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A Rose In The Wind: A Saga of the Halmae -- Updated June 19, 2014
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<blockquote data-quote="ellinor" data-source="post: 5168139" data-attributes="member: 14561"><p><strong>12x01</strong></p><p></p><p>As they walked westward, the trees lining the road rustled in the wind. Twiggy admired their newly-grown leaves. <em>Beeches and maples, mostly, some pines, some mangroves by the river, and that tree that looks like cedar, but has cones like a cypress…</em> Part of her was glad to be back on the easily-traveled road—“The Follow Road,” they called it, abbreviating its sentence-long Sovereign monstrosity of an official name—but part of her missed the wilderness, where her knowledge of nature had won her the group's trust and respect. <em>On the road,</em> Twiggy knew, <em>I’m a lady-in-waiting again.</em></p><p></p><p><span style="color: Sienna">But you <strong>are</strong> a lady-in-waiting,</span> Acorn reminded her.</p><p></p><p><em>That’s not the point, Acorn.</em> </p><p></p><p>Before leaving the forests, the group had (with Nyoko’s guidance) adjusted their appearances to be less conspicuous. Twiggy had <em>prestidigitated</em> away the adornments on Savina’s armor; Mena’s armor had (reluctantly, but silently) shifted itself to obscure the Defiers’ symbol on its breastplate. With those precautions taken, Twiggy was surprised at how little attention the group drew on the road. They were certainly an unusual group—several “heathens” traveling with an uncharacteristically disheveled Sovereign—but if their little cadre attracted particular notice, none of their fellow-travelers showed it. There were two kinds of people who travel the road, Nyoko had said: “those who look down their noses, and those who just look down.” </p><p></p><p>Overall, the road was well-tended and scenic, following the twists and turns of the river. They passed long placid stretches and violent rapids. They made decent time, reaching a small inn in the early afternoon. The inn had no name on the door, just a Sovereign symbol—seven linked rings arrayed in a circle. Two young men, each wearing a longsword and a dagger, guarded its doorway. Nyoko explained that this was normal: State-owned way-stations like this were located all along the Follow Road, roughly a day’s travel apart from each other. The military kept them safe from the dangers of the surrounding Ketkath. </p><p></p><p>After a brief discussion, the group decided to put off the remainder of the day’s travel in exchange for kitchen-cooked food, a real bed, something resembling a bath, and the knowledge that they’d reach an inn a day from here on out.</p><p></p><p>As they walked in, the two soldiers eyed the group suspiciously. “Honored Adept,” they said in near-unison, bowing. Although they allowed the group in, their eyes flashed between the tattoo on her neck—a prominent indicator of her elevated status—and her distinctly non-Sovereign cohort. </p><p></p><p>The proprietor of the inn had a similar reaction. “It has been some time since we had an Adept at our little establishment,” he began, as he rose from his bow. “Will you and your . . . companions . . . be joining us for the evening?”</p><p></p><p>Nyoko did the talking as Twiggy looked around. The inn had a large common room, sparsely populated by a few off-duty soldiers. She was sure the room would fill up with travelers as evening fell. The proprietor showed them up to a large bunk-room containing ten straw-filled cots. </p><p></p><p>“Is this suitable, Signor Octavian-San?” asked Nyoko.</p><p></p><p><em>Cots! Straw-filled!</em> Twiggy marveled at how something so humble could seem like such a luxury. <em>A month and a half of cloaks on the ground, and she wants to know if it’s suitable. A far cry from the feather-filled pillows at the Estate, but still . . .</em> </p><p></p><p>“It will do,” replied Tavi, with a slight smile.</p><p></p><p>It was simple, and clean. The idea of spending a night without bugs crawling through her hair made Twiggy feel giddy—and not just through the empathic bond she shared with Acorn. She sat, tentatively, on the edge of a cot, afraid that if she laid down, she would fall right asleep.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: Sienna">I was promised a bath,</span> Acorn reminded her.</p><p></p><p>Before bathtime—and more importantly, before the two remaining beds in their room were filled—the group divided the gold and valuables among themselves, so no single pack contained everything. Savina, who had been carrying most of the wealth, distributed it to everyone except Arden.</p><p></p><p>“What about Arden?” asked Mena, simply.</p><p></p><p>“It is true that Arden cannot own property,” Twiggy said, thoughtfully, “but she can carry it.”</p><p></p><p>Savina barely looked up. “That does not mean she should.”</p><p></p><p>“Why shouldn’t she?” asked Mena. “She has risked her life for it, as we have.”