Inequable - The Lost Princess

Chapter 3: Traversing Weary Stories

TRIGGER WARNING: This book contains depictions and mentions of graphic content such as sexual assault, assault, scars, executions and other brutalities. Reader discretion is advised.

1026, March 10th, Thursday

It's well into the afternoon, and panic fills Rhianon's veins. Lord and Lady Magnus and Geniva Watkin had eaten a significant chunk of her time with several 'ailments' that are nothing to be concerned about. After several reassurances from herself, they still demanded Alvis's opinion, claiming to be dying from the running of their noses when awaking after a nap in the meadow in Spring following a dream they had calling it their 'death warning'. Even after ranting about Alvis's dismissal of it and his 'cure', they still recanted it as if it were the very end of their lives that they had a sniffle in the middle of the meadow once in the springtime last year.

Armed with cleaned quarters and a clean pair of clothes, her last clean pair of clothes, in fact. She huffs, knowing she will have to launder after she makes the last of her rounds or wear her first day's pair again as this morning's was sullied helping Tor. Now wearing dull light brown trousers, greying from age and wear, and a large dark green long-sleeved tunic tucked into her trousers with her corset on top, she makes her way through the square. All of her knives, gloves and bracers are in place, keeping her mind secure and her view of her personal safety at peace. Alvis's directions repeat like a mantra over and over in her head, and she discards the parts she's already travelled to save herself from getting confused, despite the map that burns in the front of her corset. She'd already memorised it in full, but the wide outlook of the map's perspective did not include which halls of the many at every turn she was supposed to take.

The third entrance on the long stone walkway, down Honoured Corridor, fifth stairway on the left, up to Heroes Landing, second door on the right. It repeats over and over until she's passed one section, and the instructions dwindle. Down Honoured Corridor, fifth stairway on the left, up to Heroes Landing, second door on the right. Eventually, the words lessen to five; second door on the right.

Reaching for it, Rhianon wastes no more time before she knocks her fist against the wood. Something shuffles across the floor, and then a skinny old man opens the door, both of his hands feeling the wood as he guides himself to stand in the doorway. His eyes are tightly squinted closed, and his face doesn't move towards her.

"Hello, Sir Harlon," Rhianon chirps, smiling kindly. "I've brought you your medicine."

"Oh, you are not Alvis," Sir Harlon wobbles out, a smile pulling up his lips as he holds out a hand for the medicine.

"No, but I'll look after you all the same," she promises, placing the vial in his hand and clasping it with both of hers. "Be careful not to drink this all at once, one-quarter tonight to be drunk with a small amount spilt and rubbed as a serum upon your neck and chin."

After her warning, Rhianon removes her hands and the man replies. "I do quite prefer you ordering me around."

"I-" her lighthearted retort dies on her tongue, and her smile falls, watching the kind old man pop the cork and tip his head back, downing half the bottle. Worry grips her chest cold; Alvis never told her why Sir Harlon shouldn't drink the whole thing and she had never sniffed it to check what it was. "I, uh... also have the disks here for your stress, My Lord. One, two or three times a day. Please let me know if you find yourself feeling the need for more."

"Can I get your name, lass?"

His friendly voice brings her smile back. "Rhianon."

"Will you come by again tomorrow, Rhianon?"

"Will you be due for medicine again tomorrow?" She worries with furrowed eyebrows.

"Only for your voice," Sir Harlon proclaims, getting a blush the shade of her natural hair and a laugh in return. "It is sweeter than honey and pretty like birdsongs."

"Then I will come by again tomorrow."

The smile that appears on his face is a good enough reason to come back, she rationalises. Sir Harlon shuffles backwards, using his hands on the door and doorframe as guides.

"Farewell, Rhianon."

Her gentle laugh echoes down the hall again at his chivalrous goodbye, and he turns towards it with a bright expression that melts her heart. "Farewell, Sir Harlon."

Her bright smile doesn't leave or falter even after he closes his door and she returns to the stairway. It's not until she makes it all the way to the long stone walkway that her beaming grin dies. She's forgotten the order of Alvis's instructions on how to get to where she needs to go next; however, she doesn't need to pull the map from her corset to recall its etchings. Rhianon recalls the words, just not the order.

Griffin Landing. Locating herself and it in her mind at the recollection of the map, she repeats it over and over in her head. Griffin Landing. Griffin Landing.

Hooking a hard left, Rhianon takes the wide staircase with a large gryphon statue at the top two steps at a time, until the floor is flat and she has nowhere but right to go. Griffin Landing. People brush past her, a small burst of a wide flurry of silent, controlled movement seeming to almost be everywhere in the castle. She isn't much different, she realises, having already dashed around the markets, outskirts, chambers and now winding Castle halls. Her boots hesitate, unable to remember the sequence of corridors she's supposed to take.

