"I will not let fear drive me. I make my choice and accept what consequence it brings. I have stared down chieftains, merchant princes, and the empire alike. I give no home to doubt." Staring into the hard gaze of her own reflection, Liana would be the first admit that this was a bit melodramatic, but she felt stronger for saying it. The naked figure staring back at her from the ornate, full-length mirror was graceful and slim. Her black and rust colored fur faded to cream on her front and muzzle. There was gray here and there these days, but a little touch of powder was all it took to hide them from prying eyes. Lady Liana Marwen turned, admiring the slender lines of her own body. She was proud that she had kept at bay the fleshiness that was all too common among the court. Alas, this honor came with a modest bosom at best. "Boyish" was the word sometimes passed around by those who thought she didn't hear.
She was a daughter of lords and had indeed stared down chieftains and merchant princes. Tonight's tension in her gut came from merely facing her own pride and shame. In comparison they were inconsequential. Behind her, the short, plump otter who had been her maid and friend for years was busying herself over a corset and frilly things that was as much her battle attire as her husband's mail and helm were. Her father and her husband both were active and vigorous wolves who could wore their mantle as leaders in battle with a practiced ease, but Liana was the politically astute lady of this court. She was the velvet glove and her husband the hammer held.
Liana stood before the long mirror in the wood paneled interior rooms of Castle Marwen, a great stone edifice that crouched low and wide in the broad and flat valley that made up much of the clan's lands. Most of the castle, and even the surrounding village, was stark and austere, but here within her and her husbands chambers the traditional woodwork and draperies had made the chilly stone rooms feel considerably less barren. The room was lit with warm golden glow of oil lamps and the fire in the hearth. On wood panels lain over stone, she strode expensive rugs brought from the imperial capital to the south. The dressing room was warm and cozy, a stark contrast to the chill autumn night outside, darkness fast approaching on sunset's heels.
Finery peeked from closets and jewelry glittered from open drawers and cabinets as she looked herself over, appraising what she had made of herself. Nearing the middle of her third decade she felt that perhaps, finally, just maybe, the blush of her youth had begun to lose its luster. Faint traces of gray in her muzzle and hair had to be tactfully masked to match her deep red-brown fur. She thought she looked a bit weary, as she gazed into the glass, but arranging this banquet had been keeping her busy for weeks and would have left her worn thin even had she not been plotting behind her husband's back. The idea of what she was doing niggled at her, it wasn't right and her husband would never understand were he to discover her plot. She looked into the mirror, repeating the litany once more, finding her resolve. He would never know.
"Ah, Verona." She said, grateful for the distraction, as the otter walked forward in the awkward gait of her kind. They were always slightly out of sorts on land, Liana thought, but they were amazing swimmers, clever with their hands and quick witted. "Are we ready?"
"Yes'm." Verona said, her carefully groomed whiskers less unruly than most males of her species and her bright brown eyes almost worshipful of the lady wolf. She was a bit shorter than Liana, a bit plump with her round hips and thick tail that held her dress off the floor. She wore a simple black and white maid's gown. She was both sweet and diligent, though shy around those she thought of as her betters. Verona was a commoner they had first met when they were both teens living in Liana's father's estate. The Lady had become fond of Verona and in the intervening years they had shared many confidences as friends, "It's near time to go greet your guests. We need to hurry."
"Ah, Yes! What had we decided on?" Liana asked, grateful for the distraction from the web of thoughts.
"Satin and the bell, Ma'am." The otter chirped as she rolled the mannequin with Liana's dress across the wooden floor into the changing room.
"
Ah, the bell
."
Liana muttered acidly, that damn tight waist and the explosion of hips. Still, it would suit tonight's needs.
Verona stood as high as her squat legs and long torso would let her, helping Liana begin to dress in the rich deep crimson and gold she favored. The simple mundane task of hands and fasteners and of standing still as Verona tugged and tied and clasped helped Liana put aside the thoughts of the betrayal of her husband that was to follow.
"That's good, Verona. Not too tight." The lady turned and regarded herself in the mirror once more as her maid went to fetch the jewelry that she had chosen for the night. "And you delivered the letter?"