</p><p></p><p>Savina seemed puzzled. “But that’s her job.”</p><p></p><p>To Twiggy’s surprise, Kormick jumped in. “Her job is carrying the tent and cooking the meals, no? And yet she has also been killing and bleeding and binding wounds with the fabric of her own cloak.”</p><p></p><p>Savina looked unconvinced.</p><p></p><p>“Would it not be safer if she took a share?” Twiggy continued, trying a different line of logic. “No one will think to look in the bags of a slave.”</p><p></p><p>Savina relented, handing Arden a pouch of gold and gems. “Keep it safe,” she said. </p><p></p><p>“Yes, Blessed Daughter,” responded Arden, burying it in her pack amongst the cooking implements.</p><p></p><p>Arden had sat quietly throughout the discussion, and did not betray any emotion now. <em>She is a part of the group,</em> Twiggy thought, <em>and has risked life and limb as much as any of us. Why should she not be treated as a free person?</em></p><p></p><p><span style="color: Sienna">Because she’s not a free person,</span> Acorn responded, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. <span style="color: Sienna">Now about that bath…</span></p><p></p><p>The bath was far from opulent, but it had warm water. Twiggy lingered until the water became cold, soaking her muscles and feeling the places where the derro had cut her. </p><p></p><p>Acorn very nearly refused to get out.</p><p></p><p>By the time everyone had bathed, two Sovereign merchants had arrived to fill the remaining cots, and the group (each now careful to secure their valuables) went to the common room to eat. As expected, it had begun to fill with merchants and travelers.</p><p></p><p>The food was adequate, if (to Twiggy’s palate) unusually spiced. It did not, however, come with silverware. In a tone and manner usually reserved for small, slow children, Nyoko demonstrated how to use the little sticks to lift the food. It wasn’t that hard for Twiggy, but not everyone took to it. Tavi eventually resorted to stabbing the pieces of meat with the ends of his sticks, and Arden discreetly picked up bits with her fingers. Nyoko shook her head and sighed.</p><p></p><p>“That symbol above the door,” Twiggy asked between bites, “what does it mean?”</p><p></p><p>“The ringed circle is the symbol of the Sovereign state,” Nyoko explained. “There are seven rings—The Adepts, the Inquisition, Borders, Peerage, Military, Lands, Priesthood—and they are arrayed in a circle. The Priesthood is up the circle from the Adepts, and the Inquisitors are down the circle . . .”</p><p></p><p>“Sovereign government is an example of how to induce bureaucratic gridlock,” interjected Mena, amiably. “Every group has power over the two below it, ensuring that no group can ever attain absolute authority—and keeping all the major players so busy plotting against each other that they can’t plot against the system itself. Makes the Pol Hennan system look straightforward.”</p><p></p><p>If Nyoko was offended by the characterization, she didn’t show it.</p><p></p><p>“Where does the King fit in?” Twiggy asked.</p><p></p><p>“He’s not a King, he’s the Lord High Regent, may his reign be long and prosperous,” Nyoko reminded her. “He is the final Arbiter of Kettenek’s will on Earth, and the spiritual successor to Rikitaru.”</p><p></p><p>It was obvious that this was going to require a good deal more explaining. But before they had a chance to get further into it, the innkeeper approached.</p><p></p><p>“Honored Adept,” he said, again eyeing the group with suspicion, “may I inquire as to how you came to be here?”</p><p></p><p>His question was filled with layers of meaning, but Nyoko answered straightforwardly. “I had a misfortune on the road. I was attacked. These people helped me. Now I am returning to Cauldron.” </p><p></p><p>The innkeeper was clearly deeply offended by the idea that someone might attack an Adept, and offered to use the military personnel stationed here to send a message ahead to Nyoko’s order in Cauldron. She accepted his offer, and—in an apparent show of gratitude—reluctantly agreed to his request that she entertain those in the common room. </p><p></p><p>“I would be happy to perform,” she protested, “but you must understand that I cannot be properly dressed. I was robbed on the road. I do not have my ceremonial garments or adornments.”</p><p></p><p>“We have no adornments to offer you,” replied the innkeeper, “but will be . . . pleased just to hear your music, honored Adept.” His speech was more halting than before, but still inviting. It was clear that he would prefer her to wear proper attire – whatever that was—but whether it was because of tradition or because he was appalled at the idea of someone robbing an Adept, Twiggy could not tell. Nyoko smoothed her hair back into a ponytail, straightened her robe, and walked to a small platform near the corner of the room.</p><p></p><p>The evening passed quietly, as Nyoko played the flute and sang, her melancholy tunes telling tales of travelers, nobles, heroes.