Rhianon follows the orange terracotta bricks on the floor, pointing in large arrowheads against yellowed white, scuffed and dirtied from age.

It only leads to even more corridors. Now and then someone brushes past her, heading in and out of doors with purpose, each knowing where they're going. The map in her corset is already engrained in her mind, yet it doesn't break down the intricate halls that seem endless; it is only an overview of the castle and city landscape. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, she yields, stopping someone and asking for directions.

The kind woman guides her to a swirled staircase going up once more, this one carved and curved with mortar around the bricks so thick it looks completely smooth, with no harsh lines or signs there are bricks anywhere beneath. All the stairs lead to is a wide room with open archways, leading to corridors, and she follows the woman's directions exactly. The door she's looking for is open into the hallway, and Rhianon gives it a brief knock.

A beautiful brunette young woman, maybe a few years older than herself, pulls the door more open and stands before Rhianon, looking at her with kind eyes. The young woman is not what she expects of a Lady, especially from those who have passed her in the hallway. She is dressed as a servantgirl.

"I know you," she breathes, a kind smile that matches her eyes crossing her face.

Rhianon hesitates. "You... do?"

"I'm Maibyna," the young woman introduces, words soft and delicate, "but most people call me Mabyn." Rhianon can't help eyeing her suspiciously, waiting for her to throw her out for mistaking her quarters as that of the King's Ward's. "I'm the Lady Tesri's maidservant."

"Right," she drawls, waiting a beat to see if Mabyn will allow her inside. She doesn't, so Rhianon introduces herself, holding a hand out to shake her hand. "I'm, uh... I'm Rhianon." Mabyn tries to keep the smile on her face, but her nose crinkles and she hums a little when she takes Rhianon's hand with a faint touch and isn't sure what to do with it. The gesture draws a joke from her, trying to ease the strain the interaction has taken. "Although... most people call me anything but that."

"Well," Mabyn interjects, dropping her hand. "I saw what you did." At her confused look, she explains. "With Prince Caderyn. Standing up for Lorin in front of knives like that. It's so brave."

"It was so stupid, is what it was."

"Even so, I'm glad you didn't get hurt," the brunette smiles. "You couldn't have been able to beat him."

"Wha-of course, I could have!" Rhianon squawks. "Easily. I took him to his knees, didn't I?"

"Well, yes," she chuckles, "but, truly, do you think you could've beaten him? Because you don't look like one of the big, muscly kind of fellows he has around with him."

Furrowing her eyebrows, Rhianon gives Mabyn a playful look. "Perhaps that may be because I'm in disguise. Truly, as I'm brutish as he, I just wear it better."

Mabyn laughs a melodic melody. "Oh, I'm sure you're stronger than you look, since you certainly knocked him down, which's something not even his Knights can do. It's just, well..." She fidgets, scrunching the corners of her eyes in thought. "Caderyn's one of these... real rough, tough, save the kingdom kind of men, and you're... well..."

"Oh, don't tell me," Rhianon jokes, gesturing to her trousers. "These trousers aren't real rough, tough, save the kingdom kind of trousers? Because it's too late for a refund now."

"Well," Mabyn lets out another laugh, a kind smile on her face. "It's great you stood up to him. A lot haven't, and should've."

"You think it was worth it?"

"Yeah, of course," the polite young woman agrees, face falling serious. "Caderyn's a mean, old bully, and everyone who's heard of it all think you're a hero."

"Really?" Rhianon puzzles at its widespread attraction, though she isn't shocked. "I take it then Caderyn is always that arrogant, and yesterday wasn't just a special occasion?"

"No, I'm afraid that's quite normal."

"On the bright side," Rhianon announces, heaving a breath at the underwhelming news. "He underestimates just how stubborn I am. So, at least that'll be fun for us all." Mabyn copies her smile with another kind laugh, which she quickly replicates. "I... uh, don't wish to be rude, but I've some things here for the Lady Tesri."

"Well, of course," Mabyn smiles, backing away and opening the door, inviting her in.

The chamber is massive, much like the chambers she remembers having as a child. It's vast and spacious, even though it seemed filled with more things than her and Alvis's chambers. The spacious nature doesn't allow it to look like it has much in it at all.

A young woman with ebony black wavy hair stands in a blue satin dress, the hair long but not as long as Rhianon's. At the movement, Tesri starts talking before Rhianon can introduce herself or Mabyn can introduce a guest, and the Lady walks behind her changing screen, not sparing a glance towards them.

