pulling a bow upon a dun horse.
“Speaking of which, one of his student’s! The Yellow Knight, Sir. Marigold, left our guard to teach paladins to respect for magic. I wonder if it actually worked, given the stubbornness of wizards.” Merriam pondered. Fredrick looked at Sir. Holly further, he felt something was off about the set.
“The Green Knight, Sir. Rosemary, went to help immigration and trade at Boarder Town, by Francia. His love, The Blue Knight, Sir. Sage, lived the rest of his days defending and serving this palace.” She concluded. Merriam felt uplifted recalling her companions; But Frederick looked confuddled.
“But, where are you? They should be following you. I gave them to you for quests. They travelled the world, and bravely faced all manors of magic. Fine men. Not the brightest, but the dearest and Nobelist.” Fredrick nagged. Merriam held her breath. She knew why her scroll was gone. Merriam was there when it was sewn. Ever since Odette resurrected her, Merriam had no trace.
“As all other mages of the time, I suspect they removed all word of me. How scandalous it would have been, for their peace bringer and queen was of such taboo talents. Those upcoming wizards would surly not admit it. That’s how I died Fredrick. I gave into them like all the other mages. I fought them off from the gate without my fairy robes. A creaky grandmother, awaiting her mortal destiny. Before that, there was a time I wanted to disappear. Now, I don’t know.” Merriam said. It stung. She changed her mind; Merriam wanted her mage journals read. She didn’t like being noone, feeling alone in this palace again. Her knowledge as a Seer, could’ve helped someone if she’d kept them on the ranch.
“You should be with them.” Fredrick interrupted.
“I know.” Merriam exhaled slowly.
“No, I mean there’s a little note. I think it indicates that you’re scroll is being restored by a collection holder. Morgan maybe?” Fredrick said, looking to the right. A smile appeared on Merriam’s face, further cheering her husband. That boy must’ve connected the dots while they were at the ranch.
They sat in the garden sampling fruit they packed. They’d seen the whole palace, and now felt anxious about Odette. Merriam looked around nervously; The fountain was worn, yet all the same plants were there. People had painstakingly kept the yard as it once was. Fredrick noted the same golden geese swam in the pond, and how Odette and Eatheltwein would sing to them. He then looked up to the second-floor windows; The dormitory wing. Odette’s windows overlooked the back courtyard, as she wanted a room that opened to a walkway. Odette may have had her True Love’s Kiss with the Raven King on that balcony. Merriam turned her attention there too. She felt the pain of the day she came home to a missing child. A child she never wanted, but couldn’t help but love. Merriam remembered how she used to sing to Odette, in many languages, even though she hated music. Despondent, the pair returned to watching the families eating in the garden.
However, they were unable to resist looking back once more. Merriam turned to see a lady that looked much like her, all in white. Odette smiled sweetly at her mother.
“Odette! Come down here this instant!” Merriam scowled. When Odette shook her head, Merriam got up, and ran into the castle, up the secret stairwell, and tor into Odette’s room. She tripped over the bungee cord keeping people out of the recreated space. Fredrick followed suit. Luckily, this room had carpets over the stone floor, breaking their fall. Odette gasped, and helped her parent’s up, only to receive a tight embrace.
“I’m so mad.” Merriam sobbed.
“I’m sorry. I was scared to talk after realizing my error. Remembering you, after meeting Morgan, reopened the hole where my lost childhood should be. But it is not my place to decide-”
“No Odette, I’m mad I have to make it work. I would be a hypocrite to defile your efforts to save me. Despite my wishes, I cannot blame someone for loving. I cannot deny my daughter her happiness.”
“Well, I’m mad you forgot to visit us, after bringing us back!” Fredrick grumbled. “Apologize for this abuse of spell-craft; Which is not even your worst crime here.” He snapped. Fredrick was seldom angry, causing his wife and daughter to flinch.
“How dare you grow up without us. Couldn’t you have waited a little longer to requite the Raven King’s love? Or at least told us? Visited before loosing yourself? Before I died.” Fredrick crumbled.
“Father… I, I admit I lacked maturity, when presented with True Love’s Spell. I had no clue the Shadow Veil would fade my memories. I’m sorry father. There is no way to undo this. I brought you both back, without consideration of your lives’ after doing so. I dare say I’m terribly impulsive.” Odette confessed. The family huddled a little longer, unsure what to do next. Comforted, Fredrick had more questions:
“Does this mean we have living grandchildren? Can we meet them?” He said. Odette smiled yes. She helped them up, walked outside, and pointed to the golden geese in the fountain, and a silver phoenix on a turret. Then she pointed to four-winged opalescent ravens by the trash bins.
“Those are the princesses I actually bared. The princes’ however, are unruly and kept in a Death Tree. As much as I love them, but the grinding noise their corvid skulls, while consuming flesh, is ghastly. They could fey and men. Though my youngest is sweet; He lives with people who bring him trinkets and roadkill.” Odette said. Fredrick had mixed feelings; Merriam was full of curiosity.
“I’d love to meet him once we’re settled!” Merriam smiled.
The family spent the rest of the day looking around the changed city. Odette stood out with her fey like appearance. The Raven King imbued her with his kingdom when they kissed. It didn’t seem to bother her parents much.
“Mother and father, what will we do next? I still have to be Queen, but you now have a lifetime to live. You had dreams before me, correct?” She inquired. Fredrick and Merriam knew the traps of creating goals and plans. They stalled, looking at the Magic Administration building; It attracted tourists due to the fact it is made of green stone, and much bigger on the inside.
“Do they have pubs with cats? Like you pay to get an ale, and sit in a room full of socialized healthy kittens to pet?” Fredrick contemplated. Though his wife and daughter shrugged, there was in fact, one five blocks away.
“This place gives me an idea. Two can play at these wizard games.” Merriam said, pulling Fredrick and Odette into the administration building. She walked in confidently, and stopped suddenly in front of the reception desk. The three of them waited patiently for the wizard to put down the phone. Looking up, the lady froze before Merriam’s demanding presence, and crow like garbs.
“Hello, I’m Mage Queen Merriam Craweleoth, and wish to speak to a leading wizard. I need to confirm my identity.” She announced. The wizard nodded, and reached for the phone again.
“Once that is done, I have a proposal; I see this magic city, sprawling from the Raven Gate I created, is in disorder. You might benefit from a mage’s presence. So, tell me wizard, instead of murdering me, how about you tell me how I can help?”
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King Fredrick Cynedom, depicted with the things he loved; Minus the cats.
37. The Second Chance (chapter 3 - Me and Fredrick 3/5 ) part 8. Stories of Dreams.
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From over the windowsill, Merriam saw a young man through the fogged glass. He had eyes of jade, and strawberry waved hair. Merriam found herself unable to look away, and in fact, drawn to open the window. The fellow shrank while Merriam reached to unlatch the window. Which was fused shut. Against all logic, Merriam was compelled to greet him, and dropped her anguish for what felt like a familiar face; To the point of forgetting she knew magic. Instead of going through the walls, or stopping time, Merriam shot out the kitchen, and down to the back door. She turned the corner, and tripped over her observer. Their eyes met for a forever.
“Merry? You look like the day we met. I saw our daughter, and she was like a swan. Am I dreaming?”
“Fredrick?! You also look as young as me. Though these are the colours magic gave you, after crossing the ether with me… To think I didn’t believe our princess could do this. You died so long ago, but all evidence indicates this is real.” Merriam said, getting nearer, touching his cheek. “My words are taken.”
“So, Odette is forgiven for this foolish deed? She begged me to convince you this is an act of love. She seemed filled with guilt. Odette healed me just in time, tossed me in enchanted waters, and took me here; I’m not sure if I should applaud her.”
“Unsure?! We both lived fulfilling long lives, with Happily Ever Afters, and all the garnishes. Loved ones near, in a lap of luxury; More then many of our time could ask. I had concluded my journey with acceptance, and asked her not to heal me. She kept me in a coffin for centuries, Fredrick. She’s waving magic around without thought of consequences; She should feel bad.” Merriam rambled.
“That may be true, but I get to hug my lost daughter, and live a little longer with my wife. Should I be so angry? There is always more to live for.”
“Using too much magic at once can kill a mage! I’m worried sick!” Merriam started. She noticed Fredrick had zoned out.
“As a boy, I always thought if I wasn’t King, that I’d like to foster cats with a common lady, in the countryside.” He said vacantly. A tabby with a jeweled collar walked by. He tried to lure it. Merriam gently put his arm down.
“Dear, that’s a fencing cat; It even has cute little boots.” She sighed. Fredrick smiled, and then tried asking it nicely, since that sometimes works on fey.
Fredrick and Merriam held hands at a small desk. They were in the study center, waiting for Odysseus to gather the records. Instead, he was writing letters. Merriam had to explain that if no one believed them, they’d be without a future. Time manipulation can get hard to grasp, even among magic users. It would be difficult to live anew, without a legal identity. While Odysseus wrote, Merriam and Fredrick nudged closer and closer by the minute; Unable to resist the other’s affection. Their True Love anklets had reappeared; thus, the spell had been recast. Fredrick admired Merriam’s fairy robes. There was nothing she couldn’t pull off. He asked if she’d like him to cut her hair again. Merriam leant closer and asked for a good kiss instead. Odysseus looked up, and told them to be quieter. After rolling her eys, Merriam got up and took Fredrick around ranch; She wanted to show him how their nephew Eatheltwein retired.
“This reminds me of when we went to Eastlands of Vietica.” Fredrick said looking about in complete calmness. “Remember that old man who made jade tools? The top of the golden butte was a meditative path. I nearly died in the ether getting there, but you finally knew healing potions. After he gave us wisdom, you finally cried for all you’d lost in my arms. A nice dream together. A moment without politics.” Fredrick reminisced, falling into a rose bush. Merriam jumped over it to heal him on the other side.
“My roses! No!” A sharp voice cried. They peered over the foliage. The Gardner had long caramel hair, grass green eyes, and a slight frame spackled with freckles. Her coveralls were patched and dirty, as where her gloves and hat.
“I’m sorry. I tripped. Can I make amends?” Fredrick asked. The Gardner looked up in tears. She nodded and reached out her hand. Both Merriam and Fredrick shook it.
“I’m Icthya. I’m just really attached to the plants… Gardening reminds me of my late father, and I planted these myself. I even tend the Tree Fey.” Icthya sniffed. Fredrick felt guiltier by the moment.
“Wait, you two; Have you seen my husband? He’s not feeding the goats and chickens like normal. I had to make a knight do it. He’s been out of it lately. Our son is returning this autumn.”
“What does your husband look like? My familiar Nihten can search from the sky.” Merriam inquired. She was a sucker for helping people on a tangent. Icthya smiled at Nihten.
“My son has a bird familiar too. Are you a mage?”
“Stop for a second.” Fredrick interjected. “The Gardner is commanding knights?”
“I’m ‘Queen’.” Icthya snorted, she started fixing the bushes.
“Well, in that case, ‘King’ Odysseus is in the library passionately writing a letter.”
“Oh, wedding planning for our son! He must be getting along with my brother Cetus.” Icthya smiled. Merriam tilted her head,
“I’ve met him; He knitted me socks in two hours. Full circle then. Well, would you by any chance help us prove our identities, so we can live anew? We’re Odette’s parents. As Queen you must h-.”
“I’m not sure about queenly stuff, but I do know the records better then Oddie. I had to put away all of Morgan’s books when he was little. I bet I can find proof you existed Merry and-” Icthya looked at Fredrick. She recognized him from the art. “King Fredrick?!” She gasped. He nodded cautiously.
“Well then, I think you’ll have no problem! Everyone learns about him, and many know magic. If you say ‘time magic’, and gesture to Fredrick, the right person could help you.” Icthya shrugged. “But if I may, why do you want to get government ID first? Wouldn’t it be worth your time to adjust to modern times? What about Odette? I think she needs her parents, given she’s misusing her magic for them. She might be struggling. Same thing happened with Morgan; Scares me silly.” Icthya continued. Fredrick was clicking at a real cat this time, and ruffling behind its ears. Merriam softened; it was her turn to fell regret.
“I guess that’s true Icthya. It would be a shame to hate a child for bringing back their parents. She left us at twelve, and we never got to know her as an adult. Though I wish I had died, I can’t go back; I can’t dishonour her. Not after her effort, and spending so many years wishing she had stayed.” Merriam looked at her feet; She felt unable to embrace the opportunity quite yet. Seeing her wilt, Fredrick handed her the cat.
“If we get to be a family again, and have youth, we can make choices. Merriam, before we ever got wed, what did you dream of doing? I always wondered what choice you lost, that made you so resentful.” Fredrick asked. Merriam grimaced. She’d buried that dream long ago. She was too old and bitter for such things. Her ambiance became a consuming blackness.
“Dream big Merry! You have a new life, and little to lose! I’m so curious; What did a Mage Queen really want as a girl?” Icthya encouraged. Merriam stared into middle-distance; She now wanted Fredrick and Odette in her dream, but that’s not what they were asking. They wanted to know her first wish. Merriam inhaled deeply.
“I wanted to become an old hag, living in a thicket of whimsical wonders, without a husband, or children. Starving in Francia with my father and milk-sister. Spending my days tending fey, observing my gate, and aiding wanderers. Adorned in kohl, rouge, and black. Peaceful solitude, surrounded by nature.” She confessed firmly. There was a pause. Fredrick began to uncontrollably laugh.
“Well, I’ll be damned if your father didn’t make a good choice sending you to my side! That sounds the opposite of the loving, and adventurous, woman I love. Your favourite colour is periwinkle, for wonders’ sake!” He chuckled. “How young did we make you a bride, for you to want something so miserable?” He went on. Merriam cringed with embarrassment. She had to agree.
They had lunch in the main hall, with Odysseus, Icthya, the five modern knights. Yesterday’s duck, peas, and radish, with today’s bread. They also had fresh butter, and bowls of pommes. The room was lit by the opened roof panels, providing a dusty glow. The walls were tall and red, the tables long. Every inch carved with pears and horses. Merriam loved how tacky and cozy this hall was. Fredrick however, thought the ponies a bit much.
In the afternoon, they offered services to earn their boarding, as they had no money. Everyone seemed calm, and accepted who they were. They had already seen Odette restore the acreage; It was not a far streach, to assume she’d bring back loved ones. Merriam and Fredrick spent the night in the Prince’s Cabin, where they bathed and put on sleeping gowns. They began reading Eatheltwein’s journals. Fredrick died before his nephew had a family. It tugged his heart to once more read the poor grammar, and excited tone. All the illustrations were in yellow. Fredrick wanted to be mad people read his diaries, but in their defence, he was dead. It made Fredrick sad to read how people felt after losing him, and reading about the milestones he missed. Merriam brought him tea.
“I now understand Merry. I see why you told our daughter to let you go. I was happier in my last moments, being optimistic about my recovery, then reading these accounts. Having my last thoughts be of love, instead of knowing the woe of my kin and the memories I never made. It makes me feel distant. If there is anything else I missed, don’t tell me. I’m unsure my heart can bear it. I wish I’d never known this. Was it better to pass in ignorant bliss, then live on? This changes things.” Fredrick cried. Merriam hugged him, as it got dark.
“I know. I’m so lost. It fells empty. I never planned for this. How does I live again? Wanting more from each moment, and resenting the past’s charm.”
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Merriam in the infamous blue dress.
37. The Second Chance (chapter 1 - Glass Coffin 1/5 ) part 8. Stories of Dreams.
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Torn from her family, and forced to wed and bear and heir. Having Traveled the world’s magic forests, to bring peace to the ten lands. Her betrothed king husband, actually a One True Love. Embracing her beloved nephew, and precious daughter. Five merry knights by her side, on grand travels. After achieving peace, and meeting many, she buried her husband of sickness, saw her nephew wed for love, and have his own children. She started to grey through her enchantment, that slows ageing, and found ease in retirement. A mage of time, who lived a long fulfilling life; And met death openly, by the hands of her kingdom’s wizards. Falling into the comforting Shadow Veil, now at peace. The last thing she sees, is her lost daughter, who wed the King of Ravens decades ago. Though her daughter could heal, Merriam requested to pass in serenity.
Any mention, by name or depiction, of Mage Queen Merriam Craweleoth, was burned. Everyone fell silent about their peace-bringer. She was dead, like all the mages of that time. Wizards now rested their minds, having killed the last of the mages they feared. The new magic users. But in their bias, they no longer wanted to acknowledge the mages who aided them; Not even if one was a Queen.
But Odette, her daughter, lived on. Eternally wed to a tenth of magic, and soaring as the giant skulled opal raven. This was Odette’s dream. Living in the ether, she forgot her human life, but not her mother. For The Lost Princess Odette, now Raven Queen, had a terrible secret. By chance alone, she wielded time magic like her mother; And loving her mother so, healed her after she lost consciousness. Unable to let go, Odette put her mother in a near-death sleep. She transmuted a case of glass and gold, and hid it in plane sight. Her mother rested in the Raven Kingdom, wearing only the chamise she died in. surrounded by her precious enchanted trinkets, journals, clothes, and signature black fairy-robes. Even Merriam’s Kestrel familiar nestled on her pillow. As time passed, Odette visited less; Just as her cousin’s descendants. Soon leaf litter, and fallen branches, covered the coffin of the once courageous Queen. Odette defied her mother’s greatest wish, and happy ending; All because she felt they parted too soon.
It had been centuries, and the loss of time in the Shadow Veil took the memories of the once human Beast Queens. Occupied with parenting fey with their King, their past lives disappeared. But something strange happened one day; A boy visited the ten kingdoms, and became brother to The Beast Kings. There was a new King Mage, named Morgan. He uncovered and restored so much of magery, that soon there were many people realizing they were mages. Times were changing. Humanity started to visit the ether again, and the Queens asked about their pasts. History restored, at the cost of the Queens remembering who they were. Odette remembered she was the lost princess, who loved her family deeply.
Odette recalled her cousin, Eatheltwein’s, ranch; And his bloodline that her Raven King husband cursed. A hidden royal spell, demanding each heir be a mage, in order to visit her. Even though the Monarchy dissolved into parliament, the heirs remained. Odette suddenly regretted marrying so young. She yearned for the childhood and life she could’ve had; The one her parents wanted for her. She reversed time on the ranch, so it looked like it did when Eathel lived there. She went to Morgan’s wedding, having missed her cousins. He was a descendant; No wonder he stirred her memories. At last, Odette remembered her mother was hidden in the ether.
After centuries had passed, Odette brushed off the grey leaves, to see her mother through the dirty glass. Untouched by time, though still silver in her hair. It seemed cruel, to keep her mother’s wanderlust spirit trapped away. Thus, Odette woke her mother, and her familiar, with an embrace.
Odette remembered that her mother mused about a different path in life. Her mother was so angry about having the choice taken from her; As a child Odette could tell her mother contained fury. It was beautiful to see her mother at peace after a life of resentment. Odette decided her mother should be given a second chance. But Odette saw the burn on Merriam’s ankle, from the broken True Love Spell with Odette’s father. Her mother deserved only the best second life. Thinking quickly, Odette transported her mother to the pools of Fountain Nymphs, in Pepperidge academy, and went to abuse time once more to fetch her father.
Merriam was disorientated as she felt engulphed by water. The eager hands of angered naiads, pulling her into the teal pool. Each minute turned back the clock on Merriam’s body; For Fountain Nymphs enchant the water they bathe in. Their water healed all wounds, and returned youth. But those things are meaningless if the human drowns. Naiads are unkind to those who take their water without asking. The last few Fountain Nymphs in existence, held Merriam under. She was unable to scream. Merriam emerged just long enough to breath, before fair hands groped at her. Merriam had been in many magical conundrums, but she never thought nymphs knew malice. After ten minutes of struggled breaths, she got out of the pools and came to her senses.
“Missy, how’d you get in here? You don’t look like any of the new students.” A Northland man asked. His hair red and eyes soot grey. He had a tag: Master Hara Fyrstan, Professor of fey. Merriam looked around to see she was in a garden encased by ceilings and walls of glass; filled to the brim with fey. Merriam stood up, coughing, before the man. He looked away as her muslin gown clung to her.
“This is private property; I’ll have to call our town paladin Tchitchi, to escort you off school grounds. Well, after we get you some dry clothes...” Hara said. Merriam, recalling her status, took a breath and stood tall.
