Difference between revisions of "TheT/MidirielPrelude"

Revision as of 01:18, 6 April 2010

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Back to [[[TheT/MidirielPrelude/LedaalMidirel]] | Ledaal Midiriel's Page]].

Some may look upon the life of the Dragon-Blooded as a life of privilege and plenty. And it is, but it has to be worked for. Or so Midiriel's father tries to impress upon her. He is an old sage of the House, who married late, and only has two children to his name. One is Midiriel's sister, graduated with honors from the Heptagram, and the other, is of course, Midiriel herself. She is young now, only seven, ready to move away to primary school, but she has already been schooled by a whole cadre of tutors. The House has high hopes for her, for she is sure to be Exalted one day.

It is a rare moment when a Dynast father has time for his children, but this is one of them, as he walks with her across the expansive garden, Midiriel's young maid, Narencia, in tow.

"You may not be my oldest," he tells his daughter, "but you are already the brightest. Your sister is smart, but so... rash sometimes. Perhaps one day this will all be yours. What do you think of that?"

Midiriel walks with a poise unsual for one so young. "I think that she feels everything very keenly," Midiriel begins diplomatically. "And that makes her act before her brain catches up sometimes."

The elder Ledaal laughs, delighted. "Very well said. And your diplomacy is why you will handle my affairs and not her." The estate is an ideal Manse of Ledaal's Air Aspect, open to the skies, but there is a garden, and it's well kept. The groundskeeper and his son can be seen not too far off. He, too, is instructing his son in the proper care of his domain. "We all have our places to keep, as given to us by the Immaculate Dragons," muses the elder Ledaal, "from the lowest slave, to the highest born of us all. Do you see that boy? One day, he will serve you, as his father and grandfather served me."

Young Cade is paying attention to his father and his instructions, though he can't help but steal curious glances toward the grand display of the dynasts every so often.

Midiriel looks up at her father and then over to the groundsmen and his son. "Everyone has a place, a job to do." Midiriel replies, sounding out this idea. She nods, "And we all must do the jobs the great Dragons have assigned to us."

Cade's father pays the nobles no mind, as he shows the proper care of this particular stand of trees to the young boy. Well, pays them no mind except for a veiled glance, quickly hidden. He knows not to incur the wrath of his spiritual betters.

Midiriel's father, however, will have none of this. Their slow progress veers toward the father and son pair, and the elder Ledaal asks, not the man, but the boy, "Are you paying heed to your father?"

Cade blinks at the noble, swallowing nervously before answering in a quiet voice, "Yes, sir."

Midiriel folds her hands behind her back, her dark eyes looking from her father to the groundskeeper and then to the groundskeeper's son. She does not speak, though given the intent expression on her face, she's observing everything very closely.

"This is important," the elder Ledaal says to Midiriel, "that he learn his place well, for he and his ancestors put a face on our home which reflects upon us." Cade's father merely keeps his eyes properly downcast as the pair of nobles (and the personal slave), move on.

In time, Midiriel is sent on to primary school, when she is nine, like most children of Dynasts are sent. This particular one is the School of the Bright Wind, a favored place for the children of House Ledaal to go. Midiriel has a natural talent for getting her way that serves her well, but every year she is sent home for the break, and has still not Exalted. By the time she is twelve, most of her friends at school have Exalted, if they're going to, and by the time she is fourteen, primary school is over and hope that she will ever Exalt slowly fades.

Midiriel's father takes her, now a young woman, on another trip through the garden, as before, Narencia once more following. By this time, Cade is doing much of the work on his own, under the eye of his aging father. Midiriel's father, being what he is, is still the same as he was years ago.

"If anyone should have Exalted," the elder Ledaal begins, after a long silence, with an unaccustomed awkwardness to his words and his walk, "It should have been you. But it is not to be. Your sister will be my successor after all."

Cade works busily, still stealing the odd glance toward the nobility. This time, though, it's the looks of a young man peeking at young women, not of a boy wowed by grand finery.

Midiriel's expression retains its customary serenity. "I have not given up hope father. I understand your need to name Sarena as your heir, but I do not doubt that the Dragons have plans for me yet. I will still make you proud my father."

Midiriel's father pauses not far away from where Cade is working. It's always been the way of the highborn to only notice servants when it suits their purposes to do so. Even as Narencia's presence goes largely unnoticed, so does Cade's.