"You know, I find I have been thinking about Caderyn," Tesri says, Rhianon's introductory words die on her tongue at her statement, and she bites back a snarky comment about the Prince. Tesri doesn't give her a chance to let it out, however, continuing her one-sided conversation behind the changing screen, her shadowed hands unfastening the back of her dress. Mabyn spares her an apologetic look, knowing from the tone the Lady won't stop and she can't interrupt her without overstepping. "I would not even bear to touch him with the largest lance pole that existed, so it plagues me he taunts my mind so. Pass me that dress, will you, Mabyn?"

"Of course, My Lady," Mabyn assures, rushing forward and grasping a readied purple dress from where it hangs from a simple bar of wood, a rope loop hooked over an arm of a coat stand. She carefully carries the decadent garment made of the fabric of the highest quality to the screen, as if her peasant's touch would mar its pristine condition, and the Lady takes it. "My Lady, we have a guest."

"A guest?" Lady Tesri's thick northern accent repeats bewildered. She peers her head around the changing screen, scrutinising the girl. "Who are you?"

"Rhianon, My Lady," Rhianon supplies with a tip of her head in respect. "Alvis's apprentice."

"Oh, Rhianon," the beautiful Lady relaxes, a warm smile taking over her face. Her accent blends the syllables of the redhead's name, turning Rhianon into one syllable. She ducks back around the changing screen, disappearing. "I suppose you have my medicine?"

"Yes."

"My Lady, Rhianon is the one who took the Prince to his knees in front of the training Knights for his taunts of his manservant."

Rhianon freezes, staring wide-eyed at the young woman for divulging this, but Mabyn meets her panic with brightly shining brown eyes. Movement behind the screen stills.

"The very same?"

"Yes, My Lady," Mabyn confirms, and the Lady scrambles, tossing the purple dress to hang over the screen and rounding it to stand in front of the girl whose red hair is stained to appear brown, holding her unfastened nightdress to her chest.

"I have heard a very many things about you," Lady Tesri beams at her, getting a good look at her. Rhianon's heart only pounds harder at the words from the King's Ward, her grey-green eyes looking Rhianon up and down, but they seem kind. "Mabyn certainly seems fond of you."

Rhianon relaxes a little; if she's been hearing things from Mabyn, she's only been hearing the good side of her. "I'm afraid to say she speaks much too highly of me."

"Not even in the slightest from what I have heard," Tesri promises, not seeming to notice or care the teenager has dropped her title. "I do envy her so, getting to watch Caderyn be put in his place." A shocked laugh trickles from Rhianon's mouth, and it only seems to calm the Lady even more. Shifting her arms so one holds up her unfastened nightdress and the other reaches for the purple gown she had tossed over top of the screen in her haste to see who brought the Prince to his knees, Tesri tips her head to the changing screen. "Do you presume it would it be terribly rude of me to get dressed?"

"Of course not, My Lady," Rhianon assures, taking steps back when Tesri disappears behind the screen again. "I should go, le-"

"Oh, no, please do not leave," the black-haired woman calls, reaching up on her tiptoes to peer at Rhianon with pleading eyes over top of the screen. "I would quite like your opinion on this, seeing as we now have three ladies of good mind in presence."

"I'm-," she starts, stopping in her tracks and staring at anything other than Tesri's silhouette on the screen as she undresses. Hesitant eyes dart to the door she entered in, then to Mabyn in pleading. "I'm not sure that's wise at all." This time, it's Tesri who hesitates, and the silence after Rhianon speaks is loud with the Lady's contemplation. She jumps to rectify this. "Not that any sentence with 'Caderyn' in it could be wise or of substance, anyway."

Tesri's light, airy laugh sings through the air. "You are quite right, Rhianon. I mean, the boy is a total jouster, and that is still being too kind." Rhianon nods, even though she couldn't possibly see her through the screen. "And just because I am the King's ward, surely that must not mean I have to accompany him to the feast, does it?"

"Of course not," Rhianon rebukes, scrunching her face up. "Not that I can see Caderyn, of all people, being courteous enough to pay it any mind."

"Neither can I," Tesri agrees, laying the nightgown over the screen.

"If I may, My Lady," Mabyn adds, "he hasn't even had the thought to ask you for your company. I hardly see why My Lady should have to ask."

"Precisely," Tesri announces, as if that was the secret key to the whole story. Her words, though still kind in tone, have taken on a touch of anger. "For he did not ask for me to go along with him, so why should I spare him a courtesy he does not lend me?"

"You're quite right, My Lady," Mabyn muses.

"Gods forbid we do something of our own minds," Rhianon huffs with a laugh. "It's as if they can't trust us to make decisions. We can't even choose ourselves what we wear."

"Precisely," Tesri laughs, making Rhianon huff a snort and Mabyn chuckle at the noise. "Though, I did hear about your trousers. While I would not be caught dead in them, I truly do not see why there is to be a qualm with them outside of noble work."