“Escort me off, Sir? I am a grown eighty-year-old Queen-Mother. A seasoned Seer Mage. You dare reprimand a senior, who also has no clue how they got into this…. Academy?” Merriam paused. “You mean to say, this fey garden is for teaching wizards? Are you one of them? You want a go!?” She snarled. Merriam caught her familiar Nihten without looking away.
“I have no clue who you are Merry, and have no interest in violence. The insanity card won’t work on me; I teach troubled youth for a living.” Hara said, dragging Merriam by the wrist to the dormitory, where he tossed her some satin pajamas and a towel. He then went down the hall to call for a paladin.
Behind the screen, Merriam toweled her hair; It felt longer than she remembered. She put on the knee-length mauve gown, of which she was sure would no longer fit her figure. Merriam looked up into the mirror, to see herself the same age she was wed. The uncanny sight churned her stomach. Merriam’s life flashed before her eyes; She wasn’t supposed to be alive. Odette had betrayed her; And it boiled her blood.
“Where is my daughter Odette! Hara!” Merriam yelled. No response. She looked into the mirror, and summoned her babble sphere; It shared a chain with the small hour glass she used to move time. Her chest began to tighten in the silence. Merriam realized she had never been alone. She always had knights with her on travels, and a husband at home. Handmaids too. She lived her days in a palace, with people to help her. She had no life skills or money, only magery. She was completely alone, and helpless. There were objects she couldn’t decipher, and no one to call for. She felt cold in the academies stone walls.
“Thought that would fit you. My true love never wears it. You were yelling for something?” Hara asked. Merriam took a breath to calm her voice.
“What is the date? Where are we? My babble glows like you speak a different language, but the building material indicates we are in Anglia. I need barring’s. My daughter Odette must’ve taken me here for a reason. She me alive with the power of time-”
“Oh. It’s that sort of deal.” Hara slumped. He didn’t know Merry, but he sure did know of The Raven Queen. “Well, we’re in Pepperidge Academy, and it’s eight after dawn on-”
“Pepperidge? Is this town still a diverse trading post? Did Francia give us trains?” Merriam asked. Hara froze. Everywhere had trains. Trains were invented by The Central North of Francia centuries ago. Merriam just dated herself. Hara blinked twice. He wasn’t qualified; Only Morgan knew of such history, and never mentioned a Queen Merriam.
A half-hour later, and Tchichi arrived. She slouched seeing Merriam sitting distraught in the office.
“She looks like a regular young woman. Hara, You made it sound like she was mentally unstable.” Tchichi whimpered. “Well, since you’re just a Commoner-”
“I am a Mage, and of high-title… Was of high-title. Regardless, I will not be escorted by a lesser knight with a magic stick.” Merriam interjected.
“Oh. Well, you still have to go into town. Schools going to start. Melida is our senior Mage-Paladin, if you’d prefer, we’ll call her to escort you.” Tchichi continued. Merriam scowled, and stubbornly followed her.
Tchichi’s took Merriam to her nephew Amadeus. Quick to accept magic as truth, she believed Merriam; Of whom insisted as Queen, she should stay with a local lord. But Amadeus refused to take a guest due to personal matters. His father gave Merriam homemade tortillas and Salsa-Verde, and as town Witch, dictated she stay with Cetus and Jupiter down the street. Morgan and their daughter had recently moved out, giving them a spare room. Merriam quietly ate her green spicy mess, while she watched Cetus knit, and complete, a pair of knee-socks for her. He gossiped with his wife Jupitar, the whole time. Merriam suddenly started crying, leaving her hosts unsure how to help. Merriam could release as a day had passed. Cetus and Jupiter gave her tea and a soft bed to rest. Once calm, Merriam’s curiosity got the better of her again.
“You’re from Francia Jupiter, but you Cetus, are you from here? Were you ever taught about a Queen Merriam Craweleoth, during the war period? In school or by story? Maybe mention of the mother of the lost princess?”
“Nope. But if she did exist, Morgan would know about her. But my nephew’s pretty busy these days. That’s a silly question anyway; You have bigger fish to fry then obscure history. You should just rest and acclimate; It’s on us.” Cetus smiled.
NEXT--->
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Meriam Craweleoth & Felin Haracwen, as girls in normal nobles clothes, wandering the local magic forest; Hope you didn’t forget chapter one, because it’s about to hurt.
Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 10.1 -
Another Day 10/10) part 4. Stories of Old
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At dawn, Meriam, Fredrick, and Eatheltwein, headed down to the dining hall for breakfast. To their surprise, they saw they had a guest; who was sitting across from princess Charlette, Eathel’s new wife. No one had stopped their intruder for one reason: they had seen him before.
Murdoc was helping himself at the table, surrounded by books, and his panther familiar Stearra, purring at his ankles. He ate like a small child, that just learned to use a spoon. Everyone took their seat, as the servants brought them dishes. They all ate their food quietly as dawn light poured in.
“Pardon me, master Monafyra-” The king started.
“You can call me Murdoc.” He said, without looking up. The pure audacity made everyone in the room livid, but not so much as to make any of them speak up.
“Yes. Murdoc... Why are you in my dinning room? And how and when did you intrude our palace?”
“I walked in the front of course,” Mudoc said, continuing to eat. He was wearing his plum and black wolf fairy robes, which made apear like an animal. He looked older than Meriam had remembered; she had lost track of time.
“You had many guards, but none of them stopped me. Either they knew who I was, or what I was. All of this is irrelevant to the fact I came to deliver some news; again. Then, there was gravy, eggs, and bread; And I saw no point in refusing the kindness of others.” Murdoc continued, whilst gesticulating and chewing. Fredrick waved his hand, letting Murdoc carry on; now that he had finished his food.
“I come to give lord Eatheltwein my journals, as I am retiring form magic to settle down in my homeland; don’t seek me. King Edmond used his power to give me refuge. Th people of The Far North believe mages can be made to give up magic. Your kingdom however, Meriam, is not so polite. I have visited each of our mage friends, only to see a trail of bodies. All our dear friends are nothing more then illustrations of tragedy, on my parchment. At the hands of wizards, I’m sorry to say. Common folk no longer think that mages are necessary to wield magic; as if that’s was all our worth. Even my brother Tiberius, and his daughter Fyra, turned out to be dead on my way here. I have good stealth magic to evade people. Unlike you, Craweleoth.”
“You come to tell us mages are dying, wizardry is spreading, and that the people of the Grand West of Anglia, are coming to kill my wife?” the king coughed.
“Aunt Merry can use time magic; she can get away, I’m sure.” Eatheltwein said, looking at Meriam, who stared back in fear. Everyone knew of the Mage Queen, but no one knew Eatheltwein was a mage. They had been led to believe he was a wizard, just as she had planned.
“You have all the time to run away Meriam, but no matter which way you turn, the events that transpire in Ealden Cynedom always snap back; you will die. Eventually. They will come for you shortly, I suppose.” Murdoc said. Then he read the room. Meriam looked petrified, Charlette was confused, Eathel was sad, and the king looked unwell. “I know death when I see it, my lady.” He concluded. Murdoc got up, thanked the servants, left all his journals next to Eathel and Meriam, and left.
“On a good note, we were invited to the borders of Francia, by my king father; to shake hands for peace! Aren’t you happy Queen Merry? Peace at last! We can all heal because of you.” Charlette chimed. The king coughed on his food, and Meriam rubbed his shoulder staring unblinkingly at Charlette. Eatheltwein seemed exuberant. Charolette’s words did not comfort Meriam. She was equally scared to go to boarder. Meriam hadn’t been there since she was off to get married; and saw her friend be murdered by her own people. To think, she was excited not two days earlier.
The royal court traveled steadily to the border between Francia, and Anglia. It rained, and then it shined, and then they reached the open meadows, that were starting to yellow as harvest season approached. Both parties stood a hill apart. Charlette waved to her father, who walked forward.
“Dear, I still feel unwell. Would you like to shake for peace? This was your mission.” Fredrick asked. Meriam nodded. She slowly walked forward through the grass. It smelled woody and dry, and brushed her skirt like when she used to run around as a girl. She continued onward. The uniforms of the Francian guards accompanying their king, hung loose, and their faces were sad and tiered. Meriam continued. Just at the border pole, Meriam stopped; there was some clover blooming by it, and dirt trailing along the boarder. The king stopped and held out his hand. He was not happy.
“Mage Queen. Your nephew is pleased with my girl, who appears to be in good care. We are tiered, and we wish to retire. Why do you not shack on peace, now that I’m repenting for my foolish legacy? Instead, you stare at clover that is at our feet.” The Francian king snapped. Meriam stared at it, and a tear went down her face.
“Did you know I was born in Francia, by Fort De Lapin. The magic forest of The Rat Rate. I grew up here, and I learned magic here. My mother left, thus my father found the daughter of a warlock, who had also recently had a baby. My milk sister Filen Heracwen, meant the world to me. She died here, trying to see me off as I was forced to marry against my will; she was shot by one of your men, for trying to leave with me. Possibly to send a massage of your own people, the reason doesn’t matter. I bet there isn’t anyone alive who remembers her name, or that she loved magic and her kingdom. She wanted to be my hand maid, and go with me on quests. Yet she died here, without a family to burry her, or siblings to mourn her. She passed before she could wed; unlike me, She wanted to merry a farm boy, and have three kids. Have her first daughter named Odette. Felin thought it was a pretty name for a girl. She went dark to open the Rat Gate, even though she was a commoner, because she loved magic so much, she wanted help it. Yet, she died before wizardry could give her that. And her only kin, uncle Normanwe was not there for her, because he was dying on your behalf in far off battle. I look at the clover, because it reminds me of her. This is the closest thing she will ever get to a funeral. Fourty years too late. I am sad, because I never got to attend. I am sad, because a young lady needlessly died, when she had a future in front of her. I am sad soldiers would kill a civilian. I am sad I got taken away from my home, and now that I am back, I wish to leave.” Meriam sobbed. Her voice echoed across the field to both sides, as it grew in volume and tears. Everyone stopped, and looked at the clover. Everyone had forgotten, or was oblivious to, why Meriam wanted to stop the war so badly. It wasn’t because she saw Francia was an enemy; but because she didn’t want anyone else to die. It was too sad. Meriam didn’t want to have this funeral. Everyone began to cry, and not know why. In the absence of a head stone, or body, they felt like they were attending the wake of not just a girl, who could have lived, but for everyone they loved who died; For a war that had long lost its purpose, and unjustly claimed many. Everyone, on every side, had lost someone. And no one, on either side, had truly had the time and relief to just mourn. Meriam, who was considered the most formidable player around the world, reached out and shock the king’s hand. She held her chest and went to her knees wailing alone in the field. Shacking the hand of a man who was responsible for her pain. At long last, Meriam no longer felt hate, only pain.
When they arrived home, the king was ill. No doctor could figure out why, but he remained in bed. Meriam tended him, while Eatheltwein took up royal duties. Fredrick would not get better, no matter the rest or medicine provided. Meriam even tried magic methods. She was given her own chambers, as they feared she would catch his sickness. Then one mourning, the doctor came to Meriam in her study, and told her the man she loved, wed, and had shaped her whole life, was dead. He had lived long, but Meriam wished she could give him more time. She could, with magic, but she pushed away that intrusive thought. We will all die eventually; she could hear Murdoc say in her mind. But time is precious, and she could not let go of the possibility of saving everyone, if she went back for them. Meriam took three days to leave her bed. And wore her purple dress to Eatheltwein’s coronation, and to dance with him. She did not smile like the last time she was adorned like a courtly lady. She wondered if Fredrick would have liked to see her wear his favourite dress one last time. She even wore her Francian pearls, from when she was young, but was never aloud to wear. She wore no makeup, and had a pearl comb holding her hair back in a knot. In the mirror, she had aged half that of her husband, due to magic changing her appearance.
Before bed, she took off the dress and held it; the fabric was still warm. In her bath, Meriam realized she loved that dress too. It felt like she was dancing with Fredrick again when she wore it. Remined her of his smell and smile. The dress was perfect, and barely worn. It was light, airy, flowy, soothing, and feminine. Unlike her black crushed velvet fairy robes. Her protective fairy robes were a magic gift made by the Fairy King, yet had half the value of that periwinkle gown. Then, Meriam wondered something: if all mages had fairy robes, which protect against spell and sword, why did they all die if they knew wizards were coming? Why did they choose to remove their robes and surrender to death? She thought. Meriam did not sleep well, as she mulled over mortality, and impending doom. She didn’t want everyone’s stories to end while hers continued. Her bed felt so cold without Fredrick next to her.
In the middle of the night, Eatheltwein came into Meriam’s new chambers, and sat next to her bed.
“Are you awake, aunt Merry?” He asked. Meriam shrugged in response. Eathel put the candle on the side table, and lay next to her on top of the sheets.
“Charlette told me to come and see how you’re doing; without uncle. I am so sad. We have peace at our borders, and wives hold their husbands; but you are alone. No other mages, children, or husband. Just me. I will miss you too someday. Are you also scared of the Wizards? What will you do if they come here for the raven gate, and for you?” Eatheltwein whispered. Meriam never thought about that. She was busy wishing for other people.
“I wish you to tell everyone you’re a wizard, and to not go into the shadow veil to see your cousin Odette. I want you to hide, bury or destroy the Raven Gate, so no one wanders into it. I want you to be happy, when I’m gone.”
“You would let them take you, so that they can feel secure? Even if it is a lie, and mages will still be born to magic families?”
“I don’t know. But I think that may have been what happened to my friends around the world. Remember Eathel; magic does not have sides, or possess malice. It would make sense not to fight, and instead accept destiny.”
“I don’t think your capable of either of those thing’s, aunt Merry.” Eatheltwein laughed. He was still a source of sunshine. Meriam reached over her sheets to hold his hand.
“Can you stay? For tonight.” Meriam asked. Eatheltwein nodded.
“Can we go on one last adventure, before I’m a wizard and king, figuring out how to transition power before our people invent guillotines. For old times sake?” Eatheltwein asked earnestly. Meriam laughed and grabbed his hand closer.
“Yes. Yes, we may your majesty. I think Fredrick would have wanted us to be happy too.”
Just before dawn, while the servants woke and prepared for the day, Eatheltwein and Meriam snuck out of the palace in their fairy robes. A note was left for Charlette; telling her to keep their location secret, unless they never returned. Which she was inclined to do, as keeping secrets is exciting if you’re a noble woman. In the streets, the peasants were busy starting work and waking, and the knights were changing shifts. Merchants started to set up, or pack to leave to their next market. Meriam didn’t even need to freeze time to get by. Only as they reached the Raven Gate, in the square, did Meriam pause time.
“Eathel, where do you want to go?” Meriam said, clasping his hands in excitement. She had hit the point of sadness, that results in manic giddiness when you can no longer cry, and have sleep depravation.
“Bantia! I’ve never herd or seen a single person from the land south the of Dania, and north of The Far South of Hispania. I bet that is the only magic forest you haven’t seen aunt Merry!” Eathltwein gleamed with the glow of dawn.
“No, actually I haven been to the wolf gate in North Moon, nor plan to…. Which means Bntia must have the Tree Gate… Magic plants… That colourful forested area in the shadow veil.” Meriam mused. Now she was curious; her seer nature made her thirst for magic knowledge once more. Meriam grasped Eatheltweins hand, and they leapt into the shadow veil through the Raven Gate one last time.
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Bonus Illustration: Eatheltwein Cynedom, in common clothes, with mage pen.
Revamping his fairy robes, so the original concept art it is! Also just noticed I forgot to include his familiar....Not all magic characters have them, it really shouldn't be a lot to ask to include a golden canary from myself...
Since posting is slow due to editing backlog, I thought I would give those sweet promised extra illustrations.
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princess Odette Craweleoth; After going dark.
Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 6 - The Future Holds 6/10) part 4. Stories of Old
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Near the end of winter, Murdoc Monafyra arrived with his panther familiar Stearra. He wore black wolf kingdom robes, and seemed to be in a state of serenity. He stood before the royal family with words of warning. Meriam was happy to see him, for when they last met, he was but a boy aspiring to be a seer mage. And now he as a young man that looked so much like his father.
“What brings you to our halls Murdoc, son of Helrem?” Meriam asked.
“I come to tell you my father is an idiot. And brother Tiberius Blacstorm has returned to Pepperidge, in your kingdom, and built a gate. It has a large ominous black tower, made of marble from those mountains, and the new magic forest scares the merchants.” Murdoc said in a rough low voice. He was chewing his unlit pipe, and seemed to be combing his mind. “Ah, yes. I am also to tell you my father is dead, gave the instructions for wands to Tiberius, to distribute at the trading post. These commoners of magic houses who learn father’s way of magic call themselves ‘Wizards’, and hate us mages. Murderous intent in the lot of them; as you probably feared my lady. Saw some popping up here, with political opinions and such. Better have your guard up. They think we’re dangerous and wield uncontrollable power of peril; suggesting that because common folk can learn magic, civilization has no need for mages. As if we care about common parliament, and not all aspire to be but hermits befriending fey.” Murdoc went on. Meriam looked markedly unamused. In fact, the whole room read like a disappointed audience to an improv skit. Meriam gestured for Murdoc to go on; if he still standing there, he had more to say.
“As you are aware master Craweleoth, killing mages will not do anything. A certain percent of magic housed people will be mages; or talented wizards now, I guess.” He coughed. A mortifying fear strung through Meriam: Her assumptions were correct. Her nephew Eatheltwein, and her daughter, were confirmed mages. It’s was pure chance; and now people who irresponsibly use magic, intend to kill them.
Meriam, in the middle of the main hall, went dark, causing her daughter and nephew, who were innocently beside her, to go dark as well. The flow of magic can thin the veils, making a dark state contagious to those in magic houses. If everyone else hadn’t leapt back, they would have had the same fate. Murdoc would be gone by dawn, while everyone lay sick with blood loss and fever from magic ripping through their bones between veils.
Meriam recovered quickly, as she had gone dark many times before. She could control it and knew her limits. But when people first experience the ether rush threw them, their bodies are less resistant to damage; The new sensation overwhelming them, as they do not yet know how to harness so much magic. Random spells can be cast around them, as they glow and cast until they are too weak to stand. Meriam, in all her experience, knew how to remedy the bleeding, fever, and weakness after such an ordeal. She took turns visiting her nephew and daughter, to make sure they recovered.
While Odette recovered, she asked to be laid in a large chair looking out her window. Her Bedroom balcony had a view of the courtyard fountain. She sat alone singing quietly. While Eatheltwein, struggled to regain strength, he lay unmoving in bed. Meriam went to bring him food, when she noticed the king was by his side.
“Good, you’re awake, Eathel-” Meriam said.
“Uncle wants to have me, and Odette, married.” Eathel interrupted. Meriam became furious. Her children were only now recovering and adjusting, were secretly mages with their lives threatened, and there was talk of betrothal. Meriam had been wed for politics against her autonomy, and no child of hers was going to be subjected to the same fate. Her happy union was but a fluke.
“Our children lay sick, and we fear for the world of magic, and you want to have weddings? Eatheltwein and Odette are not pawns, they are children! Furthermore, the only unwed royal I know is Edmond of the Far North, and he has seen twenty more autumns then our twelve-year-old daughter. A man of his status in these times would have at least three bastards.” Meriam snapped. Dropping the dishes.
“We have friends in three nations; we have only to send letters. Yet, I agree we should remove Edmond from the list…” the king said. “Maybe he’s still brooding, and already wed to his job.”
“I’m going to marry a noble lady form a far-off land.” Eathel mused in a quiet tiered voice. He stared into the ceiling longingly. “Bless I may wake in the dawn, to hear that she is from Daneia…” He continued.
“How much blood did he loose?” The king asked in bewilderment.
“Bold of you to assume he lost the blood.” Meriam scoffed. “All this talk about girls around a young man, could make him mad. Eathel may follow his heart, as mages fall easily in love, and love is the most powerful magic. Just the type of magic this world needs most. We will wait a little longer for our daughter; Any man interested in a girl her age should be castrated.”
“Mages? Do you mean to say that Eatheltwein is a mage? Is he in danger from those malicious emerging wizards Merry?”
“Yes.” Meriam said. “Helrem may be an idiot, but he made wands for commoners to love magic. However, mages can’t use wands; our magic is different. Though perhaps, if we give Eathel a wand that a mage can use, and the people will think he’s a saviour. A ‘talented wizard.’ if you will. Maybe one for Odette as well; I see her talk to, and charm, the fey. Only mages can charm.” Meriam said, taking a seat on the other side of Eatheltwein’s bed. The king was nearly in tears. His entire family was on the chopping block.