"Yes, ma'am. This afternoon."
There was a moment of hesitation that made her turned to see that Verona was blushing and looking embarrassed, "And?" Liana prompted.
"He's... uh... very big ma'am. Big as M'lord. And..." The otter bit her lip, the insides of her ears burned and the round muzzle's whiskers fluffed out in embarrassment before she blurted out, "He'll be a fine sire, strong pups."
Liana caught a hint of lustful jealousy in that appraisal. She considered her old friend and servant for a few moments, wondering if the otter regretted not having left her service to make a family. There had been many potential suitors of her species in the capital, but almost none since she and Lady Marwen had come north with the, then, courting clan leader that was now her husband. It was a moment before before she pushed those thoughts aside. As much as she cared for Verona, now was not the time to address her long lonely, possibly lonely service.
Taking the jewelry from Verona's hands, Liana settled the necklace into place and sought her reflection to judge the result. She turned slowly and let the illusion of composure fall into place. Here, in her chambers, with her friend, she could be just Liana, but dressed and adorned, back straight and about to step out into the hallway, she was Lady Liana Marwen.
Some weeks prior and far from the wide northern valley that Lord and Lady Marwen called home, in a small parcel of land along the edge of the eastern sea a curious message arrived in a remote county. Hemmed between jagged peaks of tall mountains and the icy sea, Winterrock is connected to the capital via rail during the warmer months and by memory alone during the long winters. In an estate scratched out in the stony hills overlooking the county's largest village, a letter is unfolded by hands much larger than the one that penned it and a servant waits to learn the contents of the queer missive with the unfamiliar seal from so far away.
Dusk watched the tiger's green eyes skim the parchment held delicately between his thick fingers. There was a sense of the scale being off as he held the small folded note. He was one of the largest people Dusk had ever met, around nine feet tall he loomed even without meaning to. It was easy to forget that when he was surrounded by furniture of his own size and the overall feeling was one that made her feel dwarfed until she was outside of his private chambers.
At nearly seven feet tall, herself, she was by no means some small creature to feel diminutive in anyone's presence. Her stature was of great aid in providing a powerful presence as Partran's steward. She would carry out his orders or, more often, anticipate them and see what needed to be done for his estate to tick over smoothly was done before he had to order it. Now, however, she stood near his immense desk and watched him reading. Grey-blue eyes and snow white hide on her somewhat muscular equine body filled the high-necked and austere navy blue dress well. Her white hide gave way to black towards her hands and ink black hooves. The only thing she didn't care for, when she considered herself, was the smooth, slightly curved, horn that sprang from her brow just before her dusky black mane began. The glossy black spire stood over her forehead and marked her "shameful" mixed parentage.
Her employer, for lack of a better term, was taller still. He was a tiger, built large even for their kind. He towered over most people, but when speaking with an equal of lesser stature he often found excuse to sit or crouch so as not to loom more than he could help. His orange and black fur were smooth and well groomed and while there was grey around his muzzle it suited his bearing. At the moment, his large, square muzzle had perched upon it a pair of half-moon spectacles that he rarely allowed others to see him wear. Otherwise reading the fine script on the relatively diminutive letter would require him to squint in an undignified manner. He was composed and his finely tailored suit cut sharp lines on his powerful figure as he sat behind his desk. The only thing not quite in matching that fashion was a large and irregularly faceted ruby hanging on a cable about his neck.
The tiger silently read the letter twice before laying it on his desk. He reached up and removed the glasses and, as he folded them, said, "It appears the Countess Liana Marwen is considerably more versed in the Obscure than I would have guessed."
Dusk's mobile equine ears perked up at this in genuine surprise "Oh? What does she say?"
"She's aware of the nature of my amulet, for one."
Dusk was surprised. It wasn't easy to fathom the significance of the tiger's particular choice in jewelry and the lore about it was forgotten by all but a few. The "Obscure" was the catch-all term scholars often used for the oddments of latent magic or religion that persisted from the ancient eras. The legends of ages past were often filled with references to the Obscure and some devoted their lives to the pursuit of it.
"How?"