"Be that as it may, it may be that the plan of the Dragons is for you to be Exalted in your next life, Midiriel, and you will have to learn to accept that. You will still serve your House, and make me proud -- I have no doubt of that. You may do so, however, in another venue aside from rulership. I have decided you will go to the Spiral Academy and learn accounts and negotiation, despite your... state, and we shall see what needs to be done from there."

Midiriel bows her head, her expression only slightly contrite. "Yes father, I understand." She glances over towards Cade, a blush rising in her cheeks, displeasure at being dressed down, even so mildly, in front of a servant making her eyes flash. Narencia doesn't count. Obviously.

Cade makes an extra effort to look productive as the boss draws closer. At a moment when he's sure the Dragon-Blood is looking away, though, he glances to Midiriel and gives her a rather lascivious wink.

Midiriel draws herself up stiffly, shooting a cold glance toward Cade, she wraps herself in poised hauteur.

It's probably good that Midiriel's father isn't looking toward Cade, at that point. "I knew you would, Midiriel. Exalted or not, you are a true daughter of the Realm. I -am- proud of you."

Cade seems inordinately pleased with himself as he refocuses on his work.

Midiriel turns her attention to her father and his comment dispells her anger. She smiles and bows her head once more, "Thank you father. I always want to make you proud."

His speech done, the elder Ledaal moves on again, obviously expecting to be followed. That was the last walk in the garden, as duties separated father and daughter for years afterward. She went on to the Spiral Academy, thanks to her own talents and a hefty donation from her father, and did her best to hold her own among the Dragon-Blooded. Bureaucracy was never quite her strong suit, but at negotiation and oration, she excelled, and usually the Exalted had to use their Charms to surpass her.

Midiriel graduates rather highly placed for a mortal, and is not sent on to some department of the Thousand Scales, but instead serves as a trade negotiator for House Ledaal, hammering out trade agreements those times when one of the Exalted members of the House is not suited to the task. She does do her family proud, for the first few years, at least, making money for the Ledaals, until the day two Southern merchants are brought in to discuss an overlap of shipping routes that's interfering with House business. Both are much too useful, unfortunately, for one to conveniently disappear, so negotiations are in order.

The merchants have no wish to negotiate, as their hatred goes back many years. They sit in a sumptuous waiting chamber, facing Midiriel, refusing to speak to one another.

Midiriel spreads her hands in a supplicating gesture, tramping down the tension causing beads of cold sweat to trickle down her spine. Her face is a mask of gentle, but firm resolve. "Please, Mr. Thazawa, if you would please tell me your resistance to allowing Mr. Cumu to use the same route? I fail to see why this is so offensive to you, sir."

Thazawa stands up from his chair, then forces himself to sit back down again. "He is nothing but a pirate! He steals food from the mouths of my children with his unsavory business practices!" This, of course, causes Cumu to shout denials, and a full-blown shouting match erupts, louder and louder, not very far from coming to blows.

Midiriel grits her teeth, swallowing to keep from joining in the shouting. Days upon days of this sort of meeting has begun to dissolve her typical cool demeanor. "Gentlemen... Gentlemen please..." Her voice threads with steely resolve, mingled in with the gentle pacifying tone.

Both men turn to look at Midiriel, transfixed, eyes bulging, mouth gaping. That steely tone has the sharpness of a sword, an attitude that commands respect. More than that, however, the young Ledaal is shining like the sun, gold and blue-white flame billowing silently around her.

"Anathema!" gasps Cumu. But the men remain. They cannot leave until Midiriel has had her say, whatever it is.

Midiriel furrows her brow and looks down at her hands. She's silent for a long moment, her breaths reedy, shallow. "You are both being fools." She looks to both of them and murmurs, "If I were you I would stay here and not speak of this." Midiriel scrambles to recover from this shock, struggling with instinctive fear. "If you speak of this, I will know." With that, Midiriel turns and makes her way for the door, moving with liquid haste.

The two men certainly aren't going anywhere. Indeed, they're trying their best to huddle behind a chair or any other convenient furniture, sure their souls will be devoured any moment. Sighs of relief come from behind Midiriel as she makes her hasty departure. Thankfully, there are no servants or anything about, and the Ledaal estate is a sprawling affair. By now Midiriel knows a great many of the less traveled ways and finds a copse of trees to hide in. Cade, now as much master of this domain, as he ever will be, is likely to notice something odd, no matter how well Midiriel conceals herself.