Rhianon opens her mouth, but her retort about Tesri aligning dresses with nobility and wealth dies on her tongue. She's only ever known being of noble blood and now she's adopted into a royal family, of course she associates women in trousers with the poor and lower classes.

"I don't see them of issue either, My Lady," Mabyn echos. "Myself, I wouldn't wear them, but I don't see how anyone could've been harmed by a lady wearing them."

"May I ask a question, My Lady?" Rhianon queries, patiently waiting as the Lady fastens her dress up behind the screen.

"Do ask away."

"Why is it that they treat who you're to attend this feast with as an obligation?" The question truly plagues her. Before her kingdom was overtaken, it was well known a Lady of any noble station appearing at a ball or a feast was a grand appearance worth the same whether alone or accompanied. The only appearances that were held with higher regards are their debut appearances. "Surely, a Lady's appearance is worth the same whether unaccompanied or not?"

When Tesri laughs this time, it's not a weightless sound, but something heavier. "That I do not know. If he wants me to go, then he should invite me, and he has not. So do you know what that means?"

"That he's an idiot?"

"Yes," Tesri laughs earnestly again at Rhianon's blunt words, fiddling with her dress. "But it also means I am to go by myself."

"As you should, My Lady."

Rhianon's next words are not as kind as Mabyn's. "Make him regret it."

"I shall indeed!" The joy in Lady Tesri's voice at Rhianon's words brings a beaming smile to her own rosy lips. "Mabyn, I need some help with this fastening."

"Of course, My Lady."

With both other room occupants behind the screen, Rhianon attempts for a second time to leave.

"Well," she announces, "I hope my mind's opinion was of use for you, My Lady. I'll leave and be on m-"

"No, please," the Lady calls. "I do quite enjoy your presence, if you have the time."

"Well, you're my last stop for this task, and I've yet to be given another for the afternoon."

Lady Tesri squeals with excitement. "Oh, amazing! We are going to get along great, I just know it. Good minds know others of that stature."

As she waits, fabric moving was all that accompanied the silence in the air, and Rhianon feels the need to end it. "Does the Lady wish to attend with Caderyn?"

"No," she scoffs, bringing a snort out of Rhianon at the unladylike sound coming from Lady Tesri. "Does anyone wish to have anything to do with that jouster beside his own father? There are far more interesting and attentive men out there than that boy."

Lady Tesri rounds the changing screen with her maidservant politely and quietly behind her. Both wear bright smiles, eyes gleaming brightly. It is unfortunately contagious, making Rhianon join before she can stop herself. The purple dress she wears is adorned in many gold lace fashions, and is clearly a decadent and expensive dress.

"So," Tesri announces, smiling devilishly as she turns around to share a look at them both. The Lady strides to the mirror, plucking another dress from a similar hanger on another coat rack behind the changing screen. "It is whether I wear this little tease with some flare..." as she speaks, Tesri lifts her arms out, the long sleeves made of lace floating around her and spinning. After displaying the purple gown, she holds to her chest the sleeveless blood red dress with only a collar around the neck to hold it up, large gaps that fall below one's armpits where the missing shoulders of the dress would be. The red dress only has one layer, seeming a lot more slim-fitting than the half dozen layers of the purple gown. "Or give them a night they shall truly remember."

"You'll look beautiful in both, My Lady," Mabyn proclaims, fixing up how the purple dress sits around her shoulders after her spin.

"Yes," Rhianon agrees after a beat of contemplation, "but you'd have to be mad not to give them a night they'll truly remember."

Tesri's wicked grin only brightens with an excited squeal, drawing matching smiles from both girls with her. "I think you are right, Rhianon. And you, Mabyn. I have been blessed to have two fine minds in my presence, God knows there are not many in this kingdom. I think I shall make Caderyn regret it."

At the agreed words she herself spoke against the Prince, Mabyn widens her eyes.

"Oh, I see I've fallen in with your mischievous spirits again."

"Only as you should all of the time," Tesri chirps, striding back to replace the dress on the coat stand. Her hand glides down the red fabric, envisioning herself in it. "Especially when it comes to Caderyn."

"I do hope you come find me after the feast," Rhianon implores either of them. "I'd love to know of his face when you walk in."

"Why should we?" Tesri retorts, before turning her attention away from the dress to the apprentice beside her. "Will you not go?"

"Don't I need be invited?"

A flash of confusion covers the Lady's face. "Are you not Alvis's apprentice?" At her nod, Tesri continues. "Then you are invited. Besides, Mabyn and I will need another companion. The last event was a horrid bore."

Rhianon falls silent, drawing the attention of Mabyn.

"Do you not wish to go?" Mabyn asks, never having heard the girl go this quiet in their short knowings of each other.