</p><p></p><p>After dinner and tea and some small glasses of very pleasant dessert wine, they retired to the room and tucked themselves into the soft safety of their cots. Arden and Mena stayed up to keep watch. <em>Although why we’d need to keep watch at an Inn, with soldiers stationed at the door and people in the rooms around us…</em> Twiggy thought, as she drifted off.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="ellinor, post: 5168139, member: 14561"] [b]12x01[/b] As they walked westward, the trees lining the road rustled in the wind. Twiggy admired their newly-grown leaves. [i]Beeches and maples, mostly, some pines, some mangroves by the river, and that tree that looks like cedar, but has cones like a cypress…[/i] Part of her was glad to be back on the easily-traveled road—“The Follow Road,” they called it, abbreviating its sentence-long Sovereign monstrosity of an official name—but part of her missed the wilderness, where her knowledge of nature had won her the group's trust and respect. [i]On the road,[/i] Twiggy knew, [i]I’m a lady-in-waiting again.[/i] [COLOR="Sienna"]But you [b]are[/b] a lady-in-waiting,[/COLOR] Acorn reminded her. [i]That’s not the point, Acorn.[/i] Before leaving the forests, the group had (with Nyoko’s guidance) adjusted their appearances to be less conspicuous. Twiggy had [i]prestidigitated[/i] away the adornments on Savina’s armor; Mena’s armor had (reluctantly, but silently) shifted itself to obscure the Defiers’ symbol on its breastplate. With those precautions taken, Twiggy was surprised at how little attention the group drew on the road. They were certainly an unusual group—several “heathens” traveling with an uncharacteristically disheveled Sovereign—but if their little cadre attracted particular notice, none of their fellow-travelers showed it. There were two kinds of people who travel the road, Nyoko had said: “those who look down their noses, and those who just look down.” Overall, the road was well-tended and scenic, following the twists and turns of the river. They passed long placid stretches and violent rapids. They made decent time, reaching a small inn in the early afternoon. The inn had no name on the door, just a Sovereign symbol—seven linked rings arrayed in a circle. Two young men, each wearing a longsword and a dagger, guarded its doorway. Nyoko explained that this was normal: State-owned way-stations like this were located all along the Follow Road, roughly a day’s travel apart from each other. The military kept them safe from the dangers of the surrounding Ketkath. After a brief discussion, the group decided to put off the remainder of the day’s travel in exchange for kitchen-cooked food, a real bed, something resembling a bath, and the knowledge that they’d reach an inn a day from here on out. As they walked in, the two soldiers eyed the group suspiciously. “Honored Adept,” they said in near-unison, bowing. Although they allowed the group in, their eyes flashed between the tattoo on her neck—a prominent indicator of her elevated status—and her distinctly non-Sovereign cohort. The proprietor of the inn had a similar reaction. “It has been some time since we had an Adept at our little establishment,” he began, as he rose from his bow. “Will you and your . . . companions . . . be joining us for the evening?” Nyoko did the talking as Twiggy looked around. The inn had a large common room, sparsely populated by a few off-duty soldiers. She was sure the room would fill up with travelers as evening fell. The proprietor showed them up to a large bunk-room containing ten straw-filled cots. “Is this suitable, Signor Octavian-San?” asked Nyoko. [i]Cots! Straw-filled![/i] Twiggy marveled at how something so humble could seem like such a luxury. [i]A month and a half of cloaks on the ground, and she wants to know if it’s suitable. A far cry from the feather-filled pillows at the Estate, but still . . .[/i] “It will do,” replied Tavi, with a slight smile. It was simple, and clean. The idea of spending a night without bugs crawling through her hair made Twiggy feel giddy—and not just through the empathic bond she shared with Acorn. She sat, tentatively, on the edge of a cot, afraid that if she laid down, she would fall right asleep. [COLOR="Sienna"]I was promised a bath,[/COLOR] Acorn reminded her. Before bathtime—and more importantly, before the two remaining beds in their room were filled—the group divided the gold and valuables among themselves, so no single pack contained everything. Savina, who had been carrying most of the wealth, distributed it to everyone except Arden. “What about Arden?” asked Mena, simply. “It is true that Arden cannot own property,” Twiggy said, thoughtfully, “but she can carry it.” Savina barely looked up. “That does not mean she should.” “Why shouldn’t she?” asked Mena. “She has risked her life for it, as we have.” Savina seemed puzzled. “But that’s her job.” To Twiggy’s surprise, Kormick jumped in. “Her job is carrying the tent and cooking the meals, no? And yet she has also been killing and bleeding and binding wounds with the fabric of her own cloak.” Savina looked unconvinced. “Would it not be safer if she took a share?” Twiggy continued, trying a different line of logic. “No one will think to look in the bags of a slave.” Savina relented, handing Arden a pouch of gold and gems. “Keep it safe,” she said. “Yes, Blessed Daughter,” responded Arden, burying it in her pack amongst the cooking implements. Arden had sat quietly throughout the discussion, and did not betray any emotion now. [i]She is a part of the group,[/i] Twiggy thought, [i]and has risked life and limb as much as any of us. Why should she not be treated as a free person?