Cade is often doing his thing in this part of the forest. His father passed on not two years ago, and his responsibilities have grown. At the moment he's stalking quietly, a boar spear in hand as he looks for traces of the beast that'll soon wind up the centerpiece of a dynastic feast.

Midiriel paces in a tiny clearing between a copse of trees. She's still glowing brightly, cursing under her breath. She steps on a dry, brittle stick, the cracking sound making her jump. "Damned by the nine seas!" She drags a hand through her thick, curly hair.

Still no commotion from the building proper. The merchants must still be huddled in the waiting room.

Cade can't help but hear the commotion caused by Midiriel. He steps lightly through the trees, blinking at her appearance. "Mistr..." he starts before trailing off and looking distinctly worried.

Midiriel spins, the crimson fabric of her sleeves flaring with her movements. Her eyes widen as she spies Cade. "Please... do not..." She pauses, torn between her life-long hauteur and her genuine need for help. "I... I need help."

"Obviously," Cade says softly, glancing through the trees toward the building. "Why should I risk my life for yours? They might reward me if I were to raise a cry now."

Midiriel looks towards the manse and frowns vaguely. After a moment she tips her head to the side. "Do you see yourself ending life as a slave? We could escape together."

Cade pauses for another moment or two, considering his options. "I may be able to get you to the port. I'm supposed to be trading there this evening, anyway."

Midiriel nods to that and sneaks another look towards the manse. "Could you please get Narencia? She will know what things I need. Tell her... oh, I don't know. Tell her it's an emergency." She looks to Cade and swallows her pride once more to add another, "Please."

There's -something- going on in the buildings, now. There are certainly a lot of guards milling about in confusion, as orders are barked.

"You'll come to my hut first," Cade says firmly. "You couldn't hide from a child out here." He turns and begins to move off quickly towards his home, a short distance into the woods from the manse.

Midiriel follows after Cade, looking towards the manse and cursing again. She picks up the pace and hurries towards the hut.

Cade bustles Midiriel into the small structure, watching toward the larger buildings carefully. It's rather claustrophobic inside, but still rather grand for a slave to have all to himself. Once inside, he closes and bolts the single window. "Stay down. Don't make any noise. If anyone comes, hide under those." He points to a pile of ill-smelling furs and hides in one corner, in expectation of the cooler months. "Do you have a message for me to carry?"

Just as the hut is reached, it's apparently something is going on. The grounds are being searched for something, if the search is only half-hearted. It's clear the guards don't particularly want to find whatever they're looking for.

Midiriel wrinkles her nose. 'Eww' is written all over her face. She tucks her skirts under her and sits on the floor, curled into a ball, frowning darkly. At Cade's question she looks up and then thinks. "Tell Narencia... tell her, that I need her strength right now, that she must be quick and thorough..."

Cade nods crisply to Midiriel. "Bolt the door behind me." He turns to go, leaving the boar spear inside. He runs quickly toward the mansion, waving his arms to get the attention of the searching guards when he's closer.

A pair of guards trot over immediately. "Stay inside. There's an Anathema on the loose here."

"I saw a demon!" Cade shouts breathlessly to the guards. "Ten feet tall and all of fire!" He points in a direction to lead them away from his hut. "It ran off that way, and I think it was carrying a maiden with it!"

Midiriel bolts the door and stays by the door, trying to hear what is going on outside. She keeps down, trying to keep her light from shinign out the windows.

The guards shudder in unison and look at each other. It's quite plain they -don't- want to go chase it, but they trot off anyway, shouting for some of their compatriots as they go.

Cade heads into the house once the guards are off, hunting down Narencia and informing her vaguely of her mistress' need.

Narencia, being the sensible sort she is, gathers a few things needed for travel. She's worried, but follows Cade nonetheless, worried more for her mistress than the situation.

Midiriel sits in the hut and frets. She doesn't dare get up to pace, and the inactivity grates at her, making her waspish.

Cade leads the maid to the hut, letting the pair sort their own things out while he readies the mule and small cart of hides he had been preparing to take to the harbor, as well as a few basic supplies for himself.