“Darling, there may be a solution: Tiberius may have one to lend, or at least Helrem’s notes on how to make one. I will go to his gate tomorrow.” Meriam said. Desperately trying to comfort her husband and herself. She didn’t want o leave her ill family so soon, but Murdoc’s words filled her with urgency and fear. Eatheltwein had fallen asleep, with the cold press sliding down his face, and holding his king uncle’s hand. Even in illness, he was still full of that sunshine that Meriam loved so much.
Meriam fed Odette breakfast, well sharing her plan. She was to leave shortly, and did not want Odette to become spooked by Murdoc’s words. She deserved to know. Odette’s new platinum hair and icy eyes made her look like snow. It was a striking change of colours. Meriam enjoyed that Odette looked like she did in her youth; bronze-gold locks and olive eyes upon a freckled canvas. But now something seemed off about her little princess. Not just her appearance.
“I hope Tiberius can help.” Odette said. She gazed out the window. “I’m not scared of those wizards, mom; I’m scared dad wants to give me away to an unfit duke. I’m having fun, and we all love each other; I don’t want some boy ruining it.” She pouted.
“Well, I’ll be sure to stop that from happening. By the way Odette, why do you always look out the balcony? What in our courtyard makes you leave the windows open?” Meriam asked, kissing her girl’s forehead. She was still a bit warm with fever.
“There is a handsome nobleman who I like better, who listens to my song; he visits some days. Unlike me though, he can fly away from the restraints of a palace, and the control of others. I want to fly, sing, and see beyond this palace too. Like all the birds who talk in this city.” Odette mused. Meriam held her breath. She would pass through the shadow veil to Tiberius gate to get Eatheltwein a wand, and she would pass through the Raven Kingdom. Meriam was curious if the Raven King may have become infatuated with her daughter, and being a bad influence. But then again, if Odette happily found true love, and supported a kingdom of fey by becoming a Beast Queen, she would be safe from the wizards. As commoners, they cannot reach her, as a free bird in the shadow veil. Meriam hugged her daughter, then her nephew, then her husband goodbye before she left on her brief quest; They must all know she loves them. Less she never returns, or they are not there when she returns.
In the shadow veil, Meriam walked into the raven kingdom. Black and white, but illuminated by the colours of various avian fey. Golden gryphons who napped on rocks, and opalescent thunderbirds playing in the clouds. Only here, was the singing of birds heard in the silence of the shadow veil. For only magic can stimulate the senses here. Deep in the raven kingdom woods, Meriam heard an off-tune crackling hum come from a twisted tall tree in a clearing. As she approached, it became apparent the tree was laced in magnificently lustrous trash. It was strategically hung to reflect light, like the facets of a lapidary’s finest work. Near the mid of the tree, Meriam saw the Raven King in human form, tying a string of sparkling garbage, to what appeared to be a giant nearly completed nest.
“Raven King? Have you been visiting my daughter?” Meriam asked calmly. She was not calm. “She’s a bit young; You wouldn’t mind waiting a little longer would you? To see if she requites your love, I mean.”
“Love never waits.” He cawed, before gestured to his work. “What do you think Meriam!?” The Raven King chirped before the dazzling tree. Meriam clapped for a brief applause, causing the Raven King to smile. She did think it looked smashing.
“She loves to fly, and speaks fondly of you. I suppose it is better then being married off like me. Commoners mean to kill mages, and it makes me fear for her safety. If you love her, make my baby happy, and safe.” Meriam said. Her voice cracked with sadness as she pushed down her wave of emotions, and thoughts. The Raven King swopped down, and hugged Meriam in the clearing, as if to convey that it would be his honour. And when Meriam began to sob, he let her cry. She wanted to stop time, but knew it would always need to resume. More time with her children, more time to prepare for change.
Tiberius’s gate was impressive. Tiberius had become a talented warlock and artist. When Meriam arrived in the center of the gate, she was greeted by a toddler who started giving her random objects. Then Tiberius came, picked up the girl, and bowed.
“Hello your majesty! What can I do for you? Need a tour? Tell me to stay away from the commoners perhaps? Maybe a nicer sword then the one Helrem made for your husband? Which I see you wield instead…” Tiberius rambled. “This is my daughter Fyra, by the way. Her mom left, but we’re still here. Happy magic family in my peaceful mystical forest.”
“Helrem had a wand of twisted white and violet glass, that could be used by a mage. I need one like that. The commoners who are becoming wizards, from Helrem’s publications, are becoming murderous like scared trolls. I need one to convince people a specific mage, is actually a wizard; for political and magic peace of course.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t know how to make one.” Tiberius said casually. Meriam grimaced. She was having a bad day. Actually, a lot of her days seemed to be non ideal recently. But she was too much of a coward to go back in time to fix things, because it could always get worse. Meriam looked into Tiberius’s hazel eyes with the glare of tiger about to pounce. Tiberius became pale.
“I have his notes! Yes, instructions!” Tiberius yelled. “I have quite the empty shelf space in the walls of this here tower. My inspiration for this gate was: ‘Wow’, with a touch of ‘why?’. But half way through, I realized the black marble made a much different statement; should’ve just alchemised the structure, instead of singing it into place.” Tiberius began to rant. Then he saw Meriam begin to slowly move forward with the same glare.
“Enough of that then! You can skip on home to the palace now, and I’ll make you a mage pen quick and proper miss; I’ll mail it straight to the palace! No payment, no questions, and no worries!” He winced.
“Thankyou.” Meriam eased back. “And in my opinion, I love our lands black marble; I love black. I don’t think you should care what statement your big black magic tower makes.” Meriam said, patting Tiberius and shoulder. He glowed with pride.
A week later, in the palace, Eatheltwein’s wand arrived. It was made of brass, and engraved with a gryphon for house Cynedom. Eathel gave it a whirl, and spent the mourning doing magic with it. He almost lit the kitchen on fire, and flooded the laundry room. Meanwhile, Meriam sat in the courtyard, enjoying the crisp new spring. She was wearing her under garments, while fixing some old clothes to suit the times better. She kept a close watch over Odette, who sang at the fountain edge for the golden geese, who honked with applause. Odette didn’t emote much, which made her smiles all the more precious. The King on the other hand, was greeting Edmond in the dining hall. He came with a peace declaration, as an excuse to visit Anglia. It felt warm to him. After politics was discussed, and cups tipped to peace, Edmond asked to see Eathletwein. The King gladly escorted Edmond to the courtyard to see Eathel casting water for the tulips, with sweetmeat and bread hanging out of his mouth. Edmond gave a hearty cheerful laugh, and went in to tightly embrace Eathel. Edmond seemed happy, and at peace. Meriam had left him a lonely man, and now he was a king who had retired from being a paladin mage. He was a whole new person.
“I look forward to our alliance. As next in line, I had to meet you Eatheltwein Cynedom. What tool is that you hold?”
“It’s a wand; invented by a mage of your kingdom, in the Far North. It’s to allow any who love magic to be one with it.” Eathel smiled. He had never met Edmond, or heard of the sins towards fey and men, this king had committed; he was happy to meet a new friend. His gleaming innocence made Edmond feel even warmer.
Eatheltwein patted a stone bench by the tulips, so they could sit. It felt good to take a good sturdy seat after a long journey; or just a few hours running around a yard. The king sat next to Meriam, his beloved wife, and also intently watched their precious heirs.
“When you become a king, what do you want for Anglia?” Edmond asked, taking in the crisp dewy noon. The joy water Etheltwein casted, made the tree children smell like a lush greenhouse.
“I want a time without war, and warm summers. I want my people to be more involved with what happens in my land. They have put forth a court of men for me, to speak on their behalf; their novel input has led to innovation and wealth for my people.” Edmond Explained.
“I want Anglia to be called the Grand West, and be friends with everyone; including Francia.” Eatheltwein chirped. He caught his familiar, Viola, in his hand, and kissed her. Edmond remembered he had a familiar once, a black grizzly, of who he missed. He was an adaptive, fierce and hearty beast. Edmond wondered what that said about him; If familiar reflect their master’s inner nature. In contrast, Eatheltwein’s golden canary was small and cheerful.
“Are you sad, Lord Edmond?” Eatheltwein asked.
“Sometimes.” Edmond said. “Hmm. Your plans for the future of ‘The Grand West’, sound lovely. I think we could all use a lot more friendship and love. The most powerful type of magic in our realm. Yet, I am curious; Why do you wish to change your kingdom’s name? There is no change to its size, nor government.”
“Because calling lands by their linguistic, and thus ethnic identities, separates them. Each land has different peoples, but every land has the same North, East, South and West. Like the table of fours. I don’t want us to see each other as strangers. I want us to be together.” Eathel said, petting Viola. Edmond admitted, that sounded nice, if not impossible. To have everyone to focus on each other as people instead of independent opposing nations; Including Francia. As spring approached, Francia would resume annexing foreign land at its boarders, to feed its starving people. Edmond could not imagine a world without conflict.
“That’s is a big plan. People are divided over land, and now we become divided over who can wield magic. This world will not have balance so easily.”
“I contest; I have read many of my aunt’s journals. They tell stories about people, even in the farthest lands, that deep down, realize the comfort of a good friend. Between fey, men, or nations; the dust will settle if we are kind.” Eathletwein said. He was watching Odette try to jump and fly after the geese. It gave everyone a laugh. Her light blue dress that was embroidered with wings, and her ethereal paleness made her almost like a swan. Everything in that moment, though providing light, felt a little like a lie. Beyond the courtyard, there was poverty, starvation, unpunished war crimes, and now wizards killing innocent mages and fey.
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#art#tales of ealdan cynedom#short stories#fantasy#odette#meriam#eatheltwein#helrem#murdoc#tiberius#edmond#viola#raven king
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Corona Wintersleep, in fairy robes; Is she hiding to avoid her family, or just people annoying? You may not get an answer, because this is the comic relief episode.
Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 5 - Do Not Wait 5/10) part 4. Stories of Old
Maps
menton of death and/or casual drug use
After the Battle in Celticia, Meriam had some nice peaceful years with her family. Feon and Edmond gave her a lot to think about, including the value of her daughter, husband and nephew. She felt lucky to be queen, and use magic peacefully, and watch over the magic forest city she had made with the Raven Gate. The harvests where good, and Francia retreated from the east boarder for the winter. Anglia enjoyed finally being safe at every other boarder. Yet, Meriam lusted for more; she wanted another adventure, and more allies. She suspected Francia may be bribing the Eastern and Southern nations, to aid in conquest; or reap their land. It was almost too quiet this season. Then one day, at a court meeting, the scribe translator read a letter from the Far South: Hispania. Hispania was so far away from the rest of Ealden Cynedom, that people knew nothing about it. All except Meriam, who read about a specific type of mage in one of Feon’s journals, and that the main magic forest in Hispania, belonged to the Fairy Gate. The thought of undiscovered magical scenery, gave her wanderlust once more.
The Letter said that Hispania had fallen into civil unrest, as families instead of governments, tried to acquire mages to rise to power. Currently there was no consolidated government, causing the balance around the Fairy Gate to fall into corrupt hands. The Far South of Hispania had no care for the politics of other lands, and instead wanted advice; They had heard marvelous stories about the mage queen of the Grand West. And one family decided to contact her.
But Meriam’s king husband, and the other court members, had no interest in the Far South. It was a month’s journey away, and provided no trade or threat. But these things are meaningless to a mage. Outside her window, the Raven Gate was visible in the square. Meriam could travel alone through the shadow veil, to the Fairy Gate, all by herself. Time and distance were malleable in the veil, and mages could use gates, like fey, to travel between magic forests. But Meriam needed to know if the Fairy Gate was open, because if it was, that meant there was a mage. The men around Meriam rolled their eyes, as she rose her hand to hear the rest of the message.
“Our mage is a fair lady, unlike her kin. There are white marks about her wrists, and a heart with a sword marked on her chest. She is a mage that can heal with compassion; If only she could love. Her name is Corona Wintersleapen. She was bred and possessed by her family for power, and then ran away to the peak of the city. Inside the mouth of the halved mountain, is a lush jungle of wonder around the iced Fairy Gate. Corona’s darkened heart needs to be healed, so the city can prosper. She must belong to no one, and stop harming anyone who attempts to reach her. The city needs to access, coexist, and expand into the enchanted jungle. We believe your queen’s power, and achievements, make her the best person for the job.” The Messenger said. The translator gave a brief summery. Then there was a bump under the table. Meriam and the king looked under, and Eatheltwein, their nephew, was eavesdropping on the courts with his canary.
“Eatheltwein Cynedom, we talked about this. You should be studying literature, not joining our table. I know you wish to be included as you enter manhood, but this is not your time. Off with you.” The King demanded. Eatheltwein slinked off like a scared dog. Leaving the court embarrassed and the messenger, scribe, and translator very confused.
“I will quickly use the gates to settle this matter. I want to be on good terms with every kingdom. I cannot bring my men, as the pure magic of the shadow veil petrifies commoners in it’s deprivation of the senses. Not to mind the presence of the beast kings. I will go alone in my fairy robes, wielding the unbreakable sword and bow. Care for our daughter and Eathel well.” Meriam said. She stood up and left before anyone could stop her. It had been a long time since she had an adventure; it made her giddy. Meriam almost had a skip to her step as she went to her study; And then she noticed someone was following her…
Meriam walked into the shadow veil, through the black marble Raven Gate in the square. She entered the serene setting of black, white and grey. As she walked though a rough forest trail, no birds sang, or wind blew. The light almost refracting as it spilled through the canopy. Meriam did not look behind her, nor her familiar Nithen; yet she still sensed she had a follower. The shadow veil was not deterring them... Then Meriam crossed into the plains full of unicorn, and carnivorous mares. Then hiked through the rough terrain of the wolf kingdom, with cats of luck and moonlight, that hid in the brush. Only magic had colour here; fey, fairy robes, magic tools, and the eyes of those who wield it. Nearly at her destination, Meriam crossed a bridge of ice into the Fairy Kingdom, where the frosted trees echoed with the laughter of children, and everything glittered like diamonds and snow. Yet, her pursuer still walked behind her. Is it even a person? Why didn’t the shadow veil deter them? She thought. As Meriam stood at the foot of a stone circle, engraved with the table of fours, she decided to look behind her. Meriam was taken aback: Eatheltwein stood gleaming with joy, admiring all the fairies, and the soothing atmosphere. This meant two things: firstly, Eathel was now her responsibility, and was in a world of trouble. Secondly, in order to be content in the ether of all magic, he must be a mage. Noticing the confused glare of his aunt, Eatheltwein nervously waved hello.
“Sorry Aunt Merry, the quest just sounded like a lot of fun. I’m tired of talking to trees in the court yard, and reading books about dead men. I Love you, and want to go on an adventure! Also, what is this place? It’s a bit odd isn’t it.” He smiled, looking around innocently.
Realizing Eatheltwein was a mage, and that his canary was his familiar, Meriam decided to take the opportunity to teach him more magic. Something so powerful must be utilized wisely and safely. Eathel had developed a habit of sneaking into her magic study, and reading her mage journals, this whole time. His little familiar’s name was Viola, and she was quieter than Meriam’s kestrel familiar Nihten. Though a golden canary suited Eatheltwein well; he never shut up, and was very innocent, and showy. When the surprise faded, they all began to take the adventure as an opportunity to bond. With joy, they stepped through the Fairy Gate, and into the Mediterranean heat of Hispania. Eatheltwein coughed; he had come from right from a pleasant and crisp winter in Anglia.
The fairy gate was atop a large, forested, fey infested mountain. It was overlooking a city of white sandstone, painted vibrant colours. The tall houses had tall walls with small iron gates, and where like vibrantly painted stacked children’s blocks. The view in every clearing was spectacular. You could hear music, shouting, and singing echo up the mountain. It sounded like an undying fiesta. In Feon’s book, she said this place was called Torres de Calendulas; Meriam had no clue what that meant, she only knew there was a Meader mage wielding healing love magic here somewhere. If the message she received was accurate.
Eathel’s company was pleasant. He helped search. There were no trails, just twisted trees with odd leaves, ripe fruit, and large colourful flowers. What odd tree children, they both thought; And so many pretty, shinny, colourful Phoenix’s, minor Roc’s, and cockatrices. There were also many nymphs in the trees, creeks, freshwater springs, and patches of sunlight they passed; yet no people. The magic forest was thick, and toughly filled with fey. The Fairy Gate itself was a wonder made of solid aquamarine, that looked like ice; Yet, it was nothing compared to its forest. As they searched, Meriam and Eatheltwein suddenly walked into a short Indigo cornfield. It gave way to a yard of colourful patches of perfectly square vegetable beds, making a garden in front of a perfectly square spackled house, with a blue roof. On the porch sat a man of tanned skin, and deep eye’s and hair. His hair was curled, and waved into a short low ponytail, and weaved with marigolds of various colours. He wore a loose cotton shirt with a deep neckline, and poofed sleeves, that were embroidered with pinstripes and wild patterns of vibrant colours which matched his tight pants. He was tuning a lute, and humming with the cicadas. Meriam had the most confused look on her face. Between the hallucinogenic fey, perfect garden, and this man’s outfit, she wondered if she had eaten something unusual before she left.
“Eatheltwein, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Meriam asked, in a mildly disturbed way.
“Oh my, It’s not just me! Thank the fjords! I thought I had eaten those mushrooms again…” Eatheltwein sighed. Meriam turned to look at him with a jerk; she made a gesture that suggested she had too many questions to actually ask them.
Eatheltwein and Meriam were experiencing the special type of embarrassment that comes from walking into a stranger’s house, being offered a myriad of things, and not being sure what the socially acceptable thing to do is. The man talked in a monotone voice, with a slight cheer, and his face expressed no emotion, whilst still encapsulating a polite faux sense of enthusiasm. Like he might be in pain. He switched between old Anglian and old Hispanian, making him nearly incomprehensible. Meriam and Eathel were now eating what was probably chillies filled with cheese, and topped with a fried egg, inside a corn tortilla. The man starred at them with the same expression, while strumming is lute giddily. The unfamiliar notes not forming a coherent melody. They all made uncomfortable distressing prolonged eye-contact. Then the man started smiling. Meriam looked like she was in fear as the strings of melted cheese hung from her mouth and the iron skillet she shared with her nephew. Wait, it’s not iron… its copper?
“How is it dear visitors? I made it with my lady’s fine recipe; with golden goose eggs!” He said with a thick accent, and astrum of him lute. “She is a talented potion maker, and Heartmann mage.” He continued. The last part was in old Hispanian. Meriam started to cry. She had no idea what was going on. She had seen war, but this broke her.
“Aunty Merry, are you ok? I have concluded we actually may have shared some suspicious forest gatherings at the palace. But what luck! I love spending time with you. And to be in one of your adventures; This is fantastic! And this food, whatever it is, is disgusting in a way that makes me keep eating it.” Eatheltwein cheered. Meriam’s crying, now also contained a sort of gagging and laughter. Her mouth was still full of cheese. This was not her finest moment. Worse yet, this cabin bard, who was attending her fever dream, spoke in an incomprehensible fast language, and Meriam could not ask where the Meader mage, Corona, was. Then she recognized the word ‘Heortemann.’ She swallowed, and took some deep breathes, when she realized the walls were covered in paintings, potions, baking trays, and cookware. It was a gingerbread cottage, spackled like confetti cake. Eathel was now examining the large oven at the end of the cottage, and the stairs down to a cellar; Where Meriam began to hear laughter.
Peering into the dim cellar, like two children looking into a well, Meriam and Ealtheltwein saw two large beautiful fairies, and a woman with platinum hair, amber eyes, white fairy kingdom fair robes, and a marking in black, of a sword in a heart upon her chest. The three cellar occupants looked unblinkingly at Eathel and Meriam.
“You brought mages my love! More friends for our party in our safe little garden!” the female fairy spoke. She matched the second fairy like a twin; though the other fairy was a boy. Their complexions were like ice, and their hair was silver, and eyes that were pale and lustered like aura quartz. Their wings were lilac and periwinkle, and shimmered like their eyes. They wore fairy robes, and had crowns of ice. They looked just like the Fairy King and Queen. Meriam was delighted; Royal Fairies. Fairies make sense! She almost started to tear again.