[/i] [COLOR="Sienna"]Because she’s not a free person,[/COLOR] Acorn responded, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. [COLOR="Sienna"]Now about that bath…[/COLOR] The bath was far from opulent, but it had warm water. Twiggy lingered until the water became cold, soaking her muscles and feeling the places where the derro had cut her. Acorn very nearly refused to get out. By the time everyone had bathed, two Sovereign merchants had arrived to fill the remaining cots, and the group (each now careful to secure their valuables) went to the common room to eat. As expected, it had begun to fill with merchants and travelers. The food was adequate, if (to Twiggy’s palate) unusually spiced. It did not, however, come with silverware. In a tone and manner usually reserved for small, slow children, Nyoko demonstrated how to use the little sticks to lift the food. It wasn’t that hard for Twiggy, but not everyone took to it. Tavi eventually resorted to stabbing the pieces of meat with the ends of his sticks, and Arden discreetly picked up bits with her fingers. Nyoko shook her head and sighed. “That symbol above the door,” Twiggy asked between bites, “what does it mean?” “The ringed circle is the symbol of the Sovereign state,” Nyoko explained. “There are seven rings—The Adepts, the Inquisition, Borders, Peerage, Military, Lands, Priesthood—and they are arrayed in a circle. The Priesthood is up the circle from the Adepts, and the Inquisitors are down the circle . . .” “Sovereign government is an example of how to induce bureaucratic gridlock,” interjected Mena, amiably. “Every group has power over the two below it, ensuring that no group can ever attain absolute authority—and keeping all the major players so busy plotting against each other that they can’t plot against the system itself. Makes the Pol Hennan system look straightforward.” If Nyoko was offended by the characterization, she didn’t show it. “Where does the King fit in?” Twiggy asked. “He’s not a King, he’s the Lord High Regent, may his reign be long and prosperous,” Nyoko reminded her. “He is the final Arbiter of Kettenek’s will on Earth, and the spiritual successor to Rikitaru.” It was obvious that this was going to require a good deal more explaining. But before they had a chance to get further into it, the innkeeper approached. “Honored Adept,” he said, again eyeing the group with suspicion, “may I inquire as to how you came to be here?” His question was filled with layers of meaning, but Nyoko answered straightforwardly. “I had a misfortune on the road. I was attacked. These people helped me. Now I am returning to Cauldron.” The innkeeper was clearly deeply offended by the idea that someone might attack an Adept, and offered to use the military personnel stationed here to send a message ahead to Nyoko’s order in Cauldron. She accepted his offer, and—in an apparent show of gratitude—reluctantly agreed to his request that she entertain those in the common room. “I would be happy to perform,” she protested, “but you must understand that I cannot be properly dressed. I was robbed on the road. I do not have my ceremonial garments or adornments.” “We have no adornments to offer you,” replied the innkeeper, “but will be . . . pleased just to hear your music, honored Adept.” His speech was more halting than before, but still inviting. It was clear that he would prefer her to wear proper attire – whatever that was—but whether it was because of tradition or because he was appalled at the idea of someone robbing an Adept, Twiggy could not tell. Nyoko smoothed her hair back into a ponytail, straightened her robe, and walked to a small platform near the corner of the room. The evening passed quietly, as Nyoko played the flute and sang, her melancholy tunes telling tales of travelers, nobles, heroes. After dinner and tea and some small glasses of very pleasant dessert wine, they retired to the room and tucked themselves into the soft safety of their cots. Arden and Mena stayed up to keep watch. [i]Although why we’d need to keep watch at an Inn, with soldiers stationed at the door and people in the rooms around us…[/i] Twiggy thought, as she drifted off. [/QUOTE]
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A Rose In The Wind: A Saga of the Halmae -- Updated June 19, 2014
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