Midiriel looks to Narencia as the maid arrives, wary in those first few moments, dreading a negative reaction to the the recent change in her mistress. "Nari... I... well, I... told father I would Exalt someday... I.. jsut didn't mean like... this."

Narencia puts a hand to her mouth, the blood draining from her face. "Mela perserve us, it's true," she gasps. "Mistress Midiriel... how did this happen?" She remains pressed against the wall, but at least she's not running.

Midiriel's fingers curl into fists and then unclench. "I'm.... well, if I had the answers to that I believe I would not be so panicked. However... I promise, that I am still the same Midiriel... at heart."

Narencia considers that, then nods slowly. Fear is still in her eyes, but once more, she's all business. "Very well, mistress. You can't very well step outside, glowing like that, I suppose." She helps herself to Cade's belongings, looking for cloaks and things to wrap Midiriel in. It doesn't really help, unfortunately, but as time goes on, the light begins to dim. Narencia can't help but steal glances at Midiriel's forehead, however, where the mark of the Anathema still shines.

"I'm ready," Cade announces, hefting just a small bag and the boar spear. "You'll have to hide under the furs until... Well, until you stop looking like a demon."

Midiriel looks from Narencia to Cade and then touches her forehead. A part of her demands that she takes control of this situation, but the shock is still running high. "I... alright." She doesn't seem happy at the prospect.

The light around Midiriel is pretty much faded, but no amount of cloaks hide what there is. Plus, her forehead is shining like a lamp. Luckily, all the guards are still on Cade's wild goose chase. There's a window of opportunity to run, if one runs quickly.

"Come on," Cade says as he ushers Midiriel out roughly. He piles the furs atop her, leaving just enough room for her to get air. "You'll have to walk," he informs Narencia, not waiting for responses from either before whacking the mule in the rear and starting off.

Midiriel sends an enraged looks at Cade for his manhandling, though, she's smart enough to know that now is not the time for a confrontation. She swallows her ire and stays under the furs.

Some spirit must be watching, because the trio escapes the grounds rather easily, unchallenged.

Once Cade has led the cart a safe distance from the manse and a good portion of the way to the port, he leads it to the side of the road, removing the hides to check on Midiriel. "Still with us, demon?"

Midiriel now fully unglowing in a mystical sense draws herself up and sends Cade a looks that could kill. "I am -not- a demon. And you WILL not take that tone with me." Midiriel practically bristles with injured pride.

The port, at least from a distance, looks the same as it ever has. It's not a busy part of the season, so there are only a few ships moored out there, and the port officials are correspondingly lazy. There doesn't seem to be much going on there, as opposed to the place left behind.

"Of course not," Cade murmurs in an unrepentant tone, getting the mule moving again once Midiriel is on her own feet.

Midiriel continues looking peevish at her 'rescuer' though at the touch of Narencia she smoothes her features and takes a deep breath, calming herself, at least outwardly. She looks towards the port and then begins adjusting her clothing, trying to smooth out the wrinkles and make herself look presentable before continuing forward.

The harbormaster meets the small party at the wharfs. "Whoa there. Got word from the Manse that there's Anathema on the loose. I'd say you picked a good time to take a little... oh! Mistress Midiriel! You must have just come ahead of the news, then."

Cade remains appropriately quiet, checking the load of the cart again, just to be busy.

Midiriel offers the harbormaster a wide smile that flows into a concerned almost but not quite frightened look at the mention of Anathema. "Has there been a spotting? Oh.. my." She doesn't play it up too much, known as a cool head, she registers concern and caution. "We should be on our way then soon, should we not?"

"I imagine so," says the harbormaster, ducking into his station to grab the appropriate paperwork. As always, there is bureaucracy to be served. "They're going to be ranging the countryside soon, but they haven't been here yet. You'd think finding a demon flaming like a bonfire would be easy to spot. Er, meaning no disrespect to the worthy guards at the Manse, Mistress Midiriel."

Midiriel puts on a benevolent smile and nods, filling out the papers dutifully. "None perceived, dear master Glendal." She scans the area quickly and looks to Cade then to Narencia and then to the boat. "Well, this should be an interesting adventure." Turning to Cade she says with her usual hauteur, "You may stow my bags, groundsmen."