“Hello, you must be Corona Wintersleapen. Your people need you to stop attacking them, when they go near the magic forest. They fear your introverted nature is caused by your families neglect. But I think your just a mage, and people are mean.” Meriam said. “Also, your two royal friends are radiant, by the way.”
“Nada. I do not attack the people. They just get lost in the forest; the fey lead them back out again. It’s their fault for trying to cut down the tree children, instead of asking politely to be neighbors. If they were nicer, and stopped having children in hopes of bearing mages, their city could become entangled with this forest no problem. And I live happy in my little cottage, with all my true loves. I want nothing to do with tower folk.” Corona spoke. She sounded like a snooty child.
“Miss, this situation is so upsetting to common folk; they cower in fear-” Meriam said. Then she stopped. “Wait, you just don’t want to talk to commoners? It has nothing to do with your family or how close or far away they are?”
“Se” Corona chirped. “I even send them medicine, when the sickness passes time to time.”
“Wait, true love? With all four of you? That is a lot of love… Aunt Merry says you’re a mage that can heal with love; you must make everyone feel better with four times the hugs!” Eatheltwein smiled. “I love romantic stories! Is that why everything is copper and you have so many baking and brewing supplies? To heal people and befriend fairies?” Eathel gleamed. Meriam rolled her eyes.
“We are Earden Faries; royal fey! We came to look for our father, but my sister fell in love with this fine bard! And then I fell in love with this adorable lady! So, we stayed here, instead of returning home with no news of our father. Her shortbreads are wonderful!” the fairy prince said sweetly. Meriam went into seer mode; she covered Eatheltwein’s mouth, to start an interrogation:
“Why were you looking for your father: The Fairy Queen?” She asked.
“Oh, my love can sing that for you! It’s very sad. We taught him to sing it in every tongue.” The fairy princess said.
“I love songs and music! Why I would love a ballad form that fine lads lute!” Eathletwein said.
“No.” Meriam grimaced. “Just tell me. I want to record everything in grotesque detail.” she demanded. The man took his seat, and the fairies hugged his knees, and Corona curled up to keep brewing in the wine cellar. Then the unsettling bard took a deep breath, and started with one strum; and Meriam’s palm, met her face.
Upon the tallest mountain, in the southmost lands; A selfish king did ask a mage for a simple thing.
He held a knife to the mage’s kin, and then began to yell.
Summon me the Raven King; whose song will kill us all.
The armies of the bitter folk, come before my fort. Now have the biggest raven come, and make the men no more.
When the Raven King did come, from his shadowy throne; the Fairy Queen did run away, to stop the bird lord’s song.
Alas too late, the mage summoned him, and the Raven began to plea: “release my mage, my dearest friend and I may sing for thee.”
Forgotten was the darkness, of the king’s new oath; For when the Raven King began to chime, the king and mage began to fall.
The Fairy Queen, though light of foot, could not warn the peoples to flee;
And down came the fort and mountain, and all the fey and trees.
No one lived to tell the tale, of how a mountain halved; to quote the lives of all that died, or witness the beast king’s spell.
The Fairy King did cry, for the loss of her dead love. The Raven King forgiven, but the damage already done.
The lord of birds he cracked his voice, for death he saw as sin; and tells each mage of whom he sees, of what crimes he did commit.
Now that many years have past, and the Gate and Forest remade. The people here will never learn, but at last we’re safe.
It doesn’t matter how talented a bard is, if the courts don’t care to listen. Meriam got up, broke his lute in a rage, and glared the man with malice.
“No. I am a Queen, a time controlling mage, a wife, and a Mother; I have seen battle, magic, murder, pain, and filth beyond imagination; AND I DON’T WANT TO BE SERENADED BY A HISPANION STALLION COLLECTING FARIES IN A FANTASY MUSHROOM SAMBA.” Meriam cursed. Her dark powerful voice even scared Eatheltwein, who cowered in the oven. The information was fun lore, and it explained the art on the walls. But it would not satisfy Hispania in terms of having good will towards this magic forest; or Anglia. Meriam pulled Eathel out of the oven, and Corona out of the cellar. She brought them to the table to sit, while the royal fairies swooned, and transmuted a new loot for their love, from a broken ladle.
The most Meriam could do now, was inform Corona that common folk can’t talk to trees, so she would have to be a witch and negotiate the land partitioning between commoners and tree children. Corona hated the idea; that would require leaving the forest and talking to people.
“If you don’t want to talk to people, send your insufferable bard. He’s a special kind of peasant. Small people might find him charming.” Meriam scoffed.
“It’s only until the people who hate fey leave, and the rest accept living aside fairies and phoenixes. My aunt here, made the Raven Gate in the main square of the Capital of Anglia; a magic forest in the biggest city of the Grand West! And all the common people live well from what I’ve seen.” Eathel said with a smile. His sunny aura had begun to comfort and attract Corona. The idea involved her staying away from humans, having fey be safe, and still being able to be a magic healer, and baker, in the woods. The witch in a little cottage of a magic forest. Corona agreed, and offered Eatheltwein a spot in her bed with the bard and fairies. Then gestured at Meriam as well. She considered it, until her eyes met the bard’s; dead eyes. She didn’t trust him.
Meriam took Eathel aside, and warned him to stay away from sketchy offers like that, and they should get home before his uncle realizes he wasn’t becoming literate. Eathel was disappointed; he always wanted to make a pillow fort. Noticing Meriam was becoming short, Eatheltwein said they could tell him he was learning other kingly skills. Meriam argued creepy house, in creepy forest, with a creepy woman, who was asking if they wanted to be the fifth and sixth flower in her vase. Eathel gave up, as he didn’t understand; he was not full grown either. The two of them politely declined Corona’s offer. When she persisted, Eathel gave her his shirt as a distraction, and dashed into the tight twisted vibrant forest. Meriam followed behind, and they started looking for the Fairy Gate to get home.
Meriam and Eatheltwein started to get trapped in the dense forest. The tree children were stubborn, and they had gone the wrong way. They were lost.
“Can we use our familiars to scout?” Eatheltwein asked.
“Too tight, we might lose them. We need a Mothkin.”
“Those giant fairy moths? that turn into human sized fairies that guide people?”
“I’m not going to ask how you know that, but yes. I don’t know the names of any in this forest, to call for one. By the way, saying a fey’s name, if it has given it too you out of fondness, is how to charm a fey to you. It’s rude to say, or share, a fey’s name; it’s a gift from their parents. Also, never summon them like edge lord Edmond.”
“The Wolf prince?”
“Yes. By the way, if he ever comes to you for peace, say yes, and don’t mention that I said that.”
“This place really got to you aunt Merry…” Eathel mused. He was ensnared in greater bean stalk, which was talking to him in tree euphemisms. Something about him being a treasure of the Grand West. Then, as he was being lifted by the tendrils, shortbread fell out of his pocket. Eatheltwein had taken it in the cabin, as the fairy recommended. Meriam picked them up; they were rum flavoured. She shrugged and put them on a nice plate from the palace, she summoned with chalk. Eathel was now having neon flowers and fruit nuzzled against him by the tree children. Now he was bothered. He was in need of a water closet.
It was a waiting game. They hoped some mothkin, whisp, or nymph, would come and help them for a cookie. Fairy logic is both the best and worst. Eventually the tree children parted way, slowly dropping Eatheltwein, and a night blue mothkin walked forward. She was deep blue and royal navy; wearing a sparkling velvet robe, long glassy hair, and soft eyed wings and antenna.
“The cookie is nice, but I could feel your desperation from across the creek. Sorry I took so long, you guys kept moving away.” She said calmly. “Oh! I remember you! Meriam Craweleoth?”
“Hello, my name is Eatheltwein Cynedom; what is your name?” Eathel said, hoping to get his first fey name. Meriam handed the cookies to the Mothkin, with a smile.
“Celscael. Most mages call me Chelsea. It’s nice to meet you Eatheltwein” Chelsea said, taking a bite and gesturing them to follow. The world will literally bend before a mothkin, between the start and finish of a journey. Meriam and Eatheltwein could see the warp of the trees and path as they followed; they didn’t even say where they were going, and Chelsea still led them to the Fairy Gate.
“Good tidings! Thank you for helping Corona; I can’t wait to make more friends when those lively dancing men move into the forest! This has got to be one of the better places mother has put me.” Chelsea said tenderly. Meriam smiled and waved goodbye, as did Eatheltwein to copy. They ran back to the gate and Shadow Veil without looking behind them, and walked into the square panting.
“Don’t take me on your next quest; I will be in the study becoming a good nobleman. Please Aunt Merry. PLEASE.” Eatheltwein said. He noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and hugged himself in embarrassment. He turned to Meriam; she was ecstatic.
“I am going to spend the next two days writing that all down! That was so Exciting! Odette will love to hear about this!” Meriam giddily chimed. Meriam was never this cheerful. Eathel looked at her blankly, and then he silently walked back to the palace alone.
NEXT--->
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#art#tales of ealdan cynedom#short stories#fantasy#story 19#meriam#eatheltwein#viola#nihten#corona#raven king#Fairy King
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Edmond Monabellan, in fairy robes. For that moment you want to research a character, for proper representation, but the information isn’t there because white washing of history!
Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 4.2 - Time Stands Still: Edmond 4/10) part 4. Stories of Old
Maps
violence, murder, war
On the first day of Autumn, Meriam gave her kingdom a princess: Odette Craweleoth. In four week’s time, an army of Anglia needed to march north to aid Isfisceard, against Mage Prince Edmond of The Far North. Meriam knew he would win if she was not them. She had given her word on behalf of Anglia, in promise of peace with the two north kingdoms, to deal with the prince personally; as a stronger magic user. Meriam was being pulled into war. Furthermore, to arrive on time, the Anglian cavalry, and Meriam, would need to leave promptly. But she was still in recovery with her brand-new daughter, and was far to weak to use magic or ride long-distance and into war. Each week that passed, she made the army wait, in hopes she would recover just enough to join them. She wanted to hate Odette for holding her back, but couldn’t, because after almost a month of constant contact, Meriam had become attached to her only child. She was scared what would happen to her baby if she left for even a day. It was Meriam’s nightmare; ill from child bearing, homebound because of child she didn’t want, had the lives of hundreds of men in her hands, and being forced to use magic in battle. Meriam lay next to her husband, feeding her daughter, and humming her nephew to sleep, thinking; there had to be something she could do that would result in everyone, includer herself, winning.
Time is not to fooled with, but in Ealden Cynedom, it has a way of healing from tampering. As if everything is meant to be, and destiny is unchangeable. Meriam didn’t like using her powers to affect the minds and experiences of time on people, but she needed time. Unlike common folk, Meriam could afford to wait till the last possible minute. If she needed time, she could always make more, by stopping, reversing, or forwarding the clock. With little but a small hourglass, in a marble upon a chain, she was able to move the world around her, backwards. Two weeks after the battle she was supposed to attend, of which was likely won by Prince Edmond at the cost of many lives, Meriam made the world reverse to one week before the battle. She reversed the event she had failed to attend, resurrecting all who had fallen, and erasing the memory of it ever taking place. It is one thing to use time on a person, a group, or a city; but Meriam was too great a mage to think so small. The whole world was within her control with enough concentration. Still weak, but able enough to use magic to compensate, she marched with the royal guard, who was unaware the Grand West was three weeks in the future compared to other lands. May her fairy robes protect her, for Meriam intended to come home and hold her daughter and husband again. She had a promise to keep, and intended only to return after Edmond Monabellan groveled for an alliance at her feet.
At dawn, Feon woke like any other day. She put on the water to make the porridge, and her family ate breakfast while making their plans for the day. Feon was going to comb the town for daughters of the sea, her husband was going to get wood and sharpen their knives. Their daughters were doing laundry, and Lyra was sent to gather herbs and berries in the glens outside the village. By mid mourning, everyone was off to their tasks. while Feon kissed her husband at the door, the town guard came, and ripped her from his arms. Feon was dragged through the town, as she began to hear panicked yelling and horns. She struggled to get free. The men overpowered her, and dragged her to the edge of the short stone wall of the village. The lord was there, organizing soldiers into formation, and Feon’s captors pulled her head back by her hair, and yelled at her to sing. They pulled at her while the screams started, and a rally speech was given. And all Feon could think about, was where is Lyra? Feon looked around frantically as she was being yelled at to sing a protection enchantment over the town; but that would require feeling love and desire to protect, and Feon only felt fear. Then, lit arrows came, and landed in the nearby the roofs, causing a fire. There was more screaming and panic as the villagers attempted to put out the fire. The two men continued to pull Feon’s hair, and yell for her magical aid in battle. They needed to hold on until Anglia came. Then Feon looked across the field and hills. The world went silent, as directly across the field, her eyes met the yellow eyes of a black haired rough young man, in violet and gold wolf armored robes. He rode a bear, and was exuding a glow like a black hole. She could feel her heart pound against her chest, as a second wave of arrows fell, and the battalion charged to meet their enemy. The promised army of Anglia failed to arrive in time. Feon could not afford to wait for her son Lyra to return; So, she began to sing.
Not a moment earlier, in a tent in the Algonquian camp, Edmond sat with his sister, Luthid. His painted hide tent, was lavished in furs, silver and fine fabrics. His general, who was promised lordship if he conquered the Northlands of Celticia, reminded Edmond of his uncles wishes. Algonquia did not want to kill the people of the Northlands, they just wanted access to its mild weather and greenery. The King of Algonquia did not wish to send his nephew to the imperialistic frontier; It was Edmond’s choice, as a paladin, to help his families kingdom. Even his own men feared him, after he cleared battle after battle to reach the island of Isfisceard. But after using magic for murder, and missing his home, and fearing for his sister, Edmond began to doubt his mission. The radiant green bogs, glens, hills, and song of the sea, were beautiful enough to make him cry; As he murdered its innocent people for someone else. He loved fey, and learned to use weapons as a boy groomed as an heir. The only male heir left. If his sister Luthid died as well, Algonquia would be kingless. And there would be no way for Edmond to give power to the people if the Far North was in untrustworthy hands. He wanted to go home. He wished he had suggested diplomacy sooner. But the soldiers of Algonquia crossed an entire nation, and tasted its blood and riches along the way. Edmond was too far to go back.
Edmond ordered his general out of his tent, and asked for his sister. The general denied his request; Luthid agreed to summon fey for battle in the camp, and was in a small tent preparing. The amount of magic required to control fey, needs a mage to have magic move through them constantly, destroying their bodies. If the battle went on too long, and Edmond did not aid her in controlling their collection of wolf fey, she may die. Edmond felt terror, but did not show it. He went upon the back of his familiar, and lead the lines forward in the crisp ocean air of morning, according to battle plans. They were silent as cats, and swift as foxes.
Edmond was to slowly advance with his foot soldiers, after the arrows of stone and fire had been shot. The yells, and miscellaneous weapons of Celtician men no longer scared them. They had tasted too much victory. After the arrows, behind Edmond, would be the wolf children controlled by Luthid in the camp. Including three Aliki wolf princes they had captured. The carnivoran fey and skilled warriors, tore threw the small army of Isfisceard; and Edmond was untouched as he drew a sword of darkness, while seated high upon his powerful mount. His fairy robes made him impenetrable. And then he heard the sweet song of a woman, and a veil of gold move over the burning town; his eyes met Feon’s, as she cried in fear, attempting to put a charm on the village. It reminded him of how he wanted to cry. For his brethren, for his actions, for his sister, and from the immense pain he felt as a black arrow pierced his familiar from the sky. He became disoriented and no longer absorbing sound for his spells; for a moment, he was weak. Just as quickly as sound had resumed, it dissipated. The battle field began to slow to a stillness, and the sound of hooves approached from the south.
Meriam swooped down upon Nihten, landing in front of Edmond who was gasping his chest on his knees. She looked like Raven, clad in black raven kingdom robes, and black makeup against her pale colours. She was unflinching, like a disappointed mother that saw through their child’s lies. She lifted a silver sword, the gift from Helrem that could cut anything, and pointed the blade at his neck.
“You bitch!” Edomnd yelled, lashing forward with his sword. His intent was to knock away Meriam’s blade. But Meriam held firm; and Edmond’s shadow sword met her own sword, it was cut in half. As time resumed, and her men swept the battle field, They started devastating his troops with their horses. Edmond was shocked, and then Meriam kneed him in the face.
“You disgust me. Those wolf children, and their princes, would have trusted you once. And you make them taste the foul blood of men. You are no mage.” Meriam scolded. Nihten began to peck and pull at his cape, as Meriam tore off his tunic and gloves. Without his robes he could be killed easily. Then he noticed the fey flee form the field, and the two dead Aliki wolves, and their third brother gagging on the blood in his mouth. The fey were free, thus Luthid, his sister, was dead. Edmond dropped his head. He would not come home, and he did not want too. The yelling, and clashing began to sting like his aching heart. The year of sieges resurfacing in his mind. Meriam held her blade high to kill him, and then noticed he was crying.
“Let me at least see my sister, even if she is dead, one last time.” He cried. Then Edmond lifted his head, and yelled for his troops to retreat. Meriam lowered her sword. “I don’t want death anymore. I want my palace bed, and to drink with my uncle, and see my sister wed. I want to howl charms of good dreams into the night, and be the last king Algonquia will ever need. I will leave this land and yours alone. I do not want it anymore. These warm green fjords, come at far to high a cost.” He cried. Meriam lowered her sword. That was exactly what she wanted to hear, and it made her sad. Meriam grabbed Edmond’s collar, and dragged him to his camp. All the soldiers parting ways she walked. As if her presence demanded the men of all three armies to show respect. She gave off an aura of darkness and regality. Meriam walked through the Algonquia camp, and turned their tents to water with only a whisper; and delivered the incapacitated prince to his dead sister’s side. Then she left the way she came, moving calmly across the battle field, and through the burning village. She walked through their house fires, saving their children, and alchemized water to put out the flames. Meriam seemed so steady, its scared people that they could not read her reaction to the battle. Neither joy nor woe. Inside, she was too sad to feel.
On the beach, that was now silent and raging, Meriam found Feon crying and dishevelled upon the pale quartz stone. Feon then ran to the Lighthouse, and up the cliffs. Meriam walked slowly after her. Her stern demeanor softening to one of sorrow, as she followed her friend up the stairs to the peak of the sea wall. Feon wailed into the stormy void, and Meriam walked up, and held her.
“My children and husband died putting out the fire. And Lyra never came back from the woods by the battle field. Down there, by the rocks, an evacuation ship has fallen to a kraken, who was summoned by their song. She must have really liked it. Then the stirring waves approach, and I believe Lyra has been claimed by the sea. Why am I alive Merry? Out of everyone, why me? Why not my children?”
“You protected your village from further danger. That is why you are alive like many of them. I must admit I am so sorry; I wish I could have come sooner. But you did not tell me how long it would take for me to gather strength for this mission, after bearing a child. I also didn’t expect I would love her so much.” Meriam whispered. “I understand, why you do not want to leave them behind. I can’t imagine your loss, Feon.”
“I am happy your family is safe. I am happy the Far North retreats and bargains for forgiveness and friendship. I am happy-” Feon sniffed.
“Do not lie. Even if this battle is over, you have lost so much this day. You may cry, I will be here next to you.” Meriam sniffed. “I will cry with you.”
After a few days of restoring the village and resting, Meriam and her men prepared to leave. The people of Isfisceard and Celticia thanked them, for not only winning a battle, but ending a war. They were willing to leave the past behind them, for the chance at another dawn. Before Her troops left, Meriam walked to the beach. There was white fog that did not block the sun, upon the pristine beach. Laughter of selkies collecting shells echoed across the empty sand. Feon stood by her rock, looking into the perfectly flat sea.
“I came to say good bye; but now I am disturbed by the silence of the sea.” Meriam said.
“Oh, goodbye my friend.” Feon said starring into the fog. “Well wishes to your family; I trust helping with the village’s babes means your daughter won’t starve when you return. Though I know a woman of your noble standing shouldn’t need to worry about such thing. Sorry; I just miss my own babies so much. You know, you were right; I think I want to stop journaling magic texts, and instead write poetry for charms.” Feon said. She was still gazing into the horizonless distance.
“No worries. But, why do you observe nothing so closely?”
“This morning I saw a man on the beach; wearing white and gold fish robes, and with ginger hair twisted into strands that are tied in an elaborate knot. And I hear the fey of the sea thank their Queen father for a song of calmness and mist. I am happy; Lyra will live on, safely around magic.” Feon smiled.
