Volume III – Tall and Hard to Climb
1- Service and Servitude 1
Some eight hundred leagues away from the comparable backwater kingdom of Sorash and the struggles of a half-elf priestess named Sarah Kettar was a sprawling metropolis, the jewel of the Western Council. Beson stood as a beacon of trade and free society, connecting most of the civilized world to one another and even to the Vale itself.
Dame Amaranth had heard about the Vale, the legendary home of the elves-- the very people who's blood flowed in her veins and who'd abandoned her even before she'd even been born. She had grown up in the world of humans and by the gods were there many of them.
She sipped her tea looking out over the sprawling city below. The castle was situated neatly amidst the sprawl and splendor of the very people she'd sworn herself to protect. They wandered about the wood lined streets, carefully picking the red moss and mud that seeped up between the massive timbers that kept the city from being overrun by the rapid growth every night. It wasn't just the nightly riots that gave the city its dubious moniker, 'city of blood'.
A cool wind ran its fingers along her sun kissed flesh, sliding through the sheer robe as the lavender sky began to make way for the early morning sun, bringing with it the ever lingering tickle of rain's caress. It was a pleasant, sweet scent that prickled the half-elf's senses with promises of a dreary day.
She breathed it in all the same, her tall, proud body and firm muscles bristled with goosebumps from the sudden chill, but her mind was alive with possibility and renewed vigor for what was to come. Today was going to be the day. She couldn't hide it for much longer, anyway. Her stomach had started a gentle curve and even now, standing practically nude before the early morning city, she could imagine this new turn in her life taking her to strange, exciting places.
To hear her mother tell it, there was no room for a half-breed among the proud race of immortal elves, but here there was an infinite number of possibilities. She ran her fingers over her belly, trembling with excitement and fear. She'd tell them today, she promised herself. They'd figure out how to handle it, they wouldn't have to worry about what the future held anymore. She didn't have to hide behind her pointy ears and exotic, sharp features any longer.
She had a home, now. She would have a family.
The gods had truly blessed her, even if her ancestors hadn't. Suddenly it didn't matter how hard she'd worked to earn her title, how many battles she'd fought and won in service to Sorash and her Duke. She'd never be accepted by anyone-- except her peers, if only obliquely-- but a family.
Her, a mother.
Gods, had Elisandra blessed Her loyal paladin. For her years of service, she was going to have what she wished for most while she was still young enough to enjoy-- and care for-- it. She sipped her tea with a smile this time, her amber eyes flitting up towards the sky. A soft whispered prayer of thanks parted her full lips and she turned to her room, wondering how much longer she'd be able to fit into her armor.
Quietly, in some dark part of her mind, she wondered just how the news would be received. . .
#
Dame Amaranth strolled through the main hall in full regalia, her green and gold platemail clacked softly against the chain underneath with each step, pressing gently against her stomach and reminding her that she wouldn't be able to hide the swell of her child much longer. It wasn't like he wouldn't be able tell if they had so much as a moment to themselves, but still, her heart fluttered in her chest and the sinking suspicion that had accompanied her while she dressed for the day had become full blown paranoia.
What would he do once he found out? How would he react? More importantly, to the paladin, was the question of how this life might impact their relationship. What would have to change so that no one was compromised?
Gods, it was enough to drive someone to drink. That was even before the question of whether or not it was even his. . . Amaranth swallowed, pressed herself against the back of her armor as though it would ease weight off her growing stomach and clenched her teeth. Her duty was to protect, she couldn't worry herself with the who, how and why. She just needed to protect what had been created.
Stewards and commoners were milling about the main hall, dutifully ignoring the small contingent of knights that were receiving their daily orders from the resident sergeant at arms. It wasn't even mid morning and the hall was full of the commoners and lawyers of the various trade unions and several foreign dignitaries, speaking amongst themselves and awaiting the arrival of the Duke.
His knight, however, didn't have to wait. She never would, so long as she was in his service, so she approached the cluster of courtiers and started towards the hall. Now wasn't a good time to ask him about it, but perhaps later she could secure enough of his time to ask him just how to handle this change. He was wise, after all. Wise, patient.
Yes. Maybe she would.
Amaranth steeled herself and crept into the massive hall, avoiding glances from the 'pure' elves who caught sight of her pointed ears. Occasionally someone would attempt to engage her in conversation but she quickly excused herself, narrowly avoiding one potential crisis after another-- No, she couldn't find a missing cat; no, she couldn't speak for the Duke himself; yes she was the resident second knight and no, she couldn't deploy other knights against rebellious serfs.
It was more of the same, the kind of mind numbing drudgery that made her job as a knight about as glamorous as tax collection, but as a paladin, bound by an oath to protect her charge and guide him in making the right choices? She couldn't wait to get started.
She managed to get to the rear of the hall without expressly agreeing to help one group or another; just barely. Peasant revolts and lost kittens would have to wait until they were ready to be addressed. She was the executor of her lords' will, after all, not its progenitor. With great care she eased herself up to the door that lead to the door that separated the main hall from the Duke's private quarters. The guards made way for her, used to the way in which she crept as one might do to catch someone unaware.
It had been a long standing tradition, almost twenty years now, and so the guards paid it little mind except to offer salute to the half-blooded knight as she opened the door to the antechamber and slipped in.
The room was laid out with the typical red velvet finery draped over fine oak and plaster highlights. All the oak services were stained and polished up to a fine sheen, glistening in the scattered light from the slit of glass that ran parallel with the North Light. It was as much a shrine to the Duke's god as it was a place to relax for visiting dignitaries and the Duke himself.
Relax he did, at that. The twenty something man was sprawled out across one of the massive four seat couches in his full court attire of flowing velvet with a bright purple silk coat underneath. That surprised her. He hadn't worn it in at least a decade that she could remember, and even then only at her insistence that he protect himself in a time when some maniac was going around firing arrows at nobles.
The undershirt had a deceptively tight weave designed to protect the wearer from against arrows and bolts from would be assassins, unfortunately it was also a tight fit over Rathic's broad, toned chest and his well built shoulders, making him reluctant to so much as consider it, much less take it's value seriously.