Cade nods curtly to Midiriel, moving to grab the bags with a grunt. He mumbles something about time to pack.

A ship is hastily crewed for the noblewoman and her tiny entourage, and they set sail for the southern threshold. It's a long trip on a small boat, and everyone is glad to dock at Black Sand Point, a medium-sized waterfront town. There, they are quite willing to cater to the whims of a Dynastic noble, taking cues from the sailors that brought her over.

Midiriel disembarks, glad to be off the ship. She and Cade have been sniping the entire trip. She steps onto the beach and looks around examining her new surroundings.

Cade hurriedly moves the other direction from Midiriel, glad to put more distance between them than he'd been able to the whole trip.

A hawk, blue as the sky, feathers shot with silver, alights on a nearby building and watches them pass, even going so far as to jump from roof to roof. Once they reach their destination, it flies aloft again.

The accommodations are modest, as befits a modest town, but anything's better after two weeks aboard ship. Narencia makes all the proper arrangements for the comfort of Midiriel, also glad to get away from the bickering, at least for a time.

Midiriel inahales deeply and catches sight of the silver blue bird, blinking. She looks around for someone to point it out to, and finds herself alone. She looks back to the bir and watches as it flies off, a soft smile curling her lips. She looks back over her shoulder to spy the disappearing back to Cade. She smiles then and looks around, nodding to herself as she contemplates making herself at home here. A sense of adventure cuts through the overall malaise of the last few weeks.

Once Cade has caught his breath, he returns to Midiriel to announce simply, "I will be leaving. Good luck with your life, demon." A title he's persisted in using, though he says it with more amusement than anger.

Narencia pauses in her work, though only briefly. She's been well-trained to pretend to ignore. Then again, Cade is a slave of even lower station than she herself.

Midiriel, her peace once more disturbed by Cade turns a genuinely angry look. "Bite your tongue, mongrel. It is about time you stopped darkening my doorway. Be off with you." She tips her chin up, dissmissively.

Cade just sneers, head held high as he turns and starts off.

The weeks after Cade's departure are busy ones. Though she started with nothing, Midiriel manages to make enough money to keep herself in relative style. The hawk seen on the first day in the Threshold becomes more and more of a frequent visitor, generally on a rooftop across the street. Then, one day, it alights on the window sill. Narencia starts to shoo it off.

Midiriel holds up a hand, "Narencia, hold on a minute." Midiriel approaches the window slowly, eyeing the bird. "Isn't he beautiful?"

"Well, yes, mistress," Narencia replies, not quite understanding. But then, there's been a lot of things that are hard to understand over the last couple months.

The hawk dips its beak to Midiriel, as if formally greeting her.

Midiriel dips her head in response to the hawk, "Why hello there," She murmurs, as strange as it is to be speaking to an obviously wild animal, she can't take her eyes from the bird.

Narencia just stares. She didn't 'hear' anything, of course.

The hawk dips its beak again, feathers ruffling slightly. A greeting to a great being, a monarch among monarchs. Then, the avian lowers its head, as if bowing, offering its service.

Midiriel looks entranced, a wide smile curving her full lips. She offers her arm, hand curled in, wrist offered as a perch. "Narencia... isn't he marvelous?"

"Yes, mistress," Narencia replies. And she sounds like she means it, too. Without a glove or a leash, or any of the usual hawking implements, the hawk flaps onto Midiriel's wrist, lighting there gently. It cocks its head, briefly preens feathers with its razor-sharp bill. It proudly proclaims itself to be Eyes of the Wind, and it's as if Midiriel knew the name all along. When it touches her wrist, it feels as if the two of them make a greater whole.

Midiriel beams, simply beams, looking at the bird intently, "What a beautiful name. So proud." Midiriel glows with happiness. "Eyes of the Wind... fascinating! We should find a perch for him."

"It's a wonderful name, mistress," Narencia agrees, thinking it was Midiriel that gave it to him. "We'll find him a perch immediately." She sets about it in her usual efficient way. By now, Midiriel has established a decent amount of credit in the town, and some people are even willing to make a gift of things for her, in the hope they can send a profitable deal their way.

The Wyld Hunt never seems to arrive -- the Empress has been gone for five years, and a war of succession is at hand. Midiriel and Narencia are free to prosper, at least for now.