NEXT--->
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#art#tales of ealdan cynedom#story 19#short stories#fantasy#feon#lyra#meriam#nihten#luthid#edmond#eatheltwein#odette#eobreth
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Tale 26: The Haunting Acre (6/6)
26. The Haunting Acre (chapter 6 - Ye Grass ov Greene 6/6) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests
Icthya awoke in the vacant dinning hall; Perhaps the liquor had made her dream. She felt so tiered. Icthya staggered out of the hall, and latched it tight, then turned to see the well. There was a lady, with white hair tied back in a knot, wearing pearls and kohl. Her fairness matched her flowing periwinkle gown. She laced a bronze chain between her fingers, holding an hourglass over the well. A person! Icthya gasped. She ran to meet the maiden, if only just to exchange words.
“Welcome to Kendal & Saxon, may I ask your name?” Icthya gleamed.
“I am Raven Queen Odette,” She responded firmly. “I came to practice turning time. My mother did it once, and saved many lives; But I want to use it to restore the black tower for the Mage King, Morgan. It’s hard, because though I am imbued with one tenth of all magic, I cannot focus on this hourglass. It reminds me of my mother. The Shadow Veil’s magic, has made me forget time, but now I remember I’m the lost princess; And my mother died in my arms.”
“That is sad, I am sorry.” Icthya whispered. “So, you restored the acreage? If that’s the case, thank you; It’s perfect.”
“Yes. Odysseus opened and bonded to the gate of the well long ago. I stand over the well, as the veils are thinnest here; It helped me cast the spell. I hope it works in Pepperidge.”
“Pepperidge? You said this is for Morgan; Is this for my son?” Icthya continued. “He lives in the tower of Tiberius Gate with my brother. His happily ever after is in that magic forest. He’s a good mage, and couldn’t just let the tower fall; It has all his restored journals too.”
“Well, wizards where displeased when the maiden mundanely betrothed to Morgan fled. She is told to be a snake, that keeps your son in the forest he wishes nowhere else to be. She is stripped of her heritage, and trapped on this soil. That was once almost me. Morgan then abused his power to restore royal heirlooms, the silly goat.” Odette explained. “My want, is only to fix the tower by reversing it’s time. As royal Grand West blood, Morgan is my family in a way. I am here to practice on my cousin Eatheltwein’s home.”
“That’s awfully sweet of you.” Icthya said, walking closer. Odette then smiled, while looking at the tiny hourglass strung on the cradled chain.
“That reminds me; I missed Eatheltwein’s wedding. I miss my family. May I, as a princess of the west, come to your son’s wedding, for old time’s sake?”
“So, the legend is true; You’re the princess who fell for the Raven King, before you or your cousin could marry?” Icthya asked. Knowing old tales are true is a comfort. The restored surroundings and heirlooms were not an illusion or of malice, but the talents of her son and The Raven Queen.
“I nearly died of heartbreak when my parents died; And later my cousin,” Odette sighed. “But he was a mage who wished to visit me; Thus, he made a gate under his retirement home. In turn, my husband the Raven King, cursed every first-born son of house Cynedom to be a mage; So that they can visit me in the Shadow Veil. But none of them came.”
“None of them knew.”
“I see. That’s kind of funny.” Odette laughed. “I’m leaving, now that I know I can restore the tower. However, I still want to return for the wedding, if that’s ok.”
“YES!” Odysseus called from the cabin door. “We would love your company! You fixed our home, and it will cheer my boy. Any royal blood is welcome to such occasions, Odette.”
“Do you like grass? Your magic has dampened this place; Perhaps something pleasant might brighten your mood? You really should learn how to cast spells properly.” Odette scoffed. She disappeared into a plume of glitter smoke. She had return to the ether. Odysseus looked at his shoes; Traditional riding boots. He tapped his foot.
“Icthya, I’m sorry. Maybe when Morgan hugged me, after I quested for it, it created a dissonance. I am unworthy of his love, but he gives it. It doesn’t feel real.”
“Just earlier I felt a little like that. Me and the world feeling separate, I mean. But as I look around, I saw and felt so many wonderful things. It warded off your spell for a time.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t feel real to me; No matter the beauty. Only you, Helrund, and Crista, have stirred me.” Odysseus sighed. “But, there’s a phone in the house. It’s so odd. Right as emotion entered me, it appeared. Maybe I should tell Morgan I’m proud of him, and apologize for betrothing and hurting him, and-”
“I don’t think a phone alone, will make you accept the world; You need to believe it yourself.” Icthya encouraged. Her husband’s pessimism and gloom, was compelling her to help him. “Odette said grass! But everything here is that darn cursed clover…” Icthya said, taking her husband’s cold hands. Then she remembered something, and dragged Odysseus to the orchard.
The orchard grew pommes of Anglia’s legends. All sorts of apples, pears, figs, and berries. The trees crowding the soil, row on row. Each tree with a unique twist, and bower. Each with a voice, even those that are not fey. Odysseus touched them, and smelled their flowers. First the enchanted ones with sweet voices, then the real ones that unnerved him. To his surprise, they weren’t statues or specters.
Icthya had worked the land of the orchard clean, and thus it resisted the clover’s haste. Odysseus, seeing grass, buried his fingers into it. Green, the colour of his kingdom. It smelled fresh, moist, and earthy, yet sour. It was plush and inviting, as some blades escaped through his fingers. It was cold, but not fridged. The dew chilling his knees, as it dampened his jeans. The grass made Odysseus sad. It made him happy. It made him remember running upon it as a child. Staining his clothes, and always in need of mowing. It feels like a cold ache and racing heart. Tormenting, and demanding attention. It felt like being alive; This is what real felt like.
When Odysseus looked up, his face covered in tears. He saw the face of his radiant wife; In gardening clothes, and smelling faintly of spiced liquor. Icthya smiled at him; Adorned in work clothes, and smelling of hey. Odysseus concentrated on knowing the garden was alive. With each second, Icthya and Odysseus slowly heard laughter, voices, and birds. The light was warm and glowing. From behind, they heard a voice call:
“There you two are! We need help with the chickens! They got out! This place has been renovated to its original condition, like from olden times. And chickens know of old things...” A farm hand said. Those where precious heritage bred chickens; and they attracted foxes this time of year. Odysseus jumped up, and dashed to the coops. Once there, he found the teacher, who worked with visiting children. She was also chasing poultry. It made Odysseus wonder if what Odette said was true.
“Was there always a black well, with a nymph, in the courtyard?” Odysseus asked.
“Yes, why? We have a lot of art and books depicting it. You want to see?” She asked.
“No. I’m good. Just checking.” Odysseus said. Then he noticed a chicken, of spotted chocolate and white by the treeline. It was resting like a dinner roll on the leaf litter. Odysseus silently and slowly approached the hen. A grin on his face. Sometimes, he would let them loose for fun after fox hunting. He picked up the plump pheasant confidently, and gleamed proudly. Looking to the horizon, through the holt, he saw wheat in the neighboring fields. The fog had lifted. Beneath his feet was leaves and spring moss. Wild flowers taking any spot of sunshine. The driads loafed in the olives. Not a darn clover in sight. He would embrace his son again, and he could hardly wait.
Tales of Ealden Cynedom,
Finished
TABLE OF CONENTS--->
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Odysseus riding Christanine: The original is gifted to my grandmother, who has always loved horses dearly.
26. The Haunting Acre (chapter 2 - Ye Has ov Blu 2/5) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests
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The kettle was old iron, that did not sing. The bubbling of the water was soothing, making Odysseus was entranced while peering in from the top. It looked fake, yet he knew it was real. Like a grainy old video, or ring of tinnitus. He poured it over the tea, and the half-steeped tea into ceramic cups. The steam was not warm, the object in his hand curiously strange. The only real thing Odysseus felt, and heard, was his breathing. Even Icthya seemed to fair to be of this world.
“Who lit the fire?” Icthya whispered. Her quiet tone almost a yell in such a vacant room. She had drifted into the kitchen, drawn to its warmth within the fridge house.
“It was lit when I came here. It boiled the kettle,” Odysseus murmured, staring into his glossy tea, which almost starred back. “Icthya, I think it’s burning, but the flame’s not really there.”
“No, Oddie. I’m pretty sure the fire is real.” Icthya said, looking into it. Icthya drank her tea; It tasted like nothing. She wondered if she liked tea. They sat in perfect silence. The only light coming from the stove’s hearth; Reflecting on the olive tiled walls. All the wood and stone fixtures were an eternal onyx, but the curtains and dishes where of golden ochre.
After tea, Odysseus clung to his candle and his ruby clover coat. He adorned himself in rich deep clothing, from when Anglia was young. Yet, he still felt bare. Odysseus found them in a black trunk; Old, but brand new. The cold air, now felt of nothing. The abyss of the ceiling, above emerald stained wooden walls, curiously holding pictures. Odysseus’s steps were silent. It was like an unoccupied gallery, where one shouldn’t be.
The paintings were of kings of old. One of teal and sun, pink and clover, and another of sage and fruit. Also, a tapestry of five knights: One of white, red, green, yellow, and lastly one of blue. Odysseus had forgotten his reasoning for wandering the narrow hall. He held his candle, and vacantly stood at each portrait. Odysseus had seen these painting before. At the museum. He wanted to revisit them, as he remembered liking them; But now before them, he felt something small he can’t explain. The husk of what may have once been awe, for each brush stroke and bright colour. Hoping to feel that suffocation again, he stood there for what he assumed was eternity, before looking to his side. Deciding weather, he should keep looking at the piece, turn back to another painting, or go on his way. But the door to the yard was curiously ajar. The large stead of white and black stood calmly in the verdant soaked pasture. Odysseus felt his heart race: ‘Where is my wife?’ He feared.
Icthya walked into what she once called the common room. She thought it was pink, and full of old homestead furniture. But this room was tall, dusty and dim. Its walls faded powder blue, and furniture fancy, laced, brocade and pearled. Paintings hung, and a chandelier chiming above. Trims of gold, and tall windows providing grey light. There was a cradle, a table set for tea, and a wardrobe full of fine frocks. This room had a feeling different from the others. It felt like curiosity. Like the faded memory of comfort, laughter and joy. Icthya saw her husband, standing beside a hidden door. He looked into a mosaic of frames, in a trance. She joined him. Odysseus starred into a painting of a rodeo ring; A boy sat on a bull, ready to buck once free. He could hear the announcements, crowd, and his father’s voice. He could feel heat, smell leather, and fear. Odysseus somehow remembered it faintly, but had doubt if it ever happened.
“I think that’s me. Father made me cling to a bull, to prove I’d prefer throwing goats and ride magic horses, over learning swords and scrolls.” Odysseus pointed. He held his hand out, but not so close as to set off an alarm, he thought might be there.
“Look at this one. It’s a girl with her brother, in their father’s garden. I feel I should know it, as it’s so clear. Are these photos, memories, or painting you suppose?” Icthya asked. She shivered, and leant against her husband. Icthya welcoming his comforting scent of bergamot and straw.
Icthya found within the blue wardrobe, a dress of grass green. Of shinny satin, dazzling gold trim, proper shift, stays, and coats. She sat in the silence, and twisted her hair back in place. Held it with a broach that was a golden phoenix clutching green amber. Icthya powdered her face, for a reason she did not know, and looked in the mirror, and slowly exhaled. No matter the outfit or mirror, Icthya failed to recognize herself here.
Icthya slowly walked down the front path. A well in the middle of the courtyard, as hedged by roses she remembered. She bred them special, and lovingly planted them. The dew of each pink petal, brought the main yard to sparkling life; Of which only Icthya could see. That’s right, I planted these; I used to garden. I like to garden just as my father, she thought. As Icthya nearly felt her hands as her own, the black stone well caught her attention. It echoed of a noise she didn’t know.
Odysseus had wandered out the back doors. The cabin was smaller from the outside, but the ranch seemed bigger than he recalled. He still couldn’t see past the fog, which shrouded beyond the stables. He walked slowly to the horse, in air as quiet and sweet as autumn’s dawn. No birds, nor people, just the slosh of his boots as he cautiously stepped towards the stead, that also seemed not of the world. Odysseus wine clover coat, was getting muddy at the hem. The rich red, making him a beacon against the plush outdoors.
“Hello?” Odysseus whispered, as he stroked the withers of the magnificent Shire. It was in full royal tack, and nudged Odysseus softly. The smell and breath of the equine, was one of Odysseus’s joys in life. But he didn’t feel joy, he felt confused.
“Hala, min Odysseus.” The horse spoke. “Ye rod her wið me frind, yet yɛ’ won wið þe myst.”
“Oh. Cristanine.” Odysseus said, recalling this fey. “You’re the magic stead I always wanted, and found on my journey to hug my son; A wild war horse. You feel like the only living thing for miles. Not even the chickadees chime. Yet, you are only of magic. I feel a lot of magic here. Am I in an enchanted sleep? May I ride you to the boarders of the fog, to see where I stand?” Odysseus asked. Crista nodded, and Odysseus climbed into the western saddle. The gentle rock of each of Cristanine’s steps soothed his bones; From atop this mythical beast, Odysseus could see for miles. But he saw nothing. No matter the distance they tread, or surrounding forest they wandered, Crista was unable to leave the heavy fog.
“You are fey, and know of spells; Why can’t we leave? What enchantment is on my precious inheritance? Why are we in another time?”
“Anoþer tym, we be nat. þe ham be restored, but þis kwiet is yorse.” Christa responded. He continued to heavily clomp down the bluff, back to the barns. At his doorstep, Odysseus saw his wife. Ichtya looked bewitched in joy at the withered gardens, facing away from the old well. As Odysseus and Crista slowly passed it, Odysseus’s eye met this pit. It resonated, and finally gave him an emotion that lingered; intrusive unease.
In the stables of fine wood, with eaves carved of flicker and finch, Odysseus dismounted Crista, and took off the tack. Lovingly he provided a blanket, gave water and oats, while gently tying the rope. He didn’t question why all the supplies where already there. The stable was large, and still. It was warm and painted gold and chestnut. The feint smell of horses, permeated the walls, and Odysseys stood at the doors; Looking into the vacant pens without care. From behind, Icthya hugged him. Her green dress now dirtied. She seemed loud in the silence, and her soft touch, for a second, felt real.
“I was in the gardens I planted before we left. Each petal in place. A mix of flora form earth and fey; It reminded me of my late father, my brother, and some far-off place. The dew on the roses, and smell of king’s-lace; It’s a sweetness I love and could taste. This place is more magical than my heart can recall. I love it Oddie; I Wish our son was with me, his heart only beating for the wonderous.” She sighed. Then it slowly dawned on Icthya’s broken soul; This is the happiness of magic she denied herself and her son. It was a part of her that was buried under tears, after losing her parents. How could something so beautiful, bring such pain.
“I wish our boy could see this place with us.” Odysseus said. “Though, perhaps not in it’s dreary state.”
The barn doors creaked and latched, heavily and satisfyingly. Knights riding unicorns carved on these doors. He reached to touch them, but recoiled; Feared they’d be intangible. Odysseus walked his wife back inside, and they changed clothes. They stayed in the blue parlor, as it was the only room that held light. It was decorated from lamp to wall of like the Central North; Unlike the rest of the Grand West walls. This room must have been Queen Charlette’s. Odysseus mused. He had only seen her in paintings as a child. Charlette is always in light blue. She was in the books his father made him read, Odysseus made his own son read, and his own father once read. Though Odysseus’s little prince preferred these romantic passages more then himself.
“Who is that lady?” Icthya asked; Pointing to a dreamy portrait. It seemed ghostly and out of place.
“The Francian princess, Charlette, wed to the last king: Eatheltwein Cynedom. She loved blue. This might be the room made for her and their children.” Odysseus whispered. “She was written of kindly; I am glad to be her ancestor.”
“You’re royalty?” Icthya gasped.
“Do you not recall the traditional greens I wore to our wedding?”
“Am I a Queen, though I am only a mundane commoner? Does this make our fragile son a prince?”
“It no longer matters. The monarchy resigned itself to this ancient homestead long ago. I always told myself it was a wife’s tale.”
NEXT--->
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Tale 22. Delphia Torchblood & The Silent Lord (4/5)
22. Delphia Torchblood & The Silent Lord (chapter 4 - Saxon & Kendle 4/5) part 6. Stories of Wizards
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Morgan rushed into Reggie’s room; He had a quest! Reggie was splayed on her bed, reading her mothers lesbian erotica to her true love Wyverndor. The crystalline princess was holding Reggie like a teddy bear. Morgan walked over to poke Reggie into conversation. He was still unable to speak, but needed her attention.
“It’s ok, you’re not interrupting. But, um, don’t tell mom about the book.” Reggie said. “What can I do you for cuz?” She asked, marking her place with a receipt.
“Master Morgan needs to find some old literature, to stop being an utter tool.” Icarus said. Morgan nodded.
“Woah, Icarus. That was savage. But, better books then that b-”
“We want to go to The Capitol, and see the records in the Museum of Anglia.” Icarus interrupted.
“Sweet. Delphia can stay here and feed the fairies, and we can go with mom and dad for a family trip! Dad will be so happy to hear you want family time, and that your interested in your hobbies again.” Reggie chimed. Cetus peered around the corner.
“Did I just hear family trip?” He said. “I wasn’t stalking, I was worried because Morgan feinted yesterday. But you don’t have to gesticulate any further, sport; I’ll book the tickets this minute!” Cetus said, leaving to not tell his wife. It’s ok, Jupiter was used to it.
“So, are you planning on restoring their old junk?” Regina asked.
“Kind of?’” He gestured. Doing things to build a meaningful life, is a good way to independently build confidence. Like what his tea-stained CBT handout said.
A few days later, and they ere in the museum. Jupiter and Cetus broke off to take a tour, while Morgan grabbed Reggie to go to the main hall. The palace was kept in its original condition; Made of the same black marble as Tiberius gate. It caused Morgan to miss living in the tower. The marble was veined with ghostly white quartz. The hall was well lit, and featured rows of tapestries, displayed clothing, and a long case of historical documents; Original copies. Morgan stopped in front of the Anglian constitution, of which was used to betroth Delphia to Morgan. Next to it, was the confirmed royal linage scroll, noting Morgan at the end of the line. But he was too busy reading to notice. Reggie was unsettled however.
“Hey, it says Eatheltwein Cynedom. In school they told use he was the wizard king that brought us parliament. Can’t believe you’re a descendant. Didn’t you say he was an idiot, and actually a mage in disguise to avoid execution? Because medieval people love a good public murder?” Regina asked. Morgan nodded. There was a stylized painting down the hall. Eatheltwein was always depicted in teal robes, with his canary familiar, and the sun shinning above him. The art of him was the most colourful.
“I had no clue I had royal ancestors, but I’m proud to be related to Eathel; He’s adorable in every account. I should have suspected, since I was born on Saxon or Kendal ranch, which is where he retired after transferring power. Also, I’m the only one I know in house Cynedom. But look here.” Morgan signed. His hands got a little tiered. Being mute was turning out to be a real handicap for a seer.
In the middle of the constitution, Morgan pointed at a paper through the glass, prompting Reggie to take a look. It was written in both Saxon rune, and middle Anglian alphabet. All in old Anglian. There were poor modern translations beneath them, which personally offended Morgan. The passage stated the following:
To insure the parliament remains accountable, and in place against the will of the people, the king’s decrees will remain until a crowned heir deems it nil…..
Upon the transfer of power, his majesty Master Eatheltwein Cynedom; King of The Grand West of Anglia, entrusts his eldest heir to the hand of a noble lady of The Westlands of Dania….
The property of the Royal family, as purchased or gifted, is to never be public property; And is thus subject to whatever fate the inheritor desires….
The decrees were offensively vague. They also explained a lot. This centuries old parchment, hanging around the museum, said that the nation was technically being held democracy at gunpoint.
The reason no one noticed this document, was because the royal family bought land for a homestead, of which they retired too once the parliament was established. It was called Kendal & Saxon, after the colours of green. Anglia was known for it’s greens back then; Like it’s fertile land, and the eyes of its people. This was Morgan’s father’s ranch, where he was born and raised there like all his forefathers. Which should have given things away. The kings were tossing goats, and providing horse therapy the whole time. As the palace was turned into a museum of exquisite royal historical artifacts, people assumed kings were of the past. Including said kings.
“Wait; does this mean you own all this stuff, a ranch, and this entire palace?!” Reggie yelled.
‘Did they betroth me to a noble Danian lady named Delphia based on the same document?’ Morgan grimaced.
Morgan had plans. He needed to start caring for Pepperidge’s fey, and get back to his dream career; Being a magic historical librarian. The museum was littered with his ancient property, in need of restoration, accurate information plates, and translations. It made Morgan feel inspired again.
Even if it was Eatheltwein’s wish for the royal family to stay away from politics, Morgan needed to temporarily abuse power for the greater good, and his own. If he was protected under these credible parchments, it didn’t matter if he was a mage. Emilia would love to hear about this when she returned. The thought made Morgan smile, as he walked into the director’s office. He summoned his birth certificate, and a letter requesting to summon artifacts to Pepperidge, for him to restore and use.
“So, you’re king? Or a prince? And you just want to live in a small town, and its magic forest, passively restoring old books? Maybe sprinkle in some fey and mage rights along the way. You’re just going to summon artifacts into a academy library, and enchant it, because you’re a mage able to permanently return things to their original glory?” She asked. Morgan nodded. Regina waited outside, and texted her parents for help. Cetus ran in, and blocked Morgan from the director’s desk.
“I’m sorry, Miss! Whatever happened, were sorry; He’s a kid, and has no want for any political stuff, and he’s not graduated with credentials to do anything for this museum. Yet.” Cetus rambled. Morgan grimaced. He felt so close to doing something he was looking forward too. He almost felt joy. Morgan looked down, and backed away slowly. He started to cry and curl up inside from embarrassment. Morgan wished he never said or done anything, all over again.
“Political stuff? No, I’m just a mundane woman, who worked hard to take care of the rich history of my homeland. Can this boy actually restore artifacts if I work something out? Can he start with the crown and wedding robes? Can he do clothes, or just books and records? Can he translate Elden Anglian?” The director inquired.
“Yes?” Cetus said, side eyeing the director.
“Perfect! I’ll see what I can do with the information provided. Also, congratulations on fulfilling our nation’s debt; I bet the maiden is a sweet girl, who will be a good partner. That wizard nearly cried when I showed him the betrothal document. I can’t believe I got to help a historical event come to fruition!” She chimed. Morgan was too busy being deregulated to thank her. Cetus escorted Morgan out of the room, where Jupiter and Reggie were waiting. Cetus tentatively reached out to put his hand on Morgan’s shoulder, then remembered Morgan’s adverse reactions. Morgan, noticing, took Cetus hand and placed it on his shoulder, while he teared into the cuffs of his sweater. He had no idea why he was crying. Cetus finally got to hug his nephew again; The hug didn’t seem long enough.
The rest of the weekend, they toured The Capitol: The Raven Gate, old architecture, and the wizard bank to see how a specific dragon princess was doing. They went to some shops, and went home. On the boat back to the mainland, everyone felt uncomfortable with the knowledge that Morgan kept being the chosen one. Accidentally befriending all ten Beast Kings, or opening Tiberius Gate to restore a dormant enchanted valley, and being a top Seer student, and royal bred. There was other living royalty, powerful mages, magic forests, decorated Seers, and such forth; But the combination was off-putting.
“Morgan, you need to stop accidentally falling into power upgrades. No wonder all the common folk are in a frenzy.” Cetus said. “You have a lot of potential power, and terrifying capability; making your life full of problems. You could do anything with all the knowledge and magic.”
“Brave to assume I care about, or plan, to do anything with arbitrary coincidences.” Morgan gestured.
“What about Delphia? What is going to happen to Pepperidge?” Reggie asked. Morgan shrugged.
“Nothing.” he signed.
That’s right. Morgan technically could do anything, given the combination of normal things he accumulated. But ‘perfect people’ are only perfect, if they want their capabilities and potential to do perfect things. Realistically, Morgan was right. Nothing had changed. The only thing that changed, was a political betrothal, and access to mundane historical items he could repair with blood-wax scripts. He was still a student, feeding crisps to goblins, watering sentient trees, and fawning over naiads. He was in his uncle’s custody, Icarus was his primary mode of transportation and hugs, he wore pink, dresses, baked, and quested. Emilia was still his true love, he was still an ashamed teen dad, and Amadeus was still his best friend. What is a title, but something other people call you? Morgan sat comfortably the whole ride home. He was still nervous and silent, but felt a little better after getting out of the house and anticipating his favourite pastime. He couldn’t wait to be home again. Then he remembered Delphia.
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#tales of ealdan cynedom#short stories#story 22#fantasy#delphia#icarus#morgan#cetus#regina#eatheltwein
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Okoko Greneholt, after becoming Queen; most enchanted tree hugging albino, in the whole village
Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 10.1 -
Another Day 10/10) part 4. Stories of Old
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As mentioned many ties, the shadow veil is colourless, and quiet; except for anything magic. This meant that the only place with colour in the shadow veil, was somewhere entirely covered with magic and fey. If you are a tree, you live in a forest with your kin. If you are a magic tree, in the shadow veil, you make a forest of bewildering wonder. The Tree Kingdom in the shadow veil, is thick, containing every type of legendary plant; making a colourful forest of trees, shrubs, roots, fruits and flowers. Not nearly as psychedelic as Eatheltwein and Meriam’s escapades in Hispania, but still a lot to take in. The tree children said hello, and Meriam and Eatheltwein said hello back. They alchemized water to make the tree children happy, and sang some folk songs to the flowers. Each time, Eathel inquired where the Tree Gate was in their kingdom. None of the floral fey knew where the Tree Gate was, but they thought their mother, The Tree King, might. The Tree King, like all beast kings, is a bigger version of what her kingdom is. She is indeed, the biggest beast king; the biggest most colourful blooming tree in all of Ealden Cynedom. So tall she is, that you will miss her; her girth so wide, and branches so tall, that she is out of sight. Meriam and Eathel circled her for an hour yelling for her attention. Or more, they circled where she should have been; a giant cleaning in the middle of the Tree Kingdom’s forest of her precious children. Then Eatheltwein saw a grassy patch with a stone pedestal, recognizing exactly what it was; the shadow veil side of a gate. Perhaps The Tree King was in the day veil? Meriam wondered what ever would make a beast king go to the day veil, aside form worry for their children. Then she remembered her daughter; what if the Tree King left because of love?
Bantia is really hot. Not as hot as The Feilds of Fire in the central south, but hot enough that the grasslands are tall and brittle, and the fauna large and fast. The southern Savanah was pocketed by unique forests, cactus’s, birch and baobab. It was like nothing Eatheltwein or Meriam had ever seen. They could see the landscape of Bantia through the tall and thin tree children of the forested they walked into. Soon, they spotted the circular walls of a compound, making up a local village. The walls of the compound were painted with handprints, and smoke from cooking and smudging came from inside. Within the forest however, there was a thin path of leaf litter through the earth; like the small paths made in the flowerbed of a garden, or an autumn deer trail in an orchard.
“Want to help me put masks on the trees?” They heard a vice say. Turning around, Eatheltwein and Meriam saw a tall thin albino man, with teal eyes, and pale hair weaved and tied into strings by coins and teal ribbons. He wore white and pastel tree kingdom robes, and brass jewellery. The robes composed of two layers of wrapped fabric, a cropped vest like coat, a flower crown, and ankle boots. He held a basket of masks, and iron and titanium oxide painted fabric. In his other hand, was a copper vase of alchemized water. He looked happy to see them; and judging by his eyes, robes, and ability to speak Anglian, a mage.
“Hello. I am Meriam Craweleoth, and this is my nephew Eatheltwein Cyendom. We are here too…. see Bantia?” Meriam said, looking around. She realized she was essentially a tourist.
“Neat! I’m Okoko Greeneholt. Deez treez, said they wanted to look nice to scare away axemen in the village.” Okoko laughed. “This entire pocked forest is all made of tree children, and I am the mage of this magic forest. The locals, down there in the compound, forced me in here when I went dark; So, I just went with it. It’s a little funny, because going dark didn’t change my colours… Maybe they didn’t actually want me there, now that I think about it. So now, I’m like a magic gardener, but I’m a heartman not a charmer. Make healing elixures form the tree childrens gifts instead of just singing to them. Anyway, back to the axemen; Want to help me make these fey extra dapper, to scare the commoners off?” Okoko said, handing Meriam a painted mask with twine. She shrugged, and looked at Eatheltwein who also took a mask. They are, as mages, in favour of protecting fey. However, the trees were not very polite, and kept inquiring about intimate matters and making distasteful jokes. Okoko simply hummed happily, and gave the trees water and attire. Meriam looked around and asked about the fey. Okoko reported leaf litter drakes where in the ditches, and there were mandril like monkey children in the bigger trees. Mothkin and nut elves also wandered around. The place was quiet, with occasional outbursts of laughter and whispering.
Okoko was kind enough to catch birds for them to eat, and show them his journals. Meriam had never eaten anything so burnt in her life. The coffee was good though; very exotic.
“You like my gate, but I don’t understand why you would just come here to take notes… What does Anglia have to gain from braking boundaries? You are as fair as they say, and equally kind; but Bantia is suspicious of people bringing animals, substances, and criminals into our land. The gaurds at our borders examine everyone equally, and harshly. As a result, we may live without fear of anything. Well, other then the giant animals in the open savannah. But otherwise, everyone is super laid back because if it gets into Bantia, it’s A-Okay!” he rambled. Then Okoko pause. “But if, you do want to look into that village, don’t mention me. As I previously suggested, they don’t like me.” he grumbled.
“Why don’t they like you? Your so nice…” Eatheltwein asked.
“You don’t fear Wizards?” Meriam inquired.
“That’s the problem. I’m too nice; they think I’m weak for letting bees have their honey, and sparing leopards. And as for the wizards, around here they are really nice; no clue what would ever make someone fear one. Just commoners with wands... They mind their own. Why?”
“Wizards have killed but all other mages.” Meriam said.
“That’s sad. I don’t think anyone here is interested in murder. That’s the fodder of far-off lands. People here don’t even carry arms. We need our hands to gather food, hunt, and make homes. I mean, why work hard to murder, when you could just help each other? Makes no sense.”
“That sentiment makes me wish I could stay. Now that I don’t have anything to lose.” Meriam sighed. “I have the magic to manipulate time, that could make people live again, or I could revisit them; but it doesn’t seem right.”
“That’s also sad. You must be here because your sad. Feeling alone, trapped, and fearing death is scary. Does the visiting my here home help?”
“A bit” Eathel said. “I would like to see these large animals, and unarmed village folk you speak of.”
“You are free to do so. Before you go, I have one last favor to ask.” Okoko chimed. “I am looking for a tall maiden, of the normal very deep complexion, with a crown of crystal flower, in fine shimmering fabric. She is my greatest company, and only asks for water. She also thanks me and gives me food! I want to tell her I love her. Have you seen her?” he asked. Eatheltwein and Meriam shock their heads. It would seem he may have been speaking about the Tree King in human form.
“She may be in the village if she is so easily mistaken for your kin. You do know, you just described the Tree King Master Greeneholt?” Meriam asked. Judging by his expression, he did not know the lady of his affections, was a tenth of all magic. Nor did he care. It simply answered some of his questions.
“I wonder if I kiss her, if I will become a Beast Queen! Tree Queen… I already love and care for her children. She did mention something about pears. I wonder if our children will start as pears as pretty as her flowers, that I plant and water with love, then they sprout out of the ground to be hugged in the spring.” Okoko pondered. Out loud. Eatheltwein was toughly disturbed. The thought of babies popping out of the ground after being buried was a bit much, after so much coffee. What if you dig them up to repot them? Do you repot a baby tree person; do they die? Eatheltwein got up and headed to leave the magic forest after this train of thought, to look for the Tree King. Meriam quickly got up to follow.
“Wahts his deal? Did I say something?” Okoko said, stopping her.
“Yes, he’s my nephew.” Meriam said.
“Wait, he is king of Anglia by now? Word travels fast by hawk and merchants. Nothing about murdering wizrds though. I can tell that’s what bothers you right now.” Okoko said, beginning to grind magic spices, now that he had Meriam’s attention. “You said all the mages died, in spite of fairy robe protection; they must have had a good reason for handing themselves in. Are you going to hand yourself in? Knowing even your ability to control time, won’t stop your kingdoms wizards, and staying here won’t satisfy your broken heart?” He continued. Meriam didn’t respond, and resumed following her nephew. The trees echoed his words as she walked along. It made Eatheltwein sad, and it made Meriam began to think about her position. The trees spoke, that’s kind of funny. Her nephew and daughter have good futures, that is kind of happy. Meriam had seen the world, saved countless lives, lived a long healthy fulfilling life, and finally had inner peace; and that was kind of beautiful. There was nothing to lose if she chose to let the wizards kill her and think they had won, and stop their madness. Now that, was incredibly satisfying.
The village was upon sandy earth, surrounded by patches of tall grass. The huts where white with the same handprints as the compound walls. The entire compound was a series of circles, with doors all facing northwest. The rooves where straw, and the center of the compound had a stature of a lady over a well. The people where tall, deep skinned, and had eyes of any natural colour. Their hair was braided, cut, fluffed, and tied in ways that seemed to defy Meriam and Eatheltwein’s understanding. The thick, yet soft weaved fabrics, made checkers, zigzags, and spots, in a myriad of colours, as they were wrapped with beads of various materials on the men and woman. The village had a distinct colour pallet, and an air of peace. It was as equisite as any land Meriam had previously visited. No one looked at Meriam or Eathel, or seemed stressed by each other; in fact, there was countless moments of teamwork. From caring for children, to weaving baskets, working metal, cooking, and making tools, everyone had a few friends helping them out. Then they saw a man clad in gold and indigo fabrics, and ivory and quills tied regally in his hair. He was holding onto a tall woman with a flowered crown and silken robes, similar to Okokos. Even her eyes iridised in the pastels of wildflowers. She looked absolutely terrified. Meriam walked over to the man, sitting on a sturdy carved stool, and tore the Tree King away from him.
“She is a king of fey. She needs to go home. Okoko wants to give her a true loves kiss, and such forth. Magic isn’t owned by anyone.” Meriam scolded. “Also, have you no honour? Holding a woman, you don’t know like that.” She snapped. In old Anglian. The man looked confused at her; like a fairy was speaking tongues at him. He looked at Eatheltwein, like he was hoping that would give him more information. It did not.
“I was just holding onto her until we figured out who she was; she seemed scared…” he said calmly in old Bantian. Eatheltwein started to panic, not understanding a word the man said.
“Yes!” Eathtwein squeaked; And then he grabbed Meriam by the wrist and ran off back to the forest. The women and children laughed, and the men tried not too. Two forighners were running of with a lost stranger they were trying to help. A lady outside the village waved them off.
“No one here knows Anglian. You folks may want to put on some white water; you foreign fair folk, tend to turn red real quick round here. That aside, I’m obligated to ask you to state your business.” She giggled, looking the three of them up and down. Meriam and Eatheltwein pointed to the Tree King. “Oh yeah…Chief took her to spite his little brother, Okoko, and convinced everyone she was a lost traveler. Even though she’s obviously fey. Don’t wanna’ go around pissing off fey. You must be mages by the getup. Tell Okoko that Nightengale misses holding his hand with her brother while callin’ honey guides. Holding hands keeps people you like, safe and close; looks like you got the idea already.” She finished. Eatheltwein and Meriam, were indeed tightly grasping each other.
Back in the forest, Eatheltwein and Meriam brought the Tree King back to Okoko, who was still grinding spices for a potion. Meriam coughed to get his attention, and the plants started saying hello to their mother. The Tree King smiled sweetly at each of her beloved children. Okoko looked up, and lit up. He jumped to his feet, and gave her a big hug. He held both her hand, and kissed her. With gold dust, he got a shinny bigger flowered crown himself, and his robes began to shimmer like hers.
“You’re ok.” Okoko said. “Thank you, Meriam and Eathel!” he smiled. It was so sudden, saccharine, and casual; It caught them off guard before they could coo.
“I wonder if cousin Odette’s Queening was like that…” Eathel asked, leaning in to whisper. “Then again, I don’t recall her leaping into anything without a speech, and deep consideration…” He went on. Meriam giggled. Odette defiantly just landed one on her love after a slow burn.
“Should we look for Odette in the Raven Kingdom; on our way back tonight? We must be brisk as not to arouse suspicion. Have you even seen her since she disappeared to be queen?” Eathel asked.
“No, where not stopping to look for her. And I have only ever gotten a glimpse in all these years. I like to think she is as happily wed, just as you.” Meriam smiled. She sat down, and began to grind the herbs, as Okoko and the Tree King sat down to talk holding hands. They looked like they had a type of love that makes the world disappear. Meriam remembered that feeling, and it made her sad again. Then she remembered what was waiting back home, and she felt scared, and stopped grinding. She had left the moment again. Then Eathel held her hand, and whipped her face.
Seeing the merriment of the Bantian people, and Okoko with his wife, made Eatheltwein sad too; the loss of his uncle, becoming king, and knowing he would lose his aunt to wizards. She was like a mother to him. Eatheltwein knew he would survive, but he didn’t like thinking about death right now.
“I miss uncle, Odette, and I will miss you. I will hide the Raven Gate, keep up the guise of wizard, and have a happy family, and a farm after I exchange power. I will guard the magic forest of the Capital as it’s mage, wear my fairy robes to stay safe, and live long. I will have happily ever after. Just as you wish, and I wish. Is there anything else you ask of me when your time comes? Okoko was right when he said that that’s what is bothering you.” Eatheltwein asked, when they started heading back home.
“Take Murdoc’s journals to Pepperidge, and bury my journals with the Raven Gate. Like me, this world needs years to accept and adapt to the damage and change. It needs space. I lived to save lives and love magic, and I will die doing the same. Though, we will never know when that will happen.” Meriam said.
“When you decide to face the people without fairy robes, to stop the city form burning; That’s when. I will not bury your journals, robes or keepsakes; those belong to Odette; thus, I will leave them with her in the Raven Kingdom. Since it is up to you, may I ask you please choose to stay just a little longer.” Eathel began to sob. They were still holding hands.
Meriam and Eatheltwein arrived back in The Capitol, like nothing had happened. The casual manor of which they walked up the smooth cobles to the palace, made no one take notice. As royalty, no one asked where they had gone. At dinner, there was spiced wine, and good conversation; Charlette had ordered the servants to prepare a nice meal for everyone in the palace, as a distraction. It was a happy memory, and pleasant surprise. At bedtime, Meriam had fresh clean sheets and gown; even while she was no longer queen, she lived here in luxury and gratitude. For the first time, sincer Fredrick left her side, she slept well. And when she woke, she realized she had complete control over the rest of her life, given her magic and status. It was both comforting, and terrifying.
As years went by, and Meriam got to hold her grand niece, and see the first royal Trilith Tree grow in the shadow veil. She learned to cook and do laundry for fun, instead of spite, and had tea with Charlette. Meriam helped conduct the construction of a ranch in the country side, as a second home for the royal family. On the anniversary of Felin’s death, she left red clover at the boarder. On the anniversary of her marriage to Fredrick, she wore her periwinkle dress and pearls. When board, Meriam rode her kestrel familiar Nihten, around the growing city, and then followed it up by reading hate mail form wizards, in the palace courtyard; preferable while drunk on imported beverages. Whenever she left the palace, Meriam always wore her fairy robes, and stopped to look at the Raven Gate. Each year, for five years, she enjoyed the simple things in life. Each day, it got easier, and each month that passed, wizards tried harder to destroy the gate, and get her from the palace. She would stand at a hall window when she woke up at night to watch them with the satisfaction, she was untouchable.
One night however, Meriam went to stop them. They were hurting guards and knights with their magic; and threaten Eatheltwein and his family with arson. They just kept attempting to storm the palace. Normally, Meriam stopped their attacks with protection charms, or in person. But not tonight. Tonight, she arrived at the Raven Gate, before the group of wizards, whose fire was visible from her study. They were about to burn the square. Tonight, Meriam wore nothing but her finest sleeping gown. She summoned a basic stool from the kitchen, and sat on it in front of the Raven Gate; out in the open ripe for the slaying. She stared at the wizards like a stalking tiger waiting to pounce.
“Stop it. You’re terrifying and endangering your friends, the city, the nation, and the government. Magic is not meant for war; you already know this. You’re all being silly, and disgraceful. If you want to wield magic, wield it with compassion and wonder; not whatever this is” Meriam said gesturing to the wizards. She sat quietly guarding the gate, with Nihten on her shoulder. Even still, the wizards feared her. Meriam could do any magic she wished without robes, and wield the unbreakable blade. The growing wizard community was causing chaos for years, just to get at her; and she came to them in her most helpless state. At first, Meriam defended and countered their swords, fire, and spells. Defeating them, but not killing them. Then suddenly, a young paladin wizard, of mixed heritage, pulled aside a comrade to put his blade through Meriam; pushing her through the Raven Gate and into the shadow veil. Even though she had helped them all by ending war, the wizards were pleased to see her gone; They took the trophy of being the ones who killed the last mage.
Meriam lay gasping, and bleeding; but surrounded by the comfort of magic. Then a woman, who was tall and white, in raven fairy kingdom robes stood over Meriam. She had icy blue eyes, and wore the same makeup as Meriam used to; even the knot of her white hair was tied the same as Meriam. They had met before. Odette had felt Meriam enter the Raven Kingdom, and finally chose to talk to her mother. She knelt down, and pulled Meriam onto her lap, and began to cry.
“Mother. It’s me Odette. I’m sorry this veil has caused me to forget about you, and never visit. Why do you bleed like you are dying…? Was it the wizards my children speak of?” Odette said. She was flustered, and Meriam just held her hand. “You like learning magic right, mother? Did you know all Beast Queen’s possess the ability to give a kiss to the head, that heals with love? Do you need my love mother?” Odette cried.
“No. You already love me, and I love you. I don’t need a silly kiss to prove that.” Meriam responded, pulling Odettes hand to her chest, and giving her the small hour glass she used to concentrate on time magic. “In Bantia, they always hold hands; I went there with Eatheltwein. They say it is to keep those you love close and safe.”
“That sounds like a nice thing to take away form an adventure. You brought home so many nice things from your adventures, mother. But you can control time, and have magic on your side; you bring peace to the kingdoms, but not to magic? Do the wizards need time to learn to respect and love magic like us? And mother, why did you not wear your fairy robes to protect you? That’s what they’re for. Why did you choose this?” Odette pleaded. She began rocking her mother to her chest, hands still clasped. “Why do you not wish to be healed?”
“Because this is a beautiful place, to end a story.”
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Tien Bucflowen, in fairy robes; You didn’t think this book would be free of a magic zen master and mind screw chapter?
Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 9.2 - In The Moment 9/10) part 4. Stories of Old
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The Stag Gate, is at the top of golden rock butte, surrounded by rice patties, and tropic air. It is just like Meriam’s Raven Gate, but jade instead white veined black marble. It sits in front of a bronze gong, upon a tile pedestal, moated with water and koi, undeath a square gazebo of arched red tile, and smooth green pillars. Meriam had only a moment to admire it, until her husband, linked at her elbow, fell.
“Fredrick! By all colours, you have gone dark!” Meriam cried. He seemed calm in shadow veil, and she was too focused on her mission to notice magic consume him. Fredrick was alos too busy admiring the veil to notice himself, and nearly felt feint. His nose bled, and his forehead was warm; but he was in better shape then Felin, or even her men, had been. Perhaps, focusing on and embracing the fey, was the way for a commoner to survive. Then, it began to rain, and they lay on the steps of the gate. Meriam holding Fredrick in her arms, as she sang a healing charm. The sound of rain can aid in the healing spells of heartmann. As a Seer, Meriam knew how to do anything, but seldom did. Particularly song. Speaking of heartman, if Meriam ever met Corona again, she should thank her for the spells and recipes. If this is a gate, it is a magic forest; which means magic ingredients that may save her husbands life after the rain. At the end of the day, Meriam was not a powerful enough charmer to fully heal someone with spells alone.
“Do I have new colours?” Fredrick interrupted, “Like you, Odette, Eatheltwein and your men?” he asked.
“Yes.” Meriam smiled. “Your hair is like wild roses, and your eyes even more glassy and teal; You look as handsome as ever. May I continue to sing? The spell will be strong in the rain, and the wet should cool your fever.” Meriam said. She held his hand, and started the charm again.
By afternoon, the rain had stopped, and Meriam took her husband over her back, and began to walk a trail. There was labyrinth trail to walk, around the gate. But not a trapping one; It was an intentional, man made, meditative one. It led through the entire top of the butte, through all it’s fey and gardens. Calci Trees that grant wishes, a gold serpent dragon that liked clocks, naga that slept about with baskets of treasure, Kirin that pranced upon ledges, and giant gold flower. If you ask nice, the tree children may give you a lucky petal, to speed up recovery. The darling did not fail to give a golden petal to another friendly mage. The fey were very sweet; in stark contrast with the previous magic forest she had gone to. Meriam thanked the tree child, and gave the petal a chewing.
“Another mage is here dear!” Fredrick gleamed.
“Yes, Gates need mages to stay open. Though, I admit it slipped my mind.” Meriam mumbled. She kissed the chewed magic medicine into his mouth. Forget spoons full sugar, not even that could sweeten the worst kiss of their lives.
“Bloody fuck Meriam. Why!? and why?” He swallowed and coughed.
“Fredrick, the secret ingredient is always love. And I don’t mean the proverb; that is actually how your supposed to do it…” Meriam apologized. The tree children were laughing.
“But I do suddenly, feel a bit better…. Thankyou kindly.” Fredrick said to the golden flower bush.
“shucks your highness; you can deflower me any time. Anything for true love.” It chimed. Fredrick went pale; a plant spoke to him. Him and Meriam recoiled at the discomfort of the statement.
Now that Freddie was back on his feet, they followed the circular maze path around the gate together. Walking past all the fey, little Tibetan cottages, sand gardens; completely mesmerized. Could it be enchantmented? They began to postulate. The passing curiosity, of what was the cause of their calm, waving over them. Entranced, they passed a fallow deer by the path. It didn’t run. As they walked past, they saw an elder Vietician man, wearing white and spring green Stag Kingdom Fairy robes. He was sharpening a blade of jade. He had been there the whole time, minding his own business.
“Excuse me sir, but I must say that is a beautiful weapon.” Fredrick said.
“Apologies; master???” Meriam inquired.
“Tian Bucflowen. And it is not a tool of destruction. It is a sword of restoration. I make things that aren’t. The jade and bronze I mold, makes object that do what they don’t. they embody existence needing non-existence, and that what we know is, is also not.” Tian said softly.
“Ah. My name is Meriam Craweleoth, and my husband King Fredrick Cynedom.” Meriam said. Tian did not respond.
“Why are the paths in a curiously soothing maze?” Fredrick asked.
“Because they are made to be a large labyrinth walk. A tool of meditation and mindfulness. Did you find the serenity of the present upon it’s tread?” Tien mused. Meriam and Fredrick nodded calmly. Then Tien went silent again.
“I will walk with you now.” He then said, placing the sword on the ground. “This is a fallow deer, and my familiar. Cha. She will walk aside us now, as well.” Tien continued, as they began to walk about the paths once again.
As a half hour passed, in silence, Fredrick and Meriam began to enjoy each moment more. They forgot why they were here, or anything that had happened, or will. No thought of betrothals, missing children, war, and dead friends. Only locked elbows, and the smooth flow of each step. The sound of running water, chirp of raven children, and smell of green.
“Do you hear from beyond this butte?” Meriam asked Tien.
“Yes. What do you want to hear?” He responded.
“Is this land of Vietica, free of Sinonian soldiers? Are they merchants now?”
“That is a transformation that has occurred. Though I do not know why it was. Why there were men here, or why they should, or should not have been here; I do not judge any person, for where they are, come from, or go.”
“You confuse me a bit; But I assert Anglia seeks peace. Such a , transformation, would mean the emperor of Sinonia had a changed his opinions of war and gratitude. With the Eastern lands now calm, I assume this means we have peace?”
“Do we have? Do you possess peace? Is it peace still, when there is no longer conflict to witness, or something to make it?” Tien said. Meriam and Fredrick, were then drew back to reality, by confusion.
“Wait. What? I’m sorry, I fear you have lost us both.” Fredrick said.
“Peace is something everyone has, because they did not have it. It is a matter of mind and existence. But what of you, here now; What do you now have?”
“Each other?” Fredrick postulated.
“It would appear so, in this moment.” Tein chimed
“The ability to control time?” Meriam said.
“Oh, do you?” Tien said softly. “Do you control time Meriam? Or is it controlling you; Thus, simply exists and flows regardless of meaning, or a human will? Akin to magic itself.” He went on. Meriam felt Tien’s questions in her chest. Though she knew it was not sired from malice, but truth. The whole time Meriam knew magic, and manipulated time, she knew it always flowed back into place. In magic, past and present became illusive, to the point of disposing any notion of polarized concepts. Like magic, Tien appeared to be absent of any judgment, time, resentment or pain. Meriam now wanted his secrets.
“You don’t use words of good or bad, or certainty. You do not care if your work is worth recognition as a warlock. You even live alone to old age, unbothered. I have many things from the past, that make me thirst for goals; I cannot imagine life without such direction and pain. What makes a man, sitting alone upon a mountain, with unicorns, so blissful in spite of everything?” Meriam asked, stopping on the path.
“Ah, you have left the moment. Torn between past and present; When you care for neither. My secret, is none. I am here alone, because that is where life has led me. As I flow with time, I go many places; and come from many places. Where I end, and where I start, is irrelevant to any given point in-between. If I need meaning, I make it from a moment, not a goal. Do I need recognition to exist, when I clearly do? I am at peace here, because I am at peace here. I accept here, thus I accept uncertainty, and I accept the past and all futures. Are you here Meriam, and Fredrick? Or are you somewhere else? But if you see things as meaningful here, stay here.” Tien smiled.
Meriam, was never here. She was a young woman in Francia just ready to wed, being torn from her family as a political pawn, at the beginning of a war, watching her friend die; and wishing she could change it, but knowing she never would, and feared if she even should. Meriam was lost. Because she could not accept where she was, as she was unaware of her here is. Meriam, after a moment, bowed to Tian, who smiled and lifted her cheek.
“Now I will eat.”
“I guess, now we will join you.” Meriam giggled. Her laughter made Fredrick burst out as well. It was like a honeymoon they never got.
“Remember everything flows.” Tien said, sitting over a bronze stove in the middle of a house. It was small, but well made. Inside and out, it was painted green and dark red, with gold leaf imprinting, and fine eastern silks. They would have complemented Tien on his courtesy, mastery, accommodations and cooking; but they felt that though he might have appreciated it, he would only do so for a moment, before he returned to his blissful lack of dichotomy. Filled with good chicken, and on nice sleeping mats, Meriam and Fredrick found themselves here, in a pleasant present, together, and close. King, Queen, or anything else, melted into abstract. They were themselves here. In the setting of the sun, and tender love. The kind that never lasts long enough. As they settled for rest, Meriam began to cry again; for she has started to arrive in a single moment in time, unchained from her mind.
“Fredrick. I hated being betrothed, and being a political tool. And then falling in love anyway. I am sad because of how mercilessly Felin was murdered. I am angry that Francia, which I love, is fighting, when they just needed help. I am unsettled from the sight of war, and confusion of magic. I am scared by the uncertainty, of what wizarding may become in the hands of commoners. I resent myself for not telling this to my mage friends. I miss our daughter, and I miss all the time I could have spent with you. I hate that I have all the time in the world, and it is not enough. I stay so strong in these trials, to do what I must; but Fredrick, I am sad.” Meriam cried. Her voice quiet, but still as clear as she always spoke. Fredrick pulled his wife closer, to hold her in a moment of need, while they both admitted, it feels cold now, but it is also now warm.
As Meriam and Fredrick got up in the mourning, they dressed, ate, then went to walk around the labyrinth path once more, before they left. Tien was in a different spot, finishing the sword; and Meriam and Fredrick began to notice the houses. There were little red roofed houses within the bamboo, and tree children; The houses with decorated eaves, had happy children and merchants who played nice with the fey. One of them even gave the couple peaches and tea. They did not know Anglian, but everyone’s faces and gestures communicated joy well enough. Meriam showed the children, and villagers, some time magic. Then her and her husband continued to walk. The people here sparkled with adoration of the mystical. The Fey were like family; Not too dissimilar from Grand Snow.
“I do love magic forests” Fredrick said. “Everyone is in love with magic; and it makes them kind.”
“When we went Dania, their mage took us to their magic forest; Grand Snow. It was like this, but colder and higher up.” Meriam smiled. “I love that peaceful acceptance commoners have towards magic, when they live alongside it. The fey become a part of the community, and every day is an adventure. The commoners have no need to wield magic power; they are satisfied by only it’s presence. It makes me wonder why wizards exist in the first place.” She spoke. Meriam had seen so many people around the world, sparkle or cower before infinite possibilities. She wanted the Raven Gate to make commoners sparkle; But knew now, there is always many types of people. From those who are dazzled by magic, to those who are overwhelmed by it. There is never just one of anything; theory, illness, gender, colour, nation, type of person, winner and loser. Life is too complicated for that. It is better to just turn right in the middle of a desert, when your guides decide to go that way.
As it would appear, there was something to be said for the people who are not magically inclined, but find it wonderous and enchanting nevertheless. Helrem Monafyra did not need to make wands, and special spells, to share his love of magic; As the commoners who would accept his gifts already had this spark. Wizardry was pointless, yet enticing to people who have not persisted alongside magic before; Those who are not satisfied with mages being the ones wielding spells, making potions, or having friends in fey. Without the guidance of a mages, these people may not know how to respect their newfound abilities. The wizards may only see power, having not learned from the wars that just settled. Magic is not good or bad, but is. Like a perfectly generic object, air, or subtle emotion. The ethereal energy that permeates the human plain, does not fight in wars, as it does not take sides. That is what humans do. Because common humans are not here, like mages and fey, they grab onto contrast. Thus, they are somewhere else, in body and mind. Desensitized to the day veils overstimulation, that distracts them from their present. The day veil is so full of sensations, it is hard not to label and compare them. Just like the day veil, there is nowhere like the shadow veil; where you do not need to meditate to move past a racing mind, and notice things of glory that should only be in imagination. If one is not used to it, it is uncomfortable. Yet, if you’re not careful, you will get lost in its submerssion, and neglect all else. It is something both veils have in common.
Meriam and Fredrick went back through the gate, and across the shadow veil, to get home. Fredrick was looking at all the fey, and holding his wife close. He was genuinely serene this time.
“I think that Vietician man is wise. Earlier you said you were worried about the wizards murdering all the mages, and yet you let Eathletwein join, to protect him no doubt. If I learned something here, it’s that you should ignore the wizards. I think mages need to accept common men of magic houses, can now wield magic; and there is no knowing the outcome. Wizardry has already happened, and to disagree would make us fools. I think we should ignore it, and give the people what they want. The ability to choose a life that is either magical or mundane. It’s not the concept of wizards that is terrifying, it’s the concept of people that are unpredictable and uncontrollable. Sure, some wizards may be reckless, but maybe some will be as kind as mages. Put it aside for now. Because we must enjoy now, as we have peace across the ten kingdoms; and we will accept that there will be wizards, and ‘talented wizards’.” Fredrick laughed. When they returned through the Raven Gate, their men were waiting to take the Queen and King back to the palace. Some were taken aback by the king’s slightly different appearance, but overall happy their leaders had returned.
Ethleltwein had permitted the three remaining ladies to stay as long as they liked. He asked them about what they would do if they were to never be married, and why he should and shouldn’t chose them. There was what was good for him, good for the lady, good Anglia, and good for the world. There was no good choice. The only ‘good’ choice, would be to choose the lady he liked best in company, and nothing else. ‘In magery, love was the best choice’, Meriam had told Eatheltwein. He was dumb enough to believe her. Meriam only told him that, just to make sure he would be free to chose his own love interest. There was a nugget of truth however; Unlike commoners, mages experience bouts of romance very suddenly. Often permanently, after half the encounters it would usually take to build a relationship.
Even so, Eatheltwein had trouble selecting his heteronormative life partner, form only three options. No Anglian ladies accepted an audience with their prince, the Danian girl ran home to be a hunter with her brothers, and the Celtician girl left after agreeing she could not give the Eatheltwein affection he deserved. This left the Francian princess, flustered as her chariot was loaded with her things. She looked dreadful and distressed as the King and Queen arrived safely at their door step.
“Mourning my dear. You look unkempt.” Meriam said. “Princess Charlette was it?”
“I want to say good bye.” The princess said sadly. She looked most distraught. Her rouge was smudged like she had been crying, and her hair was frizzled in yesterday’s braids.
“He’s likely in his quarters at this hour; If you want to talk to him so badly, just go to him and say good bye?” Fredrick said. Charlette, paused in place, then bowed, and promptly excused herself. She ran back into the palace, followed by Meriam and her husband.
“Quite odd. Never seen a lady flustered like that, simply because they wanted to politely say goodbye.” Fredrick, whispered to his wife. “She seems very sweet.”
“Yes. To say good bye. Very sweet….” Meriam said, peering around the corner, to look down the hall to Eathel’s quarters. The princess ran into his arms crying that she’ll miss him, after only a week of dancing, tea, and conversation. Meriam tried to refrain from laughing.
“Poor thing” Fredrick said. Then Eatheltwein embraced her and proposed to her. Fredrick an Meriam starred in bewilderment. “Well. Didn’t see that one coming.” Fredrick gasped.
“I want the wedding in Francia. So, both Francia and Anglia can show good will. I have been far from home for so long.” Meriam mused. She spoke without restraint leading to Eatheltwein and Charlette hearing her.
“Aunty! You’re back! Wouldn’t you know it; The girl I liked most, came back to me! I am so happy. Better yet, this is good for our country; Though I hope the other lands don’t take it personally, but politically.” Eatheltwein chimed.
“Eatheltwein, I encourage you to not care what others think.” Meriam smiled.
“It is convenient though.” The king whispered. He receives a good elbow from his queen again, and they left back to their room with Charlette bowing to them. As they left, she turned her full attention to Eathel.
“I was going to say the same thing! It is convent the kindest man I met, who also shares my love of green, requites my desire for affection. I will not be forced into any other dumb political mirage. Not that we have any men left to marry… Oh, I owe your Queen so much. I cannot wait to hold your hand every day.” Charlette swooned.
“I don’t think you owe her anything; vicarious living is actually enough for my aunt. Do you want to help me pick a shirt for today? I’m afraid I’m half dressed. I don’t know if I want to wear indigo, woad, Lincoln or Kendal?” Eatheltwein laughed.
“Not Saxon? Anglia is famous for that shade of green in their fabrics, and eyes…. I’m joking, if we’re married, I would tell you that you have no need of a shirt today.”
“Well then, I will wear green to our wedding in Francia; Hopefully treat each other so kind, that it inspires our homelands do the same!” Eathel chimed, clasping her hands. When Meriam look back still eavesdropping. The princess had leapt into his arms. Woad is she.
They all slept well that night. After so many years, everyone would meet Francia at its borders, for a peace summit and wedding, instead of in arms. Meriam and her friends, could reach out their hands to help Francia, and now they would take it. The tears of relief on many of their faces. But that is for another day, as for now, Meriam was here, excited to see Francia again. Should could nearly smell the dry earth, potpourri, and prairie air.
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Finally, The King of The Grand West! After being essentially a flat background constant, it’s time to actually get to know the guy.
Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 9.1 - In The Moment 9/10) part 4. Stories of Old
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Though their daughter Odette was gone, Meriam wanted to give her king husband the winter solstice of his life. They were grieving the disappearance of child, needed to betroth their nephew, and were closer then ever; After over twenty years of a loving marriage. Together, they wilted for their princess each day. Meriam wanted her family to have a moment to feel alive again. She would do the thing she hated most to achieve this end: fulfill a gender role. Meriam was organizing a royal ball, for the nobles as their Queen. Ordering servants around, sending invitations, choosing fabrics, picking flowers, and decorating. However, Meriam had never attended a ball, as she was too busy in far off lands making peace, or spending time with her husband, daughter, and nephew. Meriam had no clue what she was doing, but as queen, no one contradicted anything she said.
Ornaments of blue glass, and ribbon tinsel, hung like drapes about the ceilings and balconies; decorating the tall main hall. In magic, the blue quadrant of the table of fours is winter; So, a winter celebration requires blue. In Anglia, the people like things grand and glittering; so, the decorations must be dazzling and lustrous. Meriam decided she would wear her light periwinkle dress; the one her husband loved. Meriam hated wearing court gowns. She could barely move in those layered skirts. This dress, though bought for her as a gift years ago, made Meriam disgusted. The only part she anticipated wearing, was the string of pearls she brought with her from Francia; she never wore them, out of fear of judgment.
The next order of business, was sending invitations to all their ealdormen, and all eligible noble bachelorettes. The young ladies could be of Anglia, but to give her nephew the best chance of true love, Meriam sent invitations to all the lands at the Grand West’s boards: Daneia, Celticia, and Francia. She didn’t tell anyone about the Francian invitations though. This wedding trial run, put Meriam in agony for a whole month.
At last, the day of winter solstice arrived. Meriam spent the mourning getting herself, and her nephew Eatheltwein, properly dressed. The sight of their mage queen without makeup, and in a proper gown with colour, was shocking to the palace staff. Even her knights were confused. There was a fair lady under all of that magic, khol, and politics. Everyone was quite polite about it, as they knew full well of the princess’s disappearance, and thus how it might have effected Meriam. Maybe their queen had finally lost it. Anglia was without an heir, and they knew Meriam would die before producing another. Which made Eatheltwein, next in line.
To the king’s surprise, not a single young lady, of good standing from Anglia, arrived. The same could not be said for the many lovely daughters of other lands, who wished to consummate their countries peace with the Grand West. Meriam, not by chance, had informed no one but the king about the foreign guests. Some of those girls may have learned Anglian just to flatter a prince. Eatheltwein would be busy all afternoon, and well into the evening. Meriam and the king wore pretty smiles and stood side by side, greeting the guests who bowed with respect at their rulers. Meriam wished she could flee.
If romance, parties, and being in a room of strangers who respect you for some reason, wasn’t terrible enough, the king loved music; Meriam ‘forgot’ to hire a bard. No worries; The King had hired the ‘finest’ musicians of Anglia. Meriam did not like song and dance. She didn’t even charm spells if she didn’t have to. A good fiddle was fine; but Meriam loathed poets.
“Fredrick. Dance with me before I murder one of those minstrels.” Meriam said to her husband.
“Oh, why I would love to. We have not danced outside of the privacy of the garden in midnight; and those are informal and uncoordinated. I would never ask you to take part in such a ritualist bore, such as Anglian traditional dancing. Nobles will be watching, my dear.” He scoffed. Anglian dancing, was admittedly, dryer than The Fields of Fire of Indonia. They took each others hand to start the next dance, with many eyes on them. Except the young ladies, who pouted when Eatheltwein refused their offers to dance. He accepted the Danian princess, but only because she was persistent, and called him by his first name.
The poets held their tongues, as the strings and woodwinds began to flutter, starting the dance. Nihten perched in Meriam’s hair for the dance. As a familiar, she was just as emotionally exhausted as her master. Yet, also made a good fancy hat; Being a pretty kestrel. The King was holding back laughter.
“I love the flow of that dress, and how it compliments your eyes and hair. Nothing brings out yellows and peaches like a pale floral. And it goes wonderful with your Francian pearls.”
“Ah, yes; a colour that enhances my eyes, which strike fear in my enemies. And did you mention the pearls my late father gave to me as a wedding gift; That I can’t wear because ‘Francia’?”
“Yes. Also, isn’t it nice to dance? Though, we are two feet apart to mimic each other’s steps, with the grace of walking on hot coals? I bet they will clap anyway.”
“Oh yes. I love this part; I just tripped over our true love anklets. You dance so well my king.” Meriam giggled.
“We have so much fun together, I want you to take me on your next quest! Which land have you not yet seen?” He smiled, as the dance finished.
Vieticia. The Eastlands, sandwiched between Indonia and Sinonia. The only way there, was through the shadow veil. Meriam’s face went pale with fear. Her knights survived going dark, with a good change of colours, but Meriam and her husband Fredrick were not young anymore. She could not guarantee his recovery after going through the shadow veil, in a far-off land. Feeling anxious, Meriam began to pant and tear. Fredrick took her aside, and asked for some water and privacy.
“Why you went grey, Merry. Why can’t I go with you?”
“Because you would need to go through the shadow veil. And you saw what it did to my men. That place is not for common folk. It may give me comfort and wonder, but it will terrify you to the bone.”
“Then I will focus on the wonder instead of the fear. I want to give Eatheltwein practice at the helm, and time to properly court a lady. Mostly, I want to actually spend time with the woman I love, doing something that she loves. We can’t let our daughter’s death defeat us.”
“She is not dead, Fredrick. She is wed to the Raven King; and thus, safe and eternal in the shadow veil. As long as the Raven Gate is guarded anyway...” Meriam gasped. She hadn’t told anyone. Though her husband was happy their girl found a good happy life, he felt betrayed Meriam didn’t say anything.
“I am happy I do not have to burry a child, but livid my wife withholds such important information.”
“I don’t have any control over our daughters’ heart, and to come home and see her gone… I had no idea what to do or say; forgive me. Instead of a normal son, I bare you a mage that fell for magic itself. My one obligation, and only child; There are too many words.”
“Rubbish. Odette is perfect. Considering we never wanted children, she was the best possible outcome. I can’t possibly hold a grudge against you, after everything that’s happened. Now where in the world will we wander? I am getting quite grey, and tiered of these walls. I want to feel that awe and joy you and the knights speak of!” Fredrick gleamed. “I will withstand the veil. I do not fear magic. As I do not far you.” He said, kissing Meriam cheek. He was right, most people who met her, feared her like they feared magic. Meriam wore black, had unnatural colours, and barely emoted. Not to mention the intimidating title of Mage Queen of The Grand West. But her husband treated her like a real person. Not a pawn, fragile lady, or mage. Meriam would love his company on any quest. She was only held back by fear of loosing him.
Meriam wanted to let go of fear, and make memories. They weren’t getting any younger. She humored her husband.
“I have not visited the Stag Gate in Vieticia. Whilst in Sinonia, and Indonia, I found out that due to the desert, Francia wasn’t the only country lusting for good land: Sinonia was attempting to annex the Eastlands. A mage named Seiph Blugimm of the Sinonian court, said he’d give a good word for both VIeticia and Anglia. If Vietica is still intact, it means we have allies in the east; as it means the Emperor choose trade over war with other lands. If this is so, we will encircle Francia. If Eatheltwein, favors their princess when get back, Francia may surrender. Their military has drained their already weaning supply of winter grain, and they must be low on men after years of war and poverty. No one wants to fight anymore. They want to have a warm meal with their loved ones. Though, the wizards do concern me…” Meriam explained.
“That sounds wonderful, Merry! As for the wizards, why should they worry you? Eathel is quite a good wizard. With his canary being his familiar no less! I think those that are willing to dedicate their lives to magic, must love it dearly, in order to do so.” Fredrick contested. “The dust has finally begun to settle; Do you not await rest and my company, Merry?” Fredrick asked. She smiled. Meriam, saying it all out loud, realized she had accomplished all her goals. She had won. But Meriam still struggled to find joy, while she held onto her past. As her husband held her, she felt a little less feint, but still tiered. Meriam leant into his chest, nodding. Her soul did in fact, want rest and his companionship.
A week after the ball, the arrangements for the king and queen to venture to Vieticia was arranged. Wisely, Meriam’s men did not follow, nor attempt to dissuade the king. Eatheltwein was given stewardship; or kingship, if his uncle did not return. Many of the foreign noble ladies, had stayed around hoping to enchant Eathel. One from each borderland. The Celtican lady wanted money, the Danian girl wanted honour for her nation, and the Francian princess wanted love. For Francia, in spite of its youthful promiscuity, and great love of theater and art, it crumbled before a singular word: romance. To hold, dine, and whisper to a one and only. The way that young princesses gazed at Eathel, remined Meriam of her long dead friend, Felin. Felin could dream of nothing less then a kind fellow, and three children; preferable the eldest daughter named Odette. Eathel, completely oblivious to the ways of lust, innocently missed each of the ladies attempts at flirting. Before the king left, he joked with the court about making bets on which girl he would friend, befriend, or best friend. Meriam gave him a good elbow.
In front of the Raven Gate, they shivered with uncertainty; Meriam was scared her husband would not withstand the shock, while he wandered what made the shadow veil so scary. If you are a seer of magic, show me the wonder you see. The king thought. They stepped forward, onto the Raven Gate, and into the shadow veil. Meriam stayed calm, holding her husband’s arm, and pointing to the fey, and asking him what he thought. He felt flustered in panic, and hot like in summer sun. the absence of what makes the day veil vibrant and full, was confusing and unsettling in its unfamiliarity. But this place, the shadow veil, was full of magic; for any other sensation would distract from the ether’s treasures. The fey had colour, song, laughter, and ageless joy, when you saw them in their kingdoms. Here, a nymph looks even more ethereal than a pristine lake, and a phoenix even more golden then a crown.
“This place shakes me. But I see the serenity in it’s silence, and its ability to hold wonder. It is as if magic has no sense of time, hue, cold, pain, or sound; it knows no judgment. There is nothing like this, Meriam; It is like experiencing nothingness. Is wonder, if that is why it is scary.” Fredrick said, as they entered a meadow of tall grass. It was a pasture full of unicorns, pegisi, war horses, uncatchable deer, and golden sheep. Meriam and Fredrick walked, arms still linked, to a stone shack built in the middle of the field. Inside, they found the platform of the Stag Gate, and walked back into the day veil’s ambiance. Fredrick had never noticed, how dry, bitter, and overstimulating the world he knew was. There is comfort in nothing, if one does not run from its unfamiliarity.
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Felin Haracwen, after going dark, in the prairies of The North Central.
Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 1 - Once Upon a Time 1/10) part 4. Stories of Old
death
Once upon a time, there was a girl born to the magic house of Ravensong. Her long wavy hair was a shining ochre, and her eyes the colour of grass. She was slight and fair with many freckles. A perfect noble lady of Anglia; the Grand West. Her name was Meriam Craweleoth. She was the daughter of a wealthy diplomat between The Grand West and The Central North of Francia. In fact, she was born in high standing, in the pale prairies of Francia. Meriam was friends with the Ealdorman’s daughter, Felin; a perfect noble lady of Francia. The two girls wore fine clothes of red and green, and learned many languages together. Sewing, reading, and riding horses. Merriam and Felin were like sisters. Their fathers like brothers.
One day Merriam and Felin rode into the thin woods along the edge their father’s land. Felin said she wanted to introduce Meriam to her uncle; the forest’s mage. A genuine wielder of magic, born with an affinity for the wonderous. He asked to be left alone, but sent word he would allow visitors again, after hearing about Meriam in more detail. The girls stopped by a poorly made cabin, and cautiously knocked on the door. It was opened by a Francian man, who was even fairer than the average folk of the land. He wore lavender Rat Kingdom robes, which matched his hair and eyes. His unnatural floral colours sparking something in Meriam; The awe of Magic. Instead of curtesy, he immediately warned the girls to stay away from the forest.
“There are many fey here. They are scared, and need to go home. Common folk, that desperately farm, are encroaching on this precious magic area. As a mage who can craft, or a Warlock, I have made a gate, so they may return to their parents embrace. But I am scared to open it. No one knows what lies within the shadow veil; the ether of magic made by the presence of the beat kings. I have not seen you before, friend of my niece Felin. Though I have received letters of you. My name is Norminwe Musham.” He spoke, looking at Meriam. He had never seen a person from Anglia; she looked like the way summer feels.
“Pleased to meet you master Musham. However, your warning does not deter me; I am not scared of this forest or any sort of magic. I think the fey are cute. I would prefer the company of basilisk to a boy any day! We are free from our father’s, and societies, expectations. Actually, our fathers think we are riding the acreage today!” Merriam laughed. “I dare say we reap the most of our privilege mast Musham.”
“You wear that education well. Not many, particularly women, get to read and ride. But if you lust for more of the mystical, and to be in this forest, you must learn the ways of mages. You must be a mage.” Norminwe suggested. Meriam and Felin were overjoyed by the prospect of being emersed in the mystical. Each day, the two girls rode to the forest, and played in its whimsy. Each time they came, they got Norminwe’s counsel; which he warmed up to sharing even more with each visit. Each spell the two girls learned, they tried; and it soon became apparent, after only one day, Meriam was talented. Only mages use magic, and thus Merriam must be one.
A year of studying magic, and enjoying the luxury of status, Merriam and Felin found the Rat Gate Master Musham had made. A week prior, Merriam had summoned a familiar; a Kestrel named Nihten, who helped the girls find the gate. It was short, and made of smooth stone, and carved with the Table of Fours; It looked remarkably normal.
“It’s still closed Merriam. Uncle Norminwe seemed so eager to make it, yet it doesn’t serve it’s purpose… Someone needs to go dark to open it, I want to try!” Felin said, hoping onto the platform. Merriam was examining it; she was becoming a seer, able to observe and memorize any magic she came across. The gate was wonderful; Merriam wanted to make one too some day. But then Felin went dark from excitement, and the magic rushing through her opened the gate. Her mousy hair turned the colour of sunshine, and her stormy eyes the colour of hot ambers. Felin collapsed in Merriam’s arms; and was swiftly carried by horse back to their home. Merriam used healing magic to cure her fever and bleeding; commoners are not made to withstand so much magic, rushing in from the shadow veil.
Feline, ill in bed, confessed she opened the gate, as she was a bit jealous of Meriam. She loved magic and fey too, and wished she could use spells as well. She thought the gate was the perfect opportunity to do anything of the sort. Felin would be well soon, and their fathers were very impressed. Of both Meriam’s talent with magic, Felin’s courage and honesty. Felin only want to be a bit closer to the world of fey, and help out the world of magic. But she was not that type of strong; she was not a mage.
The Central North was a prairie; harsh, dry and baren. The people had unpredictable crops, and often starved and begged for their king’s aid in finding land. They needed to grow food, build warm houses, or mine ore and gems for trade. The people were poor, and the politicians stressed. The King of Francia decided to break the peace; he would take the wealthier land from the blessed nations around him. The most desirable was Anglia to west. As the king began to intrude on foreign land, by annexing farms, he sent Master Norminwe with the troops. A mage to wield magic against the simple swords of common men, which others kings sent to defend their peasants. So much of an initial advantage by this decision, That Francia began to gather land and wealth. Soon every court had a mage; to even the playing field, and wield the power of magic. It gave these rare mages no pleasure to do the malicious bidding of lesser men; magic was neutral, and peaceful. Fey are not meant to do their bidding, and no one wins in war.
A year after Norminwe was conscripted, a messenger arrived to the village. Meriam was in Norminwe’s post as mage of the magic forest of the Rat Gate; living a happy life with her father, Felin, and fey. The messenger’s words were not that of comfort to their small family. The Court of Meriam’s home land, in the west, requested her. She was just a girl only now becoming a woman; she was noble, but not of consequence to politics. She was mistaken. A pure-bred noble lady of Anglia, who was educated, knew Francian, and was a mage. Meriam was the perfect candidate for an important job. Merriam was to be wed to the new king of the Grand West. immediately. In seconds, she went from a young lady with the freedom of choice in her life, to a pawn for men of status. Meriam loved this magic forest, family and Felin, and had no desire to be something so extravagant as a queen. She was a peaceful person, not a tool of war.
Felin accompanied Merriam to the boarder the next day. The flat grassy fields and bluffs were endless, as they extended into the skyline. The silence becoming dry as they trotted down the countryside. There were men in tough hide and arms along the way; And peasants who were dirty, worn and thin. There was a tension in the air, that not even these two young ladies could smile over. Felin said Merriam could visit at the boarder, but Merriam argued she’d be too busy baring heirs. Felin said she wanted to marry a sweet man out of love and three children; thus she’d be even more busy as she wouldn’t have as many servants. It was a brief chuckle as they were about to cross the boarder. In the no man’s land, Felin smiled as she exited the cart and onto one of her father’s horse. Then an arrow was shot. And went right through Felin, knocking her off her horse and too the ground.
Blood seeping through felin’s favourite white and vermillion dress. Merriam screamed to see her childhood friend fall like a sack of flour. She tried to jump from the cart to heal her friend, but was held back by three men. Out of the trees in the bluff, soldiers yelled for Meriam’s, while the knights holding her back were told not to be rough; like she was delicate goods. Overcome with grief, Merriam went dark, causing a shadow to envelope her; her hair went from shimmering tawny, to a pale copper, and her eyes from a true green to a light yellow. As Merriam screamed for her friend, time froze around her, and Merriam escaped the grasp of the knights, and went to her friend’s side. Felin was not frozen in time like everything else.
“Meriam, you stopped time. That is something I didn’t think even magic could do. Please don’t heal me this time; you need to get away, everyone needs to see this. Distraction or otherwise. If you heal me, or use time to reverse this, you will not be able to help our homelands. You have the power to do that now; you need to live, even if it is not in the way your heart wishes. I need to lye here, so you know what Francia will do to the world. I wish I could use magic, but I am happy my sister can. If you will not survive for the people, or peace, or magic; get on that cart and live for me.” Felin said. Meriam, in tears, ran back into the cart, and unfroze time. They knights made haste, hoping Meriam would not die from going dark. As a mage, she would be able to heal and survive the flow of magic. While the men around her panicked, all Merriam could think was what time magic would do to her; she would live on, unageing, in a fluid state, and see all the people around her die. In cart, then boat, then cart, Meriam wrote in the journal, that Norminwe gave her. That all mages have and use journals to record the legends they witness. The Capitol was in sight, Meriam recorded the name of what she wanted mages who control time to be called. She chose words of her sister’s people: Memoire le mort. The memories of death.
When she arrived at the palace of the Grand West, Meriam was cleaned and given the best medicine to help her recover even faster. In one week, she was dressed in velvet, crystal, and embroidery beyond her wildest dreams. The young king was courteous and kind; he appeared to not treat her like the political pawn she was. The day they wed, they both felt a sort of comfort and joy in each others company. Almost bonded over the fact neither of them chose this. They were married by the state, and then by magic; to honour Meriam being a mage. When she cried about her dead sister, and how she didn’t want war, her new husband would listen to her. He would comfort Meriam, and invite her to his courtly meetings. Even if it was frowned upon for a woman to attend such events. While everyone wilted in fear at her black raven kingdom robes, familiar, rumored time ability, and yellow eyes, her husband, and friend, would see through it. He saw the Meriam was an adventurous spirit, lusting for peace and love. It was his favourite part about her. Many royal betrothals don’t turn out well, but they found themselves happy. However, she was also angered by the politics of men, and was not eager to produce and heir. Meriam was utterly surprised to find her king husband was ok respecting that; in fact, he kind of agreed.
One day, the king returned from a battle, with news that his brother had died at the border with Francia. The ealdorman of Anglia went rabid, while he hid in grief. Meriam comforted him, she now cared deeply for him. To see him sad, or for him to see her sad, felt like a tragedy.
“I am sorry your brother is lost. We will send him off valiantly no doubt. Don’t let this darkness take you; let it help you realize that battle hurts everyone. The people of Francia are hungry and tiered, unlike ours. They don’t deserve death for that. If we keep strong, this may pass. Do not send me to those lines, and use my magic against them. Don’t let me see battle, as I don’t wish to see death again.” Meriam said. “I too, know what it is like to lose a sibling.”
“What of my nephew?” the king asked. “Where is Eatheltwein. He needs to know about his father, and be kept safe here, as next in line.”
“He is in the court yard, talking to the birds.” Meriam said. Eatheltwein was a sweet soul, and ray of sunshine. Even though he was still only a toddler. She didn’t want to break him with bad news. The only bad thing about Ethel, what that he reminded her of her obligations to the state as a woman, and how much she never wanted to have a child. Her calmness had curdled into a grimace. The King knew what she was thinking.
“Merry, don’t worry about giving me an heir; Eathel is a son enough to me. Perhaps son enough for you. Don’t go off pleasing other people, when we all know a man may storm in any day for my head, or usurp for status. I am not immune to blades, and my blood does not determine my ability to rule. Thus, it will not determine my heirs either.” He sighed. “I need to keep my people strong in Anglia. I will not leave for war again, so you do not have to burry another loved one. If you can go out and make sure the Grand West has no wars at our other boarders, we may take refuge in good relations. Your velvet robes, and magic, make you resilient in this task. Your thirst for adventure and freedom makes you willing. You are not a fragile object used for anyone’s bidding. I will lend you some men, so you can go and speak of peace, on my behalf, to the lords of other lands. Before long, I believe magic will show us peace.”
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